“In every story worth telling,” Brett said. “Travelers always find each other.”
Brett looked at the boy who would be king, at Morgaine with her sea-gray eyes, at the territory that had almost been unmade by doubt.
She laughed bitterly. “He’s not a boy. He’s a wound in armor. His father is dead. His mother is a ghost. And the Saxons are three days from the shore.” pendragon cycle brett cooper
Then the world blinked.
Brett felt his ring grow warm. The flume was opening—not in the forest, but in Arthur’s chest. A flume made of faith. “In every story worth telling,” Brett said
Here’s a short story set within the Pendragon Cycle framework, focusing on Brett Cooper—a modern-day “traveler” who stumbles into the mystical, pre-Arthurian world. The Ghost of Avalon’s Shore
“It’s healing,” Morgaine whispered. “He’s not a boy
“For Halla.” Brett Cooper woke on the Cornish cliff, radio tower humming, tourists laughing below. His ring was cold again. But in his pocket was a shard of broken silver—a piece of Caliburn.