The year: 2023

Lastshire: The Birthplace of Magic

[Marty's POV]

The fear in my master's eyes made my hands grow sweaty; blinking, I shook my head and replied, "No, I was standing right outside, though." I replied, contemplating if I was, in fact, where I thought I was the first time I had entered Lastshire. 

Master Merlin's visage darkened. "Marty, did the amulet grow warm?"

"Yes, it did. It was scorching hot for a few moments."

The high priestess looked stunned. A concerned look passed between her and my master. 

Meanwhile, Mistress Morgana's pupils dilated. "Merlin, is that what-"

"Mortal danger," my master interrupted; panicking, he turned towards the high priestess. 

"Merlin, it's a good thing you are here. The first thing we need to do is make sure no one suspects the gateway's location," the high priestess advised. She closed her eyes, and my friend, the magical firefly, appeared out of thin air. She fixed it with a firm gaze and commanded it in a language alien to me, "Jjavo jbenavo jjagah jrasta. Jsupa jno jwar."

It sounded gibberish to me. But wait, did the firefly nod!? 

"Young one, don't ever let your fear show on your face as Merlin did just now. By the way, I have ordered a false exit to be created; it will solve your predicament." Then smiling at my masters, Merlin and Morgana, the high priestess had commanded them, "Marty still has a few hours till he has to return to his life; there are things I need to tell him. Go back and help our people with the false exit."

As always, my masters had complied immediately and left us, the high priestess and me, alone, where, after telling me about Lastshire and the various magical creatures that called it home, she had told me something so baffling that I still found it hard to wrap my mind around it. 

"First of your ancestors were elves." She had said before glancing at me; my face must have done something amusing, for the next moment, she laughed, "Young one, is what I told you so unbelievable?"

I bobbed my head, "Well, it is, ma'am."

"Ah, yes. I guess it is; you were born and raised in a world where magic has no place," she sighed, "Nevermind, child. You will learn, and then you will see the light."

Soon, I had arrived back home (in the middle of the closet, to be precise). My masters, however, were nowhere to be seen.

'Marty,' 

Master Merlin's voice made me yelp and stagger back. I lost my footing and fell bottom-first on the coffee table. 

Oh, dear! 

'Get off, idiot; you are squishing my nose!' he reprimanded. Not wanting to annoy my masters more than I already had, I did as told immediately. Hoping they would not dwell on how I had ignored their presence earlier, I apologized. And before I could do or ask anything else, Master Merlin had taken over and made me memorize a list of dos and don'ts (well, mostly don'ts but whatever) now that I had 'touched' Lastshire's soil.

Clearing his throat, Master Merlin had said, 'One: don't trust anyone.' 

'Trust can be broken; you can't afford that, Marty.' Mistress Morgana had elaborated, as if reminiscing about a painful experience. 

'Two: Don't leave your dwelling- unless absolutely necessary- after midnight.' Master Merlin's words sounded like a warning. 

'Exactly!' Mistress Morgana had exclaimed, 'Your home is your castle, and its four walls were created to keep you safe. Marty, those with evil in their hearts are most powerful between midnight till the sun is in its 4th home. Do you understand, lad?'

Nope. I absolutely did not understand but did not have the guts to admit it to Mistress Morgana. 

'Three: do not, under any circumstance,' My master paused, 'Pay attention, Marty!'

How the hell had he guessed that I was drifting off? 

"I am paying attention, master," I replied, guilty. 

'Good. Now, as I was saying, do not reveal your true name to anyone; I could survive for so long because no one alive, except my parents and Lady Nimueh, knew my true name.'

Thanks to what the high priestess had told me not long ago, I understood what my master was trying to warn me about and bobbed my head confidently. 

'Number four: guard your heart well.' Even though I couldn't see my master, I could imagine his expression clearly: pursed lips, cold eyes, brows drawn close. 

I heard Mistress Morgana hum in agreement, 'Don't let anyone in your heart; don't love anyone more than yourself. Your priority is to-' 

'Morgana, it's not time yet; for now, he must concentrate on learning our craft,' my master interrupted. Even though I was curious to know what she had to say, I reckoned that the master was right. At the moment, my biggest challenge was to learn magic. 

'Lastly,' he sighed, 'though we are capable of magic in limited capacity here in Albion, our souls can't hold form outside Lastshire.'

'Merlin is trying to say that you will only be able to hear us, just like you did before you entered Lastshire."

I had many questions about what my masters had said but settled for asking the most pressing one of all, "What about my thoughts?"

'They will be your own. Things will return to how they were.'

Relieved to hear it, I left a breath I didn't know I was holding, "So, will you go back to being my coffee table?"

'Unfortunately, yes. Thanks to Merlin.' Mistress bit out. She obviously didn't like her present state.

'And how many times, pray tell, have I begged forgiveness for that mistake, Morgana?' Master retorted. I imagined him throwing his hands up. It's what I had seen him do when even after trying multiple times, I failed to understand his instructions and get results.

'It doesn't help! We are still stuck inside this tiny place, aren't we?' I heard Mistress growl. A moment later, lightning followed by thunder shook my home, threatening to knock it down. 

'For the love of Albion, Morgana, now is not the time!' Master begged. He was not unacquainted with Mistress Morgana's temper and knew that he had to calm her down before she added to my troubles. 'We will not be needed here much longer, remember? As soon as our work here is done, we can return to Lastshire and live out our days there.'

That was brand-new information! I knew I was expected to save Albion somehow, but I was still uncertain about how I was expected to do that. For now, all that anyone wanted from me was to learn magic. So when exactly were my masters going to retire? 

'Fine.' Mistress Morgana muttered. The rumbling of clouds outside my home stopped. The fight had gone out of her voice. 'You are right,' she said finally, and as silence stretched, I took it as a clue that I was dismissed. 

The worst part about this entire situation was that after slogging my butt off in Lastshire, I had to return home, wash up, stuff myself with whatever I could scrounge up, and immediately start with my day job. When I begged Master Merlin to give me a break, the sorcerer said in a solemn tone, "Keeping up pretenses is part of our lives. It helps us blend in and avoid suspicion. I did it with a smiling face, and so should you."

Then, to prove that not everyone had it as bad as me, I had unwisely asked if Mistress Morgana had a day job eleven hundred years ago. The reply had come to me as a slap on the back of my head, courtesy of Master Merlin. (I swear I feel stupider now than I did two weeks ago) Mistress Morgana, however, didn't seem offended at all. She smirked, flipping her long dark cascading locks over her shoulder, "I was a princess, remember. To act proper and look gorgeous was my day job."

Granted, I was never out of energy, and never once did I feel like I wasn't getting sleep (which I wasn't) thanks to my rejuvenating visits to the high priestess (the high priestess was like that one friend who the bullies were afraid of and didn't want to cross, thus making my life much easier) nonetheless, it felt like I was burning the candle on both ends and would soon run out of space inside my not-so-smart brain and fuck everything up. 

My troubles, however, didn't end there. According to what Master Merlin had told me before returning home, Dwight was not to be trusted, at least not enough to tell him the truth about the amulet and the coffee table. I knew now how significant the artifact was and how a slip on my part could hurt Lastshire. 

I was still unaware of the true purpose of the coffee table being cut in the middle like it was, but I knew that I needed to do everything I could to conceal its existence. 

The next day, Dwight had shown up in the café late in the evening with a dopey smile without notice; With his index finger wrapped in a bandage, he had gotten straight to the point. "You know, you left me in your home unattended, don't you?" His disarmingly goofy smile tugged at my heart. 

I nodded.

He thrust his index finger in my face and said with puppy dog eyes, "I hurt myself on the way out, you know? The least you can do is tell me the truth," he demanded offhandedly. 

I felt a pull to reveal all but held myself back, and an instant later, the stone of Erer around my neck heated up. Master Merlin had explained that it was a sign that either the gateway or I was in danger. 

Fear, like a tidal wave, washed over me. How could a man who looked like he wouldn't hurt a fly be capable of hurting anyone? It didn't make any sense. I noticed him subconsciously fidgeting with a ring on his index finger. I recalled that he hadn't been wearing one on the day we had met but was definitely wearing one last night. 

He seemed different somehow: more pushy. Thinking on my feet, I lied. "I am so sorry, Dwight. I had to rush to my mum's place and take her to the doctor. My step-dad was out of town, and she was panicking. In all that confusion, I just…I am really sorry that I didn't inform you. I will understand if you don't want to work on my window anymore," I lied. 

Dwight had hummed, "So, did you find the key, I mean, the way out of your apartment?" His interest scared me. 

I nodded, "Of course! How else do you think did I go to Mum's?" Chuckling on the outside and freaking out inside, I waited for him to go on, but he fell silent. 

"Dwight?" I called him; looking out of sorts, he asked, "So, how is she?"

"She is much better. Thanks." I smiled and pointed in the general direction of my mother's house. "I might have to stay over at hers tonight." I was running out of ways to lie; luckily, at the precise moment, the cafe door jingled open, letting in a group of giggling girls, and one of them bumped into another customer, creating a situation that needed my immediate attention. 

"Dwight, I got to go. As you can see," I said, turning away, "The café is doing a little too well. I guess the God of chance has finally started taking pity on us. How about you leave your number with Henkley? I will call you when I am free, Ya?" 

"Why don't you give me yours?" He had suggested, offering me his phone, and I complied. Even though my gut told me that Dwight was someone I could trust, Master Merlin had his doubts, and I trusted his judgment over mine. I needed to be careful who I let into my home. 

That night as soon as I reached home, I received a call from Dwight asking if he could come over to look at the window. I had asked if he could come over during the day, and he had accepted. 

It had been Master Merlin's idea to accept the invitation. 

"If you refuse his offer now, he will think you are hiding something. Welcome him into your home, but not your heart. Constant vigilance, lad. Constant vigilance." Master had warned even before Dwight had called and asked to come over. 

Come morning, with the help of my friend, the firefly, and other (invisible) beings the high priestess had sent, we had created a passage right next to the gateway (which was what I had always presumed to be the emergency exit inside the closet), on the other side of the closet wall. 

With the fake passage (that served the real purpose of getting me out of the apartment and into the alley at the back of the café) ready and operational, and the gateway's strong concealment magic in place, I had welcomed Dwight into my home.