#The (mis)adventures of 'Merlin' fanfic series

[yohohonabottle]

The end (Is the beginning)

"I'm a healer, a guider first and foremost. Not a fighter, even if I have the claws, teeth, magic, skills for it....That said." A small smile that turns sadistic, stalking toward the enemies/threats, the atmosphere feeling chillingly cold.

Gravely so.

"I'm not a fighter, no--I'm the Sacrifice, the martyr." Bloodlust, sadistic, morphing into his bat form. "Why else, is death and rebirth so ingrained into my very core?"

The flame-spines feel different. Calling upon the Sun, his own status as the Moon.

Bloodlust.

--And lands his first blow in cruel retaliation, decimating numbers fast.

"You forget, that I play by different rules." (Your place.) His form changes, goes through a white bat, to a wyvern made of smoke and ash that ignite with cracks lining it, a light, flames flicker out through, licking at the charred bones and ash-made skin. Voice a sharp, hissing, breathless rasp that chills to the very bones, the soft rumbling hum of thunder in it prelude. It falls away (It's not supposed to!), crumbles like the very ground of a desert---A phoenix with only vague traits of a bat or wyvern, unfurling its great wings and plumes in all its majesty.

But it feels different, wicked, cruel without the kindness nor serenity. The pinions real flames hot as the sun itself, that ominous sadistic grin still in-place with all those rows of sharp teeth on shameless unapologetic display, preparing to deal one, final, deciding hit.

It billows a stream of smoke through its nostrils and corners of its mouth, growing in size and warping. A dragon.

But not one of tenderness or seeking peace.

"I am the Sacrifice, I am Change, Adaptivity, I am Survival, I.am.Life, I am.the Sun, I.am.War, Desolation, Renewal, I.am...." Those unnerving, terrifying orbs bore into the puny lifeforms of the so called horrors from beyond, that rallied the Hypogeans --Berial knew his own fate, standing face to face on opposing sides with his Batman, duty-bound to join Phraesto, Reinier, Harak and all the rest.

This, is the final, last curtain call.

But the Jester harbored no sorrow, regrets or bad blood and fear of his imminent end.

Only peaceful, quiet pride.

This was the greatest, best performance he could've ever hoped and ask for, the finale a marvelous end to it, to the legend told, to the journey.

And no puny gods nor blundering celestials will ruin it. (A fiery shadow cast upon the ground.) Free(dom).

A happy end.

".....Death."

The Arrow flies down, a lightning striking down.

The dust settles, an empty battleground. No bones, no limbs, no flesh and skin, no ashes. .

....Only a lingering cold yet scorching heat.

A promise of return, and for the cycle to begin anew over and over again as it would for time immemorial.

[salute-the-dead]

A List of My OTPs

because it's 11 and I can't sleep.

Enjolras x Grantaire a.k.a. Enjoltaire a.k.a. ExR- Les Mis

How I fell into this I don't remember now. I vaguely remember reading a crackfic of this and then everything just went sideways.

This was also the fandom that helped me realize that I wasn't exactly straight and that it's okay to not be loud about my sexuality, that I can just be.

I think that explains my attachment to this ship, not to mention just the movie's Grantaire (played by George Blagden) also shipped the characters and played his character like how he thought it should be, Grantaire loving and pining after Enjolras without the revolutionary knowing it.

Except in the fan fics, Enjolras returns his feelings and they work it out, even though it's not easy because they're both stubborn as mules. Ah, ultimate fantasy I guess. And the number of great fics here, *whistle*

Also, the Les Amis? Is amazing? Especially in the modern AUs? Like they're great friends? I love this fandom so much! Permets-tu!

Shen Wei x Zhao Yunlan - Guardian / Zhen Hun

C'mon, Zhu Yilong & Bai Yu's performance and emotions? Plus just the fact the fanfic writers of this ship are absolutely amazing? Please, escape from this pairing is impossible!

Best opposites attract trope for me. An academic by day, superhero by night in love with a roguish police chief who has no powers but whose charisma, wit, and heart can get him to toe to toe with the legends.

Also, Professor Shen Wei constantly acting like an innocent civilian and lying badly? Gold!

Loki x Tony Stark a.k.a. FrostIron - Avengers

How did I honestly get to this ship? I really can't remember what started it all. I think it must have been a Loki redemption fic where Tony Stark and Pepper broke up and something something happened. Let me tell you, the writers of this ship have written sagas and ballads of epic and sometimes confusing proportions, and that is why I fell deeper into the pit. I mean, they gotta give justice to two brilliant but chaotic characters, right? Angst. This ship has sooooooooo much angst.

Eiji x Ash - Banana Fish

My god, if you want to keep your heart intact and not be reminded of all that's ugly in the world, DON'T WATCH OR READ BANANA FISH. YOUR HEART WILL NEVER HEAL!

If you're gonna watch/read it anyway, make sure to watch something fluffy and sweet after. There's a reason that people from this fandom go, "If you've seen Banana Fish's ending, then you can handle whatever angsty show you're watching now." ~ or something to that effect. Another thing we like to say in this fandom is, "Other fandoms: Let's write a Mafia AU! Banana Fish fandom: We are the Mafia AU." Yes, all of us in this fandom is dramatic af.

Yuuri x Viktor - Yuuri!!! on Ice

Uh, does this really need an explanation? Aside from the fact that you will surprisingly find a lot of Mafia AUs here because we all know that hiding behind that beautiful face of Viktor Nikiforov is a devil capable of... tearing down your self-confidence, like WTF Viktor, don't make Yuuri cry! Also, their dance together at the end, such beautiful love.

Magnus Bane x Alec Lightwood aka Malec - Shadowhunters

I never read the books and have no plans to in the near future. I just saw a video on Youtube about why Malec is life and now here I am, still reading some Malec fics from time to time.

Some stuff on the show were WTF but overall they were a really good couple who supported each other. Plus, they're a Power Couple.

Erwin x Levi aka Eruri - Attack on Titan / Shingeki no Kyojin

Not to be confused with Ereri, which is Eren x Levi, which I don't generally ship except for that one time when a writer wrote an epic fanfic series with Eren in his mid 20s and Levi in his late 20s/early 30s, reincarnation AU. Boy was that one a surprise. I did not expect that.

Anyway, I'm an Eruri fan through and through. Especially with that promise that Levi made to Erwin. And the reason he gave the serum to Armin. HE DIDN'T DO IT FOR THE KIDS YKNOW. HE DID IT FOR ERWIN. Plus, Levi, Erwin, and Hange are my special trio. Erwin's batch was really amazing.

Also, I really like the fact that the shorter and slighter person is the more badass fighter while the taller, bigger one is the more calculating and strategic one. Rocks the boat of stereotypes and all that. Bonus: how these two met. My god, what a meet-cute! 😂

Dani x Jamie aka The Au Pair and the Gardener - The Haunting of Bly Manor

It really is more of a love story than a ghost story. I dunno how to feel about this. I loved these two characters so much and I wished they had a better ending but I wasn't SO surprised because it was a horror series (Like, I was still hoping at the end that they'd be together forever but yknow...). In any case, Jamie was just awesome. And her nickname for Dani? Poppins?! God, what a lover and fighter. She was not afraid to cock a gun in a ghost's face.

... and now for my flexible BROTPs

Merlin x Arthur aka Merthur - BBC Merlin

Yeah, my brain is so chaotic multiple OTPs and BROTPs of the same pairing exist at the same time without clashing with one another or having major identity crises.

I actually really like BROTP Merlin and Arthur and also like reading OTP Merthur.

And when Merlin is paired with Morgana or Freya or sometimes even Gwaine, that's fine with me too. As long as his bromance with Arthur stays intact, because that's what drew me to the show in the first place. Personal preference. I see them as platonic soulmates.

*Shout-out to the Merthur writers though, you kept me sane during my "Post-Merlin Depression," which is actually a term thrown around in the fandom because of that horrid final season (not saying it's a good term but it's what it was called). A lot of amazing fics here, too, both Magic Reveal and Modern AU ones. Full of action and adventure too! I mean, there are boy-band-looking Knights and magic-wielding badasses!

Tim Drake x Conner Kent/Kon-El aka Red Robin x Super Boy - DC Comics

More like flexible otp. I dig Stephanie Brown and Tim Drake BUT I really really also dig Tim Drake and Conner Kent. When they're TimKon, it's like an entirely different entity from TimSteph. Ugh, hard to explain.

I mean, Kon telling Tim, "You'll always be my Robin" and Tim telling Kon, "And you'll always be my clone boy" is the shit. Also when Kon could pick out/recognize Tim's heartbeat. And when Tim nearly went mad scientist trying to bring his bestie back. Like, dudes, wtf. And at the same time, hell yeah.

Liu Kang x Kung Lao aka LiuLao - Mortal Kombat

- I see these two as more like ride or die best friends connected by fate/platonic soulmates. But also like their dynamic is so awesome, cute, sweet, badass, can't-live-without-you vibes.

Basically the same way I feel about Merthur. I like reading both romantic and platonic relationships between these two characters. Like, the LiuLao fan creators peeling off the layers of this relationship and exposing every raw nerve is beautiful.

They love diving into the characters' psyche, emotions, motivations, fears, and doubts and you get really amazed because... Aren't they just characters from a video game, you ask? Well yeah, but MK video game has several interesting storylines and the Mortal Kombat 2021 movie was just the perfect jumpstarter to this beautiful blaze.

I mean, "We swore that if we were to die, it would be together"? Hell no, you're not dropping that on us and not expecting us to create our very own spin-offs and 12-page essays on that shit. That's what we fans do, baby. And also, really, we need a shaolin monks/white lotus spin-off/prequel. We're starving here.

As this ship is the newest one on my list, it's the one I'm looking forward to the most. Not enough fan content, I tell you. Not enough. One of these days, I just might add my own.

But right now, it's past 1 and so I shall attempt to sleep.

***No images for TimKon and LiuLao coz apparently I've gone past my 10-images allowance 😤

[bellamyblakru]

2020 in review!!

Rules: answer some questions about 2020 and tag some people!

tagged by the lovely @nakey-cats-take-bathsss thank you. i adore u🥺

Top Five Films you watched in 2020:

okay do they have to be made in 2020? bc these are not and most of them i rewatched recently but they are still amazing!!! plus im not a rlly big movie watcher sorry

stardust (2007) | the princess bride | hamilton (? movie) | les mis | tombstone

Top Five TV Shows you watched in 2020:

MERLIN (again that is) | THE WITCHER | JULIE AND THE PHANTOMS | UMBRELLA ACADEMY | LEGION

they are in all caps because i love them sm

Top Five Songs of 2020:

ahhhh i dont think any of my music came out this year ansjkskaka except one (?) and its a complete soundtracks bc all bops

hamilton soundtrack (lol) | jatp soundtrack (lol) | the messenger by linkin park | wasteland, baby by hozier | patience by chris cornell

Top Five Books of 2020:

empire of storms by sjm | kingdom of ash by sjm | red queen by victoria aveyard | king’s cage by victoria aveyard | heir of fire by sjm

OKAY im sorry it’s mostly the throne of glass series...they just affected me so much and i adore them with all i have (i binged them all for the first time in two months this year ajsjakak). i just bought like five/six or so books that ill be reading soon. i also read, in 2020, the shadows between us (which was a fun binge), the selection (unpopular opinion is that i actually rlly didn’t like it LOL) and born in fire (and most of raised in fire... i burned out, unintentional pun, so i didn’t finish them but they were highly entertaining. def chilling adventures of sabrina vibe)

Top Five Fanfictions of 2020:

god okay here i go..i have so many but these five left lasting imprints on me when i read them this year:

The Warrior and The Embers by cicada-bones!! pls read it if you’ve read the throne of glass series.. it’s fucking incredible

Sanctuary by @clarkcsbellamy it feels like forever ago i read this but man,,, bellarke in this is to live for

Why Sparrows Were Outlawed in Camelot by @livinginatimeof-myths (WIP) of my all time favorite reads and the author is simply lovely and amazing.

So Says The Sword by komodobits.... first destiel fic ive ever read and it fucked me up. big time

Darkest Before the Dawn by RocknVaughn.... man this one fucked me up too. merthur is beautiful in this ajsjsks

Eight positive things/things I’m grateful for:

1. my family 🥺🥺 | 2. @teaamfreewill bc she made my year bright and amazing | 3. honestly, getting back into reading has been such a pleasure. binge reading is so much fun and im so happy i decided to do it again (albeit later in the year. next year will be more reading, hopefully) | 4. merthur.. tbh this shit brings me so much joy (so does bellarke but honestly still sore) | 5. my puppies 🐶 i love my two poms w all my heart | 6. fanfic writers because you guys are the true fucking heroes of 2020 | 7. gif/content creators because you guys are so fucking talented and deserve more praise | 8. my therapist!!! that might sound weird but it’s taken me years to find one that works for me and it is so much better now for me since i like her!!🥺

saying hello and happy new year🥺/no pressure tags: @peggysousfan @simpendragons @yourebeautifuleverylilpiecelove @slutforfruit @teaamfreewill (sorry for the double tag queen) @its-hyperfixation @igotbellarkeforthat

[yohohonabottle]

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The beginning - Prologue

—„We should go to Ryeham! Chippy heard there’s a fire happening!” - A chubby, near fat hamster dressed in knightly heavy armor yelps in valor, his companion humming back. A mage, who appears much more calmer than the superb knight. The bead-like warm eyes deftly scanning over the letter that had arrived at their cozy spire in urgency.

—“Good thing Dolly got the letter Hogan has sent us.” But their words ring distant and much too blurrily muffled in the ears of the person huddled onto the sofa in the small elevated balcony-like space of the tavern’s lounge. Drawing the soft, fuzzy and warm blanked tighter around the shoulders, the figure stares into the cup of quadruple-honeyed caramel and citrus chamomile tea in hand.

It has only been a day he...she..? … had woken up in this familiar place that intuition tells is home. And the red-haired lovely maiden known as Dolly greeted with the two talking hamsters at her sides; Filled him..in on all the events that had transpired in the past, the present, who he...she...is. Or supposed to be—Old memories pieced back into better cohesion. A fragmented mural. The name is Merlin, and a man who is the Archmagus, chief of the magisters’ council in the war against the gods’ avatars...Also known as the Arcane Council, founded towards the Immortal war’s end. The man who found out about the energies, or rather the gods’ residual prowess flowing throughout the world, labelled it with the term Magic, and ways of using it.

Yet it feels… convenient. Falls a little too well into place. That, and as though the goddess Dura, newest of the supreme court or pantheon, had a plan in mind. Blessed him to see that which is unknown to any mortal—The innovation, revolution, the change. And entrusted him with a mission, one he still has no clue what it is supposed to be nor how to be accomplished. Only small, vague hints with the rest being nonsensical. Namely, what to do after leading the respective Divine sword-wielders to their weapon. What then? Likely those Chosen ones will be pulled into another great war, the one that comes and goes perpetually since immemorial. ...As it has been done in every cycle since the very first. And how many lives has it been? Sometimes, it’s one continuous reincarnation. Sometimes, it’s separate people—Each taking up the mantle and becoming a node in the perpetual cycle of iterations riding the sands of time…. And buried underneath all the same, each falling faceless under the title. For solely their deeds echo far in time’s halls, connected to the name of the Chosen Merlin, rather than their own.

Who...was I, am I, really? Other than Dura’s chosen? But there’s not much time to dwell, is there? No, there’s a mission to fulfil – Same as the last cycle. Yet…

Yet I feel like eroding. I must get back my powers, all of my memories into one-- Not just these snippets. But I’m eroding away, I… I can’t carry the torch.. Not for this cycle. –„Magister..? You seem very distracted…” Worried pairs of eyes gaze up at his neutral face and blank stare. Hogan… Forgive me my old friend. Rising onto his feet, the disheveled chocolate-brown hair falls in his face, blanket now on the velvety couch.

—“I can’t bear Dura’s mission this set of iterations. Not with this half amnesia and weak powers, not with barely knowing my own identity and being so...Inadequate.” Dolly eyes her boss warily, hands resting on her apron. There’s no swaying the great Arch-magus once he’s made his mind.

The two faithful familiars look between each other then pad after their owner, their creator. The green-eyed maid following after them with a beat’s pause.

—”I have to piece myself back, but can’t let Esperia see or know. Just as I can’t be absent and not resolve this cycle’s sequence of crises.” Thinking aloud under his breath, firm tone and a faint tint of frustration. Maybe even a wink of desperation within the urgency, long strides already having carried the haggard mage to the upper floor and the archives. Somehow his hands know the key to unlock the secret trove of tomes locked behind the innocently unassuming façade of books up for leisurely perusal.

“Humans are off the table, same as Maulers and Graveborn are not even in the question. Especially the Graveborn—Those lot always strive to sap away life. No, they’re unstable, latched onto whatever was dearest to them in life and dying moments, and their psyche got warped around death.”

Grabbing a thick tome and hastily placing it onto the lectern, the deft hands flip through pages. “Wilders are…Admittedly good choice, but will crack. I need someone with powerful magic, core and longevity, who can handle magic in its brunt and not erode. Yes, I need something that is most durable and well-familiar with it.” Names scrawled onto pages, categorized by bloodline and family peer back up at his honeyed eyes. Most have lost their glow, faded away to a faint trace.

-Crimsonfang dynasty is entirely greyed out, every family within it and members of those families as well. Those Blazing stars had chosen to move on from Esperia since the Crusades, have not chosen to return to this day. It happened around the same time the Arcane Council came together, but this race of beings has existed well before that time. The exact era they emerged onto Esperia is unknown, most likely are some of the native species similar to dragons and elementals. I only know it took a century for the Crusades to bring Blazing stars to extinction...I can’t remember when the Temple issued the decree. Not currently relavant.

-Blind Moirai, same as the Crimsonfangs. Brows furrowed, Merlin heaves a long sigh in an exasperated huff. Attaliate Praesidio was one of the best prophets and spell-weavers of her family within the colony. Only bested by the Matriarch and her heirs… The name isn’t entirely faded, color no longer of blues and teals, vibrant as it was when she lived. It’s tinged with red, a color of blood and kin—

Attaliate has a trace. Just as her husband Euthymius. But that thread isn’t within the Moirais dynasty, rather… Quickly flipping several pages ahead in the thick, enormous tome to follow the trace, the magister lands on a particular family. Hestopeous – Hospitality. Often referred to by Hestios for simplicity and ease. A family within the Eclipse lineage, four or five generations away from the progenitors of the dynasty. Jaallanne - Diinqan -Hestios, the herald of Tritonus and later relinquished to Misarte. A smile of relieved cheer spreads onto Merlin’s face.

Jaallanne, or Larra – as how she renamed herself – has that faint trace. Because Attaliate’s husband, Bonded, is actually of Eclipse.

Tracing his finger further down the Hestios ansectry line, the thread leads to one name still alight vividly. A Blazing star, that has not left Esperia yet. A descendant carrying the potential of the Eclipse, Crimsonfangs and the Blind weavers— Ioan – Ekchauh – Hestopeous.

That much I remember like yesterday—He was given to Talene as herald after the Dusk Lord met his end. And the father, the Setting Sun’s Arrow, best Tooth, was given to Dulingr.

The spell was already onto his mind’s eye, as initimately familiar as it is foreign. Stepping out onto the balcony, Merlin stills to concentrate…

“Ωανδερερ φρομ τιμε ανδ κιν λοστ, ηεεδ με.” (Wanderer from time and kin lost, heed me.) “Ασσυμε μψ στεαδ, μακε μψ πατη ψουρ οων.” (Assume my stead, take my path as your own,)

A surge of energy pull, burning like Talene's flames and a star shone brighter than the rest on the sky. An answer. A will-o-the wisp floats down, a spirit of shimmering gold, teal, blood-red and yellowish-orange that swirled like wind. And from that wisp, formed a wyvern with flowing runes of sonorous tongue. ᛐᚮᚡᛡᛆᛐᛂᚿᛑ (“To what end?”) The orbs, pits of light bear down onto the legendary mage. Waiting. Eyes aglow gold, the Autumn wind sways the amnesiac’s hair and cloak as he meets the smoldering stare. A simple smile of quiet wisdom and mirth blossoms onto the mage’s visage, feeling the spirit’s emotions flow like smoke plumes and river torrents. Agitation, distrust, exhaustion, traces of sorrow, the desire to move on rather than linger. And a huff escapes the being’s nostrils, skeptical to the offer he extends in turn as persuasion to stay for just one more life.

“σεε τηε λανδς ανεω, φινδ ψουρ ανσωερς ωιτηιν τιμε πρεσεντ.” (See the lands anew, find your answers within time present.) “γαιν ωηατ ψου αλωαψς σουγητ ιν ξψξλες πριορ.” (Gain what you always sought in cycles prior.) “ρετυρν ατ τηε πατης ενδ, ι σηαλλ σετ ψου φρεε το ροαμ ονξε μορε.” (Return at the path’s end, I shall set you free to roam once more.) Still wary, the spirit of flames gripping onto the balcony’s railing blinks once, quickly, then again – Slower. Pensive silence permeates the link of consciousness, considering his words without looking away from his gaze. ...Stern..

….ᛁ ᚡᛁᛚᛚ ᛡᚮᛚᛑ ᚤᚮᚢ ᛐᚮ ᚤᚮᚢᚱ ᚮᛆÞ,ᚲᛟᚾᛞᚢᛁᛏ.ᚳᚻᚩᛋᛖᚾ ᚩᚠ ᚦᛖᚷᛟᛞᛊ. (I will hold you to your oath, Conduit. Chosen of the gods.)

“ι ασσυρε ψου, σταρ οφ εμβερς.” (I assure you, spirit of embers.) “μψ ��ορδ ις μψ μοστ σαξρεδ βονδ ανδ ϝοω,” (My word is my most sacred bond and vow,) “ι δοντ γιϝε ιτ ωιτη λιγητ μινδ, νορ ωιλλ ιτ βε τραμπλεδ.” (I don’t give it with light mind, nor will it be trampled.)

A low, thrilling hum of a growl followed by a harsh click of jaws as the wyvern shifts. The rumble, akin to that of encroaching thunder, is accompanied by the beak pulling back into a slight snarl. Bared teeth, a very somber warning. Then the Blazing star huffs, more gruffly this time, the heated air ghosting sharply over Merlin’s face and ruffling his fringe if not very narrowly singing it.

For the very first time the eternally reincarnating spirit of fire and wanderlust speaks, voice an eerie lullaby that echoes. Uses common Esperian tongue in place of Logos, of the psyche-link between them, eyes never leaving his.

“Very well. So be it.” ᚱᛖᛗᛖᛗᛒᛖᚱ ᛁᚩᚢᚱ ᚠᚩᚹᛋ. ᛘᛁᚱᛚᛁᚾ. (Remember your vows. Merlin.)

[yohohonabottle]

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It's been years since they first met... When did time fly away? It's like it was just yesterday when them two began exchanging letters.... And Whiteridge's youngest son sent him the first mini painting. The first letter, a tasteful poem and a bold, cleverly woven declaration of love. Then that one letter grew into gifts picked with diligent care.

A miffed huff slips from the false magister, claws raking on the wooden floor of the Mystical house. A click of teeth, the wary pits of Berial's eyes following his stiff, agitated circling and slow lashing of tail.

And then Earl Ludovic presented a gorgeous arrangement of blooms with a gleam of... determination but also that same love. The flowers themselves symbolized devotion, deeply reverent respect, love, desire.. and playfulness. Willing to commit.

— "You should find someone better than me. Maybe a fair maiden your age range?" – It was a joke with serious undertone as he'd tentatively accepted the flowers. It didn't deter the Graveborn. Of course Vic knew the reason why he's holding back while gradually having been melting. So... He backed off. Only to return next day with a body that properly reflected his true age– Taller, still lean build but got bit more muscle rather than that awkward gangly form of a teen prior. And a voice still soft silk, yet somehow had much more mature cadence, older– As foreign as familiar.

A stunningly handsome, elegant young man whom wore a very similar attire to the boy 'Merlin' knew.. Save for the bows being gone, bowtie traded for a pristine white cravat and low ponytail more on the side.

And then that young man spoke in that charming, velvety voice of his, words of playful challenge:

— "Let us face off in a dance duel, my dear Muse. Should you triumph, I shall cease my attempts at courting you." With matching humor, the 'Wilder' smiled wryly as he warned the Graveborn:

— "Careful, Vic. You might loose."

— "We shall see."

Under the notes of quiet ghostly orchestra, two duelists fought, weaving through dances of a culture forgotten in time's sands. Peoples known as being of fiery blood and spirit, wild and rather persistent once having made up their mind. Not ones to know what 'Impossible' means. Not ones to bow their head, rather charge forth in defiance. The apprentice and mentor, dancing with vigor and unruly grace, light and nimble on their feet, matching each other step for step and beat for beat... Until one tired out, no longer able to keep up despite his stubborn refusal to yield. Not so easily. Not so swiftly, twenty dances having been woven through by that point, the opponent still showing no signs of relenting even as his legs burnt. The young man still held his head high, following the music's rhythm expertly. His footwork was magnificent– Nobody would've known he's not a native, should they not know his name nor surname.

Lungs burning and legs protesting, feet tingling– Pirin lost his battle against exhaustion. Tripping over his own feet and falling out of sync, the night nymph swayed, fell forth — Two hands catch his trim waist, turning to arms envelopping his slim form into an embrace to both hold and steady.

A heartbeat thundering, two, yet the grin of triumph was clear. Stranja had lost, been outplayed. There was no backing out. A promise is a promise.

That's how he'd given Ludovic of Whiteridge his hand.

—"Well, damn – Who would've thought you're such a devil?" Dry remark of larking is met with an amused chuckle, the man caught his breath. Replied back in turn, a flirty wink in his tone:

—"I was taught by the best."

How long has it been now? Two months? Three since they'd been separated? Bantus and duty called, begrudgingly Ludovic had to leave- so to avoid rousing the Fallen king's suspicions. And with a heavy, bleeding heart, the nobleman offered branches of lovely lilies – His tribute, promise of return and reunion permanent. A most sacred, solemn vow left unsaid. Before doning on a spell of illusion to assume his younger appearance, farewell with a kiss, and left.

How many days and nights has it been? Since the last letter and gift?

Correspondence turned into near radio-silence, all to remain undercover. All so that wretched old fart wouldn’t catch the tiniest hint of what is brewing underneath the surface, trace back the thread. For three months, all I could do, was re-read every single letter we’ve shared over and over, sigh and pray to the stars for his safety.

—"And I have another damn crisis to solve, like always. I'm Merlin, aren't I? Apparently people can't fix their messes." How much longer do I have to wait? How much more do I have to play nice? Merlin and his stupid, spoilt-rotten brats aren’t helpful in the slightest, always with the condescending attitude. Always having some grand task to carelessly drop on the shoulders, as if that contract isn’t enough, wasn’t enough to begin with. Laughing and grimacing in revulsion at the mere sight of him whenever they’d run into each other in the main lounge. Disdain.

—“Of all people, you just had to choose a literal Graveborn, m? Viperian has more restraint in experiments. And what? A half-Graveborn, half-Nymph?” The chief of the Arcane council had laughed, a grating sneer, looking down his nose with mocking grin. “Ha! You might as well be having a still-born amalgamation!”

That afternoon, the jester Hypogean had to wrap around his friend, limbs like rubber bands. Lest the insolent bastard gets mangled beyond recognition along with the Acorn-knight and mage. The screeches of breathless, shrill and rattling war-cries echoed far throughout the spire lounging area… Guests on the upper-floor could hear, blood running cold. Even Silvina, the Silver Reaper, didn’t have courage to step out of her ‘hiding spot’. Utterly shaken by those howls of raw, unbridled rage. Had to cover her ears tight while the Sinister clown dragged a viciously thrashing bat with considerable effort. Hell! Lucca, Soren, and Harak needed to step in and help him! ….Even they had trouble with the roaring, snarling, snapping Nymph.

In the end, Sinbad dashed to fetch Tasi, so that the fairy can put the false dragon to sleep.

Since, everyone collectively agreed it would be for the best to keep Merlin as far away from Pirin has possible. More so for the latter’s sake than for Merlin’s if truth be told. As much as majority of the guests would've loved watching that pitiful excuse of a magister get flung around and dragged like ragdoll, this wouldn’t reflect well on Vanya.

General Hogan and the Arcane council, for one, wouldn’t take kindly to it all. Even though the general had been devastated with the truth of what his old comrade has twisted into and his atrocities. He still couldn’t fully accept it, just as Mirael and Cassadee could not bear.

And the court of Celestials strongly favors the Arch-magus, wouldn’t hesitate to smite. If anything, they’re simply ever so patiently waiting for exactly that: ‘Proof’ of their prejudiced beliefs, proof of the Temple’s words to be true. One slip-up, a perfect excuse to act. Terminate and ruthlessly drag the Night Nymph through the mud in supposedly retribution for justice’s sake. Everyone across the six factions is well aware of how a Plague is brought into existence. Along with the sheer destruction such a wraith can inflict.

It’s for the best that this never comes to pass, for the day Vanya does— Esperia would witness true Apocalypse. For the Horsemen know no guilty nor innocent in their annihilation.

—"That's it– I'm going. I don't give two flying fucks, I'm getting to Cedartown, to Whiteridge, and find my princeling." It’s been a week since having entirely moved out of the Mystical House, and back into the lone, well-hidden hut on the far outskirts of Wheatshire. During that week, along with the following days afterward, it’s been a constant back and forth, packing up what was left in a hurry. Whirling on his heels, the bristled snowy ‘Wilder’ makes a move to charge out the dorm’s doorway— Just then vertigo strikes, vision swimming and ravenous appetite flares. It had grown to bloodlust. This incessant need for blood, as if starved.

When in truth, a new life was coming to fruition. A child half-Graveborn and half-Night nymph, of Eclipse descent... and Esperian nobility.

A portal opens in front of the vexed nymph, and Ioan Hestios finds himself lying face-first on the bed.

You know it's not a good idea to charge in blindly.

A low, guttural growl rumbles in the false Wilder's fur-obscured throat, sharply turning onto his side to glare at the inky Hypogean, tail tip giving a harsh flick. One of his tufted ears twitches and the fluffy tip of the long tail gives a harsh thump once more after a second’s pause.

—"You're one to yap."

—"You'll see your Graveborn, calm down, 'cat'. You don't want Bantus to get any ideas, do you? I'm sure your favored–" At a slight flashing of teeth in light snarl, the clown holds up his hands placatingly. "-Whoops, Bonded, is probably bullshitting your way out as we speak. Y'know? Pull the wool over their eyes?"

Lips falling back into a thin line, a miffed, tired huff is the only thing in answer. The 'magister' flops onto the mattress, restraining himself from curling into a tight ball. From leaping and barreling out the door in search of his life-partner as instincts screech. Have been endlessly shrieking ever since that day of separation. Anger melts away to melancholy, pained longing, blood-red eyes flickering over to the small square canvas with a life-like painting—A boy with bone-white skin, hooded pale green eyes and curly hair of chalk or moonlight, hugging a firebird. There’s bright grin of pure, warm, joyful laugh on the teen’s face. Friends, loyal to each other with the ferocity of a thousand suns…

A young, freckled child with eyes clear as pearls or moonlit mirrors, breaths short and quick gasps. The short, messy, snowy hair and fur of the ‘Mauler’ or ‘Wilder’ boy matted with blood and dirt, body marred by bruises and scrapes from countless tumbles.

Standing frozen in place amidst a lovely vast garden, so rich in variety of gorgeous flowers. A pair of compassionate, concerned eyes gazing back into his own teary and horrified. A boy, dressed in fancy attire, no older than fifteen, approaching in careful strides. Hazy… something falls out his mouth, words in tender tone, soothing somehow. What exactly is being said eludes entirely, too caught up watching his every step closer. Body language proves no intent to harm or intimidate.. Could be a trick..

Too close.

With a yelp intelligible, the albino Wilder child staggers back in haste to flee but trips over his own claws and tail, collapses harshly onto his rear. Lips pulled back into a defensive snarl and teeth bared as the thick disheveled fur on his neck stands on end, large and sharp tufted ears pinned back. A clear bluff of aggression, scrambling and failing to get up while staring at the approaching noble lad without blinking-- Warning. Terror. Raw, bordering on primitive and blind. Warm hands rest on his scraped knees, a warmth flowing over the injuries as that distant voice carries on. ..Questions? Not sure. A name:

“Whiteridge.”

A faint smell familiar – Blood. Sickness. The magic keeps on flowing, guided to the other most glaring of unsightly wounds with care and a wince subdued. Apologies… can’t tell why, for what. Barking of hounds, the Wilder child’s ears immediately perk in alarm, fear returning in full, and the freckled boy in scraps leaps onto his feet. A stray lightning tearing through, jumps over the manor grounds’ gates and far away without looking back… Yet those sympathetic, disheartened eyes still followed mournfully...

---

Sat down on the cold grass of the still forest, the flow of magic drifts between them. The briefest deja vu. The stars are most beautiful tonight. Most clearly visible. And next to the snowy-haired young man, sits a Graveborn, looking just as when he died. Disheveled hairs, ruffled clothes and out of breath. Both of their bodies are covered in scrapes, bruises, cuts and slashes, nicks of claws and blades. Both are bloodied….The boy much more so than his dearest companion. Graceful face clouded by a miffed frown of frustration as he wraps his arm in bandages. ..And winces slightly at the dull throb of pain in his left side from having been slamed onto his side. Clicks his tongue in discontent at it, stealing a glance over at the spirit.

Pearly white meet pale green. A small smirk from the former.

—“Still hissy about it, huh?” —“Yes.”

A quiet snort, looking down at his slightly huched form as he bandages his ankle next. There’s quiet, fond affection, and mirth twinkling in the night nymph’s gaze. And a clawed hand lightly pats the Graveborn’s back sympathetically. Turning into a wing pulling him into a tight side-hug.

—“D’aww.” Rubbing circles on his boney shoulder as pitying, playful consolation. Which earns the faux Wilder a faint raise of a light brow in questioning, unamused deadpan from the painter. —“What?” Still. Despite himself, the ‘boy’ found himself having a subtle smile of his own. Which very quickly fell at his friend’s larking quip. “Your punches are slow and weak, though. Same as your reactions, reflexes, Lud.” A sour scowl, mildly indignant.

—“Pardon me for lacking extensive combat experience.” Only to get his curls ruffled and lightly slap the clawed hand on the wrist with a displeased, hissed whine of ‘Vanya!’; swat the hand away. And smooth down the utterly messy strands back in place to something more presentable, muttering surly under his breath. “Look what you have done. An utter mess.” Ridiculous. Meanwhile Pirin simply shrugged his sharp, speckled shoulders.

—“Eh, don’t see anything wrong with it. Kinda suits you to be honest.” The glance his best friend shoots him in return begs to disagree. ..And then a cold hand quickly ruffles his hair. Payback, oh swift retribution. There. Now we’re both a bird’s nest.

--

Peering down at the prone form with a blink, signature grin missing, Berial folds his wings upon settling onto the bed's foot headboard. Balancing on it like a gargoyle, the clown sighs then ruffles the fluffy tail-tip with a hand in sympathy— Only to get swatted across the face.

—"Okay, if you're going to be huffy all day then at least rest better!" A roll of eyes and a click of jaws. Hands on hips and a chiding pout, Berial poofs. His head reappears right in front of his friend's face, a staredown of two displeased beings.

—"Vanyusha. Sleep-time, now. I'm not dragging a corpse to Whiteridge, you hear old bat?" Swatting with a wing, the head vanishes, dodging the hit and reappears again in its spot.

The jester's stern scowl hasn't wavered, challenging him to talk back.

—"....." How do you know I need to sleep more? That I'll whither if I keep up my streak?

—"...." Vanyo, I'm a clown –Not a blind idiot. You're not the first Burning star I've seen. So I know a thing or two about your lot.

—"How much do you know, uh?"

—"Enough to stress you need to rest, you hormonal work-addict." And you needed it in general, before getting yourself knocked up. Now you need double as regularly.

The large ears atop his head twitch and pin back, red-hued eyes narrowed. It's been so long since sleep had last graced him... First being too busy staying alive and constantly on-guard lest a hunter or hound jumps out of nowhere, net and harpoon to be fired. Then too preoccupied with running all over Esperia, solving one crisis after another and helping the people… There never was a single second to so much as blink, let alone sleep.

There never is.

....And on the rare off-chance his eyelids did fall, head dropping like chopped by guillotine— Nightmares lashed out with their putrid grasping hands. M̶̾͐͜e̷̼̦̒̄͜m̵̙̥͋̾ơ̵͎͍̑̾ͅr̶̬̦̼͑̐i̴̢̼̬̿ę̵͈̐s̸͇̳͛̉̌ ̴̧̈́̇͆o̷̹̗̠̍͘͝f̷͎̺̦͝ ̸͈̯͆͋̀å̷̳͉̭̌̓ ̸̡̭̖͆̅͠s̶͚̽̔̚o̵̩̿͋ṅ̸̛̼̯g̷̙͌̂ ̵̢̘̐c̸̡̹͐ō̷̗̭͚̌̌l̵͙̔̋l̵͖̿e̴̩̒c̵͚̓͌t̴̟̊̊í̴̤̭͂̕v̴̞̫͙̈́̎̊e̸͉̒̈́͠l̵̢͇̇̈́͜ỹ̵̜̈́̕ ̴̱̔̏h̸̢̫͈͑̓u̵̩͛͋͑m̴͔̤̒m̵̗͗e̵̦̎͜d̶̨̩̉͠ ̸͖̬͂̇́f̸̝̠̽͝ō̶̘̝͎̔̏r̶̭͗̌ ̸̖͖́͝ẗ̴̫͕͍́h̴͎̥̄͜e̶̩̠̪̿̔̃ ̴̦̻͐̈́l̸̻̈́̀a̴̞̔s̵̘̜̏̌̓t̴̳̿͘ ̸̳̄ṫ̴̼̤̮͝i̷̢̗̬̚m̷̯͉͗̈e̶̢̪̋̆͜,̴̲͓̌̕ ̴̢̺͗͒͜͠a̶̭͑̔̌s̷̲̝̩͋ ̸̻̯̮̐f̵̥̹̈l̶̳͔̈́ẹ̷̜͒̄̑s̴̢̛̲͉̍h̵̝̣̾͑̆ ̸̮̞̖͝-̶̹̞̐̚b̷̛̰̄ỏ̸̡̫͚d̴̢̼̄́i̷͉̓̔ẹ̸̈́̋s̷̻̍͜-̷̻͍̳͂̇ ̵̣̝̙́̕b̴͖̄u̷̮͎̤͝r̷̦̤̂͝n̸̨̐̓̿t̸̢͕̆̿͜ ̴̤̭͓̊̐a̵̪͓̬͛̂́n̴͉̔d̸̛��͐͂ ̵̛̯͚̅m̷͈̘͝͠e̸̒̾̚͜l̷̤̀̊̒t̴͎̞́͑e̵͖͈̞̎ḍ̴̛̒͜ ̸̙̥͒̿ǫ̸̩̫̀͒f̷͕̞̋͝f̷͔̀̔ ̵̩̟̥̓c̴͙̿̐͝h̵͖̉̅a̶̳̅̂r̴͓̬͔̒r̶̯̺̀e̶͎͒̕d̶͓̊̉̓͜ ̵̝͚̇͘b̴̼̰͈̃ơ̴̧̘̂͝ͅn̵̪͆ȩ̴̭̤̕ŝ̷̹̥.̶̞̳̈́̆ ̶̼̣̓̐̚A̸̧̫̹͆̾͂l̵͉̤̽͂̑ì̶͖̉͠v̴̢̥̙̏e̴̯̠̽.̶̲͍̭͆̑ ̵̛̗̲̔͝

̵̬̠̈́͒̎͜

̶̬̆͊͊T̶̢̈́ḩ̷̛̰̤̚e̴͎̐̕͠ ̴̘̕s̷̝͚̈́̂̃h̶͓̮̍̅u̵̘̲͌̃t̴̖̅͝ṱ̶̨̫͆̾͌ē̷̬̋͗r̵̗̹̣̋ ̸͉̈o̴̖͑̓f̴̻̙̎́̄͜ ̸̰̹̀'̸̢̠̳͆͌l̶̞̼̈́́͝ȩ̸̏͂͜n̶̘̪̻̈́s̸͎̏'̸̱̹̠̾̈̊ ̵̡̡̀s̴̤̜͆h̶̲̐̉i̶̜̮̭͋͝͝f̸̫̌̽t̷̛͈̙́͌ḯ̴̲̇́ń̸̺̯͗g̴͕̮̫̈̕ ̵̝̋t̴̬̋o̸̭͊͗̄ ̷̖̱͐͘͘å̴̰̥̦͌ ̷̬̣́͊̕m̷̹̍͘a̷͖̐͒̀n̷̬̑͝g̶͕̓̑̓͜l̵̗̠͂ẽ̷͈͆̕d̷̰̹̐ ̴̰̿͜t̸̝̭̹͊̓o̴̝̖̭̅ř̷̦̱̫̆͠s̸̘̩͛͝͝o̵̠̯̒͆ ̴̪͓͑̐͛o̸̲͓̬͆̔͘f̶̪̤͐̐̋ͅ ̴̩͚͓̒͊a̷̝͑ ̶̝͘ḿ̴̯̣͝o̷̭̗͒̇̑s̶͍̘̀̀t̷̳̝̰̿̈ ̴͓̈́̑͝ḇ̵͓̊e̵̯̫͋͑͝l̵̻͙͑ǫ̴̡̰̉v̵̻͉̓̂͛è̴͎͆d̷̜̜̐̈́͛.̸̥̱̔͑ ̸͖̜́͑́P̵͔̟͎̆a̶͎͈̮͋̕l̸͈̞̗̐e̶̟̦͗ ̵̘̃̇͐͜ģ̸̈̄̌r̴͈̄e̶͈̞̊͂̍͜e̷̝̠̓̏n̷̼̠̈́͌̿͜ ̵̢̲̥̋̑̆e̵͔̜̅̾̍y̴̜̻͑e̵̟͎͉͆̊s̵̬̻͖̍̓ ̷̮͒̄ṿ̶͖̅a̴̼͎̙͌̏c̸̪̃̓͊a̸͕̯̍n̷̖̐ẗ̷͙͈,̷͎͚͈̒ ̶͖̞͐͆b̶̛̰̜͒͝l̵̨̬̑̉ͅó̷͕̺̒̃ó̵̠̜͠d̷̫̼͊̓̓ ̷̺̟̜̑̉ṣ̴̨͈̒t̴̥͒́å̸̮i̷̦͈̩͊̇ň̴̻í̵̯̹̻̓̈́ń̵͇̾̀g̵̣̦͇̔͂ ̴̣͉̍̀ͅt̶̤͌͐ͅh̸̲̓̑͝e̸͓̘̲͆̉̆ ̶̯̻̲̉̉n̸͚̓̃͝e̶̜̜͇̔c̷̼͇̋͠k̶̯͘͠-̵̱̲͔̍͑̓ȧ̷͍̹ċ̴͚̺͗͒c̴̪̳̓͂e̶̥͎͇̒̍s̶͙̙̘͑͂s̶̕͜ö̸̱̳́̚r̶͈̐̾y̸̠͚̔͛̾-̴̢̍t̴̩͝h̷̘̱̆ḙ̵͔̏ ̴̡͍͌͌͜b̵͈̫̓̆o̸̳͇͂̅̏ͅw̴̥͕̿ṱ̷͔̲́i̴͈̹̖͑ę̸̄̊͋-̸̯́͠ ̸̢̨̈́̚ä̸̬͙ ̴̧̅t̶͉̣͝h̴̛̫̊̏o̸̦͂u̸̯͚͇͌̓͝ș̴̺͐a̷̩̍n̸̰̎͗d̸̦̂̕ ̷͓̱̃̆ͅå̸͔r̵͓͂̑r̷̄͂̈͜o̶̡͔̼͆͑̔w̷̹͇̒s̸̮͖̈́ ̴̥̜̪̈̈́̎á̷̢ṇ̶̖̩̆d̴͉̞̮̔ ̸̡̢̥̎̏͑s̵̝̰̊w̴̻͕̘̉̾ô̷̙ṛ̵̱̿͆͘͜d̷̏̉͜s̸̥̣̚ ̴̥͉̗̓͝e̴̬̲͘m̶͍̜̖̂͝b̸̖̜͙͌͠ȩ̵̻͛d̵̡̠͔̅d̷̢̟̹́̿è̷͙̤̈́͒ḍ̶͝͝͝ ̴̝͓̀̓ï̶̖̓́n̴̋͗͜t̴͍̱͉̅͠ó̶̗̝͝ ̸̝̞̉͜h̸̙͖͎̀̍ȉ̸̭͚̉̕s̵̳̈̆ ̷͙̱͙̃b̴̜̩͍̈́o̵̼͎̽͘ͅd̵̢͚̓͗̓y̷̛̜͍ ̴̨̣̭͋l̷̹̑͜ì̵͕ḳ̶͕͙̔̚ẽ̶̠̙̖ ̴͇̙̬̀̃͝s̷̨͆̇e̵̱͌̿͂w̸͕̓į̷̛̼̼n̸̰͔̈́͜͝g̷̰͝ ̸̜̉̽n̴̲̭̽͘e̸̺͈͑̿͠ȩ̵͕̺̀̀͘d̴̳̓͝l̷͚͐͂́͜è̸̛̩̯͛s̵͖̗̓.̵͈̠́.̶͍͉̅͝.̶̳͌̈́.̴̼͇̈̒͋.̵̳̇̃ ̵̯̕A̶̟̔̆s̷͕̤͐̚ ̴̥̀͋͝t̷̟̗͍̀̀ḣ̵̘̫̍e̴̫̎̏͜͝ ̷͔̀G̷̘͑̊ř̵̖͈̊͌ả̵̝͔͘v̴̲̞͉̑̆e̶̩͈͊̈́͋b̷̯̺̙̔͝͠o̴͖͐̉͒r̵̡͖̳̓n̵̝̉̕͠ ̸̧́d̸͎͇̫͝i̶̦̤̔̊́s̵͕̳͗͛͜į̶̛͇̈́ṋ̴̆t̶̝̀͐͝è̶̮̠̳̓̉g̸̛̙͙̯͒ṟ̵͆͒͗a̶͈̠͕̓t̴̖͐ē̵̢̈́s̵̮̤̔̀ ̷̺̗̰̀̈͝l̷̰͈͖̅̚͝ḯ̷̛̩̎ͅk̶̬̫̔e̸̦͉͒̃ ̵̝͛̾̀b̵̛͎̆͗ṷ̵̼̀͊͠ͅr̸̨̟͑̇̎ṉ̴̬̰̔̇ṭ̴̱̽̓͜ ̶͇̩̗͒p̵̘͖̘̂̓͛â̶̭͇͖̓r̸̲̳͔͐̒͠c̵̟̩̈́̓̇h̵͔̩̾͝m̷̮̅͒́ͅë̵̟̩̻n̶͉͠t̵͇̻̆͒͝,̸͙͛̽ ̸̦͝t̵̳͎͛̿ḧ̸̢́̓͝ä̶͔t̷̨͔̲̐͐͊ ̷̲̓̋l̷̟̜͐ì̷̬f̶͍̥̾͘̕ę̵̾l̸̫͌̉͘ḛ̷̗̈͒̒s̶̺̊s̸̱̎̉̏ ̵̝͋s̵̢͂̐t̵͉̻̹̾ä̵̲̦͇́͂͝r̷̜͈̰̎͑̆e̶̪̰̓̃͠ ̶̗͎̓̕͜͝f̴̥͈̹͂̂͠í̴͔͚͌x̶̣̻̯̂̊à̵̯̀t̴̛̯͆̉e̶͎͒d̷͍͐ ̵̪̜͋͆ọ̶́ṉ̶̖̂͂̅ ̷̬͆h̷̳͔̪̔i̶̲͗̈́́m̴̼̹̒̒.̷̰͛.̸̠̫̔͝.̶̝̫̚ ̶̼̞̔s̴̮̩̀̅͛ͅo̵̡̮̪̐̐ŕ̴͈̓̎r̷̯͎͑̈̀o̴̲͎͂w̵̨͋̒̓,̸̭̀̽̉ ̸̨̞͐͂̅d̴̖̎i̸̛̦͚̙̍s̴̞̻̞͗͆g̵̭̲͊͂͝ǘ̶ͅs̵͇̞͘͠ț̷̓͜,̶͓̯̜͆ ̸̢̹́̽l̵̨̘͐ó̵͖͊̊ͅv̸̠̄͊e̵̤̒̔,̵̛͕͗̎ ̴̩͈̕a̶̟̯̒ĉ̵̰̤͆͐c̴̲͇͂u̴̞͙̤̒s̷̝̥̖̋̈ă̸̡͘͘ţ̵́ͅḭ̵̀͑̏͜ȍ̸͉̙͒ṅ̸̨̗̟̈͝,̸͈͗͗ ̸̢̤̈́̂́j̵̣̫̍̀ư̶̰͒̎d̴̬̒̔g̴̥̦͙͠e̴͙̮͍͒m̷͙͚͛ē̵̙̗ņ̷͙̄̔t̵͖̑͐,̵̰̆̆ ̸̫̣͆̆͠p̵͔͗̓i̴̡̡̽t̶̽̊͋͜y̷̆́͜͝,̸͓̮̮͛̈́ ̶̻̂͂l̵̖̝̊͠o̷͎̯͛͐̉n̶̰̕g̸̭̋͊̂ì̸͔n̵̼̫̅̚͜ģ̵̊̎̃.̵̟̺́

̷̡̄B̷̘͋͌ẽ̷͕͚c̶̫̿͘ǎ̴̤͎͖̎̚ụ̸̺͋̇͜ś̷͍̆e̸̺̤͆̽ ̷̜̞͍̈̚̚ȧ̵̮͇͐͠t̵̞̻͂͗ ̷͚̮̌̏ͅt̵̖̎͗͝i̶̪͇̲̅m̵̤͓͔̒ȅ̸͓͓̳ś̴̻,̴̤̯̐̋̈ ̸̠͎͖̓͐͝t̴̯̮̩̾́ḩ̶̲̋̈́ọ̵͉̈́ş̶̰͍̐̍̄ė̵̝̫͐ ̶̟̲̈́a̷̲̪̩͊͊r̴͎̝̞͛̈́̚ṟ̷̡̬̿̉o̸͓̣̿́w̵̼̟̉̉s̶̢̭͍͑̇ ̷̄͂̿͜ȃ̵͈̥̈́n̸̦͔͗d̸̜̓͘ ̵͕̈́̚͜b̸̛̈́̏͜l̶̲̔͝ä̷̦͐̕d̵̳̉̋e̶̟͐s̴̪̦͈̽͒̄.̸̡̰̼̆̀.̵̗͕͚̿.̶̢̔ ̶̧̤͂͑a̶̺̗̾ȓ̷̥ͅḙ̴͆̍̄ ̶̢̲̤̕͝͝ḫ̸̠̘̓i̵̩͈̇͛͝š̵͚͖̫ ̴̱͙̅͝ṽ̴̩̩̹͝e̶̬̘̕r̵̻̄ẏ̵̳̊̈ ̸̤̈o̷̧͐̓ẁ̶̤̾ǹ̶̡͉̇̚ ̵̧͉͠t̴̼͑ẹ̵̮̆́e̴̼̝̐t̵͓̠͊̕h̴̘̀̃̚ ̷̧͍̓a̶̳̼̿̚ͅǹ̶͔̝̂d̴̢͉̗̈́̃ ̶̠͎̌c̸̱͊l̶͚͑̔̚a̵̭̟͗̃͠w̸̧̖̅̿s̷̡̪͔̉̽.̶̨̪̥̀́

̴̧̧̢͓͎̜͚̯̫͖͓̱̫̥͚̥̰̘̗̻͖͕̦̖̥̫͔̬̥͇̫̗͍͔̦̪͕͉̱̈͊̃̃̓́͒̓̐͜͝͝'̵̡̨̨̧̧̡̳̮̞͉̗̰̮̹̰̟͕̟̣͚͎̹̤̠̣͈̰̟̖̠̗̗̹͓͈͎͙̔̆̆͛́̀̽̃̀̔̄̆̒͋̏͊͘̕͝͝͝M̴̙̋̈̓̏̅̆̒̒̅̄̓̿̋̐̑̿̽̽̂̓̆̓̇͒͆̕͝͝͝͠ǔ̷̠̘͕͕͕̟͇͖̝͓̙͔̖͓̪̮̹͉̖̱̉͐̿̀͑́̎̌͊͝ř̵̨̢͖̜͈͓̹̭̞̝̺͔̘͇͕̺͖͙͈͉͕̺̦̫̗͚̻̟̙͗͜d̷̡̨̨̛̞͙̳͓̲̗̥̖̠̮̅̀͆͂͆͂̎̀̄̊́̈̀̿̌͒̿́̇̋̈́͒̈́͗͑̏̚͠͝͠ȩ̸̼͇̻̳̤̣̜̃̋̿̾͛̀͆̔̎̂̔̐͐̄̉̑͗́̚͜͠ŗ̶̡̙̖̝̹̝̜͉̘͍͔̲̞̣̥̞̝̝̦̇͐̇̓̽͐̀̈́̆͗͒͊̌̾̑̓͛̋͑̒̍͂̓͘̕͘̚͠͠ͅͅͅe̵̛͉̦͙̖̙̗̔͆̈̽̀̽̊̏͗̀̽̓̐͛͋̌̅͗͂́̓̃͘͝͝͝r̵̟̟͖̳̬͛̔͗̒͆̒͋͗͋͌̿̌͑̃̆̀̋͆̎̿̆́̀͆̓̊͘̚.̷̡͕̮̝̗͍̞̗̹̻̪̱̩͕͉̼̻̣̘͌̑͋̍͝.̴̧̡̡̨̨̢̨̪̞̞̫̥̬̥̦͖̭̱̰̗̞̟̝͉͍̤̫̙̱̞̭͕͓̬͙̻̥̮̭͙̤̆̓͋͆͂̂̿̋̉͐̀͌̏̐̀͑̍̓̆̃͒̐̿́̓̓͆̉̉̋.̸̧̢̡̧̛̛̬̲̼̜̳̘̯̮͓̠̤̹̩͕̱̠̱͔͉̦͔̲͚͍̯͖̠̱͖̬̩̬͕̄́̆̈̎͗̓̈́̾̈͆̓̓̓̍̀̔͌̽̈̒̌̚͘͘͠͝ͅ ̸̛̛̛̖̦͇̓́̈͋̓͊̃͒̃̂̋̍̂̀͆̀̇̈́͊̈́͊͋͘͝͝R̵̢̧̢̡̟̮̹̭̰̼̬͚̳̠͓̣̮̹̣͍͔̠̟̘̳̩̤̯̯̳͎͓̙̳̹̅̍͛͛̔̆̕͝͠ą̵̢̛̱̳̲̭͇̯̫̣͎͕͈̼̒̐̆͂̓͗̆́͜͜͝͠t̸̢̛̟̟̠͔̹̪̩̺͖̞̐̀̓͂̀͂̒̀̽̂̽̌̓̿̆̈͘͝͝͠.̸̧̣̬̲̲̈̾͒́͊̏͗͝.̴̡̢̨̨͔͚̜̩̘��̦̟̤̙͚̜̺̜͈̪̬̝̾̾̊͋͊̈̐̏͊͑̍̓̀̓̃͜ͅͅ'̷̨̨̛͈͖͇͈̟͇͇̯͙̯̗̾̓̃̿́̄̆͗͐͑̈́̓̔̓̄̈͋͆́̃͊̎̚ͅ ̴̡̨̢̨̢̨̜̦̩̺̬̟̠̞̭͓̭̲͚̻̖͕̻̯̜̣͈̯̭̹̀͐̀̎̐̆̓̄͌̀̉̇̒̃͑͝

-̴̟̕ ̶͍̂Ț̵̉h̸͖̿e̸̜̓ ̶̎͜c̶̗͛ó̴͓r̶͇̈́p̸̧̂s̷̭̐ě̸̝ ̵̘̎w̴̧̽ơ̷̹u̶̪͘l̶͉̎d̷͔́ ̸̯̓ș̵͆ą̷̌y̵̗͐ ̶̡͝i̷͚͝n̴̫͆ ̸͗͜ǵ̷̳â̸̢r̷̼̒b̶͉̕ļ̶̊ẻ̶͓ḑ̸̈́,̵͎̊ ̸̠͋ǵ̴̖ǘ̶̘r̸̤͝g̴͖͋l̵͚̍i̵̱̒n̷͔̿g̸̱͠ ̵̗̌r̵̠̽a̸̜͘s̷̘̐p̴̜̏.̷͔́ ̷̡͠R̸̩̅e̸͈̅g̴̼̀r̴͖̈́e̵̳͊t̴͈̕.̴̹͠

̷̱͆T̷̹͝h̵̹͊ȃ̷̼ẗ̵̟ ̴̯́c̶͙̽o̸͚̓r̴͉̀p̷͎͋s̸̺̆ẹ̷̚ ̷̤̓t̶̠̐u̵̺͋ř̵̥n̸͈̍ ̸̱̔t̵͉̆ȍ̸̞ ̴̳̄c̴̺̉ǫ̴̃u̷͔͆n̴̠̂t̴̺́l̸̦͘e̵̗͒s̸̗̉s̸͉͌,̵̛̘ ̴͍̚o̷̠͒f̶͔̋ ̵̠̈́p̶̹̀e̴͍̿o̴̞̐p̴̀͜l̵̪̈́e̸͚͛ ̶̫͝ẁ̷͎h̶͔͂ỏ̴̰s̴͖̓e̸̤̋ ̶̗̍b̷̢̅l̵̩̊o̴̡̔o̶̘̍ď̷̼ ̷͇̕ṡ̸̨ț̸̓a̸̘͗ȉ̴̝n̴̗̾s̸͎̃ ̵̺̀h̴̿͜i̸̲̽m̷̗̀–̷̧̛ ̶͙̇H̶̨̑a̵͉͛n̶̹̎d̸̺̈́ś̶̭,̶̩̅ ̶͎̎j̶̪̎à̶̙w̴͍͘s̷̖̓,̶̫͝ ̴̱̚č̴̙l̴̙͊a̴̗͌ẃ̵̟s̵̳̈́,̴̥̃ ̵̭̎ḅ̶́l̶̖̒a̶̝̎d̸͂ͅe̷̟̓s̷̻̆.̷͍͝.̸̝́ ̴̥͠T̷͎̆h̴͎̅ḛ̸́ ̴̢͠ì̸̫n̴͈̄ș̸͌t̸̯̋i̷̯͊g̸̬̔a̷̠̎ẗ̸͈o̶͎̐r̶̪̅s̶̗͝ ̵̙͘o̴͈͋f̸͚̐ ̶̨̿t̶̳̅ḧ̴̹e̴̤͂ ̶̗̀C̶̮̔ṙ̶̲u̵͈̐s̶̺̽a̵̺̓d̶͉̀e̴̤͊s̴͇͝,̸̛̰ ̵̒ͅt̸̮̑ḫ̶̉e̸̲͛ ̸͖̈́a̴̰͂c̵̛͈c̷̲̋o̵̲̓m̷̳̊p̸̣͝ľ̵̟i̶̛͙c̴̗͝ē̷̯ş̷́.̸̥̃.̵̧̓.̶͖̀ ̸̙̕A̵̟̒n̵̜̾d̶̥̈́ ̷͓͆t̴̩̀h̷̋ͅẹ̵̓ ̵͈͝ȉ̴̮ṅ̷̨n̶̠̓ơ̵̻c̵̺͠e̶̼̐n̵͚̓t̸̮̾s̷̰̑ ̵̹̄ẇ̷̠h̸̰͆o̴̪̓ ̵̞̽w̶̥͐ë̵̬r̴̈͜è̵͈ ̴͖̋ç̵̐a̵̮͋ü̵͍g̴͍̓h̴̼̄t̷͕̎ ̷̫̋i̷͖̔n̶̘͋ ̷͚͂t̸̝͝h̵̪̓ẽ̸̜ ̸̺̆l̸̻͂ï̸͍ñ̷͚ḛ̸͋ ̸͕̕o̷̡͌f̷̜́ ̵̝̌f̴͈̊ḯ̸͈r̴͉̊ĕ̷̜,̶̼͝ ̴͚̄b̵͔̚l̵̻͗ỉ̶͈n̷̛̳d̴̥̋i̶̭̿n̵̹͆ǧ̴̟ ̴͈͒g̵͚̀r̸̠̕í̶͚ẽ̷̖f̸̗̂-̷̙̾b̵̼͊ọ̵̿r̷͕̓ṇ̸̌ę̵͆ ̴̦̅w̶̨͒r̴̳͝a̵̛͇t̵̞̎h̵͔͘f̸̗̎ǔ̴̻l̸͕̊ ̸͕́t̸̞̔h̵̼͛i̴̼͘ŗ̷̅s̶̞̓ṯ̸͊ ̷̯͛f̴̗̓ő̴̡r̸̝̍ ̷͔̀r̸̮̓e̶͇̐v̷̫͐e̷̛̱n̶̺̄g̵̝̏e̸̖͑.̸̙̉ ̶͚̈́Ḫ̵̈́ä̶͎́n̵̝̾d̴̮̈́s̵̺̋ ̶͚̿r̸̻̚e̸͉͌a̴͖͌c̷̳̓h̶̟͋i̸̬͌n̸̜͗ģ̶̀,̷̤̾ ̴̪̇ĝ̸̘ȓ̴̠a̶̤͆p̸̯͐p̷̰̎l̵̳̓i̸͉͆ņ̶̈g̸͉̈́–̸̬̏ ̶͉͌C̵̺̈́l̴͍̾a̶̜̅w̸͙͝í̸͉ǹ̵͈g̶͓̕ ̶̰̔à̷̱n̷͍̒d̴̺̽ ̵̟̑p̵̢̊u̸̦͛l̸̊͜l̴̥̆ị̵̀n̶̩̋g̸̖͝ ̴̦̈́à̷̬t̴̪͘ ̴̞͝h̶̳̿i̵̼̇s̵̡̈́ ̵̞͠b̵͎͛ó̷͉d̵̠̐y̵̲̎ ̷̱͝a̴̯̋n̸̘͠ď̵̡ ̵̫͗l̷̰̏i̴̧̐m̷͔̒b̶̰̊ş̴͊,̵̳͒ ̸̮̌t̵̪̓e̷̝̔à̶̮r̶̠͘i̷̯̾n̵͎̽g̸̜̈́ ̸̻̕a̶͙̅p̵̼̽a̸̬̍r̵̰͘t̴̼͒,̴̞͊ ̸͌͜r̸̢̊i̷̖̕ṗ̵͈p̷̓͜i̴̳̔ň̶͈g̴͖̏ ̴͖̐ȍ̴͓f̷̱͒f̴̦̓.̵͍̈́.̵͇͝.̸̖̈́ ̵̛͓s̵̖̈́ẗ̴͍́r̸̻̊à̴͜n̶͓̒ġ̸̼l̸̠̄i̸̺͠n̸͇̂ḡ̷̫.̶̙͗ ̸̛͔W̴̚͜i̸̲͆t̸͍̒h̴̗̀ ̶̜͌t̵̗̂h̴̟͘è̷̖m̸͍̂,̴̹̕ ̵̝͒t̵͕̀h̴͎̑e̷̽ͅ ̴͖̿f̵͍͗á̵͖c̷̲̍e̴̝̋ ̵̤͝ő̸̘f̴̣̾ ̵̼͂a̷͈̿ ̷̣͆M̴̫͐ḁ̵̾u̵͎͆l̴̫̾e̵̯̕r̶͙̚–̶͈͊ ̷͉̇S̷̳̊ô̸͎r̶̞͌e̷̿ͅn̴̬͝'̷̖̂s̵̱̽.̸͉̽ ̵̩̓Ȏ̷̢n̷̻͘e̵̡͂ ̸͔̽m̴̳͘o̸̼̅r̷̯̀ë̴̗ ̴̳̒a̵̹̓ď̶̺d̷͍̔ẽ̴̦d̵̠̆ ̴̳̕t̸͚̊o̷̧̚ ̷̮̂t̷̺̽h̴̦̀ë̴̝́ ̷̜̅c̷̡̈́ǫ̵̎ủ̸͍n̸̞̓t̶̲͐.̷͓̒.̷̙͌ ̵̜̐Ạ̶̋ń̵̹d̷̼̋ ̸̭̿ḧ̶̭i̶̦̿s̶̪̓ ̵̛̜č̶̢l̷̒ͅa̶̱͠n̵̦̅.̸̢͆

—"Would you be better if I emulate him?" A hand on his shoulder, the winged Hypogean now sitting cross-legged and slightly hunched over. Worried, sympathetic, understanding.... As much a being of negativity can feel such emotions anyways. Or mimic.

“...yes.”

“Alright.”

A branch of familiar lilies is placed on the mattress, before him. And the inky form shifts, becoming familiar, as the pungent stench of kerosine, wood, banana and ink dulls to change into softer floral scent. Familiar.

Calming.

Cold, yet warm arms drape around his tense figure. A hand gliding through his strands and fur, stroking soothingly. As a soft, velvety tranquil and serene voice hums a lullaby. A melody, softly whistled in tender low tone. Song most adored– The tune taking form more vividly as his eyelids at last drift shut. Of sweet cheerful memories, an albino night nymph and a noble 'boy', swaying to romantic songs at the Mythic tavern, singing in duet, standing out in the Winter's snowy chill and gazing at the stars dotting the skies... Constellations the painter traces, maps out on his back with fond feathery touches.

Leaving kisses on each and every freckle, every scar, every wound -old, new, partially healed, or fully. Foreheads resting together... Mornings spent cuddling, days and nights spent in travels across the map to nooks and crannies less known. Sparring together..

—“Would it be so terribe for me to say that I love you, with my very being..? A sin to confess you are the light in my eternity, have brought me alive, a reason to continue drawing breath still..?” Cold hands cupping his face, a cold forehead pressed against his own and a serene smile playing on the lips so mournful normally. A feather-light kiss is pressed, lingering for a moment—Benediction. Prayer and expression of unfaltering devotion in one. In the twilight between friendship...And something far more deeper, more profound than fickle romance or passion.

"Sleep well, my Muse."

The hasty pattering of little booted feet, and obnoxiously loud clanking of shield and sword soon enough shatters the peace. Curled onto his side and huddled with his friend, head propped on the knuckles of one hand, the soft look of calm neutrality jag into a scoff. Oh great. Right as I finally got him to sleep. Slowly the regal appearance dissipates away to reveal the Sinister jester, pale purple pits glaring up at the doorway in a mildly discontent deadpan while keeping his scent from reverting. —“Ma-!” A zipper materializes on the knightly-dressed ginger and white-furred loudmouth, effectively shutting him up before his nails-on-chalkboard squeaky-toy voice wakes up the slumbering figure. And the furball has the gal to gape at him in shocked surprise. Pressing a finger to his downturned jagged mouth, the Hypogean’s voice flits into the rodent’s head just as he hisses ‘Shh!’. Tone down your trap, fat-rat. You blind or need your eyeballs checked? What? The brat’s thoughts are a complete mess, but one thing stands out: Hogan. Need Pirin. Urgent. ..Riight. Sure. Rolling his eyes, in a blink of an eye Berial is gone, poofing away. Only to emerge from the ground in front of the Arcane chief’s familiar, hands on his hips and slowly bend to be on eye-level with a tilt of the head. Just as the zipper peels back to let Chippy talk.

—“Magister Merlin wants to talk to Pirin. Chippy was going to say that General Hogan has sent a letter for him...uhm.. It’s an invitation to Whiteridge for the festival, but Merlin redirected it to Pirin….” Not impressive news. Or anything new, it’s a staple at this point.

—“Uh-Huh.” Straightening up with a snap, the clown’s dismissive sneer of disdain remains- “Yeah, just tell your owner we’re going to set off later when Pirin wakes up.” And then promptly turns his back to the pip-squeak, eyes closed and chin help up- looking down his pointed nose as he flicks his wrist. “Ooff you go, shoo-todaloo.” With that—Berial snaps his fingers, opening a portal right underneath the hamster’s feet through which Chippy falls.

…

‘hhmmh…’ -Two eyes blink open blearily, mind still muddled by vestiges of sleep clinging. Out the tall mosaic window the skies are painted in hues of black and speckled with stars, an owl hoot in the distance, or another nightly critter. At the foot of the bed, like a gargoyle of a cathedral, perches Berial. Did you watch me sleep? Nope~! Just was keeping an eye. ….And the difference is..?

—“That you’d have nightmares if the former~! And have gone with the latter!”

—“...Mhm, yep. Checks about right.” Come on now, Little finch~! I chase your bad dreams away, and this is what I get?? Rude, hmph.

—“Well you did sleep well!” You want an applause? I wouldn’t mind it!

Sitting up on the bed with huffed effort, Pirin’s face scrunches in a wincing scowl, ears pinning back low against his skull; Vertigo, nausea and voracity warring just as a burn rises up from the chest, spills to the throat like volcano that he swallows back. Two bottomless pits closely follow, grin gone. “At least nothing is visible...Nobody would know..” Pushing off from the soft but stiff mattress, the Mauler-appearing spirit harshly clicks his teeth, long tail flickering to keep balance.

It’s like my legs had been frozen or cast in fuc- goddamn cement. Fur bristled and puffed out, a hissing snarl slips out the cleft lips, leaf-like nose flaring sharply. This will be just lovely. Better than being cooped up and doing nothing at any rate. Ever so slowly a hum brews up, low thrilling and drawn-out chirp… to spite the throbbing that relentlessly pounds on his skull, has been for two months, three now, same as that pesky exhaustion draped onto his back like a mountain. As if the ache in the chest and acid aren’t enough. ...How did mamma stay calm the whole time..? And to deal with this five times no less! How?? I’m over here loosing half my mind!

—“If it will make you feel better, I have good.. and bad news. Which one?” —“Whichever. Shoot.” Claws rake against wood in clipped, measured stalk, the curly hair of ink spinning ‘round to continue staring after his back. In a flash, the tufted ears, fur, wings and tail retract to give rise to much more humanoid appearance. Just as the sharp claws revert to feet, disheveled bangs falling back into place like a curtain. In moments the soft rustling of fabric fills the silence, the figure mechanically pulling the white shirt over his head and torso then slipping on the deep scarlet-red tailcoat lined with embroidery in black. At nothing being said, the short man pauses after tensely straightening out the wrinkles of the garments. Berial.

—“We’re going to Whiteridge—Hogan wants to talk to you before we set off to raze the duchy. Merlin’s lil tin rat barged in to deliver the message about it.” Snowy owl-esque eyebrows furrow, haggard and coldly miffed eyes of the reflection in the mirror meeting his own.

—“Hogan? You sure it’s not at Merlin? Since they’re buddies and what-have-you.”

—“Best guess is the twat redirected the invite to you, no doubt to dodge whatever bullet the crisis going on there.” It’s always snafu, ever since day one of this shitshow. So nothing surprising.

—“Tch, can’t tell if poor man’s genuinely terrible at recommending tourism destinations, or if he’s in cahoots with Mr. Legend to off me and call it an accident.” The shuffling of fabric resumes, followed up by the tump of boots striking wood. “First time didn’t work, guess second’s the charm.”

—“M, to be fair—Hogan didn’t know you’ll get yanked into another adventure in Rustport. Loony-mage is a different story.”

—“..You really have grown soft, ha Berial? Playing mortal’s advocate?”

—“Har-Har. I’m simply stating facts on the table, not playing defense.” The fake magister merely snorts with a smugly mirthful glance over his shoulder, silky hair pulled up in his gloved hands. Tying it into a low ponytail, the ghostly-white man rolls it up into a tight bun at his nape and pins it with a hairpin from unravelling. A small lantern which emits a soft, warm glow dangling from it like a tassel, a delicate golden tassel chain attached to the hair stick, framing the bun from below.

“Why are you putting on another coat.?”

—“Let’s call it a precautionary measure. I’m having a bad feeling about this whole story. Ever since the first trip when the general passed the letter… I could’ve been paranoid, still be. Not a first.” But an Eclipse’s intuition tells no lies, does it? Never did. It exposes them, and where there’s rot- The source isn’t far behind.

One last glance at back the clear surface of the glass, wooden mask held in hand and blue bandana in the other, the man dons them on. The translucent black piece of cloth he had affixed to the woodmask falling over his lower face. A pelt is wound around his neck in coils, the fur-coat buttoned up snug and hood drawn up, Pirin makes his way out the dorm. The walk down the endlessly winding corridor and descent on the spiraling staircase passes in a faceless blur, raising a gloved hand in affable brief hello to Dolly per body’s reflex.

What grips the magister’s perpetually preoccupied mind, is the invitation.

It was from Whiteridge, anonymous beyond that. Back then it had caused excitement to spike, even if with a prod of puzzlement—had assumed it was from his utmost beloved. The silence at long last broken… until a more thorough examining later in private. The penmanship and very style of it wasn’t anything like Ludovic’s. The letter had teetered on informal, tone far too cheerful and elated to the point of bordering on… manic or desperate. And what more was swift to grab his attention, was the scent the very parchment held. A perfume, rather than cologne or the scent of lilies so familiar. But the last clue, the biggest dead giveaway, was the lack of signature in the very bottom right of the letter where a tiny ‘accidental’ ink-splotch would be. Or ‘Owl’ would be written.

If in immense rush, the letters are signed with a circled dot.

Frowing at the script, Pirin’s hands shake while gripping the letter, nearly ripping the parchment. A cold chill darts down his spine, heart thundering under his ribcage, built-up anxiety hissing loud. What if he’d been found out? Needs help? Bolting out of the chair, it thuds behind the Wilder's back as he seizes the device the dwarven craftsman had given him all those months ago. Letters take too long. Hastily dialing up a contact and almost dropping the gadget, pearl eyes stare at it, circling around the dorm room restless. A pause much too long.

—“Vanya…?” -The Graveborn’s familiar dulcet voice comes from the other end, the image of the disguised man peering up in puzzlement. Merlindabest wasn’t always good at long distances, even now, the image still flickers as static buzzes at times. Better than nothing. The confusion turns to mild worry at the lack of response. “Vanya, what is happening?”

—“...’Vic.. Where are you?” Shaky. —“At my manor. You worry me-” —“Please tell me you’re not injured,‘Vic.” Quiet. —“No, Love. I am alright. The Fallen king nor his followers suspect a thing.” A weak, quivering sigh of relief. The frail-appearing figure on the other side sliding down onto the floor kneeling.

—“I got a letter from Whiteridge as an anonymous invitation, and assumed it was from you initially.” Concern dissipates a notch, the light scowl going back to mystified as he listens intently. Shuffling of paper, a letter being held up in front of the jittery hologram. Pale green eyes squint a little in concentration at the script scrawled onto the page, scanning the content. “Then the thought that it’s a disress signal crossed, until reading it over again.. I..I needed to check in with you.”

—“I’m afraid I cannot recognize the sender… However from the penmanship, I suspect it is possible to be a distant relative of mine. I am not fully certain.”

—“Understandable, you’ve lost contact long ago since withdrawing to the Everstill manor.” Wiping away the welled-up tears at the corner of his eyes with a strained smile, the letter is folded up neatly and slid back into its envelope and pocketed.

“Still, better than nothing. Thanks, my Cloud.” A small, graceful smile of fond affection plays on the boy’s pale face.

—“Of course. It is of no trouble.”

—“-And ‘Vic.?” —“Yes?”

—“Do you- Have time?” Moment of thought, green eyes flickering to the side, smile faltering.

—“Not a lot, I fear. But I can spare an hour..?” The faux Mauler’s smile stretches to a grin, settling to sit more comfortably on the floor with tail draped in his lap.

—“Should do. At least ‘til we meet again in person. You know how it is with your truly~.”

—“I know. I confess, I am not better in this regard.”

—“Heh.”

Guess I’m about to find out who tis mysterious relative is.

Already scheming, ‘Magister’ Pirin steps through the doorway of the Mystical House, head held high. And not far behind, the jester hops into portals randomly, pausing midair after jumping out of the ground, wide gleeful smirk back.

—“And Berial? Can you go fetch our dear squad-mates? I’ve sent them their invites week in advance to ensure they have time to mull it over and prepare.” Ohohoho! This is going to be so fun! With a dramatic bow which results in a somersault. Sonja and Sinbad couldn’t accept due to being swamped with work, Soren sent back that he’ll be with his clan and take a rain check on this adventure and very stern warning of ‘Don’t do something stupid and get yourself killed.’ and Carolina responded back to the letter with great delay.

‘My apologies for responding this late, my friend! I will be sure to accompany you later, however! ...If your adventures have not reached their conclusion by that point. And..if so, I will be with you on the next for certain! Be careful in the snow, Stranja, please. Looking forward to meeting once more!

Warm hugs,

C.’

Watching Berial sink into the ground, a gleam of fire dances in the figure’s eyes, daring smirk of pure determined defiance under the black veil. Craziness is my game, so bring it. Stepping out onto beach of Ryeham, the mage closes the door behind his back and begins striding ahead.

Not once looking back.

[yohohonabottle]

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Chapter 1 - Contract

Striding down the stairs to the main area of the lounge, the pallid man blinks with a wince. Barely registering the stream of words pouring out of the Arcane council's chief like a fountain. So many scents...and so loud. Why's this wizard rushing so much? Is it time already..? This Esperia is...different. Might as well be an entirely new world or realm altogether. Nothing makes sense. Eyes sweeping over the arches, towering bookshelf with archives further behind their backs and the elevated alcove, the incarnated spirit hums. The large, sharp ears atop his head give a slight, quick twitch.

Nothing in those places. Good.

Another hum resonates from the 'Wilder', this time scrutinizing the main area with a rapid blink akin to a camera's shutter upon taking photo. No contraptions hidden, no men lying in wait to spring, no stench vials and shackles. Good. Good. It'd be unfortunate if that chatterbox looses his head. Whatever it is that continues to stream out that candy mouth is next to gibberish. But for some reason this 'magister' as he calls himself, keeps on blabbering without tiring. Or running out of breath, talking as though his brand new guest is in-the know on the matter. By now they'd reached the slightly elevated 'balcony' of the tavern's lounging area.

—"I'll be brief with you and sum everything up. I can tell you're not listening." Sitting down on the sofa, the amnesiac brunet makes a hand for the other across from him. 'Sit.' Scowling, Hestios complies without a word. Both feet planted firmly on the wooden floor and together with back stiffly straightened, he crosses his arms. The long tail curls around his clawed feet as the long and thickly voluminous fur around his neck flattens. "So. Your job, is to journey across Esperia in my stead and protect the peoples while resolving the crises. And here are my conditions-"

"First: You will not tell a soul about our contract. Nobody can know you're not Merlin, and that I'm at my Mystical House." Merlin pauses with holding up his index finger, noting how his new 'helper' thins his lips and tail-tip taps once. Displeasure and stoic duty. "If people find out the truth, you're under fire first, and I'll have headaches explaining everything." The crossed arms tighten, a twitch at the left corner of the lips in tiny, brief snarl. The claws flex, curling into a fist then unfurl in a spasm-like motion, pale eyes darkening to molten silver nearing black. So he remembers then. "Second: You will protect Chippy and Hammie, my two familiars, no matter what. I want to see those two hamsters strictly alive and well. And if I learn something happened to either or both, consider yourself terminated with our contract. Lastly: Do your job, and properly. No slacking or half-hearted efforts." —"Noted." Clipped, detached, cold. Doesn't phase the Arch-mage, who nods curtly. —"Good."

Sliding the letter on the table towards the wary new assistant, a smile curls up on the magister’s face. Continues on with the briefing while his stand-in eyes the unsealed letter in caution for a split second then looks back up at him, an unspoken question. That, finds all its answers.

—“And since you’re Merlin henceforth, let me fill you in on who you are quickly: You’re the chief mage who founded the Arcane Council to push back against the gods near the Immortal war’s end. Found a way to harness their residual powers, and put a circle in Ryeham to ensure Winter never comes… Except on Winter Carnaval to lighten the mood. You love cute things and have major sweet-tooth, your assistant is Dolly and Dura entrusted you the mission of bringing the Chosen ones to their divine swords. Following? Good.” A gesture to pick up the envelope and take out its contents, nod with his chin. “General Hogan, Magistrate of the Heroic Order, is your old friend. And you love playing pranks on those around you, while also saving the day.” Reading over the letter, the owl-like eyebrows pinch together into a baffled scowl. “And your best, most loyal student is Mirael, you’ve taught her much.” The bat-Wilder’s left ear gives a minimal twitch then both ears pin back for a second. A ‘grimace’ of discomfort, disapproval at having caught the faintest of undertones. Could be wanly reminiscent admiration and respect, certainly there.. along with some tiny spark that the albino shuts out. Not my place. I’m only here to do my job then leave to move on. Pearlescent eyes snap up at noticing movement, as the mage stands up and dusts his hands off then brushes off dust from his clothes.

Warily, Pirin stands up onto his feet at the vivacious clicks Merlin throws over his shoulder in his direction akin to steering a horse or sheep. ‘Come on boy!’ - The feel of them is there. The large, tufted ears flatten back in mild vexation, tail-tip giving a single and harsh flick in discontent. A single inquiry lingers on his tongue and mind, listening to his ‘employer’ who has lapsed into chatter once again, padding to a tall vanity mirror. Wait when was it placed there? “Naturally, you have to look the part, if you get my drift. Really sell it.”

As the brunet claps his hands in ‘Chop-Chop!’, the hesitant spirit hurries over, coming to stand in front of the mirror. The reflection peers back at him with its abashed, timid blank stare, unsure what to make of his situation. And the thick, long, tangled fur around the being’s neck raise in a jolt— Startled at the hands placing themselves onto his boney shoulders with an affable clap. Before the question tumbles out, an amulet floats over and clasps around his neck and the tingling of foreign magic flows all over.

In a blink, the reflection is of a pale young man with rosy eyes and pale-blond short hairs swept back partially. Taller, more… muscle mass compared to his near-anorexic thin and delicate frame. Petit button nose, thicker eyebrows without being bushy, lips slightly fuller and a pinkish tint at his joints, cheeks, nose, lips….more alive, in a sense. Human. The clothes exchanged for white robes reaching almost to the ankles with these..weird sleeves partially long yet also slitted?? That magic keeps on tingling, bringing a shudder from him, shifting from one foot to another.

—“Attaboy! Now you look the part! Well, off you go to save the world!” “A-” But the man is already steering off towards the tavern’s door with words of reassurance that, frankly fall flat. “No dallying, friend, no dallying~! Esperia awaits her courageous Merlin!” “Wait--” The foreign magic itches at his fingertips, palms, making his skin crawl—Pirin digs his heels and halts firmly.

—“Why don’t you do it yourself? Since this is your job, why did you shirk it off to me?”

For once since meeting him tonight, the great conduit of the gods has a serious look. For once, the human’s tone and gaze aren’t obscured by flashy bravado, this cockiness so irritating. Instead there’s serene, sad apology and humility, wisdom as gentleness to his softly fond smile… Akin to a mentor to a student, patient, reassuring with its peaceful calm. In that moment the room, world, falls away, the man’s eyes from hazel to pale blue almost like pearls as he shifts to a woman with chalk-white skin and snowy hair braided intricately. ...Mama.. ‘My Song..’

—“Because I’m eroding away, and Esperia needs fresh blood to take the torch instead of same stale legend. And I’ll be spiraling as more time goes by… Plus, you can shoulder the mission, magic. You, Ioan of Hestios, are stronger than me.” The smile turns to one of guilt, of remorseful regret. “Forgive me, it’s a necessary evil.” “Merlin-?” A sigil of a star within a circle, a blinding light, a spell- The last few moments blurring to hazy swaths of abstract, distant memories. Only the mage’s parting words echoing, the image of the man, of who he is a fuzzy smog-

“Remember, Merlin..”

[yohohonabottle]

Scammers, leave me and my damn silly blog alone. I'm piss-poor, got zeeero money, got nothing- NADA- ZILCH to give you. If you think about trying to pull another one over me with a scam/more scams, kindly do both of us a favor and don't waste your time and my time, don't interact. -Have good day/evening.

My writing navigation masterpost/directory

For ease of perusing and some better organizing, I thought to make a sort of post with links to all my fics I've posted. (And those I reposted.)

Why am I reposting my writing from A03? I guess Tumblr is also sort of like a back-up place besides expanding my reach/audience. And I can keep it all neatly in one spot, too which is a bonus. So instead of have 3 or more diff accounts, one for diff purpose, I can have one account with as many separate blogs I need. It'll take me some time to port all of my Ao3 catalogues from the two corners (separate blogs with directory like this one) but yeh.

I will update this when I post something on here or port it from A03. I've linked the series the pieces are part of so you can still read them if you wish to (both if they're not ported on here, are in the process of being ported or on the porting waitlist.)

Dividers by Cafekitsune ! -> Current obsession writing flame: AFK Journey

🕯️ Other blogs/masterposts I have:

📑 Notice about Ocs ask blog having been made 🎨 Finch's (My) Art masterpost! 📑 Notice/ Invitation to open discussion (For a case study I'm working on/were working on.) 📳Notice about the Merlinverse community -We got it folks! 📳Notice about the "Harbringers" having their intros done

✏️ARP -OCs ask blog (Ask Rila & Pirin) ✏️Project "Harbringer" ask blog (The Balladeer) ✏️Project "Harbringer" ask blog (The Knave) ✏️Project "Harbringer" ask blog (The Damoiseau) ✏️Project "Harbringer" ask blog (The Marionet) ✏️Project "Harbringer" ask blog (The Fair Gentleman) 📳 Asmodeus NSFW lounge 📳 About me page (Direct/personal blog)

——————### —————---== --- ==---————— ###—————

🏷️Long(multi-chapter)fanfics:

🖋️____ Scenarios/ "Once upon in a branching timeline" A captive 'bear' -AFKJ- Unexpected union -AFKJ- Unwanted marriage -AFKJ- Cat & Mouse -AFKJ- (Coming soon..)

✨The (mis)adventures of 'Merlin' 🃏 The beginning Woodland escapades (Coming soon...) Blood and sands (Coming soon) Rolling waves (Coming soon) Requiem and haunting (Coming soon) TBA...

🔖One-shot fanfics:

->Karaoke (After Unwanted Marriage epilogue, off-screen antics) -> Shanty duet -> Clown's reminiscing & Bear's sin (that outed half the guests') -> The Don's trial )> Mortal Kombat matchup - Pirin v.s Celestino & Aelius (Pirin lost )> Mortal Kombat matchup - 1v1 - 2v1 - 3v1 (Tie, Win, Loose.) )> Pirin and the squad - DnD & shennanigans Project 'Harbringer' I - The Damoiseau, Blind prophet Project 'Harbringer' II - The Missing Solitaire/Urban legend Project 'Harbringer' III - The Pawn of contracts Project 'Harbringer' IV - The Marionet, Death Project 'Harbringer' V - The Fair Son, Bloomed Eternalist

Unrelated/Misc. -> Esperia loot & lore bits (screenshot compilation) -> Esperia's fish! (Screenshot compilation) |= Part I =| -> Esperia's fish |= Part II =| -> Esperia's fish |= Part III =|

| The Cryptids' foolery antics (compilation of incorrect quotes)

->Paragon lore (meta premise)

-> Casts' singing voice head-cannons! By Finch!

-> Achilles Kore - All-Mather

🌒Self-aware AFK Journey 🌔 The wicked sun and the orderly moon Never-ending as the sea The Sun's favored, ascended to brightest stars Plushies for the Spectators Pt 1 (Coming soon..) Smiling sun- Weeping sun ✨The (mis)adventures of 'Merlin' 🃏 Fall Harvest! -AFKJ- Esperia free hugs tour The mage, knight and captain (Sick-fic/comfort & fluff) Merlin's envy |> The End (Is the Beginning)

🖋️____ Scenarios/ "Once upon in a branching timeline" 🐉''What if X character got stolen by a dragon?'' Idea 'Harpy' & Hare -AFKJ- 'Prince' and the dragon Prince o' thieves & a dragon Kidnapped Knave 🧜''What if X character got taken by a siren?" Idea When the kraken is away, the smaller meaner fish come out to play

🍹''Curse or potion situation'' Idea || Got ships, most being M/M Potion mishap (Yandere scenario) | Optional bonus chapter! ✏️ Potion mishap - The horny sequel (NSFW) (Coming soon..) Berial strikes again! (Yandere scenario) (Coming soon) Madness spiral (Yandere scenario) (Coming soon) Hanging out goes south (NSFW) Night out goes wrong (NSFW) Nuptial night (NSFW - Missing part of "Unexpected union")

📰Long fics:

📑One-shots: ---------------------------------------------------- My reaction to seeing my works on Ao3 & here having kudos and bookmarks & I got followers on this blog:

Back to drawing & writing!

>:(