It was well into the dead of night, and Merlin had just finished cleaning up the mess he'd made. His foot tapped impatiently against the floor, while his pen remained poised over the parchment, unmoving. The magus was struggling alright, struggling to recall anything worth writing about from his days with the Candleravens.
He pondered deeply. Surely it wasn't supposed to be this hard to remember even a fragment of his adventures with the party, right?
Perhaps Rose was right, he thought with a sigh. Merlin glanced at the mirror beside his desk, staring intently at his reflection. He looked worn, with bags forming under his eyes, but he needed to push through. He couldn't stop now. Writing about their exploits was his last hope in preserving those precious memories before they vanished completely from his mind.
As his thoughts consumed him, a soft, persistent sound drew him back to the present— a ticking noise. Merlin's eyes shifted to the old pocket watch sitting quietly by the window. For a long moment, he watched it, transfixed by the rhythmic motion of the hands as they marked the passage of time. Then, suddenly, an idea. An idea so wild, so reckless was beginning to slide into his mind.
"No, no, no!" Merlin muttered to himself, shaking his head vigorously. "That's far too dangerous. Reckless, even. But..." He trailed off, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. The wizard considered the unorthodox, perhaps even perilous method that had crept into his mind, a way to recover those stories buried deep in the recesses of his fading memory.
"I suppose it won't hurt to go back in time," Merlin muttered to himself, turning the pocket watch over in his hands, fiddling with the mechanism. "Juuuust as long as I don't interfere with anything. Just observe."
He let out a soft chuckle, fully aware that this little scheme was no casual stroll down memory lane. The consequences of failure could be catastrophic, but if anyone could pull it off, it was the Grand Magus of Time himself. With a surge of determination, Merlin leaped from his chair and began gathering the materials for his journey.
Ink bottles, check. Pen and parchment, check. Emergency rations, because, well, one never knew when hunger would strike, check! All set. He looked over his hastily assembled supplies with a grin, feeling a familiar flicker of excitement. To most, this would be a madman's gamble. To Merlin, it was simply another quick adventure.
"No dilly-dallying, no meddling," he reminded himself as he packed his essentials into his satchel. "Just a brief visit to the past. I'll document their deeds, witness the moments firsthand... and return here, none the worse for wear."
Standing in his makeshift spell circle, Merlin took a deep breath, steadying himself. The dim glow of candlelight flickered around him, casting elongated shadows across the room as the air crackled with anticipation. In his right hand, he clutched the ancient pocket watch, its ticking now synchronized with his heartbeat, serving as the focal point for the powerful spell he was about to unleash.
Merlin began to move his hands gracefully, performing intricate somatic gestures. His fingers traced invisible patterns in the air, glowing softly with arcane energy. As he moved, faint trails of light followed his fingertips, weaving an elaborate tapestry of magic within the circle. His left hand twisted in sharp, angular motions, while his right hand drew flowing curves, each gesture precise and deliberate.
His lips parted as he spoke the incantations, his voice low but steady, vibrating with the ancient words of power. The language of magic echoed around the room, the syllables curling into the air like mist, their meanings lost to time but potent nonetheless. His voice grew stronger with each word, resonating with the pulsing magic.
The air within the circle thickened, charged with magical energy as the spell began to take shape. The floor beneath him hummed with power, the chalk runes glowing brighter with each passing moment. Merlin's eyes were locked onto the pocket watch in his hand, its hands spinning faster than they should—forward and backward—defying the flow of time itself.
With a final flourish of his hands, Merlin thrust the pocket watch forward into the heart of the spell, the ticking growing louder, more insistent. Light exploded from the watch, beams of energy stretching out like tendrils, wrapping around Merlin and the circle. The very fabric of time seemed to warp and bend within the glowing boundaries, swirling like a whirlpool, drawing Merlin in.
His body felt weightless as the magic pulled him through the currents of time, the spell now fully in motion. The world around him blurred, colors bleeding together as the present unraveled. Merlin held his breath, eyes closed, as the spell reached its crescendo. With one final, resonant word, Merlin released the magic completely, surrendering to the temporal tides.
In a blinding flash of light, the room, the circle, and the present day all vanished, leaving only the echo of the pocket watch's final tick.
~
Not long after Merlin had vanished from his room, the hooded hellspawn silently slipped through the door, his presence filling the now empty space with a dark, oppressive aura. His shadow stretched long across the floor as he moved with deliberate caution, eyes sweeping over every corner and crevice of the wizard's apartment.
The room, once humming with magic, was now eerily quiet, save for the faint traces of lingering energy. The hellspawn's gaze settled on the still-smoking remnants of the magic circle. He knelt beside it, the faint glow of the runes reflected in the polished surface of his obsidian mask.
With careful precision, he traced the intricate symbols etched into the floor, his fingers moving lightly over the residue of magic. He then removed his mask for a brief moment, taking a sharp inhale of the air, as if tasting the very essence of the spell Merlin had cast. A subtle smirk tugged at his lips before he replaced the mask, concealing his expression behind the cold, emotionless façade once more.
Rising to his feet with predatory grace, the hellspawn placed a gloved finger to the side of his temple, activating a hidden communication spell. His voice, low and calculating, echoed in the quiet room.
"Target confirmed. Signs of temporal displacement... primary magic, conjuration and transmutation also confirmed. Proceeding with pursuit." He stepped back into the shadows, vanishing as swiftly and silently as he had appeared, leaving behind only the faintest trace of his presence and a lingering sense of foreboding in the air.
~
Merlin blinked his eyes open, squinting as a blinding ray of sunlight pierced through the canopy above, momentarily disorienting him with its brightness. As his vision slowly adjusted, he took in his new surroundings, an open forest, bathed in light, with towering trees stretching toward the sky. The air was crisp and fresh, but his mind was still struggling to fully process the jump in both time and place.
Brushing off the faint remnants of magical residue that clung to his robes from the spell, Merlin took a deep breath, centering himself. He needed to move forward with his investigation and determine exactly where, and when, his spell had landed him.
Though he prided himself on his mastery of temporal magic, there was no denying the subtle weight of doubt in the back of his mind. He still remembered the incantations, the delicate balances required for successful time traversal, but something felt slightly off. Perhaps it was the fatigue, or the fog that seemed to linger over his memories. Either way, Merlin knew better than to place full trust in his own mind at this moment.
Thankfully, his arrival seemed to have gone unnoticed. The forest was peaceful, with no immediate signs of life beyond the rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze. Merlin exhaled in relief, at least for now, he had landed in a safe zone, away from prying eyes. And granted from the look of the trees itself, the magus' best bet was that he was transported somewhere near the Viridian Forest.
Not evidently the nearest spot to where the city of Aldryean'ne is, but it was a good enough start and Merlin could use the trek during this time of day. Looking at the bright side, he though of this moment as something that could help him unwind and also burn a few calories while making his way there.
With a determined look on his face, Merlin started his journey back into the place where it all began. The Raven's Hall. But before he could take another step, a shadow swept across the ground beneath him. Something massive flew overhead, the wind from its wings rustling the branches of the trees. Merlin's eyes shot upward just in time to see a fearsome creature soaring above the forest canopy.
It was a manticore, its bat-like wings beating powerfully against the sky. The creature's enormous, lion-like body was covered in thick, spiked fur, its barbed tail trailing behind like a whip, ready to strike at a moment's notice. The manticore's face was a grotesque fusion of man and beast, with cruel eyes gleaming and rows of sharp, predatory teeth bared in a perpetual snarl. It let out a deep, rumbling growl as it flew past, its leathery wings casting a dark silhouette against the bright sky.
Merlin froze, his eyes following the monstrous beast as it disappeared into the distance. Whatever this manticore was hunting, it was no ordinary prey, and the magus knew he would have to tread carefully if he wanted to avoid drawing the creature's attention. Though confident in his skill, Merlin wouldn't want to disrupt anything as the beast also serves its purpose in the grand scheme of the timeline. With a huff, he avoided any confrontation with the creature and continued with his trek, that was until-
"FLORIAN IS DOWN!" a familiar voice bellowed from the distance, sending a chill through Merlin's spine. He wasn't expecting to hear that voice, especially not here, not so far from the bustle of the big city.
His heart raced as he strained to listen. "The Viridian Forest... Could we really have been here during this time?" Merlin muttered to himself, trying to piece together the threads in his head. Then, like a bolt of lightning, the answer struck him.
"Of course... Hamund's Rite of Passage!"
Without a moment to lose, Merlin pulled out his pen and parchment, his hands working swiftly as he scrawled notes. Every detail mattered, every memory etched into the page before it could slip away. He wasted no time and dashed toward the source of the commotion, the distant sounds of battle growing louder with every step.
The thought of seeing his old companions again set his heart ablaze with anticipation. But he knew better than to get caught up in nostalgia. There was work to be done, and time was not on his side. In relatively safe distance, Merlin hid behind one of the bushes and casted upon an illusionary spell, deceptively thickening the vegetation from his spot and concealing him further.
From this angle, Merlin could just make out the forms of his old allies locked in a fierce struggle for their lives. Among them, Florian lay crumpled on the ground, clearly beaten and on the brink of collapse, his body half-turned in a funny pose from the aftermath of the owlbear's attack.
Even in Florian's sorry, defeated state, Merlin had to admit the man still somehow looked annoyingly striking. His jet-black hair, now sporting a nice layer of dirt and twigs, glistened in the forest light like he was posing for some woodland shampoo ad. His half-lidded, piercing blue eyes still managed to give off that annoyingly heroic glow, even while getting thrashed by an owlbear. Typical.
With a huff, Merlin halfheartedly scribbled this down as an opener for future readers to enjoy. After all, even in defeat, the Candleravens had to be immortalized as legends in Leo'nux. That was the plan, right? Showcase their bravery, their iconic presence, even when they were face-down in the dirt, like their friendly demigod druid, Florian.
But before Merlin could get too lost in his self-imposed narrative, something else pulled his focus, the manticore from earlier, soaring down from the heavens. Its massive shadow casting over the testing grounds, and Merlin's heart leapt with excitement. "Ah, finally!" he exclaimed, quickly shifting his notes to describe the dramatic turn. The mere arrival of the beast shifted the entire tide of battle, and Merlin eagerly captured every moment, his memory unlocking the scene piece by piece.
Meanwhile, the Candleravens were in deeper trouble than before, facing both an enraged owlbear and now the manticore. Yet, as always, they managed to find a way to stay alive. The party's rogue, Artemis, sprang into action, biting and sinking his claws into the owlbear to divert its attention from the others. Arctic Ink also unleashed crackling beams of energy from her paws, each blast forcing the enemies back and giving the party some breathing room.
Merlin, utterly engrossed in the chaos, was humming excitedly to himself, eagerly jotting down every frantic detail of the battle. He couldn't help but relish in the drama as this was exactly what he had hoped to witness. But his enthusiasm finally came to a screeching halt the moment he spotted something—or rather, someone—through the smoke and chaos.
Emerging from the fire and screams was none other than his younger self, looking every bit the fresh-faced, overconfident magus Merlin remembered all too well. His once excited hum faded into an uncomfortable groan as he recoiled, instinctively cringing at the sight.
"By Saratoga...," Merlin shuddered, visibly taken aback as he watched his younger self strut into the fray, all bravado and misguided heroism. He winced as his younger counterpart made some unnecessarily grand gesture, fully intent on "saving" the day.
With a sigh, Merlin couldn't help but rub his temples, quietly lamenting as this unnecessary gesture was simply nothing more than just their go-to spell when the magus was still just a mere novice. His younger self extended both arms wide, palms outstretched as though conducting an orchestra, the expression on his face one of pure, exaggerated focus.
A thick, swirling mist began to roll out from the young Merlin's palm, expanding rapidly in all directions. The spell took immediate effect, shrouding the battlefield in a dense, white haze. The trees and combatants disappeared from view, enveloped in the billowing fog as if swallowed by the forest itself. It was as effective as it was predictable, Merlin supposed, but the way his younger self presented it, with far too much pomp and flair, made him cringe even more.
"A Fog Cloud..." Merlin muttered under his breath, shaking his head. "As if that ever solved anything." He couldn't help but feel a twinge of embarrassment, watching his former self so full of confidence, blissfully unaware of how many times this spell had actually caused more confusion than aid.
After a brief moment, the muffled crack of gunshots echoed from within the thick fog, followed by the pained roars of the manticore. Merlin let out a small grunt, setting aside his parchment and pen. He could tell the fight had reached its final act and once this fog clears, the outcome of this battle will already be decided. As the wizard gathered his belongings, an unmistakable sensation of someone poking him on the shoulder made him immediately freeze up.
"Psst, hey," a voice whispered.
Merlin's heart raced, eyes widening in alarm. Had someone detected him? Was the delicate balance of time unraveling faster than he anticipated? Panic began to swell as he feared the dire consequences for meddling in this perversion of history. Slowly, he turned his head toward the source of the disturbance, bracing himself for the worst.
His heart plummeted. Standing before him was a girl—perhaps no older than a teenager—with an oddly nervous smile plastered on her face. She gave him a small, tentative wave, her eyes bright and wide.
The girl was strikingly unique in appearance: her short, white hair framed her face in soft waves, with two small devil-like horns peeking from beneath the strands. Her heterochromatic eyes, one golden like the sun and the other heart-shaped and a vibrant red, seemed to sparkle with mischief and innocence in equal measure. She wore an eye-catching white jacket with gold accents, and beneath that, a crisp black blouse and a vivid red bow that added to her playful, whimsical aura.
Merlin blinked, his mind reeling. This wasn't at all how he expected to fail in this adventure.
"Hellooo!" The girl chimed, her voice carrying a singsong lilt that clashed with Merlin's rising tension. "You're not supposed to be here!"