Extra To Protagonist

The chamber didn't echo. That would've made it easier, if sound bounced, if the stone argued back. But it didn't. It swallowed. Whole. Like the memory it just fed Merlin. And like the demand that came after.

No questions.

Just requirement.

[Sacrifice Required: One Life for Seal Integrity.]

[No bypass. No delay.]

[Time Remaining: 03:14]

Merlin blinked once. Not to clear his eyes. Just to ground himself back in the moment. His breath fogged faintly.

The air hadn't changed, but it tasted different now, too still. Like every molecule had turned to glass.

Elara's voice came first. "What did the memory say?"

She wasn't whispering. Not anymore. Whispering made it sound like hope still had room. She just asked, calm and cold, like someone who'd already counted the exits and found none.

Merlin didn't answer right away.

He looked past her, to the crystal. Still glowing. Still humming. Still expecting. It had given him a god's last memory.

The broken exile. The child forged into a weapon, screaming silent through centuries of layered grief.

It had shown him the wrongness of survival.

Now it wanted balance.

A life.

To seal the memory it had let out.

[Observer Count: 54]

[The Smiling Witness leans forward.]

[The First Lawkeeper remains silent.]

[The Nameless Clockmaker has paused the countdown.]

"Merlin." Nathan again. Steady voice. But his jaw was tight.

Seraphina had already drawn her stance closed. Not drawing a weapon. Not yet. But not unarmed, either.

Her weight shifted to her back foot. Readiness wrapped around her like cloth.

Dion looked between them all. His fingers grazed the edge of his collarbone, like someone reaching for a hidden tether. "What does it want?"

Mae spoke before Merlin could. "We felt it. You don't need to say it."

She looked at him. And her expression had none of her usual defiance. Just quiet resignation. "It's asking for someone."

Merlin gave a slow, hard nod.

Nathan stepped forward. Not fast. Just enough to bring him even. "It said someone, or it said a name?"

"It doesn't work like that."

"Then who chooses?"

"Me."

His voice didn't raise. Didn't break. It just fell into the chamber like a stone that refused to bounce.

Mae exhaled. Not relief. Just preparation.

Dion spat to the side, not near anyone, just to cut the taste of silence from his mouth. "You?"

Elara's hand twitched once. Then stilled.

Seraphina spoke, cool as frost. "We should vote."

"No," Merlin said.

Her gaze sharpened. "You don't trust us?"

"I don't trust them to wait."

[Time Remaining: 02:39]

He turned, slow, to face the memory seal. The pulse behind it had changed. He could feel it in his ribs now—not magic, not pressure. Just that thick, quiet kind of weight. Like drowning in still water.

Mae took a step toward him. "If you say a name, Merlin—"

"I'm not going to."

Nathan frowned. "Then what are you going to do?"

Merlin didn't answer.

His hand slipped to his belt.

They didn't realize what he'd decided until he turned.

Not running.

Not moving fast.

Just walking toward the crystal.

The others moved at once.

Seraphina reached for his wrist. Nathan blocked her.

"Don't."

"What the hell are you—" Mae's voice rose, sharp, panicked.

"I've already seen it," Merlin said. "I've already carried it. It's mine to end."

[The Crownless Mother shifts.]

[The Judge with No Mouth opens one eye.]

[Observer Count: 58]

[Time Remaining: 01:54]

Elara stood in his path.

Not close enough to touch him. Just in the way.

"No."

Her voice was soft.

"You think you're the only one who wants to protect them?"

"I don't want to protect them," Merlin said.

He met her eyes.

"I want to pay the bill."

Dion stared at the floor, then at the seal, then back at Merlin. "And what if that doesn't end it?"

"Then I die. And it takes the next one. And the next. And the next."

"You're not solving anything," Mae said, voice cracking. "You're volunteering to be the first brick."

Elara didn't move.

Neither did Merlin.

They were two weights on opposite ends of a string, one old, one steady. Neither willing to let it snap.

Then Nathan stepped between them.

He didn't say anything.

He just reached out and shoved Merlin hard across the chest.

Not to hurt him.

Just enough to stagger him off balance.

Merlin stumbled back two steps, boots scraping stone.

Nathan turned to the seal.

Stepped toward it.

[Time Remaining: 01:23]

Merlin's voice caught. "Don't."

"I don't remember you," Nathan said, eyes forward. "But that means I also don't owe you."

He stepped closer.

"That's not how it works—"

Nathan looked at him. And this time, there was no blankness. No politeness. Just fire.

"No. That's exactly how it works."

He turned to the crystal again.

"Because if I did remember you? I'd still do this."

[The Devourer is watching.]

[The Nameless Clockmaker lets time run.]

[The Messenger is silent.]

Merlin's hand clenched into a fist. "Nathan—"

And then Elara moved.

Fast.

Too fast.

She slammed the flat of her palm against Nathan's shoulder, spinning him back away from the seal with a precision that looked like instinct but was choice.

He didn't fight her.

She turned on Merlin. "We're not playing the noble sacrifice game. Not here. Not again."

[Time Remaining: 00:59]

Mae stepped forward. "Then who?"

Seraphina's voice came calm.

"Me."

They turned to her.

She looked back at them like she had when she was in the labyrinth, unflinching. Bloody. Willing.

But not volunteering.

Just accepting.

"I'm not the smartest," she said. "I'm not the kindest. I'm just the one who always knew I'd be the cost."

Merlin's throat burned.

"I won't let—"

"You don't get to let," Seraphina snapped.

She stepped forward.

The seal flared.

And for a moment, the chamber wasn't stone.

It was memory.

A memory made of gods and pain and echoes that couldn't die.

The seal whispered in Merlin's mind.

Not in words.

Just names.

All of theirs.

And one was missing.

Hers.

Then—

[Sacrifice Denied.]

[Submission Not Accepted.]

Silence.

[Time Remaining: 00:41]

Seraphina blinked.

"What? Why is nothing happening?"

[The Smiling Witness has chosen.]

[The Devourer abstains.]

[The Judge with No Mouth speaks:]

["Only the weight that breaks the scale is counted."]

Everyone turned to Merlin.

Because only he heard it.

And he understood.

He was still holding the memory.

Still carrying it.

The exile's weight.

Not Seraphina.

Not Elara.

Not Nathan.

Him.

Only him.

[Target Acquired.]

[Sacrifice Accepted.]

[Seal Complete.]

And the crystal shattered.

—

It hit like nothing. No pain. No pressure. No drama.

One blink.

Then silence.

Merlin didn't feel the ground when he fell. His knees folded, and his body followed, but he wasn't there to notice it. The air left him, but it didn't hurt. It just stopped being his.

No sound.

No color.

Then—

[You have left the domain of the living.]

[The Door Opens.]

[The Messenger folds their hands.]

[The Broken Herald leans in.]

[The Devourer whispers: "It's too early."]

Merlin opened his eyes.

He was standing.

But not upright.

The ground curved under his feet, jagged, unnatural, made of something that wasn't stone, wasn't metal.

Like black glass cracked in twelve directions and stitched together by ash.

The sky, or what passed for it, was a vast, unmoving expanse. Not night. Not void.

Just a presence overhead that pressed down without weight. Pale lines moved across it like veins under stretched skin.

It wasn't cold.

But he shivered.

Not from fear.

From memory.

Not his.

Someone else's.

It rippled under his skin, centuries deep, carved with names he didn't recognize and scars he hadn't earned.

The soul-memory. It wasn't dormant anymore. The exile's past stirred like something alive.

Merlin took one breath.

It tasted like rust and forgetting.

He turned his head.

The underworld wasn't fire or brimstone. It was ruins.

Vast and half-swallowed by silence. Towers collapsed into their own shadows. Bridges that began and ended mid-air. Statues melted into shapes too vague to pray to.

And at the center—

A door.

Tall.

Closed.

Fractured through the middle like it had been broken from both sides.

[The Nameless Clockmaker watches.]

[The First Lawkeeper has stopped writing.]

[The Smiling Witness waits.]

Merlin stepped forward.

He didn't ask where he was. He already knew.

This wasn't the death-sleep. This wasn't punishment.

It was a threshold.

One the exile had crossed once.

And left something behind.

The door didn't move when he reached it.

But a shape stood before it now.

No features. No clothes. Just the outline of a body, burned into the stone like a shadow caught mid-scream. It turned, slowly. Its face was a blur. Its eyes, none.

But its voice, when it came—

—was his own.

"What did you take?"

Merlin didn't flinch. "What you gave."

"It wasn't meant for you."

"It is now."

The shape cocked its head. Not birdlike. Just… curious.

"Then prove it."

The door behind it creaked.

Not open.

But listening.

And under Merlin's skin, the exile's pain stirred again, louder now. Whole lifetimes burned out for defiance. Buried names. A city shattered and rebuilt by hand. A child once saved, then forgotten.

And through it all—

One choice repeated.

Stand. Or kneel.

The figure raised one arm.

A blade materialized from its palm, thin and black and shaking like a thought too sharp to hold.

Merlin didn't reach for a weapon.

He stepped forward.

One step.

Then another.

And said, low:

"I'm not you. But I know what you lost."

The shape didn't answer.

The blade didn't fall.

But the door behind it cracked again.

And the gods—

[The Messenger leans forward.]

[The Crownless Mother looks away.]

[The Devourer stirs.]

—waited.

And in the silence of the underworld, Merlin stood without defense.

And remembered.