Interlude 3: A young man named Mickey

London, 15th November, early morning, the year 2115.

"Mickelsen, wasn't it?" Gil asked.

"Aye," Mickey answered. "That's what my mother named me. Supposedly."

"It's danish," Gil added. "Means son of Mickel."

"Huh," Mickey said. "Just call me Mickey though. Everyone does that."

"Alright, Mickey," Gil said.

While the old mage took a slow sip from his drink, Mickey took a look around the apartment once more. Despite the ramshackle appearance of the apartment building on the outside, the interior of the wizard's home was pretty close to what he expected, almost looking like a miniature version of the interior of a Victorian mansion. The floors were covered with colourful carpets, with patterns ranging from blue to red, the vine red draperies looked richly, and even the walls were finely decorated, with brown wooden wallpapers that looked incredibly well preserved. All of the furniture looked like mishmashes of different cultures and eras of history. The couches and chairs looked like something belonging to nobles just before the french revolution, the tables and cupboards looked straight out late, English Victorian era, and the pillows and cushions were a mixture of bohemian and Arabian. The only things reminding the viewers of modern times in the apartment were the digital clock, the heater, and the holographic fireplace. Despite everything, Gil considered the modern-day clock to have some advantages to the older types. Still, that perspective, that of anything modern having possible benefits, took him a while to consider. Not because he was a nostalgia addict stuck in the past, but rather because he just couldn't bother for the longest time.

Another thing of note about it was that it appeared bigger on the inside than outside, although Mickey considered that it could've just been a trick of perspective rather than being magical. Suffice to say, Mickey was more than impressed in his first impression.

"So this is where you've been for the last few hundred years I'm guessing?" he asked.

"Uh-huh," Gil replied.

"Not a bad place for retirement," Mickey said. "Assuming, of course, that The Great Seven Human Mages need to retire in the first place."

Gil smiled a bit in remembrance as a nostalgic feeling washed over him.

"I was never was a fan of that moniker," Gil replied. "Truth is, about half of us only met once, did our jobs, and then we parted our ways."

"Besides, it's also only partly accurate," Mickey pointed out.

"Indeed," Gil said. "But I guess it rolls better off the tongue than The Six and a half Human Mages."

"I thought Merlin wasn't human?" Mickey inquired.

"He was mostly human," Gil replied. "A lot more than me, that is."

"Heh, then I guess the more accurate moniker would be The Five, a half, and Mostly Human Mages."

"Heh."

"Well, mayhaps The Four Humans, the half-human, mostly human, and whatever the hell Baba Yaga was supposed to be because from what I've read, she was definitely not human."

Both proceeded to chuckle together, like old friends or acquaintances catching up long lost times.

"Now that just rolls off the tongue, aight?" Mickey added.

"Maybe," Gil replied. "Well, even though I was by far the oldest, probably, I was called the weakest. On the account of my… impure soul. And maybe I was. Maybe I was. But also, I was careful. I was patient."

"Your soul clearly reflects that," Mickey said.

"Aye," Gil said. "But others mocked me for that. And where are the other six now? Dead. And those who somehow aren't might as well be. I may be the last living person of that forgotten era. Or the last one with some human variety."

He turned thoughtful once more. These momentary bits of amusement were quickly replaced by the returning thoughts of discomfort and rage. Mickey noticed that and decided to avert his thoughts.

"So you never figured out Baba Yaga?" Mickey inquired.

"Never bothered," Gil answered. "Was she a goddess? A spirit? Or something else? It no longer matters to me. I haven't seen her for two thousand years. The last time most of us saw her. Back when we erected those barriers."

He gave out a deep, tired sigh, his nostalgia turning to bitter regret as he now thought back to that fateful moment. The frightened wails of the monsters echoed in his ears as if they were happening right this moment.

They looked at each other for a good few moments, waiting for the other to speak first.

"I guess we should get onto the matter at hand," Gil began. "So. You want to be my apprentice, ey?"

"Yes, that's… why I came here," Mickey said, smiling. "Glad you remembered."

"You may have arrived a bit too late for that, unfortunately," Gil said. "I already have an apprentice."

"That's news to me," Mickey lied.

"Name's Melissa," Gil continued. "She's a… fine young lady, if a bit reckless. Me and her father, Amal, we go a bit far back. Same with her grandmother, although I can't recall her name. Her grandmother was the master of secrecy, and it's mostly thanks to her work we've kept ourselves hidden so well despite some… setbacks."

"Sounds like you fancy her," Mickey said. "The girl, I mean."

"Perhaps in some points," Gil said. "She's a bit like her father."

He tried to hide it, but he felt very uncertain as he thought about it now. However, Mickey noticed it immediately. The tone in Gil's sentence was filled with enough grumpiness that Mickey managed to piece together the bitterness in his answer.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Mickey pried.

Gil was very hesitant to answer but forced himself to do so anyway.

"Alright, the truth is, I'm not sure about her," Gil admitted.

"That's so?" Mickey asked. "And why is that?"

"Melissa is far too naive," Gil replied. "Far too reckless with her powers, and unable to grasp its responsibilities. She thinks that just because she has magic, she has permission to go around the city and act like some superhero. Bah! The only reason I'm still training her is because of her heritage, and even then, I'm surprised I'm still keeping her around. Heh. Guess loyalty never ends, even after the person's death."

"Heh, maybe not," Mickey said, smiling. "So what? You're considering making me her replacement or something?"

"Eh, maybe not yet," Gil said. "I calculate that the spot will be open in a couple of months, where I have either fired her, or she quits."

"Or she dies," Mickey suggested.

"Or that," Gil said. "Meh. I've watched so many people die that it won't face me. Doubt I'll even feel anything when she dies."

"You sure about that?" Mickey asked, sensing something.

"Of course. Why not?"

"Oh, nothing. It's just that from the sound of it, I have a feeling there's some… other reason… you still keep her around."

Gil wasn't certain why, but that answer made him slightly angry.

"Careful now… boy," he said, slowly. "You are on the verge of delving into some places not meant for you."

Mickey stopped his curiosity immediately and smiled.

"Anyway, tell me about your name, Gil?" Mickey asked, changing the subject.

"What about it?" Gil asked, taken aback.

"Just wondering," Mickey said.

"Eh, it's Gil," Gil answered blankly. "Chose it myself. Nothing more to it."

"You sure?"

"Yes. Why?"

Mickey leaned back in his seat, trying to make himself more comfortable. That was when he realized this was the perfect moment to ask the ancient wizard something he often wanted to know.

"It's just a curious thing," he began. "All of the other great mages, Merlin, Baba Yaga, Morgan Le Fay, even your old student, Baron Samedi, just to name a few. Their names have been pretty much immortalized through history. In stories and plays and so on. Hell, even children's entertainment."

"Oh really now?" Gil asked with grumpy sarcasm.

"Surprise, surprise," Mickey said, going along. "I, honestly, consider the last part to be an honour if anything. But back on the subject. While I was looking for you, I soon realized that not one mythology mentioned some wizard, god, or important figured named Gil, and believe me, I looked. I found it almost unbelievable. You were the oldest of the bunch, and yet nothing, while your apprentice Samedi, someone much younger than any of you Seven Mages, becomes a freaking loa deity?"

Gil smiled at his confusion, happy to be reminded of his successful anonymity through the years

"Unlike other mages," Gil began. "I rarely interfered in non-magic human affairs. I never wanted to be remembered, never tried to be noticed. Many of my old comrades probably assumed I was either selfish or misanthropic. But the truth of the matter is, the thing behind my quest for secrecy, and still does especially today, was simply put… a hunch."

"A hunch?" Mickey asked.

"That revealing even just a glimpse of the hidden natures to those stuck in the material world, would make those glimpses last as long as written history," Gil answered. "And turns out… I was right. Ugh. Our order went through so much to keep our secrecy, only to carelessly give it up in all corners of the world. Even Baba herself, despite her elusiveness, couldn't keep her foul human-eating habit in check, and because of that, she has practically become the image of witches. Same goes for that fool Merlin and what not. Now, until humanity itself either stops writing stories or Earth is wiped out, we are completely unable to be forgotten as we all should be. What a disgrace!"

Gil took another gulp from his drink. Mickey did not miss the annoyance in his tone. He was almost sort of envious of his ability to care little on how others perceive him.

"To be fair, I did slip occasionally," Gil continued. "Early Norway is the biggest example. Helped some farmers, hoping that since they never wrote down their histories and only exchanged verbally, I would be forgotten in a year or two. But sadly, I wasn't."

"Yet, not even nordic myths mention anything about a wizard named Gil," Mickey pointed out.

"They never called me Gil," Gil answered. "The one thing they never learned was my name. Even then, my feats among the old northerners were the source of many legends. They don't realize it, but for hundreds of years, they spoke of me, in whispers and prayers. Even to this day, stories are made of me. All because of my momentary kindness, I am now a legendary figure without anyone knowing it. So yeah, those were the greatest missteps of my life and all the more proof of my hunch all those years back."

Mickey turned thoughtful for a moment as he absorbed his words.

"On the bright side, it sounds like you have a pretty good track record," Mickey said, smiling encouragingly. "Only one misstep? Considering you've lived for, what? Ten thousand years, that's impressive."

"Eh, maybe so," Gil began. "When you've lived through as much of human history as I have, you realize just how insignificant many of your supposedly greatest mistakes are in the grand scheme of things."

Mickey leaned back in his seat.

"That's deep," he said snarkily.

"It's common sense," Gil said.

He took another swig of his drink. It was surprisingly strong now, so much so Gil grinned as he put his glass away.

"Bah, so that was, admittedly, a fine chat," Gil said. "But I think we should get back to-"

"I wasn't done, actually," Mickey said. "Thing is, I don't think you've been as elusive as you thought. Or at least not at the start."

"Oh?" Gil replied.

"Thing is, I spent far too long trying to find you," Mickey began. "I looked through dozens of mythologies, even read up on some obscure fairy tales. Often, I thought I was close, but then… nothing. When I concluded that you probably never used the same name twice, I ended up looking up close resemblances instead. I eventually pieced together some historical figures and even myths. I had a couple of theories then, some more reasonable than others. But just before I considered myself done, it suddenly hit me. There may be no popular figure named Gil in history or myth. But there is one in early history whose name is very close."

Gil took a deep breath. He knew whom Mickey was getting at. He was certain of it.

"Who?" Gil asked regardless.

"Gilgamesh," Mickey answered.

Gil knew it. He got the answer before Mickey even asked. The young man, feeling a smug satisfaction, smiled in an almost mocking manner as if to say "caught you".

"Why is that?" Gil asked.

"Don't be like that," Mickey said. "We both know you're older than dirt, and it kind of adds up, right?"

Mickey assumed that Gil was feigning ignorance due to pride. But Gil was actually just very uncertain. He had wondered about that connection before, about possibly being the Ancient Mesopotamian Hero and King, Gilgamesh. His memory of far distant histories was incredibly flawed, and it's not like he wasn't around that time to earn some recognition. At the same time, he felt there were some inconsistencies in that idea. He was certain he was never any sort of king or warrior, for starters. He knew he would at least remember some echoes of that sort of lifestyle, yet he had no recollections. As far as Gil could recall, he was always a quiet, solitary person.

After a moment, to answer Mickey's inquiry, Gil gave out a small shrug.

"Maybe I just inspired the name," he added.

"Come now," Mickey said, slightly frustrated. "There's no one else here, you have no reason to hide it."

"There's nothing to hide," Gil replied, frustrated as well. "I simply don't know."

"Mmm, ok, ok," Mickey said, not fully convinced. "Just saying. You don't need to hide your past from me."

"I could say the same thing to you."

An uneasy feeling came over Mickey once he heard that sentence.

"What are you-?"

"No, boy," Gil said sternly. "You've asked enough questions for now. I think it's my turn to ask you."

Even though he kept a smile, Mickey did not like where this was going.

"Ok, give me your best shot," he replied with confidence.

"How do you know so much about us?"

As if this didn't always feel like the hardest thing to answer, the way Gil asked him now felt less like a question of curiosity, and more like a demand. It was as if the old wizard had been building up to this question for a while now. Mickey felt that this conversation had turned into playing chess against a grandmaster, where every single action, or in this case, words, had to be accounted for long ahead of time.

"I have some… special folk in other places," Mickey answered after a few moments. "Special folk who know some stuff."

"Oh?" Gil asked, feeling his tinge of intrigue growing. "Tell me. Do these "special folks" of yours have monster essence in their souls as well?"

"You could say that," Mickey said. "You could very much say that."

"How much?" Gil pried.

"More than in mine, I suppose."

"Hmm, strange. Tell me. Who and where are your so-called "special folk"? Are you from a mage cult? A family of secret descendants of forgotten half-breeds?"

"Never said they were my folk," Mickey said. "I mean, they kind of are but… not by blood."

"Who are your folk then?"

"Can we change the subject?" Mickey quickly asked. "It's really not important-"

"It is," Gil said sternly like an interrogator. "If you want to be my apprentice, I'd rather know if I can trust you. And knowing where you're from and what you know, and not to mention how or why would be a great foundation for trust."

"You're sure about that, old man?" Mickey asked, keeping a smile. "Thing is, I don't think you'd like my answer."

"Doubtful," Gil said. "Truth is, there's very little that can surprise me now. A truly minuscule amount of things."

"Is that… so?" Mickey asked deviously.

He noticed an opportunity, one that could either ruin this chance or completely save it. Either way, he knew he would enjoy Gil's reaction.

"Unfortunately," Gil answered. "Life is ludicrously predictable. The last thing that managed to truly shock me was… well, I don't know."

"Hmm, what if…" Mickey began, building anticipation. "What if I told you I've been to an underground."

Gil stopped with his drink halfway up his mouth. He did not expect it, but the young man had succeeded with throwing him off.

"You've been to an underground?" Gil asked back. "You're lying."

"I'm not," Mickey asked. "And not only that, but I've also met my "special folk" there."

Gil did not know how to react to that. And now that he was pondering it, he couldn't think of another more plausible answer. The monster aspect in his soul and his oddly large amount of knowledge of things few were supposed to be privy to. This boy was telling the truth, Gil could feel it.

But instead of shock, Gil felt more ecstasy instead. Only now did his puzzling questions seem to be reaching towards a clear answer.

"So you have, eh?" he said.

"Aye," Mickey answered. "The Dreemurrs realm, to be exact."

Gil kept his still composure, even though that name unsettled him a bit. He felt he should've guessed, for it was the closest one.

"Dreemurr?" he asked. "Now that's a name I've not heard for a long, long time. Wait. How did you enter their realm, pass the barrier?"

"Well, there are one or two holes in the mountain now," Mickey said. "Sorry to break it to you."

"Hmm," Gil began, thinking. "There weren't any holes during the time we made the barrier. Eh, must just be the result of earthquakes and whatnot. Should've guessed that would happen sometime within a few millennia. Earth is a very fickle beast, after all."

"Maybe," Mickey answered. "Times change. But you probably knew that already."

Gil took a deep breath and stood up from his chair. He headed towards the nearest window, still holding the glass in his hand and simply stared through.

"How are they?" Gil asked without looking away from the window. "After all this time? How are The Dreemurrs up north?"

"They're… fine," Mickey answered. "Prosperous even."

"Prosperous?" Gil asked back. "Hmm…"

The old mage stood still as he watched the snowfall descend slowly like feathers on the ground and then melt away like the fleeting sands of time. He accepted long ago that everything came to an end, eventually. He was reminded of that truth, over and over again.

Kingdoms and countries fell, even ones prophesied to last eternal. Names would no longer be spoken, and secrets became non-existent in time. But it seemed another aspect of that truth hit him just now. It seemed that sometimes it wasn't secrets that came to an end, but rather secrecy. He should have known that even secrecy could die, even ones that had lived on for thousands of years. And revelation would be the killer.

"All those years ago," Gil replied. "I told them. I told the other mages it was a mistake. Imprisoning the monsters was the worst solution. But they did not listen to me, the weakest one. They were so adamant in it, and so I reluctantly accepted. I went along with this dreadful plan of theirs. But no matter how much time has passed. No matter the centuries or millennia, I can't forget that act. I told you earlier how insignificant many of our failures are. But this is one that echoes with me till this day. It was our greatest mistake. We… we never, never, should have imprisoned the monsters."

"No?" Mickey asked, feeling his intrigue rising.

He did not at all expect that answer from the old mage. Suffice to say, it made him a lot more interested.

"No…" Gil said.

The old wizard felt his rage growing, and immense power returned to him. He felt his clutching fingers crush the windowsill. The strength he had forgotten, and only in his ponderings of old memories and regret did they return.

"We should have wiped them all out when we had the chance!" Gil said in a thundering voice. "Monsters… are an abomination! Mistakes of creation and antithesis to order! We should have used the chance when they were all gathered to kill them all! Utterly obliterate them from existence. But no! We had to lock them up! Let them fester and grow, multiply like rabbits, giving them the chance to return one day and bring destruction on us all!"

His glass shattered in his hands. But in his angry pondering, he gave no heed to the wound festering on his palms.

Finally, he turned around to his guest, who seemed barely moved by his speech. Mickey's mind was wracked with thought, mostly through a sense of overwhelming disappointment. Like he just heard the news of a surprise visit a moment ago of someone he always wanted to meet, only to realize that person was never going to show up at all.

"Seems you don't like monsters?" Mickey said. "Honestly, I'm kinda surprised. Considering your, y'know, parentage."

Gil looked at him with a stern look. He wanted Mickey to know he was insulted by that reminder, yet keeping with a stable composure in the rest of his body.

"Err, sorry," Mickey said.

"Ugh, it's fine," Gil said. "You're right though. That I'm a halfbreed. However, I can't undo my past. None of us can, so no use running from it."

Mickey chuckled inwardly.

If only you knew, he thought.

"Anyway," Mickey began. "It's been a real nice chat, but are you interested in training me?"

Gil sighed a bit tiredly. Still facing Mickey, he leaned by the window, holding himself steady by grasping the window sill with both hands. He examined the young man sitting there, his brow furrowing as he did.

"You've given me a lot to think about, boy," Gil said. "At first, I was going to refuse you, and I only kept you around because you, erm, intrigued me. But after I figured out the deal with your soul, and if you're truly a halfbreed, I was either gonna kick you out or kill you, depending on what I'd find."

"Well… thanks for that," Mickey said sarcastically. "Really comfortable to hear."

"Besides, I don't really fancy myself as a teacher anymore," Gil said. "Hell, I was very reluctant in training Melissa, something I'm starting to regret. Perhaps some things shouldn't be passed on. Perhaps some things deserve to be forgotten. But, despite everything, I'm intrigued by the mystery you bring. I think I have room for one more spot."

"So, it's a deal?" Mickey asked, growing hopeful.

"Oh, not so fast, boy," Gil said. "Your spellwork is pretty impressive, yes. But controlling wind and extending sticks is pretty basic, even for a halfbreed. If you are one, which I'm beginning to doubt. If you want to convince me that you have more value, then I want you to demonstrate the best of your powers."

"Demonstrate my best, eh?" Mickey asked, an idea popping in his head.

"Yes," Gil said. "I can conjure up a momentary pocket dimension, where you can show me the best you got without property damage. Like one of those modern VR games or whatever."

Mickey realized his idea was maddening and risky. It was the biggest demonstration he could think of, but if it failed or backfired horribly, he would have to start all over once more. But it was so tempting, and what better way to demonstrate his will than with that?

"Boy?" Gil asked, waiting impatiently for his answer.

"Nah," Mickey answered. "A pocket dimension is unnecessary for my best."

"Oh, you sure?" Gil replied, finding it unexpected. "Well. If you say so."

"Great," Mickey said.

"So, what is it?" Gil asked, not expecting much. "Ready to demonstrate?"

Mickey looked over the room, looking for anything that he could use. He looked at Gil's cabinet of beverage and saw the drink he always ordered.

Jackpot, Mickey thought.

"Alright," Mickey said. "First, I'm kinda thirsty. Can you hand me a drink since you're standing?"

"Ugh, sure thing," Gil said grumpily.

He reached for his cane and walked towards the open cabinet. There was such a wide variety of selection that Gil had forgotten the number of beverages available.

"Now what do you want?" Gil asked.

"What do you think?" Mickey asked with confidence.

"Ugh, lousy," Gil muttered under his breath. "Alright, you want the, erm, rum and whiskey, right? You always pick rum and whiskey."

"That's right," Mickey answered.

Just as he was about to pour, Gil completely stopped. He noticed something strange. Something eerily strange.

"Wait a minute," he began. "How… how do I know that? You never told me you prefer rum and whiskey."

"Haven't I?" Mickey asked.

Gil paused as he tried to wrack his mind around this. That was when he noticed another strange thing. For some inconceivable reason, he felt nostalgic. And after that, he realized this felt eerily familiar.

"I know this sensation," Gil began. "I remember minuscule parts of… some aspects of a… similar experience."

"Like memories of an old dream?" Mickey asked.

"No…" Gil said, baffled. "These are memories of an old dream."

That was when it finally hit him. The whiskey bottle in his hand slipped from his now open grasp. It shattered on the floor, spreading the drink all over the carpet.

"No…" Gil muttered. "It cannot be that. Not here. It should be impossible."

"Something's wrong, Master Gil?" Mickey asked with a smug voice. "You look like you just remembered something."

Gil quickly turned around, almost certain of this maddening suggestion. There could be little doubt now.

"How many times have we had this conversation?" Gil asked frightfully.

"Heh, I don't know what you're talking about, old-"

"How many?!" Gil demanded.

Mickey took a deep breath and smiled.

"Seven times," he admitted. "Right now? This is the eight."

Gil had not felt terror for thousands of years. He had almost forgotten that feeling. He had known so much, seen so much, that he believed anything new he would learn or see would not even phase him.

But right now, he felt his entire body frozen by this almost forgotten sensation. For the first time in thousands of years, Gil remembered terror.

"By my ancestors…" he said in disbelief. "I've dreamt of this power before. The power to erase time itself through sheer determination! I've felt echoes of reality itself bending in other worlds and sometimes in those underground prisons of monsters. But it… it is the power of dreams! Of unreality! Of realms and places that aren't beholden to this world's linear rules of time and space! Do you understand, boy?! This ability should not be possible in this waking world! Yet, I feel it in my essence, in my soul, the truth! Seven times reality has started over in just this house! Seven times, destiny and time have been rewound like a watch! How?! How is this possible?!"

Mickey chuckled like a devil, and Gil absolutely hated it. In his heart, he wanted to impale him in his seat at this moment.

"Frankly?" Mickey finally said. "I have no idea."

"How!" Gil demanded. "Tell me now, boy! How have you reset time here outside of dreams?! Tell me how! TELL ME!"

"Well… how do you know you're not dreaming now?" Mickey asked, smiling cheekily.

Gil did not like what he just said. Not one bit.

Not because the old mage considered his idea a possibility. Rather the opposite. What Mickey just said infuriated him. Rage began to grow alongside his dread, and the smug impression of the boy, his smile and demeanour, just made it all the worse.

"Are you insinuating… that I can't tell reality?!" Gil asked.

"I'm not insinuating anything," Mickey said, still smiling. "But… who knows? Maybe the entire world is a dream."

"You… dare… BELITTLE ME?!"

At that moment, reality changed on a whim.

Gil was gone entirely, and as the room darkened and began to squeeze tighter while furnitures creaked as they shrunk unnaturally, and as perspective began to bend until Mickey sat in the centre of everything, something else had taken the wizard's place. And it walked forward, holding itself by Gil's cane and reality creaked and bent to keep it in place above all.

In a moment, Gil's skin had turned green like ocean grass, and his hair became indistinguishable from seaweed. Sharp fins grew on his feet and wrists, piercing through and making holes in the nightgown, and it's bright cyan eyes glowed like spotlights of its cyan soul.

As if by some invisible force, Mickey felt as if he was pushed further into his seat until some aspects the oppressive air held him stuck in place. And he looked up, in awe and unease. Despite keeping a still face, he gulped and began to sweat.

What stood towering over him was not a man. Nor was it a monster. It was something else. Something older than this house. Older than anything here. Older than written history itself.

Like some ancient god from the ocean, it was a being which all beings afterwards were to be judged by. No one should dare disobey him, for he was the elder to all men who lived now.

And then he spoke. In a voice that was not inhuman, but was, in fact, greater than human. It was a voice of ten thousand years of accumulated knowledge and power.

"You little mongrel, infant, lowest of lows!" he uttered. "I have lived on this earth for more than ten thousand years! I have seen kingdoms fall! I've been privy to ages pass and long-forgotten secrets that you couldn't even begin to guess! I've seen spells that bend the boundaries of truth, and rituals that make the most rational man question the entirety of their existence! But most of all, I have slept! I have slept and I have dreamt. Not just for a night! But for a year! For a hundred years! Once I even slept under the deepest chasms of the sea for a thousand-year and more! I've dreamt of lost realms and eras! And timelines that may have never existed! Ones where humanity was on the mercy of the fates and wiped itself countless times, and ones where no life was birthed on this moving island we call earth to begin with! I have dreamt of places in the ocean of dark emptiness where the stars lay! I've dreamt of beings from that endless void, beings that your feeble, young and foolish mind couldn't comprehend! You would claim them nightmares, a fiction, yet they are perhaps more real than reality itself! Now you?! Now you, a mere speck! You speak as if I was some halfwit fool who couldn't comprehend existence! And you imply that you, a mere boy, who's lived only a moment of my age, are more aware of dreams and the root of consciousness than me! That you are better than me! That you are a better than Gil… The Dreamer!"

And then, just like that, it stopped. Gone were his unnaturally glowing eyes, gone was the sickly green skin, the fins, and the crushing presence. His hair was again a grey mess resembling an old mop, his skin was pale once more, and reality itself returned to normal as quickly as the flick of a switch. The figure standing in the centre of the room appeared incredibly small and resembled nothing but a grumpy elderly man that posed no intimidation.

Gil, still feeling a bit annoyed, returned to his seat and looked at his guest like nothing just occurred.

He leaned a bit forward in the seat, holding himself stable with his cane.

Mickey was not easily frightened, and this unnerved him a bit. Only one other person he knew had given him such an otherworldly and godly impression.

Despite visibly shaking, Mickey forced a smile.

"Alright then…" Mickey said. "I stand corrected. This is reality."

Gil said nothing. Just took in a deep breath as he stared at the young man in silence.

"So I guess teaching me is off the menu, eh?" Mickey replied. "Seems I better start over."

Before he answered, Gil gave out a loud sigh. It was audibly mixed with frustration and exhaustion. He had thought about this possibility a lot recently, gone back and forth in just the past few minutes. He couldn't refuse, that would just make the boy reset reality again. The stubbornness of people knows no bounds, Gil always thought. Also, this was an unnatural power brought here in the realm of waking. Gil thought he knew all the more important facets of magic and reality-bending. Now he realized that there was more, maybe much more, to it, and he really wanted to know more.

Despite everything, while Gil didn't know it until now, he had already come to an answer to Mickey's request a while ago.

"No," Gil told him. "I won't teach you."

Mickey took in a deep, tired breath.

Disappointed, was all he could think. He was so close this time. He was certain of it.

Fortunately, Gil wasn't done speaking.

"Unless…" Gil added. "You're willing to teach me as well."

Mickey almost chuckled at that, while Gil remained with a stern look.

"Seriously?" Mickey asked, baffled. "After all that shit? What the hell could I teach you?"

"Everything," Gil answered. "Starting with resets."


Author's note:

So yeah, this is another chapter I had been excited about for a while now.

Now, many of you are probably wondering why there is an interlude in the middle of an ongoing chapter, and my answer to that is two-fold:

1. This is my story, I'm the king here and I do what I want!

2. It was going to be the interlude after The Snowdin chapter, but then I thought that it actually fits better here. First things first, it would be really difficult to write it without giving away Mickey's true identity ahead of what I thought was a better reveal. Second, it kind of foreshadows something that's going to happen in the next chapter (maybe a bit obviously though).

So yeah, this in terms of the chapter itself. If anyone bothered or cared about the first interlude, this is a sort of sequel to that, in that it takes place mere moments afterward (or at least from Gil's perspective, it's only been a few moments). Also, this is where I wanted to showcase just the type of powers wizards in this AU are capable of. It's not just casting fireballs or making curses. Gil is one of the oldest wizards, and I wanted to highlight the powers of such an old and experienced in ways other than being a grandpa pulling a Super Sayan move (although, that does sound awesome).

It also took me a surprising amount of time to finish it. Mostly it wasn't because of writer's block or because I didn't know what to say. Actually, I had a bunch of dialogue and moments ready in my head, but I just kept going back and forth, placing them in different places until I was satisfied. Just as an example, in a couple of iterations I was going to open with Mickey revealing that he had been to a monster kingdom. I was also going to make Gil a lot more shocked at the revelation that the monsters were still alive. I changed my mind for two reasons, one was that I realized I thought it weird that Gil wouldn't even suspect something like that, and also that it kind of trivialized the actual shock he would get in the same chapter.

Anyway, I could speak about this chapter and my process behind it a lot more. Truth is, despite my difficulty with it, I am actually really proud of it. I was afraid some of it would be a bit too reminiscent of other works, such as William Dafoe's Poseidon speech in The Lighthouse and... I'm rambling again. All I will add is that Gil is an important character in this AU, and not just because he was one of The Seven Mages who made the barrier in the Undertale intro. I will see you soon, and the next update will be a continuation of the Waterfall chapter. I'm gonna try and finish it before the end of the year. I won't promise... but I'll certainly try ;)