Merlin was the answer to my remaining mysteries. He took me home to his mother, swearing that she would feed me and let me sleep there overnight. While he knocked on the door, I held my hands behind my back and did my best to look polite, shy, harmless.

A woman about my age opened the door. She had a portly figure that obviously concealed a great deal of muscle. If I messed with her boy, she could probably break me in half. But the gentle smile on her face and her relaxed, friendly posture indicated that I had nothing to fear otherwise. She looked between the two of us. "Who is this?"

"He's my friend," Merlin replied.

"Merlin, did you make it to the twins' house?"

His smile dropped. "No…"

"They were expecting you! Go and apologize right now. I'll entertain your friend."

"Okay." He smiled at me. "Bye." Off he went.

Merlin's mom invited me in for biscuits. "He's a wonderful boy," she told me. "Always befriending strays like you. I just wish he'd focus on the friends he already has! Sit down right there, in the good chair. I'll bring out the biscuits."

While waiting for her to come back, I took deep breaths to calm myself. I couldn't avoid telling her my name, and she probably had very strong opinions about me. What to do? Give her a fake name? Give her my real name and hope to convince her I wasn't a villain? I strongly considered the first option, but I got a feeling that I wouldn't remember any fake name I came up with. Trying to lie to her would ultimately make me look exactly like the villain I didn't want to be. As usual, the only workable way forward for me was to tell the truth and hope for the best.

She came back with a plate of things that didn't quite match the definition of "biscuit" I was familiar with. They were made from dough, sure, but with other ingredients mixed in. Was that mushroom? And, of course, they were all dripping with honey. Besides the biscuits, she also brought out two bowls of water and a cloth that had once been white but was now stained gold. The living room had a small square table for entertaining guests. She put the biscuits in the center of it. She put one bowl of water near me and one far from me, the cloth to the right of the biscuits, then went back to the kitchen. The display was finished with two smaller plates, so small they looked like coasters, in the open space to the left of the big plate.

"These biscuits look amazing, ah…"

"Samara. And thank you!" She took one of the small plates. I took the other. We both nibbled delicately at our biscuits. The biscuits themselves were savory; in combination with the honey (which was fruitlike and smelled of flowers, not at all like the pure sugar I was used to), the taste was mesmerizing. All my concerns and worries evaporated. Nothing could be truly, irredeemably wrong in a world where such delicious food existed.

After we'd both finished a biscuit, she asked me, "What's your name, stranger?"

"It's Ama."

The atmosphere changed instantly, becoming tense. "How did you meet my boy?" Samara asked. She put on a pretense of friendliness, but if I answered wrong she was going to break me in half.

"I was wandering around New Ull looking totally lost," I answered. "He found me just as I was in the middle of wondering how I could get someone to explain to me what all these new things are. The emissary, the school, technomancy. Merlin told me who the emissary is, but I haven't yet found out what the other two are."

She seemed unsure whether to believe me or not. What did she think I was lying about? "Well, you know more about the school than you think," she said craftily. "It was founded on your example."

I finished chewing and swallowing my latest mouthful of biscuit. "Um, I don't have an example. What are you talking about?"

"Your soul magic."

I struggled not to burst out laughing, and only barely succeeded. Snorting, my shoulders shaking, I shook my head. "No way." Then the truth of her words hit me, erasing my smile. "Wait. People on Lore know about soul magic from me? But I never told anyone. That's not possible."

Samara sat very, very still. "You might not've left behind any teachings, but those people at the school have spent the past twenty years trying to replicate what you did."

"What are you talking about? I never did anything. Nothing obviously…y'know…different from anything that anyone else does, I mean."

The tension was gone. Samara stared at me, her eyes bulging, just like Merlin's had when I told him my name. "Shapeless save us," she whispered.

I put my biscuit down and searched her face. "What school is this? What did I supposedly do?" My face fell. "Oh, no. It's impossible for anyone to copy me without my help. How - how many people are with this school?" I envisioned enormous amounts of people wasting two decades of their lives fruitlessly trying to follow my example. It killed my appetite. I put the small plate on the table, washed my fingers in the water and then dried them on the cloth, all without meeting Samara's gaze. My blush probably spread all the way down my neck.

"Not many," she squeaked out. "About a dozen core adherents, and perhaps fifteen students."

Students. I gagged. Kids, children, just like Merlin. Spending not just years, but their whole lives on something totally futile. "I need to go outside," I gasped. "May I sit out back?"

That was how I spent the afternoon: sitting in what little of their backyard was plain grass, watching the plants and the insects and birds that attended to them, trying to recover from the multiple blows my soul had taken. That, of course, led to imagining just what sort of agony the emissary must have gone through. I closed my eyes and leaned into the pain and sadness, helping those feelings to pass quickly. I almost felt okay by the time the sun set and Samara called me inside.

Merlin and his father were there. Merlin looked like he'd just endured the worst verbal spanking of his life. "Arram dear, this is Ama," Samara said awkwardly. Arram looked like he wanted to fall down and die. I felt the same. My presence had turned this happy family home into a cesspit of tension and fear.

But wait - something wasn't right. What was I doing? Was I really considering apologizing for my existence and slinking off? No. I had to change this situation. I had to stand up and do something. Sudden strength filled me from head to toe, helping me stand straight. "Hello. Is there something more formal I can call you? I'm very uncomfortable using the first names of people who I know primarily by their relation to someone else. My instinct is to call you Mr. Merlin's Dad."

Arram cracked a smile. "You can call me Mr. Mogai."

One family member cheered up, two more to go. I frowned at Merlin. "Merl, I am a little upset with you for not warning me that the biscuits would be so delicious. You have to be careful with forces that powerful. I could have perished."

He, too, cracked a smile. "Sorry."

"Ah, it's alright. No perishment occurred, so you are forgiven." I smiled at Samara. She relaxed. Success!

They invited me to stay for dinner. I offered to help. My offer was declined, but I was glad I'd made it. The house was full of gracious, loving vibes again. I closed my eyes and basked in the atmosphere just like I'd basked in the warmth of the hot spring, and helping Samara set the table was as soothing as receiving a massage. It made me sad. When no one was looking, I took a few minutes to wonder what I had missed out on back in my world. Despite having a longing for company, I'd been the next best thing to a hermit. That was the only viable lifestyle when your life was based in events that had happened in another world, you could not tell anyone the slightest thing about them, and you had to spend your current life preparing for the possibility of returning (which you also couldn't explain). I secretly watched Arram and Samara working together and laughing. Despite the stories they'd heard, they accepted me in a way that nobody in my world could have.

My fists tightened. "I want a home," I whispered to myself. "I don't want to have to hide anymore." It was a prayer. I'd uttered prayers like this before, but uttering such a prayer while inside the exact sort of home I wished to have felt different. More powerful. I hoped that, this time, my wish would be granted.

Dinner was really, really nice. The main course was some kind of vegetable soup. It was filled with greens and smelled divine. I could not find words to express my delight. The best I could manage was, "This is the most wonderful family dinner I have ever had. It's really amazing. Thank you."

"We do our best with what we have," Arram said, subtly puffing out his chest.

"Just to be clear, I do intend to get a job at the inn tomorrow. I won't take advantage of anyone's goodwill. That sort of thing doesn't feel right."

"I don't know if Mentoch's hiring."

I chuckled. "Twenty years ago, I earned my room and board from a man just like him. I don't think there will be any problem."

"Who was that?" Merlin asked.

"His name was Hermit Murray…"

The after-dinner time ended up filled with storytelling. I told them everything I could about that little town in the forest, and they told me about New Ull. We discussed the differences, the similarities, the past and the future, the differences between continents. I felt reborn. It had been a long, long time since I reminisced about any part of my last visit to Lore that wasn't the final few days. Remembering the love and kindness that I had received brought tears to my eyes. For the night, at least, my prayer was granted.

They provided me with blankets to make a bed from on the floor. I lay awake in my bed, staring into the darkness. I had told Jaania that I was a person of Love. Surely this family, in this house, on this night, smiling and laughing, was the physical manifestation of Love. This was the thing I had sworn to always value and protect. I clenched my fist over my heart and thought of Merlin. "I promise."

I rolled over, expecting my thoughts to end there. But then I imagined the emissary. What I truly wanted was to somehow bring her here so she could experience this love. Was that possible? What if it wasn't? "I'm sorry."

Sleep did not come easily.

.

The next morning, I joined them for breakfast. After eating, it occurred to me to ask, "Might I ask something?"

"What sort of something?" Arram replied.

"When I got to New Ull yesterday, I heard three terms that I didn't recognize: the emissary, the school, and technomancy. Merlin told me who the emissary is, and Samara educated me about the school. What is technomancy?"

Arram and Samara exchanged a look. "Technomancy is what's taken the place of magic," Arram said. "Using science and technology to accomplish things instead of spells. There are six technomancer guilds, two of which are located in Azaveyr. The Magnet guild's the most influential. It's based out of Neiboheim, our capital. I think the kingdom across the sea also has one of the guilds based out of their capital city. Dunno about the remaining three."

"They can be meddlesome," Samara added. "But they're good people at heart. Despite their political differences, the guilds and the school really want the same thing."

"To free Lore from the emissary," Arram finished.

I concentrated on scraping my plate clean. Merlin, thankfully, said nothing. Nothing more of consequence was discussed. I helped them gather up my blankets, and they wished me luck with my job search.

At the base of the inn's stairs, I gave my head a shake to clear out all the emissary-related thoughts. I also realized that at some point, I had started thinking of her as Emma. "I am not the hero this world wants," I murmured to myself while climbing the steps.

Mentoch listened to my request without saying anything. My request was this: meals in exchange for literally any kind of menial labor that could possibly be helpful. Except for carpentry; I couldn't do that. I stood there and waited while he considered it. Finally, he said, "I'll try you for the morning shift." I spent the rest of the morning sweeping, cleaning tables, bringing in used dishes, and even helping to clear a room after a guest checked out. I earned myself a salad with bits of genuine, animal-based meat in it. I took that as a great compliment. After lunch, Mentoch sent me back to work for the afternoon shift. It was a lot like cleaning Hermit Murray's house had been. There were tasks to be done, sure, but people on Lore did not obey the principle "If you have time to lean, you have time to clean." I could rest any time I felt like it, which made me more than happy to do this sort of work all day. It didn't feel like being employed. It felt like the inn was my home.

I enjoyed a really nice dinner, and then Mentoch showed me a room I could sleep in. I snuggled into the bed, inhaled the scent of the blankets, and drifted off. Thus passed my first day of being gainfully employed on Lore (again).

.

My second day passed very similarly. Merlin stopped by in the afternoon. I sat next to him on the front porch and asked what he had on his mind. "I've been thinking about what you said," he told me. "Do you think you could change the emissary's mind so she stops killing people?"

I looked down at the steps. "I've been thinking about what you said. There are just so many animals and people on Lore. There is no possible way a human soul could handle all of that, even if she was at full strength and determined to try. I think you're right. Lore can't be the magical world it's meant to be as long as she's around."

"I know you don't really think that."

"What do you mean?"

"It hurt you to say that," he said softly.

I didn't reply. A few minutes passed. Two people came up the stairs, and one person went down them. "Unweaving the emissary from the Mana Core means killing her," I finally said. "I'd have no stomach for that sort of thing even if it was a total stranger. Considering who she's based off of…"

"I know," Merlin said. "Secretly, I think the same thing. I hate that someone has to die. I wish there was a peaceful way to fix everything. I wish the emissary could talk to the headmistress and the head technomancers, and they'd reach an agreement, and there wouldn't be fighting anymore."

I looked at him. Merlin reminded me of myself. Seeing his bowed head, his slumped shoulders, the way he prepared to give up before anything had even begun - it was like Fate holding up a mirror. I didn't like what I saw. Straightening up, I said, "Wishes are the first step towards reality. What good are they if they aren't acted on? Why not grab the headmistress and the head technomancers and the emissary and bring them all into the same room? What do we have to lose that we haven't lost already?"

Merlin looked up. "But they would never agree to that."

"Have you asked them?"

He sat up straight. "But the emissary can't talk."

"Maybe she just doesn't want to," I shot back. "At the time that she was created, she didn't have any friends. Who would she be interested in talking to?"

Merlin got lost in thought. I nudged his arm. "That's the spirit. Heroes think and act; they don't sit and give up. Now, uh, I ought to get back to work. But keep trying to be a hero, okay?" I didn't wait for an answer. I went back inside and grabbed a cleaning cloth, for someone had spilled oil. I kept myself constantly busy, trying to take my own advice.

Think and act. Think and act. What was there to think about, and what did I need to do? These were the next mysteries I needed to solve.

.

Over the next few days, I made progress. It didn't take long to realize that I needed to speak with the emissary. All of the major conflict on Lore was centered on her, and the center was the exact place I needed to be. I hated being on the outer edges of anything. Like a hurricane, the outer edge was where the most chaos occurred. I craved the strange calm that came from living in the eye of the storm.

Luckily for me, I was already in. Thanks to my actions on Lore two decades ago, I was guaranteed a seat at the emissary's side. If she had any sentience at all, she would not be able to ignore me. While performing my menial tasks, I wondered if this was the answer I'd been seeking. For twenty years, I had asked of Fate, "Why did you send me to Lore?" Could it have been a plot to grab the emissary's attention?

Guilt and sadness lifted from my shoulders. If my hypothesis was true, then I had not failed. I was never supposed to stop Jaania from ending magic. Her world-ending plan was actually the next step forward. Accompanying her as she took that next step, unwittingly seeing that it was carried out perfectly, was the right thing to do! I hadn't failed; I'd been wildly successful! On the day that I realized this, I spent the entire afternoon shift glowing with joy.

Merlin continued to visit every afternoon. I kept my thoughts to myself, telling him only that I needed to get at the center of the action, and that meant talking to the emissary. He brought me books on her and told me stories he had heard. The illustrations in his books portrayed her as looking like I remembered, but with a few key differences. She appeared dressed in that intimidating black coat of hers, the one with the long trailing thingies around her waist, the one that made her look like a military commander or a queen. This gave me hope. Jaania had not worn that outfit while weaving her soul into the Mana Core, so the emissary's appearance must be shaped by her mental image of herself! If she had a mental image of herself, a concept of who she was and what she should look like - an identity - then surely she had enough of a mind that I could speak to her!

"What did she wear?" Merlin asked. I told him everything I could remember about the descent into the Fissure. Only hours later did it occur to me that I probably shouldn't have told such a story outside, in the open air, at my usual volume, in front of a frequently-visited inn. All of New Ull would know my identity by dinnertime. Whoops.

Minas proved to be correct. People were unusually respectful of me, but nobody said a word. I was able to continue working, eating, strolling around, and hanging out with Merlin in peace. The only person in New Ull who could be said to definitely know my identity was Merlin, who was a child. Everybody else could claim they didn't believe him or hadn't heard. It felt weird to be at the center of a village-wide conspiracy. Good weird, I decided.

I knew what my next step should be. I hesitated, though. In order to take it, I would have to risk someone else's life. I could risk my own life easily, but I was uncomfortable asking that of others.

I didn't have to. Merlin volunteered.

.

More than a week after I first befriended him, he asked me to come to his house again for dinner. I agreed, and looked forward to it all afternoon. Samara and Arram were happy to see me again. Arram shared with me the few strands of gossip he had heard, and Samara at one point whispered to me that Merlin had a special something in his step that she'd never seen before. They seemed to think that I was a good luck charm, using soul magic to spread goodwill and joy wherever I went. I smiled and said nothing. That was an accurate description of me back in my home world, but on Lore my existence could not result in anything other than chaos. I hoped, for their sake, it would be beneficial chaos.

After dinner, I learned the real reason for Merlin's invitation. I'd hardly gotten comfortable in my blanket nest when small footsteps crept up to me. "I need to talk to you," Merlin whispered. "Outside."

Several feet away from his front door, we huddled together in darkness. "What is it?" I asked.

Merlin hesitated. "Well… You need to talk to the emissary, right?"

I didn't say anything. I knew where he was going with this.

"I can help you do that. I can use magic to tell her you're here. If she knows you're here, she'll have to come talk to you."

"Merlin, that's very dangerous. The only way for you to survive this procedure is if she accepts the invitation and gets so preoccupied with me that she forgets all about you. If any part of that doesn't happen, you'll die."

"Why do you sound like you're lecturing me on proper hive-cleaning techniques?"

"Because you are free to make whatever decisions you want. The only thing I demand is that you make all of your decisions knowingly. Be aware of what you're doing. Understand the costs and pay them willingly."

Merlin thought for a while. "My parents," he murmured.

"Will also have to pay this cost, and therefore the same rules apply," I said gently. "They must pay it willingly."

"But they would never let me."

I put a hand on his shoulder. "Don't make the same mistake I did." Merlin looked up at me. I smiled sadly. "Twenty years ago, I left Swordhaven in secret. I had a friend in the castle. After I made up my mind to leave, I told him I would see him for dinner, knowing it wouldn't happen. I lied to him, Merl. I did it because I was afraid that he would try to stop me. He had never done the slightest thing to earn such distrust. We'd been working together on all of our plans up until then. To be suddenly frozen out, lied to, stood up, and all for no apparent reason… How long did he spend wondering what he'd done to deserve that? Did he ever stop? No amount of struggle or frustration on my part could have justified betraying him like that. No matter what challenges you face or how badly you get hurt, you never ever have the right to turn around and hurt someone else. The pain and fear and struggle of having to tell your parents is part of your costs. Pay them, and pay them willingly."

We didn't say anything more after that. We sat together on the lawn, breathing the night air. Then we went inside and waited for morning.

.

In the morning, before breakfast, Merlin told his parents his plans. Silence filled the house afterwards. My face burned with shame, but I forced myself not to slink away.

Samara, for once, struggled to speak. "Merlin… Using magic means certain death."

"Not certain," I said quietly. "I earned her trust when everyone else abandoned her. I promised her unwavering loyalty and followed her into the depths of the earth, right up to the very last moment. If there is anyone that the emissary cares about, it's me. The odds are decent that she will forget all about Merlin."

"Not guaranteed?" Arram asked.

"No."

"Merlin, I know you've always wanted to be a hero, but there must be other ways," Samara said. "Let some old man with nothing to lose do this! You're just a child."

I winced. I knew how it felt to hear things like that. Twenty years ago, or even ten, simply witnessing this interaction would have shattered my self-confidence and driven me into a meltdown. It was a struggle to avoid that now, but I held on, promising myself that I could. I had to.

"But… But…"

"Listen to your mother," Arram pleaded.

Merlin turned to me. He had tears in his eyes. "Ama?"

I took a deep breath. "Why do you want to do this, Merl? What are the exact thoughts in your mind whenever you think of using magic to summon the emissary?"

Merlin shifted on his feet. "I don't really have any thoughts, just a feeling that I want to."

"Is this feeling going to turn on you if you don't do what it says, become a drain that sucks the joy and interest out of whatever else you try to do?"

Merlin met my gaze. He nodded.

I looked up at Samara. "There is more than one way for a soul to wither. I'm afraid that, simply by existing and presenting your son with this option, I've put him in terrible danger. There is no safe way out of this situation." I might have been too cowardly to demand a sacrifice out loud using my words, but nonetheless, I had demanded one. My only regret was that it was a child I'd befriended and not an old man with no kin to miss him.

Arram and Samara stared at me. Their silence was worse than a curse. I turned away from them, focusing my attention on Merlin. "I know how it feels to be caught between two terrible dangers: one outside of you, one inside. That's what I faced twenty years ago. But it was easier for me because I didn't have any family or loved ones with me to worry about. Do not decide anything quickly. I'll be at the inn." I went out the front door, leaving them to their deliberations and what remained of their happy family breakfast.