Chapter Text
The air in Merliah's bedroom felt heavy, not with sadness, but with the weight of a thousand lifetimes pressing against the walls of a "normal" world. She sat at her vanity, tracing the familiar lines of her face—the same face that had worn crowns, felt the brush of butterfly wings, and tasted salt spray as a princess of the sea.
In this life, she was just Merliah. No kingdoms to save, no spells to break, and no one who could truly understand why she knew how to parry a rapier or calm a pegasus.
"I've seen so much," she whispered to the quiet room, her eyes drifting to the vintage, silver-framed mirror on her wall. "But I've never seen something new. Please... I want an adventure that isn't a repeat. I want a world that needs me as much as I need it."
As the final word left her lips, the glass didn't reflect her room anymore. It rippled as a stone dropped into a still pond. A soft, celestial glow—not quite moonlight, not quite starlight—began to bleed from the edges of the frame.
From the depths of the silver surface, a gloved hand reached out. It wasn't threatening; it was an invitation.
Merliah didn't hesitate. She had walked through secret doors, hidden portals, and enchanted paintings before. This felt like coming home to a place she'd never been. She reached out, her fingers brushing the cool, shimmering surface of the glass.
The moment their hands met, a surge of magic—raw, ancient, and dark—pulled her forward. The bedroom vanished in a whirlwind of black feathers and green flames.
The next thing Merliah knew, she was cramped. It was dark, wooden, and smelled faintly of old velvet and expensive incense.
A coffin? Really? she thought, a spark of her Musketeer spirit rising. A bit cliché for an opening act, isn't it?
Outside, she could hear a high-pitched, scratchy voice shouting. "Gah! The lid is too heavy! If I don't hurry, the others will... mrrf! There!"
BOOM.
The lid of her "catanfalque" burst open, not from her own strength, but from a blast of blue fire. Merliah sat up gracefully, her hair tossed but still perfect, much like Annika's—shimmering in the eerie light of the Mirror Chamber.
Standing before her was a small, grey, cat-like creature with blue flames erupting from its ears and a pitchfork tail.
"You're finally awake! Now, hand over those clothes, human, or I'll roast ya!" the creature yelled.
Merliah didn't scream. She didn't even flinch. Instead, she looked around the room at the floating coffins, the massive magic mirror, and the shadowy figures in ceremonial robes. A small, knowing smile played on her lips.
"A talking animal with an attitude problem and a room full of dramatic sorcerers," she said, her voice calm and melodic. "Well... I did ask for something new."
Grim's jaw dropped, the blue flames at his ears flickering in surprise. He had expected a shrieking human, or at least someone who would run away. Instead, Merliah simply stepped out of the coffin with the practiced grace of a girl who had walked down a dozen different palace staircases.
"Hand over my clothes?" Merliah repeated, her voice smooth and unimpressed. She dusted off her skirt, her movements radiating the poise of Courtney and Erika combined. "I think not. For one, these wouldn't fit you. And for another, it is exceptionally rude to set fire to someone's belongings before you've even introduced yourself."
"R-Rude?!" Grim sputtered, his tail lashing. "I'm the Great Grim! I don't need manners! I need to get into this school, and you're just the human who's gonna help me do it! Now stand still and get roasted!"
He took a deep breath, his chest puffing out as he prepared to launch a massive fireball.
Merliah didn't panic. She reached deep into her soul, tapping into the reservoir of her past. She didn't need a wand; she had the experience of a dozen lifetimes. She thought of Princess Genevieve, who could lead with a gentle hand, and Ro, who knew exactly how to handle a temperamental creature.
"Now, now," she said, her voice dropping into a tone of firm, motherly authority that could quiet a nursery or a kingdom. "A 'Great' sorcerer doesn't rely on tantrums to get what they want. They rely on talent. If you burn this room down, the only thing you'll be 'Great' at is being a Charcoal Cat."
Grim paused, the fire dying down to a tiny spark in his throat. He looked confused, as if no one had ever dared to lecture him before. Merliah took a step forward, her presence filling the room. Even without a crown, she carried herself like royalty.
"If you behave," she added with a small, playful wink, "I might just see about finding you a snack. I've dealt with far more dangerous beasts than you—usually before breakfast."
Before Grim could figure out if he was being insulted or pampered, the heavy doors of the Mirror Chamber swung open. A tall man in a feathered cape and a bird-like mask swept in, his heels clicking sharply on the stone floor.
"Gracious! To think a familiar would cause such a stir!" the man exclaimed, his voice theatrical. "And you! The student who refused to wake up! We must proceed with the orientation. My name is Dire Crowley, the Headmage of this prestigious academy, and you are currently standing before the Dark Mirror!"
Crowley ushered Merliah toward the center of the room. The other students, draped in their dark, hooded robes, whispered in the shadows.
"Step forward," Crowley commanded, his voice filled with self-importance. "State your name, and let the Dark Mirror peer into your soul to determine which dormitory you shall call home."
Merliah stepped onto the dais. She looked up at the massive, ornate mirror. The face within the glass was cold and hollow, shrouded in green mist.
"My name is Merliah Summers," she said, her voice echoing through the silent hall.
The Dark Mirror's eyes glowed with an eerie, white light. Usually, the mirror looked for a single trait: the ambition of Leon, the persistence of the Sea Witch, or the beauty of the Queen. But as it looked at Merliah, the glass began to tremble.
"I see..." the Mirror began, its voice deep and booming like distant thunder. "I see a soul that has no beginning... and no end."
The whispers in the room died instantly. Even Crowley leaned in, his mask tilted in confusion.
"I see the spirit of a Swan," the Mirror continued, the green mist swirling faster. "The heart of a Mermaid... the courage of a Musketeer... the magic of the Rainbow."
Images began to flicker across the surface of the glass so quickly that they were almost a blur. A girl with butterfly wings. A girl with a paintbrush. A girl dancing in twelve different pairs of shoes. The magic in the room began to crackle, the air growing heavy with the scent of stardust and roses.
"One soul, yet a thousand lives," the Mirror intoned, its voice sounding strained. "You possess the elegance of Pomefiore, the spirit of Savanaclaw, the cleverness of Octavinelle, and the grace of Heartslabyul... You are a kaleidoscope of magic that cannot be contained."
The Mirror let out a final, resonant hum that vibrated in Merliah's very bones.
"The verdict is... Void."
"Void?!" Crowley shrieked, nearly tripping over his own cape. "That's impossible! The Mirror never fails! It must be broken!"
"Not void because she has nothing," the Mirror hissed, its glow fading as if exhausted. "But void because no single house can hold the weight of so many crowns. She is... unclassifiable."
The silence that followed was absolute. For the first time in the history of Night Raven College, a student had been rejected not for a lack of magic, but for having too much of it. Merliah simply stood there, a calm smile on her face.
Something new indeed, she thought.