Chapter 265: The First Dark Magic
On the withered grass within the frame, a very young-looking Merlin in a pointed hat patiently explained himself.
"You know me. I have always been cautious. How could I possibly tell a mere memory inside a portrait where I live?"
"And even if he told me back then, it has been a very long time. He would have moved. No one lives in the same place for years on end, right?"
He looked perfectly sincere, and his tone sounded genuinely convincing.
The woman opposite him only stared coldly and let a few words fall.
"I do not believe you. Where are you?"
"Why will you not believe me?" Merlin practically hopped with frustration. Beside him, Evans lounged against the sofa arm and took an easy sip of coffee.
For Merlin in the painting to end up in this situation felt well deserved. Evans had studied that portrait for ages while he was a student. If the Merlin inside had given him even a hint back then, he might have hesitated inside the pyramid rather than agreeing so readily.
Well then, Riddlers get what Riddlers deserve. Keep stewing.
He sipped again, feeling rather pleased, wishing it were something stronger than coffee so he could drink himself properly merry.
That said, the coffee was excellent. The beans were outrageously fresh, as if ripened, roasted, and ground just minutes ago, with a delicate fragrance lingering.
That boy, Marcus, had put in the effort. Pity he did not take Care of Magical Creatures. Evans could not cut him any favours.
Another sip, and Evans went back to enjoying the show.
An ancient magical drama like this was a treat. Whether or not he got useful information today, it was worth the price of admission.
In the frame, Merlin scratched at his hair and tried explanations one after another. No matter what he said, the woman only stared without expression. After he had talked himself hoarse, she responded with another "I do not believe you," which made him visibly uncomfortable.
At last, after three different attempts had gotten him nowhere, Merlin gave up and looked resigned.
"I was not entirely lying," he said. "I truly do not know exactly where he is now. At best, I have a rough idea of a few directions." Seeing the woman about to say she did not believe him again, Merlin quickly added, "Even if I refuse to say, you can guess it yourself. There are only a few places he could be."
"Arthur's tomb. The sea where Viviane dissipated. The ancient tree beside the place he was born. Or the site where your teacher is sealed."
"As for which one, I do not know. My link with him only reaches that far."
Hearing that, the woman did not repeat "I do not believe you." She lowered her gaze and thought.
It seemed this time she believed him.
Seeing her think, Merlin let out a slow breath. Even if he had revealed the general whereabouts of his true self, he roamed constantly, and she could not stray far from her sphere. She should not be able to find him.
Right?
Before he could relax for more than a heartbeat, a face slid into view at the very front of the frame, wearing a slightly mischievous smile.
"Finished your chat? Then is it my turn?"
At the sight of Evans's face beyond the frame, Merlin felt an inexplicable stab of irritation. The young man might be his successor, but if not for him, Merlin would not have suffered any of this.
He folded his arms and snorted.
"You cause trouble this big and still want hints from me? No. Go break the seal on your own."
After he said it, he took a closer look at the young man's expression and froze. There was no trace of disappointment there. Only a cold smile.
A disturbing possibility flickered through his mind. Merlin swallowed and looked toward the woman who still had not left the portrait, then asked with a slight tremor, "You did not come only to ask about 'me,' did you?"
"Mhm." The woman nodded. "I also promised him that until we find you for certain, I will help him obtain some of the information he needs."
Her voice sharpened, danger in it. "And just now, who did you call the big trouble?"
"This… well…" Merlin's eyes darted. He babbled a handful of unrelated topics, then pivoted and looked straight at Evans beyond the frame, hands spread.
"If you insist on knowing, I can tell you a little ahead of time. He never intended for you to break every seal before you learned the whole picture."
"Let me think. First, to be clear, I am only a memory left within the portrait to watch over a successor's growth. He may have left me far too much irrelevant memory."
"If you want details of his plan, I certainly do not know. But if you want to know why he chose you as the successor, I can share something." He glanced at the woman's face again. Seeing no change there, he continued softly.
"You know the definition of Dark Magic, do you not?"
"I do." Evans nodded. "Magic that uses the body, flesh, or soul as material. All Dark Magic exacts a price and carries obvious traits that are easy to recognise."
"Yes. When Hogwarts was founded, that was what Dark Magic had become." Merlin nodded, then glanced once more at the woman standing nearby in the image.
"But fifteen hundred years ago, before that dark era fell upon us, Dark Magic was not like that."
"The dark era?" Evans's expression grew more serious.
"Yes. The dark era." Merlin sounded reflective. "Before that time, there was no difference between Dark and White magic. Dark Magic was simply an intriguing branch of magic. Used properly, it could treat things that ordinary potions or healing spells could not."
"For example, injuries to the soul, congenital defects in the body, or certain extremely difficult diseases could be healed by Dark Magic."
"But when that era arrived, everything changed."
His tone carried a quiet sadness. Even the Dark Wizard King's expression dimmed a shade.
"Dark Magic ceased to be a branch of magic. It became a symbol of playing with life and soul. Its former positive effects twisted into offerings of body and even soul to achieve extreme ends."
"And all of this happened because one person stepped onto a path that should never have been hers."