Merlin knew she was right. But he also knew that it was Arthur's life that mattered, not his death. And Morgan couldn't touch that. He cried out, "You will never be able to erase his memory. His deeds will shine like a beacon for all good men to follow."
   Morgan waved away his words like so many gnats, "In a few years, Arthur will be forgotten," she said with a smile, "and so will you."
   "Better make sure, Morgan," Merlin said. "Just in case."
   Morgan Le Fay paused, her eyes narrowed, her smile faded. She spun toward the glassy black slab of obsidian where Arthur's image still lingered; she waved one hand over its translucent surface. "Show me -- from this dead but once bright fulcrum -- what through time and age will come . . ."
   A small prick of light began to glow in the bottom left-hand corner of the volcanic rock. It flickered and dimmed. Morgan smiled. But the little dot of light did not go out. It steadied and grew stronger. Slowly, another ember joined it, then another, and another. With each new light, the previous one seemed to glow brighter. The sparks of light continued until they created a clear path across the darkness.
   As Morgan watched, her surprise turned to anger. She knew that the lights represented Arthur's legacy. "This cannot be!"
   Merlin whispered, "Beautiful, isn't it? Like a string of candles lighting the way to the future."
    Morgan was furious. "Candles indeed!" she thought. Arthur had just been snuffed out -- all should be darkness.
    "Face it, Morgan," said Merlin. "There's nothing you can do. Killing Arthur didn't change anything."