When the distinction between the realm of magic and the mortal domain was on the verge of blending, there lived a renowned wizard who has been recorded in the books of history by the name of Merlin the Great. There was hardly any need to prove his skills as the records regarding them were explicit as well as legendary and every person blessed with even a trace of magic skill was aware of his history.

It was said in truth, that there is also power in Merlin which can restore brightness and wisdom to a world that is surrounded by darkness. But the most phenomenal among all tales up until now, and which remains immortal in the hearts of many, was defeating Dark Litch. With the use of old and forbidden magic, this monster was created and was left to roam free, laying waste to the kingdoms built by men. This creature was later referred to as the eater of light as well as the corruptive force across thousands of innocents.

In front of him stood the Litch, its magnificent staff imbued with boundless power, clashing in battles that were colossally violent and devastating. Days raged with each of Merlin’s spells being responded to in kind by the creature’s dark and chaotic magic. Ultimately, however, it was not the crude force that sealed the fate of the Litch but rather, the observation, strategy and unmatched skill in the art of magic that belonged to Merlin. Using a spell that was too complex for few to understand, Merlin placed the beast into a crystalline carcass and trapped it inside of the Abyssal Vault.

But the reward was not without its punishment. It's been a decade since Merlin vanished for the world. Rumors went around that he succumbed to his wounds, retired to some distant land, or even died. But nobody knew, for Merlin the Great had always been an enigma.

Present Day

The sun filtered through the windows of a magical morning. The room was a chaotic blend of medieval charm and modern quirkiness, with shelves overflowing with spellbooks, a floating broom lazily sweeping the floor, and a cauldron bubbling on a sleek, enchanted stove. Among the chaos stood Merlin, his robe slightly frayed but his presence still commanding. Merlin was a tall old man, with long pony-tailed hair that had lost its colouring, a sharp beard reaching his chest, eyes of rare emeralds, body built that of a middle-aged man contrasting that of his unknown age. 

Merlin clenched his hands behind his back, his expression serious as he addressed his young apprentice, who stood before him with a mix of nervous anticipation and confusion. The boy’s pencil hovered over his notebook, ready to jot down every word that came out of the legendary mage himself.

“Listen well,” Merlin began

“for what I am about to impart is a lesson that will determine your success not only as a wielder of magic but as a human being. The stakes could not be higher!”

The apprentice’s eyes widened. “Yes Master, I’m ready for anything”

Merlin began to pace, his voice rising with a dramatic tone.

“There are three steps. These steps will test your precision, your patience, and your ability to follow instructions without question. Fail, and the consequences will be dire. Succeed, and you will be one step closer to understanding the very essence of magic.”

The apprentice scribbled frantically, his facial expression with focus. “I won’t fail, Master. What must I do?”

“Step one,” Merlin intoned, his gaze piercing, “Is the Separation. It may seem trivial, but in truth, it is the foundation upon which everything else rests. Without it, chaos will reign.”

The boy frowned but nodded, his pencil scratching against the page. Merlin’s tone left no room for doubt.

“Step two,” Merlin continued, his voice dropping to a sharp whisper, “Is the measure of Precision. Too much, and the balance will tip disastrously. Too little, and you invite ruin.”

The apprentice swallowed hard, his hand trembling slightly as he wrote. Merlin’s pacing quickened, his movements almost frantic as he gestured wildly.

“And step three,” he declared, spinning to face the boy, “Is the Vigilance. The smallest oversight, the tiniest lapse in attention, could undo everything. You must remain steadfast, your eyes ever watchful, until the task is complete.”

The room fell silent. The apprentice stared at his notes, his mind racing to piece together the cryptic instructions. Finally, he asked, “Master, what exactly are we doing? I’m not exactly sure what to make of this. Is it fire magic? Or Maybe some type of rare magic only the elites can use?”

Merlin paused, a sly smile tugging at his lips. With a dramatic flourish, he pointed to a nearby basket overflowing with robes and linens.

“Laundry, my boy. You’re doing the laundry!”

The apprentice froze, his pencil dropping from his hand, with a face containing confusion and disgust. “Laundry? All of this was… about laundry?”

“Indeed!” Merlin exclaimed, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Magic, my dear apprentice, begins with mastering the mundane. Now, to the laundry room—our true battleground awaits!”

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With a sigh of resignation, the apprentice followed the notebook abandoned on the table as the cauldron continued its lazy bubbling.

As he trudged behind Merlin, the boy couldn't help but let his thoughts wander. Laundry. Of all things, laundry. This is what my life has come to. He cast a glance at the overflowing basket in Merlin’s hands, a mix of irritation and resignation tugging at his features.

Not so long ago, I’d been the one weaving through shallow streets, slipping between shadows, and outwitting merchants for a loaf of bread or a coin purse. The streets were harsh, but they were familiar. Predictable. A place where survival meant quick hands and quicker wits. There, he had control—over me, my choices, and my fate. 

That all changed when I found this helpless old man stuck at the bottom of a well on the outskirts of the slumps. At first, I thought of him as a delusional person claiming to be Merlin himself, since he long vanished a decade ago there have been multiple attempts of others trying to pass elderly people has him.

After providing a means of aid, he thanked me while stroking his beard as if he meant to get stuck in there. He proceeded to invite me indoors for a cup of tea to thank me for my good deed and maybe award me with something in return.

I thought to myself, “What a stupid old man.”

As a street thief inviting someone like me inside only leads to disasters. In the middle of scheming and without much thought we were walking into the forest in the opposite direction of town. I’ve known these forests all my life, there isn’t anything out here. At last, we suddenly stop in the middle of the forest.

“This guy must be suffering from his old age, doesn’t even know where his home is. Best to let him be”, I whispered in my breath.

While turning around to head back to town. I caught a glimpse of the old man raising his hands to the sky as if he was planning on praying to God. The old man started speaking in odd words, maybe the old man finally lost it?

Suddenly the winds started to pick up heavily, the ground started shaking and the clouds spiralled in a singular direction, all towards the old man.

Suddenly, one of the trees with a large hollow started to glow, the old man started walking towards it. As he approached the sparkling tree, his figure started to disappear, and moments after he was completely gone. The hollow started to lose its light, and without thought, I ran towards to see where he vanished, the moment I came in contact with the tree a flash of light blinded me and just as my eyes were adjusting I was in someone’s home. 

I slapped my cheeks to check if I was dreaming or hallucinating about this series of events. I looked around and with much shock, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, the house was alive. Books, furniture, utensils and other homely objects you can name all moving on their own, and at the center of all the madness was him, the old man– sitting at a small round table drinking what I presumed to be tea. Could it be? Was he telling the truth all this time? Can it really be Merlin himself? 

He calmly gestured for me to sit across from him. As I sat next to him a floating tea cup made its way towards me and the teapot lifted and started to pour. For a bit there was a silence between us, I anxiously waited for him to talk but it didn’t look like he was going to.

“So….. you’re Merlin huh.” I awkwardly led out.

“So it seems that I am.”, He responded with a smirk on his face. He placed his teacup on desk and cleared his voice a minor cough. “What would you like for an award young man?”.

I didn’t know what to make of it. “What can I ask for” I hesitated to speak. 

“Anything that’s within my current ability” He replied.

Most people would ask for some type of wealth, power or fame, however I am different. Like they always say “Give a man a fish and you feed him for a day. Teach him how to fish and you feed him for a lifetime”. I rose from my chair and made eye contact with Merlin, as the house was encased with magical chaos I stood with confidence and declared what I wanted.

“Make me your apprentice,” I spoke while making my voice deeper. Waiting to get shot down, I started planning on other options for my award.

“Very well”, Merlin replied.

Thats it? Was it that easy to begin with? For the first time in my life, I presented myself with much respect by asking for something so grand. I can see my future now destined to be that of luxury and convenience.

Now you may ask? Now he was here, playing assistant to a wizard whose idea of a lesson was a laundry metaphor. And yet, deep down, he knew he didn’t any much of a choice.

“What was I expecting?” he murmured. “Some grand adventure? Mastering fireballs and summoning storms only one month in?” He almost chuckled at the absurdity of it. Magic, as it turned out, wasn’t just about spells and incantations—it was about discipline, patience, and understanding. Or so Merlin kept saying.

But still, it was better than what he’d had before. Better than nights spent shivering in alleys, wondering if the morning would bring another chance or just another disappointment. At least here, he had a purpose.

He glanced at Merlin, whose humming grew louder with each step, the basket of robes swaying with his stride. The old man was an enigma—sometimes brilliant, sometimes maddening, but always confident. Confident enough to make the boy wonder if there was some greater meaning behind all this.

“Maybe this is where I’m supposed to be,” he thought, gripping the edge of his robe. “Maybe there’s more to this than sorting robes and scrubbing stains.”

For now, he decided, it was enough. Enough to follow Merlin, to learn, and to see where this strange new path might lead. As he was in his thoughts, Merlin managed to set his robes on fire, 

“Maybe he’s just a helpless old man after all”.