2He doesn't regret running away from his home. She might've born him into this world but he knows his mother should be pale, sickly so. When he'd realized this, days ago, and he shed away his false form, black hair turned a bright white, pale skin drained of its already little color and his eyes.
He was quite proud of those. The whites of his eyes had been replaced, a blood red, and a void black for his iris and pupils. Gone were his lesser blue eyes.
Although, there was one thing he could no longer ignore after accepting his truer skin.
Mergo was alive but felt, in his heart, that he shouldn't be. He should be in his mother's (his real mother's) womb, as he had been for time untold. Or maybe he should've been stillborn? He's never been quite too sure. It was beside the point now. He was addicted to the state of living and was far from ready to abandon it.
In his time, a mix between building and wandering, he felt himself gravitating towards a place. A place that may truly let him learn. Give him answers. So he found himself in there. He wasn't quite sure how he'd managed it but he had no complaints.
"What are you doing here, child? Our halls are a place for the healing adults, not a child who should be with their parents."
She was a woman, dressed in yellow monk robes with a head shaved of hair.
"Why don't you have hair." He realized he didn't answer her question.
"Well, I haven't had hair for quite some time now." She didn't answer him in turn. He could tell it was intentional by her smile.
"Dreams."
"What is it about dreams that you want to know, child?" The woman squatted down, still above his eye level.
Mergo frowned at that; he wished he was larger. "Why is it that no one lingers when they dream? Their minds fisked off to places I don't know of?"
"Well isn't that a question?" The women smiled. "You're not like most children."
"I'm aware. I like it that way. Do you make a habit of dodging questions?"
This time she chuckled. "I've been found out so quickly. You're smarter than I gave you credit for. Do you have your father or mother to thank for that?"
"Maybe. My mother died before I was born and I never had much of a father. I did have this one man I humored but I grew tired of him. Now I'm alone. Although, I think you knew a lot about that already."
"I think I did too. What's your name child?" She stood up.
"Mergo, yours?"
"The Ancient One. Kamar-Taj will take you in - if you want to learn, that is?"
"Hm… No. I think I wouldn't like that."
And he was gone; whisked away to his dreamlands again. He believed it was teleportation in some fashion. An uncontrollable fashion. A quiet part of him thought that he ought to have accepted the offer for knowledge but he was loath to submit to any human. Especially not one who proved unhelpful in answering his questions.
A week's time and an interesting meeting would have his thoughts on the matter change.
Of a Dream Past
The Ancient One can confess to being a risk-taker. She knows that many prior Sorceror Supremes would've killed the boy for what he is. She, on the other hand, takes great joy in nurturing great sorcerers - or whatever the boy is.
"You're back." He'd come back after a week. She was curious at what he'd been doing in his time gone.
It was somewhat frightening. For all her expertise, her scrying spells can scarcely ever stick. Had it not been for the stone, she likely wouldn't have known anything about him.
And, even with that, she knew very little.
"I've come to learn."
That made her smile. "So you've reconsidered my offer?"
"No." She knew the answer to her question beforehand but she'd still hoped. "I will not be staying here but I will learn. Answer my question. Why are dreams wrong here."
She could tell the question was key to figuring what he was. "Well, your question isn't exactly correct."
"How? Explain."
She was wondering when his temper would flare. "Simple. The dreams you described, one week before now; that's how dreams are. A gateway to our alternate selves. I used to enjoy dreams myself."
"That can not be true." The red of his sclera began to spill out of its lining; dark stretches of blood beneath the skin about his eyes.
"What do you dream of then? I'd think you're dreaming up something amazing, seeing as those dreams led you to me."
At her question, he beamed as if his previous irritation was never there. "When I leave the Waking World, I enter my dream. A world built on blood and a sight that hides just beyond your vision. I dream of a plague suffusing the air with my essence. A world of my own making"
One could describe his next expression as radiant. "Don't let me get started on my castle. It's this nice thing with people - actual people! Granted I don't talk or see them much but that's not even the best part. I have a throne room. A lot of black, a lot of gold, and blood dripping every here and there. It's a marvelous castle for subjects."
He frowned. "I should've been prince of a dreaming world but no one dreams properly here. How can I be a prince without subjects?"
The Ancient One felt a drop of something fall on her forehead. She brought her hand to it and looked up, a pool of blood had formed on the ceiling.
"I don't believe you can. However, you can learn something new here. If not to be a prince, then to be a hero - food for thought. Come straight to me and I'll happily teach you."
"Hm. Like a teaching servant? They call those tutors I believe. Hm. Food for thought. I'll be off then."
When he was gone, she waved her hand and called a vial to take the blood.
She knew then, the plague he spoke of. For had a mundane man touched that blood, the infection would've got to them and had them turned beast. She'd need to study it.
No one could ever accuse The Ancient One of being unafraid to take risks.
Of a Dream Past
It was too late to kill the boy. A small part of her was relieved by that; killing children was always hardest.
Her duty no longer called her to kill him, in fact, it called her to protect him, give him sanctuary.
The plague would spread; by his will or not. It had suffused with the very lifeblood of the planet, the leylines unique to Earth's magic. A better Sorcerer Supreme might've been able to work with the leylines; purge them of infection. As it was, she wanted her magic near the leylines even less than she did the plague.
She was sure that the boy was spreading it intentionally but, as Sorcerer Supreme, she had to look at the big picture. By killing him now, she'd deprive their planet of the only reliable means of detecting the infected. Though she only uses 'reliable' tentatively.
"This infection has been running those in Kamar-Taj ragged. Have you still not figured out a reliable counter to this?" Kaecillius' inquiry drew a sigh from her. Her student had become increasingly confrontational ever since becoming a master.
"We can only do so much and, at the risk of sound cruel, this is not as horrible as you seem to believe."
"Please, enlighten me then. For months you've left this issue to the students as if it is not serious. Is it not our responsibility to protect the people from magics like these?"
They were honeyed words used to provoke a reaction; he only felt that same call to duty occasionally. However, she did have a semi-sufficient answer.
"Matters of the infected are no longer our concern."
"Pardon?" He was, evidently, dumbfounded.
"There are parties better suited for this. Scarcely do these infected change beyond the point where non-magical means can't handle them."
People, primarily in Canada, going rabid. Devolving into beasts, not just mentally but physically. They'd turn into any manner of beast, from wolves and pigs to lions and elephants.
It wasn't great enough to incite too much attention but it was magical enough that most in Kamar-Taj didn't want it to be known by the wilder world.
Luckily, there were many groups better suited for this.
"As is, there are many groups aware of our broader world who've made it their goal to stop these infected. In the same manner that we do not hunt down werewolves and vampires, we won't actively pursue these infected."
His brows drew inward, displeased with her response. "This sort of event is unprecedented. I can't simply allow this to pass-"
"You forget yourself, Kaecillius." He paled. "You've only been a master for a year. Try to remember how long I've been one."
She sighed. That had come off harsher than she intended but her nerves had been wracked ever since Mergo's interference started clouding what she'd be able to see with Eye of Agammoto.
"Events like these are not unprecedented. Not in the times before my becoming Sorcerer Supreme nor in my time acting as one. There are mystical defenders outside of Kamar-Taj and we are extending ourselves to matters that fall under others' responsibilities. I will say no more on this topic."
She walked off but she knew that she would betray her words with her actions. She would not stop monitoring Mergo to the greatest of her abilities.
She pities whoever assumes the mantle when she dies. Hopes that they'll develop the stomach for work because, for her, the hard decisions never became easier.
Of a Dream Past
"May I take my pick from your sanctuary's halls?"
Over time, Mergo would come by again and again. As such, he would learn.
However, he never took to the Mystic Arts in a conventional sense (he was still plenty mystical without sorceries). He always considered them beneath him, arrogant as he was.
The Ancient One looked into the boy's inquiring eyes and sighed, deciding to answer his question.
"Unfortunately no. Artifacts are exclusive to those who actually deign to learn our sorceries."
His cheeks puffed up and she could easily see his displeasure.
Was he smart? Yes. Peculiar? Without a doubt. Strong? Scarily so but he was also still a boy.
She'd looked into this meeting multiple times with the Eye of Agammoto, the boy would have an alternative.
"You could look into our archives. If you desperately want an artifact, you could try claim some for yourself. There's a story behind each artifact that comes into our halls. Even if we don't know all those stories, we do know plenty and we know many more of stories that have yet to grace our halls."
He tilted his head. "Curious. Yes, that sounds just right. Your artifacts would probably be too flimsy for my tastes anyways. I'll be in the library if you need me."
Blood promptly spread from beneath his feet, forming a pool that he summarily sunk into. The blood disappeared soon after.
It always made her smile in satisfaction. The blood he used never carried that nasty plague anymore but she did still practice caution.
Just because he'd learned how to separate sickness from blood doesn't mean he'd forgotten how well the 2 form together.