Arthus

I wake up with a terrible headache. The inside of my temple fiercely hammers skull, throbbing in accordance to the beat of my heart.

Shaking my head to heave the pain away, I then cast a look around. Unfortunately, everything is foggish in a washed-out haze. Hence, I'm hardly able to reckon where I am.

I rub my eyes furiously that they almost shed tears.

After blinking several times, my vision starts to clear and the clouded sensation recedes moments later.

I'm sitting on a stiff mattress atop a wooden bunk. Long strands of cobweb dangle on the low ceiling. The room is small, with only a tiny, round table beside me.

Thin rays of sunshine bore through pebble-sized holes in the ceiling and walls, bathing the room in a tangerine glow. The warm touch of sunlight imparts me a hint that dawn is breaking.

When my glance spots the other end of the bed, something almost make me jump out of surprise. Near my feet is a small, white dog, sleeping sound as it curls itself like a snow ball.

It awakens to the jolt of my feet. The dog raises its head. Two eyes of cerulean shade stare at me with intent curiosity.

Then it strolls unto me and licks my hands, barking like in good spirits, right after. I pat its head gently then tickles its ears. The feel of its fur seems seems really familiar.

I put the dog aside, commanding it to sit down and be still. It must have been a clever breed because it obeyed at once.

With the dog peering at me, I attempt to stand but the moment I hustle an effort, almost every muscle hurts a lot, forcing me to slump back into the bed.

Not so long do I notice, half of my naked body is wrapped in a couple of clean, white dressings.

I close my tired eyes which are heavy with weariness.

What happened? How did I end up in this simple shack?

Try as I might, I'm having a hard time, struggling to remember. Bit by bit, fragments of a fierce battle scatter among my memories.

There is this duel between me and Thallius where death almost claimed me . A huge bear with fur as white as snow, radiating with light as it bleeds in the middle of the forest. Flames wreaking havoc and malice. Another grizzly animal which I recall, is Seymour. Fires with a friendly warmth surrounding my body. And being locked in Serrah's embrace. Yes, the velvety feel of her bo-

My thoughts reach a sudden halt. 'Shadespierce'. I whisper silently, fright fosters, little by little. The likelihood of the situation happening fills me with dread.

No, I didn't lose her. Though the assurance of the phrase is present, the essence wanders aloft my doubts.

My eyes does a pressing search in vain. I can see, even my knapsack is gone. The dog barks as it leaps out of the bed and sets off, sniffing around the room.

Ignoring the stinging discomfort, I push my self up, holding my breath to keep the pain from emerging. My immediate option is the table.

Alas, my dagger isn't there. Yet, something else catches my attention; a piece of parchment, folded in a neat manner, resting on top of it.

The sight of it makes me skeptical.

What message does it contain? Are the tidings it carries written for mine to read?

My hand eventually inches towards the paper, but I stop my desire to grab hold of it. Growing up in a rather isolated environment, letters are objects of mystery or perhaps, danger. Since I was young, I have not a single letter addressed to me.

On top of that, magic is a prominent entity in Living Reilm. Even if it's unfortunate that most humans aren't bestowed by this blessing, other races do. Especially the Elves. Regal mortals born from the effulgence of mana itself. Other beings might also possess some form of magic, unknown to humans.

Therefore, any kind of object can be casted upon with a spell.

The fact that Elves hate us humans isn't something to be overlooked. And to absent-mindedly touch an item of suspicion might result in death, or worse, bewitchment.

I scrutinize the parchment's features.

What if it contains poison touch or a banshee's scream? What if it's an explosion charm?

The chances are endless.

Still, I ponder upon the options. I'm inside a tiny hut, a location I have no knowledge of, with healing wounds, vague memory, a peculiar dog, and Shadespierce nowhere to be seen.

This may well be the only clue I have regarding my situation. The longer I stare at the paper, the more tempted I am to open it.

I debate with my mind for a while until I decide to read the letter. Taking such huge a gamble, I am left with no other choice.

With extreme caution, eyes shut tight, I pick it up. The tip of my fingers touch the face of the paper. Nothing happened. A deep sigh leaks from my lips.

The paper's texture is somewhat burnt, tinted in smoldered hue. I open the letter. To my surprise, it slips away from my grasp and then hovers in mid-air.

Someone begins to talk, his voice emanating from the paper. I recognize the rough tone at once. Seymour.

"Greetings, Merlin. If I am speaking as of now, I conclude that yar' finally awake. First of all, I assume that yar' currently in a state of panic. Worry not, yer' dagger is safe, hidden underneath yer' bloody soft pillow."

He stops talking, as if giving me a moment to prove his words. Wasting no time, I shove away the feather pillow.

My heart skips a couple of beats. Shadespierce is indeed there, her obsidian metal glistening with fatality. My hands wrap around her grip, running my fingers along the intricate designs carved on the blade.

Our blissful reunion is cut short when Seymour continues his message.

"Enough with the reunification, there are other matters of intimate importance.

I congratulate ya' for defeating General Thallius, member of Lazaddon's circle of most trusted.

Never have I witnessed a Merlin in actual battle before and I am honored to fight alongside one."

Seymour pauses for a moment, like something is troubling him.

"Yet, by the word defeat, it means that I strongly believe Thallius is still alive.

Ya' see, when I seize ya' out of the burning forest, I saw another figure escaping a different route. I couldn't catch a glimpse of his face but his hair was singed and half of his body was burnt. His armor as well."

A tingle lurches down my spine. Then I realize I am shivering with fear.

"Be careful, Merlin. Lastly, I suggest ya' seek out our headquarters in Lagrisme. The Circle of Shadows are desperate to acquire yer' assistance, especially now that we know what yar' capable of. In there, most of yer' questions shall be answered.

Oh, I almost forgot. That dog together with ya' at the moment is the spirit bear of the forest that ya' tried to save. Her name is Vladimiria. I spoke to her before I left. She wants to be yer' company from now on. It's her way of saying thanks and besides, she does not have a home to return to, considering the forest was smoldered to ashes."

Vladimiria whimpers as if agreeing to what Seymour just said. I rub her chin. Her mood cheers up, wagging her tail in content.

"That would be all, Merlin. I wish ya' protection from harm's way in yer' journeys, by the name of Leyra, goddess of travels."

All of a sudden, the paper ignites in flames. What is left of it is nothing more than a pile of fresh ash.

Seymour's message remains playing in my mind. I'm still in such a battered stage to define my decisions correctly.

I lay down in bed again, my hands holding up Shadespierce in the air, admiring her beauty.

Before I know it, I'm already reminiscing the first time we met.

| ~ |

Here's an early Christmas gift for you, guys. Hehehe. Luckily, I was able to finish the chapter earlier today.

Do you think Arthus should join the Circle of Shadows? And what do you think of Vladimiria?

Hope you enjoyed this chapter. I appreciate if you would show your support by commenting and voting. Cheers!