It had been perfect weather all day. The sun had long risen from the horizon and is now shining down upon an old cabin, far from the city. Merlin, who's been quietly putting items in a bag locks the door behind him, sighing. Then with a head held high, he starts walking into the extensive stretch of forest behind him.
This is going to be his last chance to get his thoughts in order. He doesn't want others to influence him, at least not in this. It has been a long time coming, confronting his immortality. In his life, he has seen too much. War. Famine. Discrimination. So, so much death. Yet his memories have become nothing more than blurry fragments upon useless skills he sometimes has. Some eras he can't even recall, but he knows he's lived them.
His bleeding heart just couldn't stay out of any conflicts, screaming at him to help those who are suffering. With the things he's seen and done to help few survivors, it's almost not worth it. Then he sees those victims later, who thank him and despite everything, continue to move forward. It gives him strength that he can move forward too.
Then last year happened, and honestly, he should have been expecting it. Something that has sat heavily in his chest for all these years has started wriggling. It whispers things to him. Taking the voices of people he's heard before. "It is time," They said. "return to us." He didn't think anything of it. He's had hallucinations before and has faced far greater challenges. The voices would not sway him.
It was until blurred figures of silver, red, and gold smiling at him did he know something was wrong. Outstretching their hands. Forgiveness. Emotions he'd forgotten that he had swelled up. It roared like the mighty sea and turned the gray world blue. They whispered sweet nothings in his ears; bringing comfort to his weary soul. "Join us, Merlin. Destiny calls for you." They chanted.
But he refused. They weren't real. In spite of that fact, they never left him alone. So he checked himself in a hospital. As time passed people found ways to improve their lives that left him impressed. This, he knew, was something they could help him with.
Every day was a battle against the voices. Every day the people there grounded him. He even made friends in this era. Kind souls who didn't pressure him to talk about his family, or ask about his life. He would be sad when he would have to bury them, but he would enjoy their youth while he could.
He shutters, fluttering away a drop of water that dripped in his eye. A rumble in the distance reached his ears, the sun's warmth no longer against his skin. He better hurry if he was going to say goodbye properly.
The items in his bag were the only clues he had to his first life. It nearly drove him mad trying to find answers, unable to let these objects go. Still, in his mind's eye, he could see what these objects used to be.
A giant diamond the size of his palm, glowing a brilliant blue. It has since lost its glow and hasn't been the same since. There is a dark sapphire, the same size as the diamond. It used to be held in a wooden staff until the wood rotted away into nothing. Once a golden chalice, now nothing more than rust. Dull and scratched up undeterred by his care.
Then, the very last thing. The one thing he wouldn't dare talk about or show to anyone. His reluctance to give it up frightened him, and he couldn't understand why. An old sword. It could hardly be called a sword anymore, with the gold handle being broken from its steel counterpart. The words that laid on both sides were scratched and unrecognizable.
Even now he can discern its brilliance. The handle and blade shimmering. A halo of light surrounding it, making it ethereal. Inscribed with the writing "Take me up" and "Cast me away". That day when he pulled it from the lake was something he couldn't forget; his wet clothes from swimming, his screaming, the sobbing, the hate he spat into the air. The words he said were lost to him now.
In his time at the hospital, he reached a sort of understanding. The voices had gone away, as did the people who spoke them. At that moment, a man had stood in front of him. Though he couldn't make out exact features, he saw this sword in a man's hand. He could recall the golden, silver, and scarlet this man was made of, standing regally. Waiting patiently.
He has to say goodbye to these things that tie him down.
He stops, rubbing the water from his face. It was raining hard now, thunder cracking in the distance. Here would be as good as any, he supposes. He gets to his knees and starts scooping soft dirt away with his hands. It is when the hole is deep enough do the tears fall in earnest.
There's no reason for the tears, but they fall anyway. As he places the bag in the hole he can't help but utter a few words. "Álætan mé. Íc genugan." He bites his tongue, tasting copper. Merlin hasn't used another language unless it was necessary. Why did he say it now? What kind of language was it?
He sighs. It felt right and that's what really matters. He's used to having unanswered questions; that one was definitely going to be one of them. He pushes the dirt back, trembling. Why does it feel like he's putting a part of himself into the darkness? As if it didn't exist at all. Yet he needs to do this, for himself. So he can start over properly, and do better this time.
White light strikes him, pain zinging in his veins and chest. The Thing inside of him bursts out, the blinding dust of life wrapping around him before he knows no more.
It hurts, a searing pain that went all throughout his body. He was melting from the inside out, he was sure of it. The world swims as he rolls over. Who is he? Where is he? What's happening?
Humming. There's no pattern to it, no clear direction, but the woman's voice is a balm to his agony. "Ugggnnnhhh." White burns his retinas the moment he opens his lids, slamming them shut against the glow of day. "Merlin!" The voice is suddenly right next to him, and a slender hand is brushing through his hair.
All he manages is a twitch and a low, questioning gurgling. "I'll be right back honey, ok?" Footsteps, rustling, and then silence. Then their back as soon as they left with another, heavier set. Both sets of hands push him up. He whines in protest. Everything tilting dangerously with the churning of his gut.
"Merlin. I need you to drink this. Can you do that for me?" It's a man's voice this time, low and soothing. Something presses to his lips. It's cold and spilling into his mouth before he's ready. He chokes on the rancid taste. Heaving and drowning on the chunky liquid. "Swallow it!"
Swallowing it once, twice, and a third time. The effects are almost immediate, leaving him drowsy and the pain background noise. "There. He's not ready to wake up yet."
"Is my son going to be alright?"
"We need to see…."
When he next wakes, it's not painful. All of it had faded to a dull throb as if it were the blood pulsing through his veins. The Thing that had once pressed too heavily on his chest now swims lazily. Welcoming him as an old friend.
Magic.
Things he's once forgotten flicker through his mind like the pages of a book. Despite so many of the pages being missing, his head reels from what he starts to recall as if it were yesterday. How could he ever forget his Mother? The one who cared for him and raised him all those years ago?
She's still dead even if he can see her smile now. Purely during a time where he didn't think how much longer he would live. Knowing that all children put their parents to rest.
But there are still things missing. He knows he grew up in her home, then she told him something, and he left to go somewhere. There's a gap time time lost until he returns home broken and sobbing. She welcomed him with open arms. Merin stayed and watched her wither away. Where did he go in that time?
It doesn't matter. Right now he needs to find out where he is. He did just get struck by lighting. Opening his lids he expected to see white hospital walls but instead greeted with a tent built out of cloth. Where is he? Beneath him is a blanket set on hard dirt and on top is the long, teenage limbs that haven't quite filled out yet. Hands reach up and touch his face, the melting baby fat on his cheeks confirming his suspicions. Something was very, very wrong.
"Merlin!" He startles, magic flaring at his fingertips. It's the women from before. Its… Merin snaps his eyes to her. She's in tears as she gathers him into a tight hug.
All the air gets squeezed out of him; he can't find it in himself to mind when he's squeezing as hard as he can back. "Mom." he rasps, trembling.
"I was so worried about you. You got sick so suddenly..." She exhales. "My sweet, sweet boy…"She pulls away. He heaves in a large breath. "I'm so sorry honey. Are you feeling better?" She plants a hand on his forehead, and he feels dizzy from this influx of affection.
He nods, staring at her face dazedly. He could never touch his hallucinations. "What happened? Where are we? I can't..." Hunith frowns, setting her hands on his cheeks and turns his face this way and that.
She settles herself after his examination. "Come. There's someone who can explain it better than I can." Her tone leaves him following without comment.
The nervous swooping of his gut and fluttering of his heart woozying. As soon as he sets foot out, an odd nostalgia comes over him. Tents of all sorts are gathered around a large fire pit. Odd symbols and trinkets adorned across them. He flounders at the forest around them. Dread dropping like a rock in his chest.
His mother stops in front of a very tall man who stops attending to the fire, smiling at their approach. Merlin twitches in apprehension. "Ah Hunith, I see Merlin is well enough to walk. Quite impressive, I must say. I am Aglain."
The young boy's dark brows furrow. "Impressive…? What did I do?"
The dark skinned man blanches. "You mean you don't remember?" A small shake of the head. "Well, that's… odd. You used quite a lot of magic." Fear thunders momentarily. "No need for that," Aglain says patiently, but he can see the small flicker of trepidation all the same. "You are safe here. Druids are friends to magic, and your mother sought us in your time of need."
He swallows, pulling back the magic that anxiously scanned his surroundings. It stuffs back under his skin. Feeling like it was bursting with how much of it there is. He relaxes by a fracture. "We are uncertain as to what happened. Whatever you had done, it was powerful, and very old magic. I'm sure all magical creatures have felt it. Draining your magic that low has very dangerous consequences."
Merlin pouts at the scolding tone. It's not like he intentionally did any of this. He was just trying to say goodbye and move on. Then he just had to get struck by lightning, didn't he? Then he- what. Traveled back in time? Is now living his first life? Ridiculous. The more he thinks about it, the less impossible it might seem.
An old hunched woman shoves Aglain to make room for herself. Her glazy grey pupils stare directly at him, though they don't focus on a particular place. "Don't mind my son deary! He's always so polite and beating around bushes…" Without even turning, she pushes her son away as he tries to intervene.
"Shush! Emrys needs to hear this." Merlin blinks at the title, but she's bowling forward. "You've gone and done things no magic user has done before. Time has punished you, now it gives you a gift for your payment. Even now you reap the benefits and pay your debts." Her old croaking voice rumbles with underlying power.
She gummily smirks then. "All have heard you're pleads Emrys. You have been giving a second chance. Go to a place where your magic can run free and harm no one. Go to the Perilous Lands. Find the Fisher King. You will seek your answers there."
The women jerks, Aglain outreaching her hands to hold her. Her gaze goes unfocused. "Deary?" "I'm here Mother." She breathes. The thundering voice is gone. "Well... It's been a long time since I've done one of those." The old women slumps, seemingly exhausted.
"Come, Mother, I'll walk you back to your tent." Merlin watches as they walk away. The hairs on the back of his neck haven't gone down with magic coiling under his skin. Merlin's a bit silly, being so tense around the women when she's hardly threatening. Ominous words ringing in his skull.
Something moves beside him and he's reminded that his Mom is here too. Seeing her pale, drawn visage brings alarm to his gut. "Mom?" Her wild expression turns to him. "Ma…?" His voice comes weakly, and she shakes her head.
"I'm sorry honey… I was.." Her tone trembles, crumbling swiftly under her sorrow. "I knew destiny would come for you." Hunith cried, "But I didn't think it would come so soon!"
Tears flowed down her face so he quickly pulls her into a hug. "Ma… I think.."
"No." Her sternness stops the idea in its tracks. "I will not have my son go to the Perilous Lands." The arms tightened around him. "You are still so young... We can find a way to protect you. We'll just move further away from the village."
He swallows down the lump in his throat. There is nothing else that he wants more than to do that. His body was so young, and he could live out part of his life as a child. Unburdened. Yet he knows that this would be a lie. He cannot remain ignorant forever. If they did move farther away from Ealdor, they would no longer have the support of their neighbors, and life would grow far more dangerous. Destiny is calling for him.
"No Ma. I need to go. As much as I want too, I can't ignore this. Forgive me." Both are still. Merlin holds his breath.
"Alright honey. I'll help you prepare." And lets it go. His Mother gives him a lingering kiss on his forehead, and he can't help but close his eyes. Aching for the affection that he will soon be leaving.
Aglain clears his throat, and they separate. The man's sudden coldness is disturbing. "Now forgive me, but I am not one to ignore my Mother's warning. If your magic is a danger to us, then you have to leave. Now." "Excuse me?" Hunith's glare made them both flinch.
"I do not say this lightly. My Mother's sight is the only thing that has allowed us to make it this far. He must go."
"Mom." He grabs her hand before she could do anything more. "It's ok. I'll go." The tall man gives a silent apology with the twist of his mouth.
"I am truly sorry for this. I can give supplies for the trip and directions, but no more." Another druid rushes up with a leather bag, thrusting it at Merlin without looking before scurrying away. He manages to not drop it. "This has rations, a waterskin, herbs, a map, and a healing elixir. Use that when you are in dire need."
The teen nods seriously, throwing the strap over his shoulder. "Thank you." Swooped up into one last rib-crushing hug, Hunith whispers into his mop of dark hair. "I'll be waiting in Ealdor if you need me." It's a small comfort, but one he takes with him gladly as he steps away.
His mother's gaze prickles the back of his neck as he walks deeper into the forest. One last glance back to see Hunith's head dipped down low before he's pushing onward. Minutes of walking. The sun and wilderness pressing down on him. The ache in his heart remains; swelling until It's a terrible beast that took away time.
It's dark now. Crickets chirping away and the sweat drying off in the coolness of night. He can't see anything yet his magic is scanning the area far and wide for him. It's frightening how it tingles wholly beneath the skin.
That's what causes him to collapse to the earth. To scramble until his back touches a hard surface and prevent his panicked breaths from speeding up. The day flashes through his mind and in a tick of engulfing fear does his magic crackle outside of his skin.
It's gone. It's all gone. There is no buildings or cracks in this world to suggest that he was on a really strange drug trip. With certainty, this was life thousands of years ago, and he would have to live through it all over again. He'll be hunted relentlessly for centuries. Wars will ravish the lands and he'll be in the center of it all. His mother will die again, and he'll have to say goodbye.
This wasn't a gift. It was a curse, and he wants no part of it.
If the Perilous Lands have answers, then he's going to get them. No matter the cost.