There was no floor.
That was the first problem.
Merlin opened his eyes and was standing on nothing. Just a stretch of sky. Pale, overcast, too clean to be real. Below him, the world shimmered like heat rising from broken glass.
He wasn't falling.
Which made it worse.
'Alright. Cool. Not terrifying at all.'
He looked down. Then up. Then around.
No door. No edge. No sun.
Just… space.
And then a desk.
Out of nowhere.
A sleek black table appeared two meters in front of him. On top of it sat a stack of envelopes, a polished dagger, and a tiny glass of what looked like wine but absolutely radiated magical disappointment.
Behind the desk sat a man.
Thin. Sharp-featured. Wearing a perfectly tailored suit with gold stitching that moved when he blinked. His hair was perfect like it was made of gold, flowing perfectly.
His smile said he could sell you to yourself and you'd say thank you.
He didn't speak at first.
