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"Sometimes we want people to accept the things we keep hidden. Not because we're ashamed of them… but because we fear what might happen if someone saw them and walked away."
That thought lingered in Merlin's mind as his eyes slowly opened to the soft warmth pressed against his side. Morning light filtered in through the dusty inn window, casting pale gold across the wooden floorboards. He felt a steady rise and fall of breath against his chest—Morgana's.
At some point during the night, she had curled into him, her arm wrapped loosely around his waist, her head tucked just beneath his chin. Her hair spilled like a dark river across the sheets, veiling part of her face. But now, up close, he could see her features clearly—calm, softened, unguarded.
She had told him everything the night before.
But he had already known.
[Scanning Target…]
Name: Morgana Ren
Age: 20
Race: Human
Origin: Kou Empire (Royal Bloodline – Hidden Heiress)
Titles: None (yet)
Emotions: Fear | Longing | Hope
Combat Proficiency: Intermediate (Dark Mage – latent) [Bound to Darkness, Yet Capable of Light]
Thoughts: "Why do I feel safe here…? What if he abandons me too…"
He'd seen it all with his All-Seeing Eye the day they met. Her bloodline. Her broken spirit. The shadows clawing at her soul like vines. And the potential to become something the world feared—or worshipped.
Still, he waited.
Because the system could only tell him what she was. Not who she chose to become.
And last night, she chose to be vulnerable. To trust him.
He closed his eyes again, one hand rising to gently brush a lock of hair away from her face. Her skin was warm beneath his fingers. So fragile, and yet the storm inside her could drown kingdoms.
He could feel her stirring. Morgana's lashes fluttered open, confusion briefly clouding her expression before memory returned. Her grip on him didn't loosen.
"…You're still here," she whispered, voice raw from sleep.
Merlin smiled softly, not moving. "Of course I am."
She looked at him for a long while. "I dreamt… that you vanished. That I woke up and you were gone."
"I'm not going anywhere, Morgana."
She hesitated, then buried her face into his chest, speaking so quietly he almost didn't hear.
"…Thank you."
They lay there in silence for a time, the world outside just beginning to wake. The scent of bread baking, waves crashing distantly, and the muffled voices of Agrabad's streets all crept through the window—but none of it reached them in that moment.
"I want to know your goal," Morgana said suddenly. Her voice had changed—no longer afraid, but firm, curious, steady. "What are you trying to accomplish in this world?"
Merlin finally sat up, the morning light catching in his violet eyes like dying stars.
"I'll tell you," he said.
And in his heart, he knew—this was the moment that would define everything to come.
"I'm going to build something new. A country. And it won't be built on fear or bloodlines, but strength and choice. You're the first step in my dream.
Her cheeks warmed. "I'm your first step?"
Merlin looked at her and stated bluntly.
"The strongest of kings require their queen
beside them."
Her cheeks flushed red with blush.
Her expression suddenly turned serious and she faced him, staring directly into his eyes.
"If you'll have me, then I'll gladly follow you for the rest of my life, my king." She finished with a kiss on his cheek.
He nodded his head, matching her wide grin.
After a while of enjoying each other's presence, Merlin began speaking.
"Before we settle down in a territory we must gather the following things."
She listened intently.
"Strength, resources, and trustworthy companions that are competent."
She nodded, absorbing his words.
"We can gain a bit of strength and resources from this journey today to the special island. It is home to a dungeon where a djinn resides. It is said that those who conquer the dungeon may gain the power of the djinn and its vast wealth."
"This is the first step. Let's prepare for our journey." Merlin finished.
Morgana nodded eagerly.
"Yes, my king."
A few days later…
The boat rocked softly as it reached the shore. A crisp ocean breeze rolled in, carrying the scent of salt and moss-covered stone. Waves lapped gently against the jagged rocks of the island's coastline—lush, wild, and ominous in its beauty.
Morgana leapt off the boat the instant it touched land, stumbling onto the soft sand with dramatic flair. She dropped to her knees, arms raised in exaggerated praise.
"Thank the Rukh! Blessed ground!" she exclaimed, face pale and stomach still uneasy.
Merlin chuckled from behind her, hopping off the boat with far more composure. "You really don't handle sea travel well."
"I'd rather face an army of Fanalis than get on another ship," she groaned, clutching her gut.
"You say that now… but you'll be back on board by nightfall."
She shot him a glare, and he only smirked in response.
Behind them, Nabu leaned on the edge of the boat, watching the two like a tired uncle dealing with enthusiastic children.
Merlin stepped toward him and handed him a small, heavy pouch. The clink of gold inside was unmistakable.
"Payment in full," Merlin said. "You've earned it."
Nabu nodded, weighing the pouch in his hand. "Fair deal. Didn't think you'd actually make it all the way out here."
Merlin turned back toward the forest-covered island interior, …where ancient trees curled upward, and some twisted stone towers peeked through the fog.
"Before we go," he added, "let's make it interesting."
Nabu raised an eyebrow. "Go on…"
"If I conquer this dungeon—and I will—you agree to stay on as my navigator for the next three years. Wherever I go, you go. Paid well, fed well. No complaints."
"And if you fail?"
"Then you can keep whatever gear you find floating out of the dungeon's mouth," Merlin said with a grin.
Nabu gave a raspy chuckle. "You've got guts, I'll give you that. Fine. You clear it, I'm yours."
Merlin held out a hand. Nabu shook it.
"Deal."
The island surrounding the dungeon was unlike any other place they had encountered. It pulsed with wild energy, unshaped and untamed. The two magicians, ever sensitive to magic, shivered with every step they took further inland.
The trees here grew in warped spirals, their branches interlocking overhead to form a canopy that filtered light into green-gold shafts. Vines coiled and slithered like serpents, responding to footsteps. Leaves breathed. The Rukh danced erratically, both dark and white, as if the very laws of nature twisted beneath Zagan's influence.
"It's like the island is watching us," Morgana whispered.
Merlin nodded. "Zagan is the Djinn of Loyalty and Purity. He controls life magic. This entire place is a living extension of him."
Despite these phenomena, Merlin navigated confidently. His map Metherra helped map the surrounding terrain, saving them more than once from near-fatal missteps.
After two days trekking through the forest, they reached the heart of the island. Black vines parted before them, revealing an archway carved into the mountain's base. Rukh spiraled into it like a silent storm.
The moment they stepped through, the real trial began.
[The Verdant Maw]
A jungle corridor that rearranged itself constantly, trapping wanderers in a maze of sentient plantlife. Morgana accidentally stepped on a glowing petal and the walls surged inward with thorned branches. She blasted them away with a scream of dark magic—her instincts awakening. Merlin marked the safe path using Metherra and used his wind magic to propel Morgana and himself above the numerous traps.
[The Garden of False Kin]
Here, illusions took form—anything to torment the challengers, family members, past friends, even lost lovers. A version of Sinbad appeared to Morgana; he attempted to use his charm to sway her to his cause and have her follow him. It seemed to be working until an image of Merlin appeared in her mind. This gave her enough focus to tell the fake Sinbad to screw off and that she's taken. Merlin instantly denied the illusion of a succubus offering him infinite pleasures if he gave up.
[The Trial of Guilt and Growth]
They entered a clearing where a great tree pulsed with corrupted life. Beneath its roots lay skeletons—those who failed. The tree demanded a memory in exchange for passage. The roots shifted. Morgana easily released the memory of her past, where she didn't experience love and affection from her
mother.
Through the process of accepting his past life as once a part of him, Merlin was forced to listen to his parents crying at his death. He was forced to endure the guilt of adapting too quickly to his new reality. In order to surpass this trial, he acknowledged their grief and made a declaration that was powerful enough to break the illusion.
"You were my parents once. Thank you for everything. I won't mourn dying, as that wasn't my choice; however, I promise this to you even if you can't hear me."
"I, Merlin, will be the greatest."
[The Spiral Stair]
An impossible staircase that twisted gravity. Morgana nearly fell upward. Merlin used wind magic to stabilize them, but the true challenge was mental—the staircase fed off uncertainty. Only by affirming their shared purpose would they be allowed to keep moving.
Merlin smirked and said confidently,
"I will build the mightiest country to touch this planet. The people of my country will be treated fairly, lovingly, and won't have to bow their heads before anyone unless it's their own accord."
Morgana, inspired by Merlin's declaration, shouted,
"I will do whatever it takes to help my king Merlin achieve his dream, and until then I won't allow anyone to hurt him."
After their powerful declarations, both joined hands and marched onward together, strengthened by the trials they faced together as a team.
And then—after what felt like hours, or perhaps days—they arrived.
Before them loomed an enormous set of stone doors, half-swallowed by writhing vines and breathing moss. Carvings of monstrous beasts and blooming flowers coiled along its surface, locked in endless struggle. Gold lines traced out an ancient sigil that glowed faintly in response to Merlin's presence.
Above it, etched in twisted runes, read the phrase:
(From Life, Understanding. From Understanding, Power.)
The Rukh here was unstable—white and black spiraling faster and faster as if anticipating what came next. Merlin's violet eyes gleamed, mirroring the storm.
Morgana stepped beside him, brushing the dust from her cloak.
"We made it," she whispered, breathless.
Merlin reached out, placing his hand against the stone.
"This is just the beginning."
The sigils surged with light.
The doors trembled…
And opened.