Merlin knew he was coming even before the djinn knew it himself. He'd been trying to ignore it for days, but now it was impossible. That shift in the air. That change in the way the night settled over the earth. No one else noticed it. How could they? They were just mortals. They had no awareness of things like this, and if he told any one of them they'd discount him as a madman. A lunatic fit only for an asylum. Madmen in his time were outcasts, the butt of every joke, the ones blamed when crops failed or children died or wolves attacked the sheep, and the ones who always hanged for it. Come to think of it, now, that hadn't really changed... All the more reason for him to have kept the information to himself. It wasn't like the feeling he got was necessarily bad, anyway. Strange. Threatening. Powerful and full of potential to completely tear apart the fabric of this world and several others due to a disrupting molecular shift in their make-up... But that was hardly anything to worry about. Mortals had much bigger things hanging in the balance. Like the next celebrity guest on that tv show Glee, or when Lindsay Lohan would be in rehab next. So he'd sat in his small apartment over the antique shop, making himself cup after cup of Earl Gray tea and watching the Weather Channel. They were having a marathon of Storm Stories. So far there'd been five tornado episodes, three hurricane episodes, and six thunderstorm episodes. He was wondering to himself how these didn't get repetitive when he felt that shift in the air shift itself right into his shop.
The shop was dark and eerily quiet. As the stranger walked in. Not even the door's movement made a sharp enough noise to penetrate the heavy silence that hung over the room like a fog. The stranger walked slowly, step by step moving further and further into the foreign place. His heartbeat quickened with adrenaline, and sweat dripped down his pale brow as each step seemed to bring him closer to something worse than what he'd left outside. Light from an open window and the dim lighting of a lamp here and there were the only things keeping this place from complete darkness. The lights illuminated the dust in the air and every surface was coated in a thin white layer of the dust that had settled. This was a lonely place. Empty and forgotten, and it seemed it had been for some time. Grant it, there were a few shelves, and here and there a few books, that looked as though they'd been recently used. But overall the place looked like any of it's brothers. Small bookshops like these were a dying race. Soon they would be all but forgotten and left behind for the convenience of a portable electronic store. That was humans. Always looking for a faster, easier way to do things.
The stranger continued moving further into the shop. He could feel magic in the air. Smell it even. It was a light, bitter sort of smell. Old magic, like his. But stale. This magic hadn't been used in centuries. He frowned. For whatever reason, this magic had sit idle long enough to stink, losing it's sweet, tangy aroma. The wielder of this magic had probably long ago forgotten what his magic was supposed to smell like, feel like, sound like. If he'd gone so long without it, there was a good chance he would not want to pick up the practice again, even for something like this. It was an even more plausible reality that he'd forgotten how to use it altogether. Praying that wasn't the case, the man continued further still into the building until he'd reached the back wall. There he could hear the faint sounds of movement coming from the other side.
Merlin was sitting in a backroom, his office, drinking another cup of tea and watching Storm Chasers on the tiny tv he had, when he felt it. Old magic. Ancient and as old as the gods themselves. It had been decades since he'd last even acknowledged his own powers, and yet with another of his kind so close all of a sudden, Merlin felt them stirring weakly in his gut. He smothered them down, stifling them back into silence, but even as he did that he could feel the change in his consciousness. It widened. It expanded. And slowly, he found himself turning his head in the direction the man coming, and he whispered, "A genie."
As if the other man could hear him, the genie suddenly called out his name. "Merlin!" The stranger looked for the door that would lead him to the other side of the wall, and to the man he'd come here to see. "Merlin! If you don't come out here yourself, I'll make my own door and go in after you!" He doubted his words sounded threatening. He hadn't meant them. He could feel the magic's power in his belly fluctuating. He didn't want to use it any more than he had to. If a djinn lost his power, he was nothing. Gone. Poof. Even a freed djinn like himself was no more than a puff of smoke without the magic that made him.
Merlin glanced at the closed and locked door to his office, sighing a little as he weighed the options. The djinn's magic was old and powerful, he could sense that, but Merlin doubted the intruder could hold his own against him, a man who'd been blessed by the Goddess. But then again, that Goddess was long-since dead, and he hadn't used his powers to so much as conjure a tea-cozy in many years. He might try to lock the genie in a cave and end up dressing him in a wedding gown. "Blast it all," he muttered, finally standing and going to the door. He opened it and instantly his eyes locked with that of the stranger. A natural draw to each other, encouraged by their ancient powers. It had been a very long time since the djinn had ever met someone even remotely close to as old as he was. To see the wizard now, to feel the magic moving between them, was a good feeling. One that he readily welcomed, even if it was painfully obvious the wizard was not so open to him. Merlin suppressed his magic's pull yet again, and looked the man up and down before he spoke bluntly, "What kind of genie are you? You don't have a tail. And you're white."
The djinn seemed to relax at that. He laughed goodnaturedly. "We don't all look alike, Wizard, which I hope is the case for you guys too. If all of you looked like that, I'd be filing a formal complaint with the big boss."
His failed attempt at humor in a dark time like this was met with silence. So he cleared his throat and continued, more seriously. "I am the one called Genie. A djinn and freed companion of the sultan, Aladdin, son of the King of Thieves. I'm sure you've heard the tales. And you are Merlin, great wizard of kings and legends."
As he spoke, Genie stepped closer to the wall, looking over his shoulder at the rest of the shop. It was empty now, but there was no telling who might come in at any moment. He needed to speak with Merlin alone. These were serious problems that needed to be dealt with, and as old and powerful as his magic was, there was no way he would be able to fix this problem on his own. He wasn't even completely sure what he was dealing with. "Is there somewhere more private we talk?"
Merlin furrowed his brow, the creases along his mouth matching the creases in his forehead. "Private?" he answered, before spreading his arms out wide and turning in a half-circle to look around the shop, "Do you see anyone here? Is this not private enough for you? I am an old man, djinn. I have already done well to secure privacy in my own establishment. They have picture books about it here. Old men sitting in rocking chairs yelling at children. "Get off my lawn!" they say. You should read one. Most interesting. Aisle 4, in the back next to the dirty magazines."
Somewhat shocked by the flippancy of the wizard, Genie hesitated before continuing his petition. "I wouldn't have come to you unless it was absolutely necessary. I'm afraid there's no one else to turn to." He took a step closer to the old man, his voice lowering with the severity of his case. "The fourth wall has been compromised. The crack that was left by it's creators, the very one that you and I both have traveled through, has spread throughout the entirety of the wall. I saw it for myself only moments ago. It's pulling through everything from our world into this one. I saw several fall into this world with me. There's no telling what damage could be done if these people were to find out about our world. Not to mention the catastrophe unchecked magic would cause in this world. The wall needs to be fixed, Merlin. Now! Say you'll help me."
Merlin listened as the genie went on and on, and he watched as the genie gestured with his hands in animated urgency. He stood, and he watched, and he listened. Merlin knew that the genie was right. The people of this world were panicky, easy to rile up, difficult to calm, and prone to dramatic fits of paranoia and fear. If they found out what had happened here, he would be forced to deal with a hell unlike any he'd ever seen. And Merlin had seen his fair share of hell. He lived it every day. His blue eyes blinked, went a little sad, and then his lips parted and his head lowered slightly. The genie was right. This was bad. This had to be undone - now - before things got any worse.
There was just one problem. Merlin looked back up at the genie after a moment and then said in a surprisingly firm, steady voice, "The Fourth Wall was formed by magic older and more powerful than either of us. It separates the humans from things they cannot comprehend, things that would frighten and panic them until they destroyed each other. No one remembers who formed it - some say it must have been the gods, who are now long dead themselves. And neither you nor I are gods, genie." With that he turned back around and went into the office in an almost dismissive manner, yet he left the office door open. The genie could follow him or not, Merlin didn't really care. It wouldn't change the outcome of this matter, no matter how dreadful it truly was.
When he heard the genie hurry in after him, though, he turned back around to face him again. "You ask me to help you fix the Wall. It can't be done, genie. It just... can't. The Wall was built to last forever, there were no plans or safety nets built in case it failed. It was never supposed to fail. There's nothing either of us can do except sit here... wait..."
He paused there, looking down at the tea he'd almost forgotten. A smile suddenly came to his face and he took the porcelain cup into his hand, raised it to the genie as if in a toast, and then took a sip before going on.
"And enjoy some lovely English tea. I wish I'd stuck around England long enough to see it's introduction in the 1400's. I do love tea. Would you like some?"
Genie frowned deeply at the old man's careless dismissal of their problem. Merlin was wrong. He must be.
"Legend dictates your own magic is from the gods, Wizard," he protested passionately. "And I myself am a demon, equal in power to most of the gods of old. More importantly, though their power may be weakened and their eagerness to help all but gone, Zeus and his court of Greek gods and demigods are very much alive. Even though they may be unable to lend us help in the repair itself, they may provide insight into finding a solution. If you and I were to combine our powers, together we may have more of a chance at fixing this than you say."
He doubted his words were any good. This man was crazy! He didn't sound like he cared one inch about what would happen to anyone out there. If the humans reacted, if the others retaliated, if all hell was set loose and Hades himself walked the streets of New England, Merlin seemed to want the world to believe he would sit alone in his office and contentedly sip his tea. And maybe he would. All Genie knew of this man were the legends and stories told by the few in the magical realms old enough to remember them. One being Cinderella's own fairy godmother, who had a taste for unreliability and elaboration. Genie wasn't sure what he could trust of the knowledge he had of this man. But there was one thing he was sure of. No one, not even the worst of villains, could live so long amongst the humans, see all of both their good and their bad, and not at least feel some compassion for the good still struggling to survive in them. Merlin had to see that they needed him. Genie couldn't do this alone, and he wanted to believe Merlin wouldn't make him try.
Merlin spoke almost immediately after the genie fell silent. "First of all, genie, do not call yourself a demon. I have seen demons, I have dealt with demons, I was nearly seduced by a demon when I was a young man - You, genie, are no demon. If you were, you'd be finding a clever way to kill me with my teacup instead of standing here begging me to help you save the cosmos." He stopped there, blinking to himself as heavy thoughts settled in his mind and shadowed his eyes. No... No, this genie was no demon. He may have been formed as a djinn, a supernatural creature with phenomenal cosmic powers that existed only to be enslaved and grant wishes for mortals in order to gain freedom (thus making him very sneaky and instinctively selfish), but there was no evil in him.
One part of his magic Merlin had never been able to repress or ignore was something every living human had. In his time it was a universal power that bound everyone together, mortals and witches and wizards and everyone. Nowadays, it was known simply as intuition. Instinctual feelings that might lead you to the truth, but couldn't be trusted for their own sake. Merlin knew differently. Intuition was only a shadow of what each mortal held inside them. If any of them cared anymore to explore it, expand it, they would find it was more akin to a natural and powerful lie detector. He had never been able to suppress that inside of himself, and it came in handy now even though he'd never admit it. No, this djinn was no demon. He was possibly one of the purest souls ever to walk this earth.
But Merlin wasn't going to tell him that.
Genie followed the man further into the room, stepping slowly towards the desk as Merlin spoke. But be stopped short three steps in. What the old man said was nothing short of a shock. Genie had never given much thought to what he was. He knew he'd been born a demon, with the rest of his brothers at the beginning of time. He, as his magic, was one of the oldest and most powerful of his kind. But that had never changed in his mind what he was. So for this man to say, despite knowing nothing of him or his life, after only having met him a few minutes ago, that he was not a demon in the way this world defined demons, as being evil, was enough to stop Genie in his tracks. He looked at the man with a new sense of respect.
The older man sighed heavily, turned away slowly and shuffled back towards his tv. "I know of those Greek gods. Zeus. Hera. Aphrodite. Dionysus. They wouldn't help us if we begged them, Genie. The fate of humanity is no longer their concern. Going to them would be a waste of time we do not have. You want to save these worlds? Leave well enough alone. Give humanity that much more time to believe nothing is wrong."
Genie frowned and finished crossing the room. He rested a hand on the desk. "What about the demi-god? Zeus's son. Surely he could speak with them. Get them to agree to help us, for his sake." No one knew for sure where the man was or what had happened to him, but everyone knew of Hercules and the great things he'd done. Of the woman he loved and the friends he'd made. Surely to save all of them, Zeus would help. Merlin was opening his mouth to shoot down the djinn's second suggestion, so Genie rushed on. "We can't just give up, Merlin. It's not mercy to just let the Wall crumble! It's quitting. For whatever reason, laziness or cowardliness or heartlessness, it's still the same. I won't quit. I will try to stop this, with or without you, but," he paused, watching the old man, hoping to see some change in his expression. Something to give Genie hope.
"I can't do this alone." Genie stepped towards him, trying to plead his case one last time. "You used to be the greatest wizard who ever lived. You used to help people. Please, Merlin. Say you'll help me."
Help me...
That idea… It was sticking in the forefront of his mind. Replaying like a broken record and bringing up memories he had long-since buried.
Helping…
That idea. Helping people.
It had been so long since he'd imagined himself as someone who could be capable of that. And why? Because everything he'd tried to help... everything he'd tried to protect or preserve... or even love... It had all been destroyed. He had been separated from his old life for countless years, but the voices and words of people he had known back then still echoed in his ears like he'd heard them only minutes before.
"You must help me, Myrrdin, I must have her!"
"Myrrdin, help me... I don't understand, you have to help me understand!"
"Help me learn, Myrrdin! I want to be a great king like Uther, help me!"
All of them... so many voices... Uther begging him to bring him Igraine... The soldier Lancelot asking him to tell him what sort of witchcraft had been placed on him that he fell in love with the one woman in Britain he could not have... A young, starry-eyed Arthur, pleading with him to teach him all he knew so he could be the king that prophecy had foretold... And then as if watching it all over again, he saw them all die. Uther's death as an unsatisfied, unfulfilled king who could have and should have been so much more for his people, Lancelot's death on the field of battle protecting the king he had stolen everything from, Arthur's death shortly afterwards at the hand of his own illegitimate son...
Then, like a banshee come to haunt him and torment him for his mistakes, Igraine's voice shrieked in his head.
"What have you done?!"
He didn't know... Centuries later and he still couldn't give her ghost an answer. He didn't know what he had done to cause all this evil to happen. He had never meant for any of it. All he had been trying to do, with every step and every breath he took... was help.
He would not have history repeat itself. He would not allow more lives to be destroyed and lost because he had to shove himself into things that he shouldn't. The genie would have to handle this on his own. If he became involved... everything would just get worse.
"Merlin…?" Genie pressed hesitantly, noticing the distant look in the old man's expression. Merlin turned and met the other man's eyes, opening his mouth to tell him that it was simply impossible to help, when a loud crash came from the front of the shop. Shelves were knocked over and several heavy things crashed to the floor, along with what sounded like something very large and very much made of glass. A burglar, perhaps... But no, that thought was quickly pushed from Merlin's head. His magic, though long-since untouched, tingled in his fingertips. That was no burglar. That was someone else from their world. And Merlin could only sigh.
"I hope that wasn't the Ming Dynasty vase... Took me three years to procure that thing..."
