The kitchen was bustling with activity and a warmth that extended beyond the room's hearth. Eager conversations intermingled with the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the buttery scent of warm bread. Yet, despite the almost familial atmosphere, three seats remained conspicuously empty: those belonging to Tower, Finnea, and Merlin.

As if summoned by the thought, Merlin shuffled into the room. His eyes, tired but cunning, darted around the room before he took a seat.

Adamastor poured him a steaming mug of coffee without a word.

"Anyone seen Finnea and Tower?" Baal asked, his eyes flicking toward the kitchen door as if expecting them to appear.

Merlin took a languid sip of his coffee. "Oh, I sent them on an old man's errand," he said, attempting to lock eyes with Nord, who was preoccupied with a slice of bread slathered in jam.

"They'll turn up when hunger does," Perdita interjected, rising from her chair to collect empty plates and idle silverware. "No need to worry."

Merlin, sensing his initial attempt to gain Nord's attention had failed, cleared his throat. "Nord, I could use your help with a little project of mine. A particular undertaking, if you will."

Nord sighed. "With what exactly? My day is pretty jam-packed."

Before Nord could elaborate, Baal swivelled his chair toward Merlin. "I've got time, old man. What do you need?"

Merlin looked at Baal, then back at Nord. "Ah, you see, it requires a woman's touch. Some delicate shelving needs a good... dusting."

Perdita, now standing by the sink, piped up, "Oh, I don't mind helping."

Nord interjected, "Perdita's already got her hands full."

"I could help—"

"No," Merlin's voice grew sharp, his eyes narrowing. He slammed his palm on the table, silencing the room. A moment passed, and his features softened. "I need you, Morningstar. Please."

Nord arched an eyebrow, her curiosity piqued. "Alright, I'll help."

The old wizard’s lips creased into a subtle smile. "Thank you."

Baal glanced at Merlin. Despite the old man's apparent victory, he'd barely touched his food, and he couldn't help but notice the tremor in Merlin's wrinkled hands. What, he wondered, was Merlin not saying? What was so important that it had the old wizard so on edge?

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The air was thick with stillness as Nord and Merlin found themselves alone in the shadowy recesses of the Tower. A gloom seemed to stretch in every corner, settling into the stone walls and weighing the atmosphere down.

"Why is it so dark here?" Nord asked as her eyes tried to pierce the darkness.

Merlin, hunched over, shuffled to the staircase and eased himself down onto a step. He sighed, "I think you're more aware of the reason behind this darkness than I am, young lady."

Nord frowned, her gaze darting to the vacant jars scattered around. "I didn't do anything," she protested, but her voice lacked conviction.

"Of course, you didn't... at least, not anything wrong," Merlin replied, his eyes locking onto hers. "But I suspect you haven't told your husband about it, have you?"

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Nord withdrew, her eyes tracing the outline of the empty jars. "So you know."

"The children informed me. They tried to protect Tower. Finnea even came up with a plan," Merlin shrugged, "though it seems even I am too old for some types of magic. It was a good idea on paper."

"Where are they? Tower and Finnea?" she asked, her voice tinged with urgency.

"You'll see them soon, sort of," Merlin waved his hand vaguely around the room, "once we address the, ah, jar situation."

Nord's face contorted, "What do you expect me to do? Pour my memories back into these jars?" Her voice was tinged with disbelief and a note of scandal.

"More like replace the light that was taken, as though it was never gone," Merlin suggested. "Look, it won't be long before Baal finds his way here. If he sees these jars as they are now..."

"He'll know," Nord interrupted, her voice dropping to a whisper. "And he can't. He just can't."

"Why not? That man would move mountains for you." Merlin looked puzzled, his eyes searching her face for clues.

"That's precisely the issue," Nord said softly, her eyes clouded with fear. "He would do anything, but the same goes for me. I would do anything for him. He cannot know. He cannot know what I know. And I'll make sure of it."

Merlin's eyes softened, and he tilted his head, "Do you have a solution for this unending darkness, then?"

Nord looked around, her eyes lingering on the forlorn jars. She began to mumble under her breath, "The Key of Terror, The Key to Pride, The Key of Command, The Key of the Tower, The Key of the Sun, the Sun..."

She paused and turned to face Merlin. "Yes, I have a spell to fix it."

As she knelt on the cold, stone floor, Nord pressed her palms flat against the surface. Closing her eyes, she took a deep, steadying breath. A shiver ran up her spine as she began to chant, her voice low but unwavering.

"I summon you, who shall give them light and blazing sky in their land. You smote their vines also, and their fig trees. You're spring as you are summer, you a star, and the day we'll die. Join my domain come to my aid, so it is decreed, for my words are carved into my being—Baal Berith!"

As her lips sealed shut, her eyes flew open. A radiant burst of light erupted from her gaze as if a comet had broken into fragments right in front of her. The light streamed toward the jars, filling each one with a glow that seemed to pulse and breathe. The emptiness that once occupied them was replaced by the bright, shimmering essence—each jar now a tiny sun of its own.

It was as though Nord had wept tears of pure starlight, filling the room with an ethereal glow that dissolved the shadowy darkness. The Tower came back to life, not just in light, but in spirit. Even the air seemed lighter as if the gloom that hung heavy before had been banished.

Merlin stood up from the stairs, his face etched with awe and a hint of relief. "You did it," he murmured, his eyes reflecting the newfound light.

Nord rose to her feet, her own eyes brimming with a myriad of emotions—relief, sorrow, and a hint of triumph. "Yes, but let's hope Baal never finds out that once again I tricked him."

Merlin nodded, his eyes meeting hers in a mutual understanding that some secrets are too heavy, even for love to bear.

The Tower, now imbued with a radiant light, seemed almost serene until a figure materialized from the lingering shadows. As he stepped into the glow, Nord's eyes met his, and she saw not the awkward teen in the pink shirt she once owned but a horned, tailed version of her first love.

"Baal..." The name escaped her lips as a whisper, and she felt tears stream down her cheeks.

Merlin, sensing the tension, gently draped an arm around her shoulders. "Come now, child. No tears. No one's dead. The young man before you is—"

"Tower and Finnea," she interrupted.

"Exactly," Merlin nodded, "Your deduction is far better than mine."

"I have so little time to prepare," Nord said, her gaze shifting to the young demon standing awkwardly before them. "What should I call you?"

"I don't have a name," he replied, his eyes pointed at his feet, seemingly unable to meet her gaze.

"Then what name would you like?" she pressed.

"I don't know. Any name is good," he mumbled, still avoiding eye contact.

"Daniel," she said, the name emerging almost spontaneously. Remembering Baal's favourite movie, Karate Kid, and why.

"Daniel? What does it mean?" he asked, finally looking up.

"Does it matter?" Nord replied, a faint smile forming on her lips.

"No, not really," he conceded.

"Do you like it?"

"Yes."

"Then you are no longer unnamed, Daniel," she said, her smile deepening for a moment. She turned back to Merlin, "Is there anything else you need me to do?"

"No, I believe that's it," Merlin said, the corners of his own mouth lifting in a subtle smile.

Without another word, Nord turned and walked out of the Tower, wiping away the remnants of her tears as she went back to the Morningstar.