Merlin watched John for a long moment, studying the young man's expression, the quiet confidence that sat behind his eyes. The flickering glow of the lanterns in the chamber cast long, wavering shadows across the stone walls, and for the first time in many years, Merlin felt an unusual tension inside his chest—an unease that came not from danger, but from realization.
If John knows about the masked man… then Eric must have told him. But Eric swore never to speak a word of it…
The thought rattled him, and his eyebrows furrowed into a taut line.
Finally, unable to restrain himself, Merlin asked in slow, cautious tones,
"John… cómo sabes sobre aquel mago enmascarado de la antigüedad?"
John's lips curved into a wide grin—bold, reckless, and strangely mature. He tilted his head slightly, letting out a deep chuckle.
"Hahaha… that's a secret, Uncle Merlin."
