[Location: Camelot – Lower Citadel, Evening]
Camelot was quieter after sundown. The clang of forges had dulled to distant echoes, and the smell of steel and smoke hung in the air like a memory that refused to leave. Lanterns along the narrow stone corridors flickered against the chill, painting the castle walls in uneven gold.
I adjusted the dark cloak Gaius had lent me — still damp from the evening drizzle — and slipped down the back stairway toward the old practice courtyard.
Merlin had mentioned it was where he sometimes went to… "test things."
That was good enough for me.
For three weeks, I'd focused on the Merlin circle method — the one Balthazar had once drilled into my skull in another world. A system of internal feedback loops using geometric focus and mana compression. Simple, efficient… in theory.
In practice?
My fingers still burned from the last failed discharge.
Gaius called it mana instability. I called it improper field collapse. Same thing — too much energy, not enough control.
The problem wasn't creating power. It was shaping it.
Like trying to catch lightning with your bare hands.
[Location: Camelot – Old Training Courtyard]
The courtyard was half-forgotten — a ring of crumbling stone walls and training dummies worn to splinters. Above, the towers loomed like silent sentinels.
No one came here now. That made it perfect.
I set the small brass focus plate on the ground. A personal project — recycled from scrap armor and alchemical wire. Gaius thought I was fixing hinges for him.
I wasn't.
I closed my eyes. Felt the quiet hum beneath my skin — the faint vibration of Quantum Mana, as I'd named it. My own energy, oscillating between worlds like static caught between two radio channels. It didn't feel like the magic of this world. It was colder, sharper… less emotional, more mechanical.
I drew the circle in the dirt — three intersecting triangles, then a stabilizing loop at the base.
The Merlin circle, refined.
My goal was simple: direct energy, release, and dissipate. A controlled burst — not a collapse.
I whispered the incantation I'd built from fragments of Balthazar's lessons and what I'd observed of Merlin's spell structures:
"Ignis minor, forma stabilis."
A faint spark leapt between my fingertips.
Then another.
The sigils flared, briefly holding shape before flickering out.
Progress.
"Not bad," came a voice from the shadows.
I turned sharply — mana pulsing instinctively to my palm — but the figure who stepped forward wasn't a threat.
It was Merlin, hands raised, a crooked smile on his face.
"You nearly set my cloak on fire last time. Thought I'd see if you'd managed to avoid burning down the castle this week."
"Almost," I muttered. "Still figuring out containment."
He crouched, studying the half-formed circle. "That's not any spell I've seen before."
"It's… a different structure. Uses energy compression instead of direct release."
Merlin tilted his head. "You sound like Gaius when he's explaining how to fix a boiler."
"Guess that's a compliment."
He laughed softly, then looked more serious. "You should be careful. Uther's men are getting jumpy again. Someone claimed to see a light from the citadel's east wing last night."
I nodded. "Noted."
He hesitated a moment, then added, "Arthur's been training the new recruits in the upper court. You might want to stay clear. He doesn't like strangers wandering near the armory."
"Wouldn't dream of it," I said, brushing dust from my gloves.
Merlin watched me for another second, as if trying to decide what kind of person I really was. Then he smiled again.
"You'll figure it out. Just don't blow yourself up."
He left as quietly as he'd arrived, the sound of his boots fading into the mist.
[Later That Night – Gaius's Chambers]
When I returned, Gaius was already asleep in his chair, a half-empty mug of tea cooling beside him.
The candlelight cast deep shadows across the shelves lined with herbs and vials. I sat by the window, notebook in hand, and wrote:
"Energy response stable for 3.2 seconds. Output contained but inefficient. Circle symmetry improving. Need better emotional anchor — like Merlin said, intent matters."
I stopped writing when I heard it — the faint sound of footsteps on the upper landing.
Not heavy, not armored.
Light. Careful.
A moment later, the door creaked open, and Morgana Pendragon stepped inside, lantern in hand.
Her green eyes swept the room, sharp and curious, landing on me before anything else.
"Oh," she said softly, surprise quickly masked by composure. "I didn't realize Gaius had taken another apprentice."
"Not officially," I said, standing. "I'm just… assisting."
She smiled slightly. "You don't look like a healer."
"I'm not," I admitted. "I study energy."
"Energy?" she repeated, intrigued. "You mean… alchemy?"
Something in her tone suggested she didn't quite believe that.
Her gaze lingered on my gloves — the faint blue glow still fading at the seams.
I shrugged, giving the safest half-truth I could. "Let's just say I'm experimenting with… different kinds of focus."
For a moment, the silence stretched. Then Morgana's expression softened — curious but not hostile.
"Well, whatever it is you're doing," she said quietly, "be careful. In Camelot, curiosity can be dangerous."
She turned to leave, her lanternlight painting gold across the shelves as she stepped into the hall.
And just before the door closed, she added,
"Still… I'd like to see your experiments sometime."
When the door clicked shut, I sat back down, pulse steady but mind racing.
Another variable. Another risk.
Still, a part of me couldn't help but smile.
Camelot was full of people hiding pieces of themselves.
Maybe I'd found one who understood that better than most.
[Author's Note]
In this chapter, we begin to anchor Ren fully in Camelot's world — three years before the events of Merlin Season 1. The tone stays grounded, focusing on the scientific adaptation of magic and Ren's first practical progress in offense-based spellwork. Morgana's introduction marks a key emotional thread for the coming chapters, as both she and Ren start to mirror each other — two secrets hiding in the same castle.