Reincarnation of the Last Magus Emperor

Merlin sat quietly in Zara's modest quarters, his dreadlocks falling loosely over his shoulders as she worked on them with practiced ease. The scent of her herbal oils filled the room, the same blend she had used since the day they met—a mix of aloe, shea, and sandalwood. Zara's hands moved methodically, twisting his hair into neat sections with a care that reflected the depth of their bond.

Zara, now an Outer Court Deacon, had come far since they joined the Dawnsedge Sword Sect together nearly 15 years ago. She was a 3rd Circle Adept Realm mage, her strength and dedication respected among the outer court disciples. However, her talent had plateaued just below what was required for the Inner Court, leaving her to find her place in the sect's service rather than its hierarchy.

At 29 years old, the same age as Merlin, Zara carried herself with a quiet authority earned through hard work and a deep understanding of her limitations. Her light sun-kissed complexion and sharp brown eyes bore the legacy of her ancestors, the brave souls from the northern part of the southern continent who had fled the Demon-ruled lands 30 years ago. Zara's family had been among the first to survive the treacherous journey across the sea, and their resilience had been passed down to her.

As her hands worked through his hair, she glanced at him with a knowing smirk.

"You've been making waves again, Merlin. The entire outer court is buzzing about your sudden rise. Took you long enough."

Merlin chuckled, his voice carrying both amusement and a touch of gratitude.

"I'll admit, it's been a long time coming. But you're one to talk—you didn't give me a choice back then, did you? Dragged me here, lecturing me about ancestors and tradition like I was some lost child."

Zara rolled her eyes, though her tone held warmth.

"Because you were a lost child. Those wild, unkempt dreadlocks of yours were an embarrassment. To neglect your hair is to neglect yourself, and by extension, the ancestors. I wasn't about to let that slide."

Her words brought him back to their first meeting during his fifth year of stagnation. He had been at his lowest, directionless and burdened by his failure to progress. Zara, already a 2nd Circle Novice, had spotted him from across the training grounds and made it her mission to straighten him out—literally and figuratively.

"And so it began—ten years of you twisting my hair every six months like some sort of ritual."

"You're welcome, by the way. If it weren't for me, you'd still look like you just stumbled out of the wilderness."

They both laughed, the easy camaraderie between them a stark contrast to the tension and formality often found in the sect.

As she finished the last twist, Zara leaned back to admire her work.

"There. Now you look like someone worth talking about. But Merlin, you've got to be careful. All this attention you're drawing—it's not just the disciples watching. The elders and deacons are taking note, too. Some out of curiosity, others out of suspicion."

Merlin's expression turned serious, her words a reminder of the precarious position he was in.

"I know. But I can't let that stop me. I've wasted too much time already, Zara. This path I'm on—it's different from anything the sect has seen before. If I can master it, it might change everything."

Zara studied him for a moment, her gaze filled with both pride and concern.

"Just remember, Merlin, power alone isn't enough. You've got the strength now, but don't lose sight of who you are or where you come from. You've got people rooting for you, and some of us have been rooting for you since the beginning."

Her words struck a chord, grounding him as they always did. Merlin stood, his newly retwisted dreadlocks falling neatly down his back. He gave Zara a rare, genuine smile.

"Thank you, Zara. For everything."

"Don't thank me. Just make sure you live up to all this hype. And don't make me regret sticking my neck out for you."

Merlin nodded, the weight of her trust and their shared history settling over him. As he left her quarters, the conversation stayed with him. Zara had always been his anchor, a constant reminder of his roots and the strength of their people. Now, it was his turn to honor that legacy and prove that her faith in him hadn't been misplaced.

Merlin was just stepping out of Zara's quarters, the faint scent of sandalwood lingering in the air, when he noticed a figure approaching him at a brisk pace. Deacon Elias, the very man Merlin had sparred to a standstill just the day before, was weaving through the pathways with determination etched on his face.

Elias, a sharp-featured man in his mid-thirties, carried himself with the disciplined poise expected of a seasoned Deacon. His dark robes, embroidered with the insignia of the Outer Court, rustled slightly as he came to a halt in front of Merlin, his brow glistening faintly with sweat from his hurried pace.

"Merlin! Finally, I've found you. I've been tracking you all day. Do you have any idea how elusive you've been?"

Merlin raised an eyebrow, his expression caught between amusement and curiosity.

"I wasn't exactly hiding, Deacon Elias. What's so urgent that it's got you chasing me down like this?"

Elias sighed, taking a moment to steady his breath.

"Elder Korra has requested your presence. She has… questions for you."

At the mention of Elder Korra, Merlin's eyes narrowed slightly. He had heard her name mentioned more than once in the past few days. A formidable 5th Circle Master Realm mage and one of the few Southerners in the Inner Court, her reputation as a Fist Fighter Augmenter and her uncompromising demeanor made her a figure of both respect and caution.

"Questions? About what?"

Elias folded his arms, giving Merlin a measured look.

"Do I look like the kind of man Elder Korra confides in? All I know is that she took an interest in your sparring session and your sudden rise through the ranks. That, coupled with your… unique circumstances, has apparently piqued her curiosity."

Merlin's lips pressed into a thin line as he considered this. He had been aware that his rapid ascent would draw attention, but he hadn't expected it to come so soon—or from someone as prominent as Elder Korra.

"And what exactly did she tell you to say to me?"

Elias smirked, crossing his arms with a hint of satisfaction.

"Just that you are to meet her in the Outer Court Leadership Pavilion immediately. And Merlin—this isn't a request. Refusing an Elder's summons isn't exactly an option."

Merlin nodded slowly, his expression unreadable.

"Understood. Thank you, Deacon Elias. I'll head there now."

As Elias stepped aside to let him pass, Merlin felt the weight of the moment settle over him. Whatever Elder Korra wanted, it was bound to be important. And given her status, this could very well mark a turning point in his journey within the sect.

Straightening his posture, Merlin turned toward the Leadership Pavilion, his steps purposeful and steady. Whatever lay ahead, he would face it head-on.