The year: 2023

Lastshire: The Birthplace of Magic

[Marty's POV]

"Birthplace?" The word didn't sound as alien to me as it should have. 

"All Wyllt's have a connection to it." Merlin threw his palms out. "Khulmaas!" He hissed, and the sun- about to disappear into the horizon- retreated its steps till it was right over our heads. 

"What did you do?" I asked the man who, from the looks of it, could control time itself. 

The sorcerer chuckled. "Magic, dear lad. I did magic," his eyes glowed red like they had swallowed the sun. "No one knows how it was created or who created it, but the most powerful sorcerers have their roots in this place. It was also from where the first dragons took flight," he pointed at a hillock to our far right, "There, beyond that, is where the last dragon was born, or so I was told."

The sorcerer was obviously trying to mess with me. "Are you telling me that dragons existed once!?" I couldn't keep my chuckle at bay. "Are you sure you are not confusing them with Dinosaurs?"

"Did the creatures you mentioned breathe fire and have magical breath?" Merlin asked in all seriousness. I was reminded that he had probably not ventured out much over the past ten centuries. 

How must it feel to occupy the same two by two square feet of space for over a thousand years!!? That led me to another train of thought, how did he and Lady Morgana end up there in the first place?

Rubbing my arm, for it had gotten chillier instead of warmer, I shook my head. "No. They did not. Forget about what I said. By the way, have you always resided inside that coffee table?"

"Not exactly," Merlin finally turned to face me, "when we got trapped, your table was a tree. In fact, the tree was one of the four passages that allowed one to enter Lastshire."

I was tempted to ask where the other passages were but changed my mind; At the moment, I had bigger fish to fry. My eyes caught a movement to my left, but before I could warn Merlin, he read my mind and snapped his fingers. "I know this place is fascinating, but I need you to give me your undivided attention."

The forest around me dissolved into nothingness, and I found us trapped behind bars. Literally. "What-"

"It's not real. We are not in any danger." The man ran his eyes over the three gray barren walks and his fingers over the makeshift bed of hay cushioning our bottoms. His eyes brimmed with unshed tears, "When I served Arthur, we got captured often. We spent many nights in such places."

My curiosity was piqued at the mention of King Arthur, "Did you really serve him?"

"Yes. A spoilt brat, my king was." The words were harsh, but the tone was fond. I wondered what kind of relationship the king and his sorcerer might have had, but needing to get out of the place, I didn't ask the man about it. "Please continue," I said instead. "You were telling me about dragons."

Merlin looked forlorn. "Magnificent creatures they were; only a few were capable of speech. Even among those, most spoke in riddles."

"Doesn't make life easy, does it?" I smirked, and the sorcerer joined in. "No, it really doesn't."

The cheer lasted only for a second before giving way to gloom. He wasn't like this in the times I had heard him talking to his Morgana. 

Merlin cleared his throat loudly, "From what I know, only two ancient creatures continue to exist today. Some lost their magic and died. Some were hunted for pleasure" Anger flashed across his face, "those bloody killers."

Wait. That was too much information! There were dragons in Albion still!? 

"Yes. A dragon and an ussa." Merlin replied, and before I could ask more, he continued, "But I will tell you about that later." He ran his fingers over the dried hay. "Marty, how come you still haven't asked about what's happening at your dwelling?"

Yes. Why was that? Maybe it was because, on some level, I still did not believe I was not in my apartment. 

"Or maybe you are having fun," Merlin replied. 

Can you please stop reading my mind!

"My apologies, Marty Wyllt. I really don't mean to do that. It just happens."

I huffed and averted my eyes. "Whatever. Just tell me what is happening at my home."

"I will do better." Merlin grinned; puffing up his chest, he added, "I will show you."

I blinked. Was that even possible? 

"Everything is possible when you can do magic," he gloated and pursed his lips. His ebony eyes caught mine, "Not everything is possible. Some things can't be fixed, no matter how powerful a sorcerer is. But the rest is doable." He stood up and dusted his bottom. Then throwing his palm out, he whispered something inaudible. 

An oval mirror with an ivory border appeared in front of us out of thin air. Merlin muttered once again, and our reflections dissolved. The surface darkened and trembled with a viscous liquid: the color of blood, swirling around it, kissing the ivory rims. "Luckily, this is one of the few neat tricks I can perform without permission." 

"You need someone's permission to use magic?" My words reeked of disbelief. How could they not? Wasn't Merlin the greatest sorcerer that ever lived? 

"Later," Merlin disrespected my personal space once more without glancing at me and instructed, "Look."

The swirling mass gave way to a moving image of my building. Then zoomed in, taking me into my apartment. It was akin to watching a live stream. 

The first one to appear on the mirror's screen was Dwigh, looking like he had just showered. With one hand securing the Turkish towel around his waist, he was wiping his head with the other. I recalled asking him to bathe before I had left to find a shirt for him and landed here instead. 

"Marty? Hey, dude, where did you go?" Dwight called, searching every room (except the closet that held the coffee table). When he was sure I had abandoned him, he wore his soiled clothes again. Then, pulling out his phone, he dialed a number. The phone, which was in my pocket, rang. The deep melodious voice of Celine Dion permeated the woods, sounding out of place (as well as) time. 

I pulled it out, and sure enough, Dwight's name flashed on the screen.

How come there's reception here!? 

"Magic, Marty. Magic." Merlin said as if that explained everything. 

It didn't feel right to pick up the call without the sorcerer's permission. I held my phone to his face and whispered, "It's Dwight. Will it be alright to receive the call?"

Merlin shook his head. Though I felt bad about not receiving the call, I reasoned it was for the best. 

My finger hovered over the dismiss button, and just before Celine Dion could reminisce about her heart going on and on, with a heavy heart, I rejected the call. 

Dwight returned his phone to his back pocket and smiled. There was an unreadable emotion in his eyes. "Where did you run off to, Marty?" He scanned the room again and closed his eyes. Then holding his palm facing up, he whispered something inaudible. The lights flickered a few times before turning red.

 "It looks like there really is a way to get out of this place." Dwight mused and shook his head. "Running away won't help him, Merlin. He is no match for me. You are like two sides of the same coin. Honest and simple-minded. As long as I have Skarla, no one can take Albion from me. You will fail, Marty; even with Merlin by your side, you will fail." 

Dwight ran his red, glowing eyes over the bedroom. They stopped at my dad's picture frame. "Looking charming, Foster," he smirked; approaching it, he tapped the wooden frame before turning it over and placing an object behind it. Then, without another word, he returned it to its rightful place, snapped his fingers, and disappeared. 

My bedroom vanished, and my closet came into view. All the contents seemed to be just the way I had left them. On my left, a sigh of relief left Merlin. "Thank the powers that be. It looks like he couldn't find the closet."

Merlin's words fell on my ears but did not sink in. My mind struggled to understand what I had heard while my heart hurt like it had been run through the pointy end of a sword. What was Dwight talking about? How did he know my father? How did his eyes glow? Why did he sound dangerous? What did he want from me? 

I felt faint and glanced at Merlin, but he showed no signs of panic. Instead, he had returned to his previous spot and began munching on some alien fruit. 

His carefree attitude surprised me. The only thing he was worried about was Dwight finding the coffee table, and now that he knew it was safe, it was like the rest of what had transpired did not matter. Did it not surprise Merlin that Dwight did not seem to be what he was pretending to be? And if not, why? 

I approached the sorcerer and crouched next to me. He smiled fondly and offered the fruit to me. "Are you hungry?"

I shook my head, "Merlin, did you hear and see the same things I did."

The sorcerer nodded and continued to devour the fruit. 

"And it doesn't bother you that Dwight's eyes were glowing or that he placed a bug in my apartment!!?" I felt irritated and confused. 

"Yes, it bothers me a little bit, but not enough to keep me from enjoying this lovely offering that the gnomes brought for me."

The mention of gnomes distracted me for a moment, but before long, the hum of an ache in my heart, suffocating me, made me ask, "How can you be so chill!?"

"It's not winter here, Marty; there is no chill-"

"I mean, how are you not doing anything? Why are you not worried? Did you know Dwight from before?"

"I suggest you relax; all will become clear in due time," Merlin suggested, taking another bit of the fruit I had never seen before. 

"I need you to tell me now. Tell me who Dwight is and what he wants from me." I growled. Heat flooded my eyes. It was like I had opened them under hot water. Surprisingly, it didn't hurt. At all. 

Merlin stopped munching and gave me a once-over. "It's starting. About time, lad. About time." he clapped my back. 

A split second later, darkness replaced heat, and my eyes fell shut, and the last thing I heard the sorcerer say was, "You don't have to worry about it right now, boy. Sleep. Alas, you will have forgotten all you have learned about Lastshire when you wake. But don't worry, it's just temporary."

I didn't know what the sorcerer had done to me and why he had done it, but I could tell that all I had seen in the mirror: the truth about Dwight, would be wiped out of my memory.

The moment I opened my eyes, I felt sore all over. I took in my surroundings. I was definitely not in my apartment. The place looked familiar, but I was sure I hadn't been here before. It looked like a forest.

How had I arrived here!? After unsuccessfully trying to come up with a reason, I decided I must be dreaming. It wouldn't be the first time and wouldn't be the last. 

The fresh, unadulterated air tickled my nostrils, and I sneezed. 

Damn you, pollen! 

I raised my eyes and caught a glimpse of a man who looked almost exactly like me but younger. He had his back propped up against a tree, with the weirdest shaped leaves I had ever seen and was going on about the twelfth line of Wyllt's, fifth cousin twice removed, and whatnot. I made a tiny effort towards putting space between me and the blade of grass, trying to climb inside my nose, but I gave up not a second later. My body was not in the mood to cooperate, so I let the grass do as it pleased. 

Did I find it odd that the grass almost entered my nose before swaying away? Nope. Not at all. I was obviously not up yet. 

"Ah! You are finally up," he exclaimed, "How dare you fall asleep after begging me to tell you about your legacy. I will have you know that I, Merlin, am a well-known storyteller and a jester."

Now that was odd as hell. Fatigue left me, and strength returned to my limbs like magic. No. Not magic, I corrected myself. There is no such thing as magic. Nonetheless, I couldn't understand why my brain had conjured Merlin in my likeness. "Are you the voice from the coffee table?" I blurted out and snapped my mouth shut. You were supposed to pretend that you couldn't see him, Marty. You dumbass! 

"Are you planning to keep pretending that you can't hear me? Please, don't. I can read your mind." The sorcerer confessed, "So, how much did you hear about your ancestors before you fell asleep?" he demanded accusingly.

I tried hard to understand what he was going on about and failed. Was the history of my people so lackluster that it had made me fall asleep and forget how I had gotten here as well? It didn't make any sense. I side-eyed the man who had addressed himself as Merlin. A doubt crept into my mind. What if this was not a dream and the man in front of me was Merlin, the sorcerer of sorcerers. If yes, wouldn't it be in his power to manipulate my memories?

The man smiled bashfully, "I won't call myself 'sorcerer of sorcerers'," then leaning towards me with interested eyes, he admitted, "But the memory part is not wrong."

"What!?" I staggered away from him. Scared shitless. Random images of Dwight and my apartment flashed before my eyes. Something was wrong. It was as if my memories were fragmented shards of glass that I couldn't put together. "What did you do to me!?" I growled. "Tell me right now!"

My lookalike smiled. Proud. "I am glad that even after all these centuries, magic still runs strong in your veins, lad. If it was anyone else, he would not have remembered anything. The spell I used to clear your mind was powerful."

"There is no such thing as magic," I yelled, pinching myself. It hurt. I counted my fingers. There were ten. Exactly ten. I was awake. This couldn't be real, but every fiber in my body vouched for it to be true. I recalled Arthur Conan Doyle's quote: Once you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, no matter how improbable, must be the truth.

The man searched my eyes; hope lingered in his ebony depths, "Do you believe me now? Look at where you are. If this isn't magic, then what is?"

"No, there is no such thing. Why don't you admit it?"

The man tilted his head, "Admit what?"

I huffed and crossed my arms over my chest, "You made a big mistake, you fool. I am broke. It was a waste of your time to kidnap me."