Merlin's tower rose solitary at dawn on the southern coast of Eldorwyn.
The gray stones of its structure were worn by time and salt, covered in creeping vines that swayed to the rhythm of the sea breeze. The air was fresh, with a salty tinge, carrying the scent of seaweed piled on the black rocks of the shore.
Inside the tower, silence reigned. The circular room on the main floor was lined with bookshelves overflowing with grimoires in ancient tongues. Scattered among the books were twisted glass alchemical instruments, globes of magical light hovering motionless, and runes carved directly into the stone floor, softly glowing in shades of blue and gold.
The sound of the morning tide echoed through the halls, accompanying the crackling of a small magical hearth in the center of the room. An old oak table, marked by centuries of use, held open scrolls with constellation sketches and complex formulas. The scent of dried herbs, hanging in elegant vases around the arched windows, mingled with the smell of aged parchment and melted candle wax from the previous night.
On the upper floor, Merlin lay resting in his simple bed, covered by a rustic wool blanket embroidered with Zaratharnian patterns.
He slept deeply, hands crossed over his abdomen, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. His white hair, loose and fine like spider silk, spread across the pillow. His face, marked by nearly a century of wrinkles, was serene, almost youthful in its rest.
The morning symphony filled the room. The sound of waves crashing against the rocks below blended with the song of birds nesting in nearby cliffs. The breeze, thick with salt and moisture, entered through the half-open windows, gently stirring the translucent curtains that filtered the golden light of the rising sun.
However, his peace was shorter-lived than one could imagine.
Merlin's sleep suddenly plunged into something dense and dark. Behind closed lids, his eyes moved rapidly as his mind was overtaken by a nightmare more real than any dream he had ever experienced.
The comforting sound of the waves was replaced by a piercing, agonizing hum, pressing against his ears like a muffled scream. Merlin opened his eyes within the vision, finding himself in a world he did not recognize. The lands of Runeforge were twisted, like a shattered mirror reflecting fragments of cosmic despair.
The sky, once vast and full of life, was now a blanket of ash. Rifts in the fabric of space vomited chaotic lights across the horizon, while the ground, dry and cracked, pulsed as if alive and in pain.
The tower where Merlin lived was in ruins. The bookshelves were nothing but ashes scattered by the furious wind; the once intact grimoires, full of knowledge, burned with fire that gave off no heat. The sounds of nature had vanished, replaced by a continuous noise beyond comprehension, maddening whispers echoing from all directions.
As he tried to move, each step demanded tremendous effort. He realized he was not alone. On the desolate horizon, shadowy figures emerged, specters of twisted bodies crawling toward him. They had no faces, but their forms were disturbingly human.
Suddenly, a scream of pure fury pierced his ears.
Merlin turned quickly and saw an imposing figure in the distance, a silhouette cloaked in crimson energy that shifted like a living mantle. At the center of its chest, a core pulsed with a blinding, erratic light, like a deformed heart fueled by pure destruction.
Merlin tried to speak, to conjure something, but his voice was devoured by the oppression of the environment.
Suddenly, the figure extended its hand toward him, and the ground beneath Merlin began to give way. He felt himself falling, pulled by an invisible force.
"Don't do this…! DON'T YOU DARE DO THIS!" the figure shouted, reaching one arm forward and rushing toward Merlin with terrifying speed. Merlin raised his arms to shield himself, without magic.
But he was not the target. That became clear with the shadow of a massive hammer rising behind him, attached to the silhouette of a monstrous, pulsating metal structure. A catalytic machine.
Merlin glanced over his shoulder in shock, seeing another figure wielding the hammer. Its eyes glowed with red beams of uncontrollable rage, just before striking a devastating blow that split the machine in two.
"NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!" the crimson figure roared, charging through Merlin as if he were a ghost, followed by a tremendous explosion.
Merlin was momentarily blinded by the burst of light as he fell into the void, engulfed in darkness, until everything stopped and thousands of different voices converged into desperate screams for help. Men, women, children, elders of many races, begging for mercy.
Then finally, his eyes opened in the real world.
The wizard awoke with a start, chest heaving, eyes wide. His body was covered in cold sweat, and he instinctively brought a hand to his forehead. His skin was hot, as if fevered, but the chill running down his spine contradicted the sensation.
He sat up slowly in bed, trying to catch his breath. The images from the vision remained vivid, like searing marks in his memory. He tried to rationalize.
"Just a nightmare…" he murmured, but his voice trembled, as if even he didn't believe it.
When he tried to stand, a wave of dizziness struck him. Merlin staggered, grabbing the nearby wall with his left hand. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply to calm his racing heart and spinning head.
"No... There is more to it…" he thought, as the runes etched into the tower's floor glowed irregularly, as if they too had felt the echo of his vision.
With effort, he straightened up, his mind already pondering the meaning of what he had experienced. But first, he prepared some tea.
He walked to the small circular kitchen of the tower. From an oak cabinet carved with runes, he retrieved a small vial containing dried lumen-flower petals, a glowing plant that bloomed only under the full moon. Then, he took a twisted caldena root, known to ease mental strain, and a drop of golden-thorn essence, a rare substance that enhanced psychic clarity.
With a flick of his hand, Merlin lit the coals under a small cauldron. He muttered a brief incantation, and water from a jug beside the counter poured itself into the iron vessel.
Once the water began to boil, he added the ingredients, stirring with a silver spoon adorned with a crystal at its tip. The rising steam exuded a soft aroma, both invigorating and calming.
"This should help…" he said to himself, pouring the golden liquid into a simple ceramic mug.
He returned to the main hall, footsteps echoing on the stone floor. Books and scrolls were stacked on shelves reaching the ceiling. Some were partly covered by linen curtains to protect the oldest volumes from time's wear.
Merlin placed the mug on a timeworn wooden table and pulled a thick grimoire toward him, its leather cover cracked, runes faded with age.
The book, titled "Dreams and the Arcanum" was an ancient work analyzing how dreams and nightmares could be interpreted as messages from the Arcanum. He ran his fingers over the yellowed pages, quickly scanning passages on symbols and omens.
"When the sky rends and the earth bleeds, the Arcanum cries for balance…"
Merlin frowned, but the text was too vague. He continued flipping through, finding notes on shared dreams, but nothing close to the catastrophe he had witnessed.
With a frustrated sigh, Merlin took a sip of tea, the warmth soothing his throat and clearing his mind.
But before he could return to reading, thunder echoed in the distance. Merlin looked up, surprised.
"A storm…? That's odd… The sun was clear just moments ago…" he murmured, stroking his beard as he walked to the nearest window.
The sky was changing rapidly. Black clouds were forming on the horizon, pushing inland. The waves, once calm, now crashed violently against the rocks. There was something unnatural about this storm.
Leaving the grimoire behind, Merlin stood and began closing the tall arched windows one by one, shielding the tower from the wind already beginning to howl. But as he shut the last window, something caught his eye on the distant beach.
Far below the tower, on the sand near the sea's edge, a figure lay face-down. Merlin narrowed his eyes. The body seemed limp, but beside it, something shone with a peculiar intensity: a massive hammer, its head etched with volatile, pulsing runes.
"What the devil-…?" Merlin murmured, a mix of alarm and concern in his voice. "Wait a moment… That hammer-...! Oh heavens...!"
Realizing the implications of what was happening, the wizard instinctively grabbed his staff from a nearby corner and flung the tower door open with near force.
The wind howled against him, but Merlin pressed forward, descending the long spiral staircase to the beach, lifting his magical robe to avoid tripping on it.
When he reached the sand, Merlin approached the fallen figure cautiously, eyes locked on the glowing hammer. The man was young, but his face was dirty and worn with exhaustion, a thick beard and unkempt hair framing it.
Merlin knelt beside him, gently touching the stranger's shoulder.
"Oh, thank the cosmos… He's alive…" Merlin muttered, sensing the faint breath of the man, relieved, yet filled with questions.
His gaze returned to the hammer, which radiated ancient energy. He hesitated before trying to move it, but not even a centimeter budged. It was absurdly heavy, as if trying to drag an elephant someone had transmuted but forgot to reduce the density of.
"Looks like I'll need to put in a little extra effort… Very well." Merlin said with a soft sigh, gazing at the stormy sky as the first raindrops began to fall. "Come now, lad. Let's get you out of this rain."
The wizard, using his magic, lifted both the man's body and the hammer out of the sand, encasing the stranger in a thin layer of water-resistant shielding, doing the same for himself to keep his robe from being ruined.
Rain drummed on the tower's roof as Merlin tended to the unconscious man in a makeshift bed on the lower hall.
The youth lay wrapped in simple blankets, while the massive hammer rested safely against the wall in the corner. With firm but gentle hands, the wizard applied a thick green salve to the cuts and scratches on the newcomer's face and arms.
"You're tough, that's for sure… Few would still be breathing steadily with wounds like these near vital areas…" Merlin assessed, cleaning a particularly deep gash on the stranger's chest.
Upon finishing, he took a small clay bowl containing a bright blue liquid, a basic restoration potion made from essences gathered along Eldorwyn's coast.
Carefully, he dripped some onto the stranger's lips, hoping the effect would stabilize him. Within seconds, the rapid healing of the wounds proved the potion's strength.
As he watched the stranger, Merlin's mind brimmed with questions.
Who was this man? Where had he come from? And more importantly, why was he carrying such a peculiar artifact, one that resonated so deeply with the Arcanum?
Merlin sat on a nearby bench, stroking his beard while keeping his eyes on the unconscious young man. The hammer, though resting at a distance, seemed to radiate a barely perceptible heat. Its aura was both fascinating and deeply unsettling.
Suddenly, the man stirred slightly, a low groan escaping his lips. Merlin leaned in immediately, touching his forehead with the back of his hand.
"Calm yourself, my child... You're safe now. You're on the southern coast of Eldorwyn, in case that's a ready-made question sitting in your mind." His voice was low and soothing, like one speaking to a patient teetering on the edge of panic, a friendly smile tugging at his lips.
The man opened his eyes slowly, blinking against the dim candlelight. He tried to sit up, but Merlin gently pressed his shoulder, easing him back down.
"Don't waste what little strength you still have, young man. Your body took quite the beating, you were covered in wounds when I found you. You'll need to wait for the potion to finish mending your muscles and broken bones." Merlin explained calmly, reclining once more with his hands resting in his lap.
The young man took a deep breath, his eyes fixed on the tower ceiling for a few moments before turning toward the mage.
"Where… is the hammer?" his voice was hoarse, but carried an urgency Merlin noticed instantly.
"Over there, against the wall. No one's touched it but me, and I must admit, it didn't let me move it much." Merlin pointed behind himself with a thumb toward the corner where the artifact lay, letting out a quiet, relaxed chuckle.
The man visibly relaxed, if only briefly. He tried to speak again, but coughed, his voice faltering. Merlin grabbed a mug of fresh water and offered it to him, helping him drink.
After a few moments of silence, he finally spoke again, his voice now slightly steadier:
"I don't have much time..." he paused, looking directly at Merlin. "I..." He hesitated for a moment, closing his eyes, as if debating whether or not to say something that might sound utterly insane.
"My boy, whatever you have to tell me, do go on. I wish to understand how you came to be here." Merlin reassured him, his expression calm and understanding.
The man opened his eyes, taking a deep breath.
"... I'm not from here. I mean… not from this time." he clarified, exhaling heavily.
The statement hung in the air. Merlin tilted his head slightly, a mix of curiosity and concern crossing his face.
"What do you mean, 'not from this time'?" the mage asked, smoothing his beard, intrigued.
The young man took a deep breath, visibly struggling to organize his thoughts.
"I come from a year ahead… A future where the world you and I know… no longer exists."
Upon hearing this, Merlin frowned, but didn't interrupt.
The mage knew that, as absurd as the claim might seem, the visions he had had the night before lent weight to the stranger's words. Besides, in a land like Runeforge, magic had long since blurred the boundaries of the impossible.
"What caused this destruction?" Merlin asked, his tone more serious now as he adjusted his posture.
The fact that the mage was willing to listen surprised the man, but he quickly readied himself to provide an answer.
"A man… or something that used to be a man… Adrian. He manipulated the Arcanum in a way that should never have been possible. He… wanted to seize the core of all Arcanum itself…" the stranger swallowed hard, his voice trembling slightly. "… He worked behind the backs of every realm, along with his followers, just as mad as he was. No one suspected a thing until it was far too late…" he exhaled heavily, running a hand through his tangled hair "Entire civilizations were wiped off the map in a matter of days. And then… reality itself began to collapse around us… until everything came to an end."
The silence in the room was almost tangible, broken only by the sound of the storm fading outside.
The man slowly sat up in bed, Merlin helping him.
"That hammer… came into direct contact with the machine Adrian used to connect himself with the Arcanum… A profane creation… which I destroyed, before nothing was left of what little remained of our world." he nodded toward the weapon, and Merlin followed the line of his gaze.
"Machine…?" Merlin repeated, deep in thought, stunned as he recalled his earlier nightmare.
It all made sense now.
"A warning… The Arcanum was trying to warn me…" Merlin muttered to himself, swallowing hard.
Suddenly, the stranger placed a hand on the mage's shoulder, snapping him back to the present with a few blinks.
"Sir… I need your help to stop him from building that abomination… For the sake of Runeforge, I must stop him!" his brow furrowed with visible resolve, the traumas of his timeline deeply etched into his face "I know I might sound like a complete lunatic saying this… but please, you have to believe me. I swear on all that I hold sacred…!"
Merlin stared at him in silence for a few moments before taking a deep breath and placing a hand over the stranger's, patting it gently.
"… I believe you, young man." Merlin nodded solemnly "In all my years of life, I never thought I'd live to see the day the Arcanum communicated with me so intimately as it did before your arrival on this shore. Whether directly or not, I already had a feeling… But now I understand the meaning of my nightmare." he explained, removing his wizard hat with a sigh "Which realm are you from? Judging by your clothing… I'd wager somewhere on the Queen Continent." he asked, giving him a once-over.
The stranger nodded, now sitting at the edge of the bed and pushing the blankets off of himself.
"Yes. I'm from Cinderhelm." he affirmed.
"Oh, Cinderhelm. It's been a while since I last visited." Merlin smiled faintly, scratching the tip of his nose "Then I suppose you don't fully recognize me. Not to brag, but… I am Merlin."
The stranger's eyes widened in shock.
"Merlin…? The Merlin of the Mage's Order, the Supreme Mage?!" he asked, blinking several times "I-I'm Adam, Adam Altharion! It's an absolute honor, sir…!" he bowed his head briefly in respect.
"Well… I wouldn't call myself supreme, but certainly above the average elder." Merlin laughed briefly "It's a mutual pleasure, Adam. Even if under unfortunate circumstances." he then grew more serious, clearing his throat "In any case, let's focus on the now. Do you have any kind of plan for how exactly to stop this man you speak of?"
Adam's eyes wavered slightly as he clenched his fists atop his knees.
"I know what he needs to make the machine work… The Ancestral Runes."
The mention of the runes clearly surprised Merlin, his brows furrowing.
"You don't mean the ones I'm thinking of, do you…?"
"Yes, those."
"Oh, by the cosmos…"
Merlin leaned back, running a hand through his graying hair.
"I never thought any living being would be foolish enough to try seeking them out… Each one is protected by nearly unbreakable runic seals! It should be impossible for anyone not of the highest magical rank to access them…" Merlin said, still reeling internally.
"That's the thing. He has someone of that level on his side…" Adam said, deadly serious.
"What? But who? Only someone nearing my own level of experience could manage such a feat!" Merlin asked, visibly concerned and curious.
"I don't know… I never had the chance to see this mage's, or sorceress's, face before I was consumed, like the rest of the world… Not even his allies escaped." Adam sighed, rubbing the corners of his eyes "All I know is that he has specialists working for him, one in each realm. That's how he was able to access them and seize the runes."
Merlin, upon hearing this, remained silent in contemplation, his head bowed, hands pressed together near his forehead.
"In that case… if we want any chance of preventing these events, consulting potential allies in Eldorwyn alone won't be enough. Especially those tied to the government. Unlike me, most people won't grasp what you've told me. And… no other veterans of the Mage's Order remain for me to consult." Merlin sighed deeply, falling silent for a few seconds before raising his head "But perhaps…" he rose from the bench, quickly making his way to a shelf of grimoires, searching alphabetically and selecting a specific one.
"What are you doing, Mr. Merlin?" Adam asked, getting up from the bed to follow him.
Merlin sat in a chair at his desk, opening the grimoire and flipping through the pages rapidly.
"This, my boy, is a very ancient grimoire I've kept for centuries, ever since I secluded myself." Merlin explained, searching for a specific page "It's titled: Arcane Callings. It's a collection of studies on rituals, spells, and theories about using the Arcanum through dreams to communicate with absolutely anyone, regardless of distance. And more than that: with individuals whose spirits align with the Arcanum's desires for various purposes, depending on what the spellcaster seeks most. It's rarely used, considered by some to be a mental invasion of privacy. But it's exactly what we need right now."
As Adam listened to the older man, he peered at the turning pages, until Merlin finally found the one he was looking for: page 335.
"Oh, here it is!" Merlin traced the lines of the paragraph, reading intently "These are the instructions I need for the spell. It will take at least an hour to prepare." he smoothed his beard, eyes scanning every word carefully, so as not to misinterpret anything. "I suggest you have some of the tea I left by the cauldron."
Adam looked toward the still-burning wood stove by the hearth, then turned his attention back to the mage.
"Thanks, but I'll have to pass for now."
"Ah, that's fine then. In that case, I've got some magical snacks stored in the kitchen. Help yourself. You must be starving."
Adam gave a faint smile, but it faded quickly. He moved toward the drawers while Merlin began memorizing the spell's instructions.
One hour later...
The main hall of the tower was filled with a restless energy. The storm outside was gradually fading, but inside the tower, the winds were still active.
Merlin adjusted the preparations with meticulous precision, moving between piles of grimoires and glass containers holding rare, shimmering ingredients. In the center of the hall, a magical circle had already been drawn on the floor, glowing with runes that seemed to pulse in rhythm with the mage's breath and heartbeat.
Adam remained near the wall, silently observing, sipping a cup of tea with his pinky raised out of habit. He was equally curious and cautious, recognizing that what was about to happen was no ordinary spell.
Merlin began to spread the ingredients inside the circle, his hands precise as he muttered arcane words.
He started with a golden powder extracted from rare minerals found in the mountains of Eldorwyn, tracing fine lines between the runes of the magic circle. Next, he placed bluish Arcanum crystals at strategic points around the main runes, positioning them as anchors for the spell.
"The Arcanum needs an unbroken, unobstructed channel to flow. There's no room for error here," Merlin explained, more to himself than to Adam.
The next step involved a small sphere of liquid silver, a substance called Aetherium, highly unstable and used only in advanced rituals.
Merlin dropped bits of the substance into the center of the circle, watching it spread like ink across the runes' surface. With each drop, the runes' glow intensified, the symbols gaining an almost blinding radiance.
Finally, he lifted a staff engraved with intricate runes and placed it at the center of the circle, driving it into the floor with a firm gesture. The wood resonated with a deep, echoing sound that filled the hall.
"Now begins the delicate part" said Merlin, holding an open grimoire in one hand. He recited words in an ancient tongue, his voice sounding like a distant echo.
The runes on the ground began to spin slowly, like the gears of a mystical clock.
The circle glowed more intensely, and a supernatural wind arose inside the hall, lifting Merlin's robes and forcing Adam to squint against the light, raising his forearm in front of his face for protection.
"Arcanum, hear me in this moment! I send this message that floods my mind directly to those worthy of fighting for your balance. Guide the paths of my thoughts!"
Merlin raised his hands above his head, connecting to the spell's energy. The sound of distant voices, whispers, screams, laughter, began to fill the hall, coming from all directions.
He closed his eyes, channeling his will to shape the message:
"If you are receiving this vision, it is because you have been chosen by the Arcanum itself. Your fate is sealed. Existence is in danger, and your role will be crucial to save it. Come to the South of Eldorwyn. Time is short!"
The whispers intensified, and the runes began to emit a pulsing light that seemed to pierce through the tower's walls. Merlin stood firm, pouring his energy into the spell as the Arcanum spread the message to distant minds.
When the energy reached its peak, there was a flash. The runes on the floor exploded in a wave of bluish light that filled the entire hall before vanishing abruptly, leaving only the sound of heavy breathing.
Merlin slowly lowered his arms, his shoulders sagging with exhaustion. He wiped his forehead with his sleeve and turned to Adam, who looked at him with a mix of fascination and apprehension.
"Did it work?" Adam asked, lowering his forearm.
Merlin nodded, picking up the staff from the center of the circle and leaning on it for a moment.
"If the Arcanum accepted the message, the chosen ones will have received the vision. When their minds synchronize with mine, I will feel their presence."
Adam raised an eyebrow, looking at the shimmering blue magical particles floating around the hall.
"So now we just wait?"
Merlin looked at the young man as he sat on a nearby bench, letting out a deep sigh.
"Not just wait. We trust that the will of the Arcanum will bring people capable of making a difference."
Merlin then let out a soft, discreet chuckle, shaking his head.
"I just hope they at least know where the South is, though. Hoho."