Chapter Text
There was a time when magic was once abundant throughout the land. It was a joyous gift that was celebrated and treasured beyond belief. Children who were born with magic were the greatest treasures of their villages, praised and delighted beyond belief. But those times were long ago.
One day a man appeared. He preached of the Sun God, the one true god who looked upon all and called them His children. This god was not like the collection of gods and goddesses the people worshiped, the distant ones. He cared truly for His children.
The teachings spread across the land, from mouth to ear until the old ways were forgotten. The people worshiped the Sun God and built temples and churches to His glory. The priests then began to spread whispers of the dangers of magic, telling of how magic was dangerous and twisted, not to be trusted. The people who blindly worshiped the Sun God believed these lies and so began the hunts.
Anyone found to have magic or harbor those who did were killed. There were no trials, there was no mercy, just death. Monsters began to appear in the forests, fear spread throughout the lands. The priests began to place harsher and harsher rules upon the people, restricting all access to anything magical. Books were banned, gathered and burned to keep the whispers of magic quiet. For many years this was the way things were.
Until one day, many years later, a little boy was born in the town of Elador.
He was a small thing, with no father and only a mother to look after him. His mother Hunith was stunned to see gold in his eyes when he was born.
"My poor boy," she whispered, tears streaming down her cheeks, "My poor dear Merlin..." For her child was born with magic in his veins.
Merlin grew up differently than all the other children in his town. The parents originally warned their children not to play with him because he was the bastard child, the son of the town whore. But their horror only grew when Michael threw a rock at Merlin one day and in retaliation the little boy's eyes flashed gold as the wind knocked Michael down.
"Magic," the townspeople whispered, "Do you see? Hunith has not just born a bastard, but a demon cursed with magic as well!"
"He is a curse upon us."
"We should hand him over to the Church to deal with. Or call upon the guards."
"He should never be born."
Merlin, still just a babe at the age of seven, ran crying to his mother in the face of the townspeople's cold words. Burying his tear stained face in her skirt, Merlin continued to cry and cry through the night. "What's wrong with me Mama?" He'd whimper as his mother held him close, "Why am I broken?"
"You're not broken," Hunith would announce holding her child close, as if it would protect him from the cruelty of the villagers, "You are perfect just the way you are. Trust me Merlin, you're destined for great things, I know you are."
Merlin would just cry harder and cling to his mother. "I just want to be normal," he'd plead, "I just want to be able to play with the other children and have friends! I don't want to be special!"
"No one wants to be special," Hunith told him gently pressing a kiss to her son's forehead, "But the world needs special people, and sometimes it's hard. Sometimes it's scary. But they make the world a better place."
Merlin smiled weakly and for a while mother and son were happy. Sure, the townspeople still whispered and cursed and spat on Merlin, but he had his mother and that was all that mattered. They lived in their little hut on the outskirts of the village and they were content. Merlin went from a child to a young man, gentle and kind always willing to help his neighbors when they needed it. Many still looked at him with distrust, but a few would comment on how sweet and gentle Merlin was and how he could never hurt a fly.
Merlin would just blush at the praise and ignore how his mother smirked. His life was beginning to look up.
This is where the story of Merlin stops for many years. One day he was talked about by many people, the strange boy who was so helpful, and the next he was gone. Just like Elador. It was a traveler who found it one day. He had gotten lost and stumbled upon the ruins of a small town.
He stood horrified gaping at the burned structures of houses and the piles of corpses around him. His eyes were especially trained on the only living being, a young man curled up beneath a blackened tree by a single grave. His fingers were covered with dirt, his nails broken and cracked. Tears streamed down his soot stained face as he blankly watched the traveler approach him.
"What happened here?" The traveler whispered, eyes wide and full of fear, "What sorcery did this?"
"Sorcery?" The survivors voice was a weak croak, "It was not sorcery that did this. No, it was the cruelty of men. The cruelty and stupidity of you people and how you must take and destroy all you understand!"
The traveler cowered from the survivor, afraid as the charred man stumbled to his feet eyes shining gold as he yelled. "A demon," the traveler hissed, cowering in fear, "You did this to them demon! Do not lie about such an act!"
And the survivor's face screwed up as if he would cry before he threw his head back and laughed, long and hard. "Yes, I did this to them," he hissed voice as broken as his soul, "Let the news traveled far and wide, a demon brought a curse upon this town."
The traveler took a fearful step away, "And what is the name of the demon who committed such an act?"
"Emrys," the survivor whispered to the still air as the traveler fled for his life, "Tell them this was caused by Emrys."
And many days later, the traveller returned to the town with the Knights of the Church to catch and burned the demon. But when they arrived there was no one present in the town. No one except for the line of graves carefully made in the center of what was once Elador. None of them noticed the grave in the back of the town that had a single sprig of statice resting on the line grave, no doubt placed by loving hands long ago.
"It must have fled into the woods," one of the knights called, "Send a warning out to everyone that there is a demon lurking in the woods and to be on guard."
And so it came to pass. Everyone searched and waited for Emrys to reveal himself, so he could be cleansed with fire for his crimes. But as the years passed, rumor came that one of the monsters no doubt ate him. So the tale turned to story, and story turned to legend, and Emrys and Elador were forgotten as the world turned on. Emrys would have remained a legend, if not for the fateful actions of a young prince some years later.