Chapter Text
It was evening when the Magister returned to the Mystical House, Chippy and Hammie tagging closely behind them.
"Welcome back, Magister, Hammie, Chippy!"
Dolly welcomed them cheerfully and was about to ask what they wanted for dinner when she caught a haggard, pained look in Merlin's eyes. Of course the Magister always composed themself to not cause her or the hamsters concern, but Dolly had known the mage for years, and even their best disguise couldn't fool her keen perception.
"...I'll get you some soothing tea, Magister."
"Thank you, Dolly." Merlin managed a smile, patted the familiars and told them to enjoy their meal, and trudged toward the bedroom.
Merlin had just returned from the Dark Forest to save a boy stricken with a nightmare he could not awake from. It had turned out to be a trap set up by Mehira to ensnare the great mage, aided by a being far more ancient and dangerous than any Hypogean. Through the dream Merlin had traveled across time and space, back to the familiar wilderness of the Herdmaster Woods thousands of years ago. The harrowing experience had answered some questions, but also opened up an old wound and a terrible ache they had tried hard to suppress.
Merlin realized that they had spaced out with their hand resting on the doorknob when they heard Dolly's steps approaching. She had swiftly prepared the tea and a plate of light refreshments for them to snack on. Merlin took the tea tray from her and thanked her; she opened the door for them, nodded toward them with a sympathetic look, then turned back to tend to the hamsters.
Merlin laid the tray on the bedside table, poured themself a cup of tea and took a sip. The gentle aroma of herbs soothed their nerves a bit, enough to reflect on all that had happened since they first arrived at the Sandscript Temple.
The Magister Supreme had traveled back to the ancient land of the Wildborn and Halians four times now, and it felt that each time fate had given them a mission, a role only they could fulfill. At the first time their missions were to save and guide dear Gala, a Wildborn girl raised to be a sacrificial lamb but rose to greatness as a powerful mage and leader of her people, and also to slay Azora the Hunting Goddess when she fell. At the second time it was Morgan who summoned the "rookie" to help him defeat Sarethiel the Harvest God who had grown even more powerful and vengeful than before. Though Merlin was deeply disappointed that they were unable to meet Gala or Dura, they did develop an unexpected camaraderie— a friendship, even— with the two-tailed warrior Nazrik, once a reluctant ally who now actively helped them protect Wildborn and Halians alike and take down Sarethiel.
At the third time Merlin was at first overjoyed to be reunited with Gala, now a beautiful young woman wise and powerful beyond her years. But their time together was painfully fleeting, the moment of their separation more abrupt and agonizing than the first time they parted. For it gradually became clear that Merlin's true mission was to close the abnormal time portal that had sent them back, as well as transport Tilaya and her followers to the Dark Forest so that they become part of the Wilders lineage.
Merlin had to admit that the reunion with Gala was an unexpected blessing they should be immensely grateful for. Yet their heart still ached whenever they recalled the last time they saw Gala alive, smiling bravely across the portal so that her Magister would remember her as such, to not show weakness and sorrow and cause further pain to her beloved parent and mentor. Yet Merlin knew that she was holding back tears, for they were also trying their best not to weep.
Merlin realized their hand trembling at this recollection. They quickly placed the now-empty teacup back onto the saucer, lest they lose grip and let it smash upon the floor. Not even bothering to change into their nightwear, they kicked off just their shoes and fell fast onto their bed, waiting for the soothing effects of the tea to take hold so they could escape the ache and yearning for a time and people that were no more. But the swirl of thoughts and memories continued to occupy their mind.
After Merlin was thrown back into their own time and closed the portal, they had visited the Sandscript Temple as they often did whenever they missed Gala. Previously the murals relating the High Priestess's greatest feats and her shriveled remains cradling the stalk of wheat had offered Merlin some solace, even a sense of swelling pride. But after being reunited with Gala once more, seeing her all grown up and feeling the warm squeeze of her hug, only to be torn apart from her so violently and abruptly, Merlin became painfully aware of how alive she once were, and how she no longer was. True, she was a child that Merlin had successfully saved for once, a child who grew up strong and healthy. But she was also someone who belonged to the distant past, someone who had passed away long ago. Their child that they can never meet again. Perhaps Merlin had been in denial before, or Gala's message left in her remains had soothed the blow and gave them hope that they would meet again. But this time the separation felt permanent, and Merlin had to accept that they were truly grieving their long-lost daughter. They decided to avoid the Sandscript Temple again until they could fully deal with the grief and move on. For a while they assumed they had stitched the wound and let it heal, but a recent incident had ripped it wide open again.
For the past would not let Merlin go so easily. Though they had stayed away from the Sandscript Temple, this time a dream had dragged them back into the past. A dream and a memory of Nazrik's that would affect the reality of the past as well. Merlin quickly realized that they were the "second soul" that Nazrik met only once and continued to miss. It felt odd that he didn't recognize their voice when he would later meet Merlin in the flesh, though they suspected that the jumbled mess of dream and memory and reality through which they communicated must have something to do with it. What mattered was that he clearly understood what Merlin said and trusted their counsel. Though it was painful to see the teenage version of their friend suffer through the Bloodhunt Festival, Merlin was relieved that they were there to advise him to bide his time and keep him alive, even as they could not use magic in the dream. This must be my mission this time, they assumed.
However fate had another cruel mission prepared; Merlin had to persuade Nazrik to accept the divine weapon from the goddess who cruelly butchered his best friend for the sole sin of being an obedient devotee, and convince him to stay among his god-fearing people for 8 more years until Merlin and the Arcane Council seek his help when hunting down fallen gods. To offer him a cruel hope. Merlin asked themself what right did they have to condemn this lad to eight years of pain and solitude among friends and family who will never understand him, hatred festering within while clinging to a vague hope prophesized by a disembodied voice that he will never hear from again. While Merlin knew it had to be done for the greater good, their heart was heavy with guilt as they convinced Nazrik to stay and wait for the goddess's eventual fall.
It also gave them no comfort that Nazrik would leave years later, but not because he could no longer endure his people's blind faith. The Hunting Goddess's fall and its devastating aftermath would cause most of the Wildborn to abandon her. Instead Nazrik would be forced to leave because he loved his people and didn't want to cause war and discord among them. Worse, Merlin never learned of what became of his fate after. Would he still wait for his other soul in vain? Merlin wished they could tell him that it wasn't worth it, that it was just some cruel and selfish mage from the future who needed his powers.
Their mind then wondered to other familiar faces in their fourth and likely last "visit" to the past. There was Kordan the Chieftain, much younger than Merlin had ever seen him, and Modra the High Priestess, who still seemed quite ancient. The old rabbit had mentioned the birth of Gala, which caused Merlin's heart to skip a beat, though sadly she was never discussed again. Gala had mentioned that Modra had passed away during the 13 years, and that even if she were alive, she couldn't have stopped Kordan from banishing the priests from Wrathwood Grove. In other words, they were probably banished after Modra died. Perhaps Kordan had at least respected her enough to wait until she died before driving out her colleagues. Merlin had found the Chieftain's change puzzling, though they also knew that 13 years and harsh circumstances can drastically change anyone. Still he had been surprisingly rational and even grateful to Merlin at the end of the war, even as he had his own personal loss to deal with. The tiger's despairing roar when he lost his only child and heir still lingered in Merlin's ears, and a part of them pitied him despite his many faults and wrongdoings. They wondered how Gala would deal with him.
Merlin's thoughts also drifted to those they were unable to meet again in their last two visits. There were so many questions they wanted to ask Dura, but they were allowed to meet her just once, and Merlin had realized her true identity when they were about to leave. Merlin even missed the simultaneously overworked and lazy Morgan, even if he attempts to pawn another workload onto his "rookie". And of course there was Abundius, the young Regulus of Halia whom Merlin had tried to help as best as they could in between battling the fallen Harvest God and his minions. They would have liked to see the boy all grown as they've met Gala as a young woman, but alas, it was not meant to be. Merlin chuckled softly, remembering the banter between them as children— or rather, Gala's words sharp and precise like daggers and Abundius clearly shaken but deeply impressed by her perception. Perhaps it was the cheerful memory of the two children, or finally the tea taking effect, but Merlin was feeling pleasantly drowsy at last. Half-awake and half-asleep, they prayed to Dura a prayer they would have thought too foolish to ask when they were fully conscious. For they prayed for the sake of those who had passed a long time ago, wishing them well and for their hearts to be at peace.
As Merlin drifted off to sleep, they thought they heard a sweet voice whisper:
"It's good to see you again, Merlin. I'm Aurora, Celestial of Dreams. Dura asked me to grant you a glimpse of time long lost, a dream of what happened in the ancient past. You may not remember this dream when you awake, but I'm sure it'll put your mind at ease... Sweet dreams, dear Merlin."