Merlin's Curse

[WP] "If you fools would use magic so, then the world is better off without it." And so Merlin raised his hands to the heavens and cast the Final Spell, sending all the mana of the world into the void and permanently reshaping the leylines into unusability.

*****

As Merlin cast the Final Spell, all the world’s magic shot into the sky, rendering it an unnatural and pure blue, bleeding through even into tightly closed eyes. The heavens shook, and the earth quaked, for there was no stopping the arcane avalanche from tearing through each and every leyline, siphoning each drop of magic like a famished, unmannered hound.

And even through it all, one could hear the shrill shrieking of Morgana. Her knees buckled, and the witch unceremoniously collapsed onto the ground of the grassy knoll. Haunted eyes turned towards the skies, and she bemoaned her loss of power.

And even through it all, Merlin smiled in complete peace and quiet. He stood firm, admiring the bizarre blue that occupied all his vision. And he could feel his power slipping away, little by little. First, the sluggish shifts of groundwater turned into a trickling tap. Then, the rushing stream joined with the mouth of a roaring river. Even then, it took a while for oceans to drain.

“Merlin!” Morgan wailed, a banshee lost in the night. “What have you done?”

“I have ended this era of magic,” Merlin said calmly, pacing towards the witch

Morgana held up a hand, furiously incanting at Merlin. The magic built in her palm, but struggled to hold its shape, like a handful of fine sand—and it quickly fizzled out right there. She turned the trembling hand towards herself, and whispered.

“You’ve ruined us both, you miserable grouch. Neither of us can survive without magic.”

Merlin smiled, like serene sunlight shining out of a weathered face.

“Ah, but that’s not quite true, is it?” Merlin said. “It is an empirical fact that you’ve never lived without magic, Morgana. But you have never needed to. Things have… changed.”

Morgana stayed on her knees. She didn’t bother to get up. Instead, she pounded both fists into the ground with impotent frustration.

“Magic,” Merlin continued. “Is a curse on mankind. I’ve learnt that now. It drives us to be power-hungry fools. We call ourselves higher beings because we understand a modicum of the arcane, and yet are reduced to base animals when confronted with problems. Once man discovers magic, they inadvertently channel all their solutions through it for even the most impractical of tasks.”

“I’ll strangle you, old man,” Morgana said.

“I doubt you have the strength in your arms,” Merlin laughed. “You seemed like the sort that would clean your abode with a flick of a wand, instead of your own hands.”

Morgana stayed quite for a long while, before offering a hushed whisper.

“It was the best of me.”

“It was not,” Merlin said. “We were friends once. And perhaps got even closer as enemies. Your mind have always been your best asset, but magic turned it dark in your desperate pursuits for power.”

“Men will continue to chase power,” Morgana hissed. “Nothing will change.”

“Ah, but they will not be able to throw fireballs any longer,” Merlin said. “I find that to be a substantial change.”

The old wizard turned towards the sky, muttering under his breath. A small fireball careened from the top of his staff into the sky, bright red quickly disappearing into blue.

“It is a good feeling. I’ll miss it,” Merlin smiled wryly. “But not as much as I’ve missed a friend.”

Merlin gently sat down beside the kneeling Morgana, placing his staff to the side. He took off his hat, gingerly placing it atop his weapon.

“The world is better off without magic,” Merlin said.

“Fool,” Morgana said. “Will you not kill me? Your mana has not depleted.”

“I don’t think I will,” Merlin said. “No more magic.”

“You’ll let me live?”

“I’m not letting you live,” Merlin said. “I’m hoping you’ll choose to. An experienced rogue cannot understand magic, but even an untrained witch can wield a knife.”

Morgana cracked a brief smile. It was still easy to feel the cold, hidden metal resting against her calves. One arm surreptitiously reached down, pulling a small dagger out from her boots.

“And you’ll die for that,” Morgana said, spinning towards Merlin.

The knife clattered onto the ground. Morgana watched Merlin, awash in a blue glow, slowly turning more and more translucent.

“I have lived centuries,” Merlin said. “I am more magic than man. I hoped for a while that I might remain, but seems that the Final Spell will take me too.”

Merlin turned towards Morgana, eyes flitting towards the dropped knife.

“I hope you’ll consider my words, Morgana,” Merlin continued. “It might mean little coming from me, but we, of all people, know how powerful words can be.”

Merlin stood up, and dusted off his robes. He waved, and the last particles of the once-great wizard faded into the sky.

And Morgana knelt, alone on the grass, with Merlin’s staff and hat still untouched on the ground. She let her legs give out from beneath her, and fell back onto the grass. She clutched the hat tightly.

“Fool,” she whispered to the sky.