Chapter 24
The news hits them hard, most of the group now fearing for the lives of their loved ones, but they pull themselves together with a fierce sense of determination Ron envies. The Prince is quick to delegate, taking back the control from the now frantic group. They push themselves more and more, training hard and swimming faster, for they are their families' only hope.
As they reached the outskirts of Tsuvia two days later, arriving just hours after sunrise, an eerie stillness met them. The once vibrant city lay in silence, no guards stood watch, and no welcoming party came to greet them. A message had been left from the guards in Tsuvia—the last report they’d recorded at sunrise. It described strange sounds within the city and their plan to investigate. After that, there was nothing.
Thalassios listened to the report , his face growing darker with every word. He turned to the group, his voice sombre. "The curse has reached them. We’re too late."
His words settled over them like a thick fog. Eurybius gasped, her hand covering her mouth, while Halcyon stared at the city gates, his face pale with dread. Nereus clenched his jaw, holding his trident a little closer as though it might provide comfort. Pleione looked to Thalassios for guidance, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
Thalassios straightened, his expression hardening. "We leave now. The grand rocks of Varem are our last lead. If we destroy the curse at its source, perhaps... perhaps we can reverse this before it spreads any further."
Ron’s heart hammered. The others nodded, steeling themselves for the next leg of the journey. But something about this felt wrong. There was a chance, however slim, that the people in Tsuvia still needed them. Leaving now meant abandoning them to a cruel fate. He took a breath, his voice growing urgent.
“We can’t just leave them!” Ron cried out, trying to meet each of their averted eyes. “You said so yourself, the curse most likely only just reached them, there might be survivors. We have to try.”
Thalassios turned to Ron, a flash of frustration and helplessness in his eyes. “And risk ourselves, our mission, for a city that may already be lost? I’m sorry, Ron” Thalassios bowed his head. “But I truly think it would be best to aim for the cause as soon as we can. The Tsuvian research team may have produced promising results but it is not a guarantee that the antidote will work. We can no longer waste our time.”
“But we don’t know if aiming for the cause will reverse them back either, at least with the antidote we have a chance, however small that may be!”
Thalassios pursed his lips, looking up at the distant sun. He nodded his head decisively, there will be no changing his mind after this, Ron knew.
“Pleione, Melanthius and Eurybius, you threefolk are our fastest, you are to join Ron-”
“My Prince!” Pleione interrupted. “I will not leave your side.”
“This is my decision, Pleione, you will respect it.” He turned to Ron, “You are in charge of your group, Ron, your mission is to retrieve the antidote and any notes on it first and foremost, getting survivors out comes second, once you have accomplished your mission, make way to the grand rocks of Varem . Do not, under any circumstance, attempt to fight a siren, get as far away as possible from any you come across. Am I understood?” He waited until they assented. “You have my permission to use your magic to aid your mission. Go!”
With that, he turned and swam away, the rest of his group following without looking back.
Ron cleared his throat, gaining his group’s attention, “What do you each know about the attack pattern or any quirks of the Sirens? Do they attack alone or as a group? Do they attack from the shadows or from above? How do they sense their victims?”
“We are to not fight them.” Pleione clenched her jaw, “that was our Prince’s orders.”
“Whether we are fighting or evading our enemies, we must first understand our enemies.” He answered, raising his eyebrow. “If they move alone; we stick as a group, cause distractions and divert their attention away from us. If they find their victims through smell then staying in a group makes it more dangerous. We need to be informed to properly plan.”
Pleione huffed and dragged her eyes away from him, hands tightening around her trident. Melanthius stood silently, eyes narrowed in the direction of the Prince’s group, in the direction of Aegeon. That was a slight cause for worry, Ron needed him to listen and not fight back at his every command. Eurybius, at least, met his gaze and nodded in support.
“Fine.” Pleione declared at last, “I will tell you everything I know.”
~~~~~~~
Ron and Pleione hid silently behind the town message board.
“Your swimming is atrocious.” She quietly hissed at him causing him to look away from the building they were watching and glare at her.
Ron had decided that they would split into two groups, with Pleione and himself moving to retrieve the antidote while the other two scoured the town for survivors. Pleione was the only one who knew where the research team's headquarters was and, although Ron hated to make the decision, his magic was best served looking for and protecting the antidote then elsewhere.
He turned back to the building.
It seemed like the building was barred up, possibly the work of the few survivors of the research team. Unfortunately, it also meant it would be harder to reach it passed the group of sirens circling the town square.
He looked around for something to use as a distraction, setting his eyes on a decorative garden, the seahorse figure winking at him in the light.
“I’ll cause a distraction, take me and go as fast as you can up to the building, where I’ll use magic to lift the barricade up. Be fast but careful, I’ll do the disillusion spell again, it won’t work as well when moving fast, but still, better then nothing.”
After receiving a nod, he twisted and fired a spell, the seahorse loudly blowing up the next second. The sirens snapped their necks to look for the sudden sound moving to congregate around it to inspect it, as he was suddenly grabbed and dragged along, he disillusioned them and watched the sirens warily.
The sight of the sirens had come as a shock to him, their appearance both exactly as expected but also not anything he could have imagined. The sirens sang a high pitched grating tune and a low haunting melody at the same time. They were bald, the Merfolk's luscious locks apparently not surviving the change. Their bodies elongated, ribs sticking out ghastly, their tail and skin were rotting, the colour faded and scales broken off. Their claws and fangs were long and sharp, but what shocked Ron most was their chest. A gaping hole where the heart should be and in its place was a fire, somehow alive underwater and burning a dark repulsive red.
Having reached the building he carefully lifted the barricade and motioned for Pleione to enter, watching as she surveyed the silent room, trident held up and ready. She gave him a nod and they began walking deeper into the building, following signs towards the ‘Wraithsong research lab’. Luckily they didn’t encounter any stray sirens, though when Ron peeked into other rooms he could see sirens tied up, hissing angrily.
The door they needed was closed, which was concerning as every closed door seemed to hide sirens. Pleione raised an eyebrow at him, silently asking what the plan was. Without any hesitation he threw the door open, almost immediately meeting eyes with a crazed scientist standing within arms reach of a thrashing siren with a lab coat draped over it like a blanket. Ron gaped at the sight, blinking rapidly.
“State your name, Mer.” Came Pleione's cool voice from beside him.
“Isadora, MerDr. Isadora.” The scientist dropped the shells from her grasp and let it float down to the table, swimming right up to them in the time it took to come to a stop. “Are you from Prince Thalassios’ Order of the Seablade?”
“Yes.” Ron answered. “And who is your… friend?” He asked, waving at the siren.
“My assistant,” She grinned happily. “We overtook the research building together, but in doing so we were both infected.”
Pleione shoved Ron back harshly, standing in his previous spot with her trident aimed at the scientist’s head, “You’ve been infected?”
Isadora laughed, her eyes glazed with tears. “He used the sample antidote to cure me! I had turned first even though we were bit at the same time, I never knew I had such anger in me! The Wraithsong is really fascinating, isn’t it? ” Pleione’s trident slowly lowered, her own eyes solemn.
“The antidote works then?”
“Well, only one sample survived the sirens attack, so I can’t say for sure. But I’m still alive! And I’ve got all my notes but none of my supplies…” When she drooped her whole body moved with it before she perked up. “But you’re here now! I need to speak to the Prince, I- I need him back, please.”
Ron and Pleione shared a glance.
“The Prince is not here with us.” Ron said, his arms ready when Isadora collapsed. “We must get you and your notes out of here.”
She was already shaking her head before he could finish, backing away from them slowly, “No- No, no, no. No, I will not leave him.” She turned and cradled his still thrashing head, careful not to touch his fangs.
“You must.” Pleione said softly. “You have the cure, MerDr. Isadora. If you make more, you can cure him, you can have him back, alive.”
They watched as she slowly released him. Moving away from him and reaching for the shells seemed to go against everything she believed. Instead of touching the shells, she laid her hands flat on either side of them, breathing deeply with her eyes closed. When she opened them they were determined and resolved, She slid the shells into a satchel and swam towards them.
Ron felt his lips twitch up into a smile when his eyes caught onto the siren behind her. His eyes widened too late, hands reaching up to the MerDr. too late, his scream leaving his mouth too late.
Pleione was not too late.
She slammed her body into Isadora, sending the MerDr. flying to the side, Isadora clutching her satchel to her chest before she realised what was happening.
Pleione’s trident fell to the floor as she released it in her pain, the assistant’s fangs buried deep into Pleione’s shoulder. Pleione grit her jaw, using her weight to hold him down against the table.
“Go! Go!” She yelled at them, a flick of her tail sending her fallen trident in Ron’s direction. “Ron, promise me Thalassios will make it home safe. Isadora, stay alive! For our folk, for our waters, for him. Now, go!”
Ron dove to retrieve her trident, dragging Isadora up and out with him, he turned back to see Pleione smiling as he followed her word, a single tear drifting from her eyes as the last of her - her humanity - left them.
Ron did not, could not, utter the promise she begged of him.
Isadora was quick to come to her senses, muttering a comment about his swimming and forcing them down a different passage. “There’s a secret underground tunnel to the town entrance.”
They were silent as they made their way through, Pleione’s trident awkward in his hands.
~~~~~~~
“MerDr. Isadora!” A group of children - guppies - rammed into the MerDr. as soon as they emerged near the entrance of the town. The guppies were crying as they desperately clutched at Isadora and their each other.
Ron furrowed his eyebrows, looking around for any idea of where they came from and locking eyes on a scuttle nearby that had him cursing. Melanthius thrashed his tail against Eurybius, his trident in her mouth keeping her away from him as she tried to bite him.
“Petrificus totalus!” Ron slashed his wand, aiming at Eurybius, wincing as he did so.
Eurybius tensed up, frozen, her eyes a demented glare. Melanthius harshly pushed her off his form, heaving in heavy breathes, his incredulous eyes snapped to Ron. Ron huffed in mild annoyance when Melanthius made no further move to move away from Eurybius, her bloodlust heavy in the air. Ron swam as fast as he could, evading Isadora and the guppies who gaped at him, not bothering to be gentle when he dragged Melanthius up and out of Tsuvia.
“What was that?!” Isadora manically grinned at him when he reached them, dropping a shocked Melanthius. He ignored her for a second, turning back to look at Tsuvia and Eurybius, taking a moment to mourn.
“She- She saved them.” Melanthius choked out. “The guppies. Their MerTeacher locked them in the classroom when they realised what was happening, stood guard outside but got bit and effectively locked the guppies in. Eurybius saved them but got infected, held out long enough that we didn’t suspect a thing. We should go before your… Before your Magic releases.”
“Magic? Really fascinating!”
“Yes. Yes, right, um.” Ron’s eyes finally left Eurybius and turned to meet Melanthius’ confused stare. “Pleione, too, she saved us before she was bit. Fortunately, MerDr. Isadora has a proven antidote, so… So, they will be fine, they have to be. Melanthius, escort MerDr. Isadora and the guppies back to the capital.”
“So what can Magic do exactly?”
“What? No.” Melanthius shook his head. “And I suppose you will be going after the Prince yourself? Don’t be stupid, do you even know where to go? I will go to the prince, you take the survivors.”
“My Magic will be of more use, Melanthius.”
“Mhmm and what sort of uses?”
“Then we’ll go together. We didn’t encounter any Sirens during our travel, MerDr. Isadora is more than capable of taking herself and the guppies to the capital.”
“Now who’s being stupid? She has the cure, Melanthius, just because we didn’t encounter the Sirens doesn’t mean she won't.”
“Hey!” They turned, blinking, when one of the guppies yelled out, vibrant red tail flicking with annoyance. “Don’t use us as an excuse to not help Prince Thalassios!”
“Yeah!” Another piped in, hiding behind the first, “Besides, I’d rather follow MerDr. Isadora than either of you and your weird sticks.”
“This is a Magical wand!”
“This is a Seablade trident!”
~~~~~~~
Ron grumpily followed after Melanthius, although he hadn’t wanted to admit it, he didn’t exactly know where to go to find the grand rocks of Varem. He was sure to find it eventually when alone, but perhaps not as soon as he would have liked. Up ahead, Melanthius looked back at him far more often then he had when his Magic was first revealed, meeting his eyes once again, Ron finally lost his patience.
“What’s your problem? It’s not too late to swim back to Isadora, you know.”
Surprisingly, Melanthius did not rise up to the taunt.
“Back then…” He hesitated, “Why did you save me?”
Ron blinked.
“I was never kind to you. I made fun of you. I hurt you. I blamed your Magic when really I was jealous! I suspected your every move and you… saved me, why?”
“Don’t look too deep into it.” Ron muttered, rubbing the back of his head. “I would have saved anyone in your position.”
“But it wasn’t just anyone in my position, it was me.”
“So what?” Ron snapped. “Just because you are an arsehole doesn’t mean you deserve to get mutilated. You might be the type of per- Of Mer to abandon someone but I am not!”
“I- I wouldn’t just… leave someone.” His voice cracked.
“You’ve done nothing to make me believe that, Melanthius. If that’s all then let’s get a move on.”
Melanthius must truly be lost deep in his head somewhere for he let Ron take the lead and pull him along without complaint, something shameful in his eyes. Ron left him to it, letting his instincts lead them through waters he didn’t know, anything was better than continuing the conversation, he thought.
“Your swimmi-” Melanthius whispered, finally aware of his surroundings just in time to reach a fork in the path. Ron could hardly begin to feel any relief, however, when he started to comprehend his words.
“For the love of Magic, will everyone stop commenting on my swimming!”
“No, I just meant… The Prince, in his story, told us how he taught his magician friend how to swim. I- I thought I might do the same.” He stubbornly met Ron’s eyes. “I am one of the best at swimming.”
Perhaps, there really wasn’t anything better than the conversation.
~~~~~~~
Truly learning how to swim in his new body was more useful then he anticipated. He wasn’t going to be as fast as Melanthius, but it sped up their travel time enough that they reached the grand rocks of Varem in half the time the Prince had originally expected. Melanthius himself was a suspiciously good teacher, teaching him both swimming and how to use Pleione’s trident when they took breaks.
The grand rocks of Varem were a sight unlike any Ron had ever imagined. Towers of jagged stone twisted upwards in complex spirals, interlaced with shimmering veins of bioluminescent algae. As they neared, Ron thought of Hermione and how she would have marvelled at the beauty here, the quiet mystery held in each crevice. But as he looked closer, he felt a chill prickle through him.
They found the prince’s group scattered across a small alcove at the rock’s base, barely recognizable. The once-mighty Seablade warriors clung to the rocks and to each other, eyes wild and dim with a sickness Ron had never seen before. It wasn’t the curse itself, not entirely—there was something darker here, something that twisted them from within. Their gills flared erratically, and they gripped their tridents as though clinging to the last strands of sanity.
Thalassios, pale and barely clinging to consciousness, lifted his head slowly as Ron and Melanthius swam into view. Recognition flickered in his dull eyes, and he managed to rasp, “Ron… your magic… it might be our last chance. I no longer recognise my old friend or perhaps he never was who he claimed to be…” He struggled to continue, his hand twitching weakly toward them.
But then, his gaze landed on Pleione’s trident, clasped in Ron’s grip, and a feral, panicked rage overtook him. His weakened body spasmed as he thrashed, and a guttural growl escaped his lips. “Where did you… Where is Pleione?” His voice, though faint, carried a venomous edge. His hand stretched out as if to take it back, but his strength failed him.
“Hold him!” Melanthius commanded, diving forward to pin Thalassios down. Ron hesitated, glancing at the prince’s tormented face, but Melanthius’ voice was unwavering. “Go, Ron! I believe in you.”
Ron backs away slowly before turning and swimming out and up as fast as he could, leaving behind the friends he had made in this strange world. Finally, he meets a strange merman looking pensively up at the sun.
Ron tightened his grip on Pleione’s trident, steeling himself as he rose through the water toward the strange merman. This newcomer held himself with an elegance that matched the prince, his body poised and still, eyes trained intently on the sunlight filtering down from above. The merman’s face held a faint, enigmatic smile, the calm of someone utterly in control, and his ethereal tail swayed slowly behind him, like a serpent coiled to strike. There was something eerie in his grace, a dark mirror to Thalassios’ nobility.
Ron didn’t hesitate. With a burst of strength, he surged forward, thrusting the trident toward the merman’s chest. But in a flash, the merman sidestepped with uncanny speed, leaving a whirl of water where he’d been. Ron barely had a moment to correct his balance before the merman twisted, striking out with his own staff, edged with dark, coral-like barbs. The clash echoed in the deep, their tridents sparking as they met. Ron pivoted, launching himself backward to gain distance, then shot forward again, feinting left before thrusting right. But the merman was one step ahead, blocking the blow with a smooth flick of his trident. Ron gritted his teeth, pushing harder, each strike gaining momentum, but the merman only seemed to grow more confident, deflecting every blow with fluid ease.
“Impressive,” the merman murmured, his voice a chilling whisper that cut through the water. “I can see why Thalassios entrusted you with Pleione’s weapon. But tell me…” His eyes gleamed, a wicked curiosity within them. “Do you even know what you’re fighting for?”
Ron felt a surge of anger fuel his next strike, driving the trident forward in a powerful arc. But again, the merman deflected it, turning the attack against him, forcing Ron to dodge as the barbed end of the trident missed him by mere inches.
The water swirled violently around them as they continued to clash, a relentless, brutal dance. Ron’s strikes were fierce but calculated, remembering everything Melanthius had taught him. He spun, ducked, parried—a strike for every taunt, every sneer. But the merman seemed to anticipate his every move, moving with a terrifying agility that left Ron fighting to keep up.
With a wicked grin, the merman struck, locking their tridents together. The force sent Ron backward, his arms trembling with the impact. “Is that all?” the merman sneered, his voice taunting and mocking. “Surely the prince’s champion has more to show than this.”
Something snapped within Ron. He spun the trident, letting out a yell as he charged, his movements faster, fiercer, a storm of strikes that forced the merman to block again and again, a flash of surprise crossing his face as he fought to keep up. Ron saw an opening and struck, slashing upward, the trident’s edge cutting into the merman’s arm, a dark blood cloud swirling in the water.
The merman’s smile faltered, his eyes narrowing with cold fury. He retaliated, faster and fiercer, their tridents a blur of silver and shadow as they clashed. Ron’s hands trembled, his muscles ablaze with strain as he struggled to hold his ground against the merman’s relentless assault. With a desperate whisper, he called on the familiar magic pulsing within him, murmuring a spell under his breath. Power surged through him, and a force shot forward, striking the merman in a shockwave that sent him hurtling backward. He crashed into the rocks with a brutal impact, a cloud of sediment billowing up around him.
For a long moment, Ron stared, heart pounding as the dust settled. He readied his stance, waiting for the merman to retaliate. But instead, he heard a soft, pained chuckle. The merman rose, brushing himself off with a calm, almost amused composure, his snarl fading into something unreadable. He locked eyes with Ron, his demeanour transforming in an instant as he straightened, brushing a hand through his dark, flowing hair.
With a peculiar calm, he cleared his throat, his tone adopting a chillingly polite warmth. “Where are my manners?” he began, inclining his head in a slight bow. “You’ve surprised me. I hadn’t expected to encounter one with magic. My name is Alex.” He placed a hand over his chest in a formal gesture.
Ron blinked, lowering the trident slightly, thrown by the sudden shift in Alex’s demeanour. The hostility had all but evaporated, replaced by an unsettling friendliness. Despite the faint bruise blooming along his jaw and the scratch marks from their brutal fight, Alex’s gaze held an almost eerie admiration, as if Ron’s magic had elevated him from mere foe to a respected equal.
“Didn’t expect that, did you?” Alex continued smoothly, his tone softening. He cocked his head, studying Ron with a curious gleam in his eye. “I trust you didn’t mean to cause me too much harm?” He smiled, his tone light, though his eyes held a spark of something darker, something dangerous.
Ron hesitated, his instincts on high alert as Alex drew closer, his trident held at his side, almost forgotten. This wasn’t the type of response he’d anticipated. “I didn’t think... you’d be so understanding,” Ron managed, trying to mask his confusion.
“Oh, I am quite understanding—of many things,” Alex murmured, the words laced with an unsettling calm. He tilted his head, watching Ron like a collector might appraise a rare artefact. “After all,” he continued, “I, too, fell victim to his schemes. It’s only natural that you wouldn’t yet realise.” He paused, his voice softening into something almost pitying. “You’re still just a child, after all.”
Ron felt his heart hammering against his ribs, the trident feeling cold and foreign in his hands. He had trained, fought, even completed countless tests on this journey, each step bringing him closer to his purpose. Yet, with Alex’s words, he was suddenly unsure, like standing on a precipice and only just noticing the drop. His schemes? Whose schemes?
“I did everything I could,” Alex went on, his eyes glinting with something darker, angrier. “I thought I could earn his favour, prove my worth to him. I took every challenge, completed every request, every test, hoping, just hoping he would finally accept me.” His lips twisted bitterly. “But it was never enough. Eventually, I understood—he needed me to create the quest.”
Ron felt a chill wash over him, an unwelcome thought dawning. His journey—had he been pulled along, just like Alex? Had he been fulfilling someone else’s designs all along? A ripple of doubt broke through him, and he struggled to keep his breathing steady, his resolve intact. But Alex seemed to sense his turmoil, his satisfaction chilling.
“And now, here you are,” Alex continued, his voice barely more than a whisper, “following the path I once walked. A path that isn’t of your own making.” He leaned closer, his eyes dark and penetrating, a knowing glint sparking in them. “So… tell me,” he asked, with an almost sinister warmth, “how is Merlin?”
The name hit Ron like a cold slap. Merlin? What did he mean, how was Merlin? And yet—Lady Hogwarts, Godric, Merlin—all of it suddenly felt tangled, as if he were a pawn in a game far older and deeper than he had realised. The certainty he’d been clinging to, the sense of purpose, felt like it was crumbling beneath him.
Ron stammered, “Merlin… I…” He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t understand. And yet, he felt, for the first time, that maybe understanding was the one thing he truly needed.
Alex only smiled, a hollow, triumphant glint in his eyes.
Ron clenched his trident, willing himself to hold firm against the shiver running down his spine. “The quest,” he insisted, his voice breaking the silence. “The quest is to awaken Lady Hogwarts—that’s it. Nothing more. Merlin wasn’t even the one who set us on it!”
Alex’s smile deepened, a soft, almost pitying chuckle escaping his lips. His gaze softened, but it was an unsettling kind of sympathy, like he was watching a child cling to a broken toy. “Oh, child,” he murmured, the words almost a sigh, as if Ron’s answer had only confirmed some sad inevitability. “Is that what they told you?”
Ron’s heart dropped, but he refused to let it show. He’d faced monsters, magic he barely understood, danger that would turn anyone else’s hair white. But Alex’s calm, knowing smile and the truth hidden behind it… that was the real threat. Still, he forced himself to speak, to counter, “You’re wrong. They wouldn’t lie to me.”
“Wouldn’t they?” Alex whispered, his voice smooth as silk, too intimate. He circled around Ron, each word sinking into Ron like a cold tide. “Godric has always been his creation. Godric, Lady Hogwarts—all of them, part of a legacy Merlin alone commands. That much power, that much history... too much for one man to hold, don’t you think?”
Ron stiffened, his throat dry. He wanted to deny it, to scoff, but Alex’s words struck a chord, one he couldn’t silence. He’d always known Merlin was powerful, but the idea that Godric… Lady Hogwarts… could be part of some hidden scheme? It was unthinkable. And yet, that was precisely what Alex was suggesting.
“Imagine it,” Alex continued, his voice dropping to a low, almost seductive murmur. “The centuries he’s controlled. The thousands who’ve served his whims. All led to believe in a destiny beyond their reach, just like you, just like me. We’re nothing more than pawns in a game he invented.”
Ron’s pulse raced, his fists tightening. “No… that can’t be. Merlin, he… he’s a legend. He wouldn’t—”
Alex’s smile twisted, a bitter, knowing edge creeping into it. “Legends are just stories, Ron. Stories Merlin crafted and fed to us all. Stories of quests, of loyalty, of Lady Hogwarts and her endless slumber. He writes the ending he chooses, and people like us? We’re only the ink on the page.”
“So, Ron,” he said, his tone silky and inviting. “Do you want to keep dancing to his tune? Or will you stand with me?”
Ron’s throat tightened, his hand shaking as he gripped his trident. His voice broke as he looked at the shattered figures of his comrades around him. “You hurt all these merfolk here… for what? Just to make a point?”
Alex’s smirk didn’t waver. “They are not real, Ron. They are figments in Merlin’s grand illusion. Phantoms to keep you invested in his ‘quest,’ placeholders for your precious ‘friends.’”
Ron’s chest tightened, but he held his ground. “They’re real to me. Real enough to bleed.”
Alex laughed, low and taunting. “A child, speaking of blood and bonds. Merlin’s favourite tool, clinging to his fantasies of loyalty.” He circled closer, his gaze piercing, needling. “When was the last time Merlin showed you anything that wasn’t calculated? His aid, his advice… even your presence here, do you think any of it happened by accident?”
Ron’s resolve wavered, Alex’s words digging into every raw fear he’d buried along the way. He took a breath, feeling that familiar, creeping doubt. Was he just Merlin’s pawn? Just another naïve player in a game he didn’t even understand? His conversation with Malfoy plays in the back of his mind.
“Or maybe,” Alex continued, his voice sliding into a smooth whisper that made Ron’s skin crawl, “you already suspect the truth, but it’s easier to play pretend. Pretend that you’re part of some noble quest, that you’re fighting for something bigger. The reality is too inconvenient, isn’t it, Ron? Far simpler to play the hero than admit you’ve been misled, that your friends are pawns. That you are nothing more than a tool.”
The words struck deep, and Ron felt his grip slip, doubt flooding him. But then he saw the twisted grin Alex wore, his pleasure in Ron’s pain, in every moment of hesitation he’d managed to draw from him.
“No,” Ron said, his voice low, his strength returning. “Whether Merlin has too much control, or too much power, I’ll decide that for myself. But all I know right now…” His voice steadied as he looked Alex in the eyes, resolute. “All I know is that Merlin helped me and my friends when no one else would. And you,” Ron’s gaze hardened, “you know things I only thought of, used my name even though I never introduced myself.”
Alex’s face fell, his smile vanishing. His gaze turned sharp, predatory, and furious.
But Ron’s voice was steady now, his heart clear. “You’re right, Alex. This might be a game. But if it is, it’s mine now.”
Their clash was thunder beneath the sea, weapons colliding in explosive bursts of magic that sent shockwaves through the water. Ron’s every strike met with a block, every spell he cast countered by Alex’s own. Alex moved like a shadow, gliding with unnatural grace, his face lit with a twisted glee as he taunted Ron between blows.
“You think that trident makes you powerful?” Alex sneered, sidestepping a swing and returning with a pulse of dark energy that Ron barely deflected. “It makes you his tool!”
Ron clenched his teeth, rage and determination flaring within him. “Better that than whatever twisted thing you’ve become!”
The water around them churned as their magic collided, forming a cyclone of flashing light and darkness, power crackling off of them like a lightning storm in the deep. Alex’s sharp words sliced at Ron as fiercely as his attacks.
“Face it, Ron—you’re just Merlin’s puppet, dancing on strings you can’t even see!” Alex taunted, deflecting a spell and striking out with his own, a sharp twist of magic that knocked Ron back. But Ron pushed forward, heart burning with defiance.
“No,” Ron said, his voice resolute, weaving the spell Aurelianus had taught them around himself as he advanced, meeting Alex’s attack head-on. “I chose this!”
In a final rush, Ron called upon every ounce of strength he had left, channelling it into his trident, which now glowed with a fierce, silvery light. He surged forward, a primal roar echoing in his throat as he thrust his weapon forward.
The trident pierced Alex’s chest with a sickening crack, and a stream of dark blood pooled around the shaft, drifting like black ink in the water. Alex gasped, clutching the trident, his twisted smile unfaltering as he grimaced in pain. And then, as Ron’s gaze bore into him, Alex’s face began to shift. The cruel glint in his eyes softened, and his hair shortened, darkened, as his features transformed. The face staring back at Ron was no longer Alex’s.
It was Merlin’s.
The revelation struck Ron like a tidal wave, his grip loosening in shock. Merlin’s eyes, wise and knowing, met his with a faint, almost apologetic grimace.
“Ronald Bilius Weasley.” Merlin said, gently laying his bloody hand over his. “Congratulations on completing your quest.
One last thing, Ron, remember you did not kill anyone with your actions here. If for some reason the other me does not talk to you further about this, promise me you will talk to a trusted adult.”
Ron nodded, whispering his response before he found himself standing before Godric Gryffindor, the book floating open before him and the bloody trident still in his white knuckled grip.