Absolute Being: I Am Nothing Chapter 71

Imperial Academy

"She’s not in the secret realm," Rebecca said, stepping through the shimmering portal and landing softly on the polished floor of the Academy chamber. Her face was tight, controlled. "I scanned every pocket dimension connected to it. Nothing. And I can’t sense her life force anywhere on this world."

Adam leaned back in his chair, swirling a glass of something bright orange. "Maybe she decided to take a vacation. A sabbatical. You know, before the whole coronation thing. Being queen of an entire dimension is a lot of paperwork. If it were me, I’d delegate everything and disappear to a beach somewhere." He grinned, taking a long sip.

"You mean the way you delegated an entire planet to my seventeen-year-old daughter?" Alex said flatly, arms crossed.

"Some people would consider that an amazing birthday gift," Kahdijah chimed in, twirling a strand of chaotic energy between her fingers. She shot Adam a wink. "When we were kids, Alex, this was the dream. Running worlds, shaping destinies. Don’t be such a wuss about it."

Alex exhaled slowly through his nose. Arguing with them was like arguing with a hurricane and a supernova. Pointless and exhausting.

"That’s not what we’re discussing," Rebecca cut in, her voice sharp enough to silence the room. "Elizabeth is missing. No one knows where she is. That’s the problem."

Mor’vyre, standing rigidly by the far wall, cleared his throat. "May I offer a suggestion, my lady?"

Rebecca’s glare could have melted steel. He was Elizabeth’s appointed guardian, and she was gone. His calm demeanor felt like an insult.

"I know you wish to assign blame," Mor’vyre continued carefully, his words measured. "And I accept whatever judgment you deem fit. But recrimination serves nothing now. The princess—soon to be queen—I believe she is no longer on this world. If she were, your own abilities would have located her, unless an Absolute Being were actively concealing her presence."

The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.

"However," Mor’vyre pressed on, his voice slightly faster, "the more likely explanation is that she was transported elsewhere. Involuntarily or through some misfire. I did not observe Lord Lionhead approach the Academy grounds today. Had he done so, I would have raised immediate alert. This suggests her disappearance is not a hostile abduction by known parties, but rather an accidental displacement."

Adam lowered his juice glass, his eyes settling on Mor’vyre with mild interest. "You know, you really need to lead with the important part. Start with ’she’s probably off-world,’ then do the whole ’don’t kill me’ preamble."

"Noted, Lord Adam."

Adam turned to Alex. "Alright, Existence. You can feel every world, every reality, every speck of matter that is. Find her."

Alex closed his eyes. For a moment, he was utterly still. The air around him seemed to deepen, to stretch outward infinitely. He wasn’t searching—he was simply aware. All worlds, all planes, all dimensions that existed because he permitted them to. He brushed past countless realities, countless souls.

Then he stopped.

"Got her," Alex said, opening his eyes. A portal swirled into existence beside him, its edges calm and stable. "She’s in a high-magic medieval world. Local designation: Velar. And she’s not alone."

Rebecca stepped toward the portal. "Then I’m going."

Adam rose from his chair, setting down the empty glass. "We’re going. She’s your friend. Let’s go get her."

He walked through the portal without waiting for a response. Rebecca followed. Alex glanced at Kahdijah, who shrugged and sauntered after them. Mor’vyre brought up the rear, his hand resting on his weapon, ready for anything.

---

The walk to Merlin’s house was short, but it felt long.

Elizabeth had stopped complaining about the portal trick. She walked in silence, her mind clearly turning over everything she’d just witnessed. Morgana kept glancing at Merlin like he might spontaneously transform into something she couldn’t comprehend. And Merlin himself just led the way, his hands in his pockets, his face unreadable.

The cottage sat at the edge of the village, modest and well-kept. A small garden of herbs grew by the window. Smoke rose from the chimney. It looked like the home of ordinary people, untouched by prophecy or cosmic power.

Merlin pushed open the door without knocking. "Mom? Dad? I’m home. And I brought... company."

Gwendolyn emerged from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. Her face shifted from relief at seeing her son to sharp, immediate assessment of the two women behind him. Kelvin appeared from the back room, his posture shifting to something more alert.

"Merlin," Gwendolyn said, her voice carefully neutral. "You’re late for supper. And you’ve brought guests."

"Sorry, Mom. Things got complicated." He stepped aside, revealing Morgana first. "This is Morgana. She’s a High Priestess. She thinks I’m some kind of chosen one. Also, the Dark Lord’s soldiers are after me now. So that’s fun."

Gwendolyn’s face didn’t change, but her hands tightened on the apron. Kelvin moved slightly, positioning himself between the strangers and his family.

"And this," Merlin continued, gesturing to Elizabeth, "is Elizabeth. She fell out of a portal from another dimension. She’s a queen, I think. Or was. She’s also looking for a way home, but I’m not letting her leave yet because she knows other people like me."

Gwendolyn’s eyes met Morgana’s. Something flickered there—recognition, perhaps, or the cold dread of a secret finally catching up.

"A High Priestess," Gwendolyn repeated slowly. "From which order?"

"The Silver Grove," Morgana said. "Or what remains of it."

The silence in the room became heavy, weighted with unspoken history.

Kelvin spoke, his voice low. "The Silver Grove fell seventeen years ago. The Dark Lord’s purge. There were no survivors."

"There was one," Morgana replied. "I am what remains of its judgment and its memory."

Gwendolyn said nothing. But her face—usually so warm, so open—had turned to stone.

Merlin noticed. He’d spent seventeen years learning to read his mother’s moods, her silences, the subtle shifts in her expression. This wasn’t fear of prophecy. This was personal.

"Mom," he said quietly. "What aren’t you telling me?"

Gwendolyn looked at her son. Then at Kelvin. A long, silent conversation passed between them, the kind that married couples develop over decades of shared burdens.

"We should sit down," Kelvin said. His voice was heavy, resigned. "All of us."

They moved to the main room. Gwendolyn didn’t offer tea. She sat stiffly on the edge of her chair, her hands clasped in her lap. Kelvin stood behind her, one hand on her shoulder.

Merlin waited. Elizabeth observed. Morgana watched the couple with growing suspicion.

"I knew your order," Gwendolyn finally said, addressing Morgana. "Not well. But I knew of it. I knew its purpose. To guard the prophecies, to watch for the signs of the Star-Born." Her voice was quiet, carefully controlled. "I also knew that the Silver Grove was destroyed because they got too close to the truth about the Dark Lord’s origins. They were silenced before they could expose him."

Morgana stiffened. "That’s not public knowledge. How could you—"

"Because I was there," Gwendolyn said. "Seventeen years ago. Not as a priestess. As a refugee."

She took a breath, steadying herself. "My husband and I lived far south, near the Whispering Mountains. We were simple farmers. We had no magic, no status, no connection to the great conflicts of the world. All we wanted was to live quietly, grow our crops, and maybe one day have children."

Her voice faltered. Kelvin’s hand tightened on her shoulder.

"But I couldn’t have children," she continued. "We tried for years. Every healer, every fertility charm. Nothing worked. We had accepted that we would grow old alone, just the two of us." She paused. "And then the star fell."

Merlin went very still.

"It wasn’t a star," Gwendolyn said, looking at her son. "It was a ship. A vessel from beyond the sky, beyond this world entirely. It crashed in the mountain pass, and we found it. Inside was a baby. A boy. Alone."

Morgana’s breath caught. Elizabeth leaned forward.

"There was a mark on his chest," Gwendolyn continued. "A sigil of intersecting circles. It glowed silver, then faded. We knew, even then, that he was no ordinary child. We knew that if anyone discovered him, he would be taken, studied, weaponized. So we buried the ship. We moved north, to the edge of nowhere. We raised him as our own. We taught him to hide what he was, to suppress it, to be normal." Her voice broke. "Because the alternative was losing him."

The room was silent. Merlin stared at his mother, his expression unreadable.

"And now," Gwendolyn said, her gaze shifting to Morgana with sudden, fierce intensity, "you come here with your prophecies and your soldiers and your talk of chosen ones. You want to take my son and make him into a weapon against the Dark Lord. You want to put him on a path that will almost certainly get him killed."

She stood, her hands trembling. "I won’t allow it. I buried that ship with my own hands. I lied to everyone we knew. I spent seventeen years keeping him safe. I will not let you undo all of it because of some ancient scroll."

Morgana met her gaze without flinching. "I understand your fear. Truly. But the Dark Lord’s soldiers have already found him. They attacked us in the forest. Your son defended himself—and me—with power I’ve never witnessed. The secret is out. Hiding is no longer an option."

Gwendolyn looked at Merlin, her eyes pleading. "Is this true? They found you?"

Merlin nodded slowly. "Yeah, Mom. They found me. And I... I stopped them. Not just fought them. I erased them. Like they never existed." His voice was quiet, almost apologetic. "I couldn’t hide anymore. They would have hurt you to get to me."

Gwendolyn’s face crumpled. Kelvin pulled her close, his own expression grim.

"I’m sorry," Merlin said. "I know you wanted to protect me. I know you sacrificed everything to give me a normal life. But normal isn’t possible anymore. Maybe it never was."

He looked at his hands. "I’m not just some kid with a birthmark. I’m an Absolute Being. Energy and Matter. I could unmake this entire world if I lost control. And I’ve known that, deep down, since I was five years old. I just pretended not to."

Gwendolyn sobbed once, a quiet, broken sound. Kelvin held her tighter.

"I don’t want to be a weapon," Merlin continued. "I don’t want to be a savior or a prophecy or a god. But I can’t pretend to be a farmer anymore. Not when people are dying because of what I am." He looked at Morgana. "Not when there’s a Dark Lord who’s been hunting people like me for centuries."

He turned back to his parents. "I’m still your son. That hasn’t changed. But I have to figure out what I’m supposed to be now. And I think... I think that starts with dealing with the Dark Lord."

The fire crackled in the hearth. No one spoke.

Finally, Kelvin cleared his throat. His voice was rough, but steady. "Then we go with you."

Merlin blinked. "Dad, no. It’s too dangerous."

"We’re your parents," Kelvin said simply. "Where you go, we go. That’s how it works."

Gwendolyn wiped her eyes and nodded, her jaw set with quiet determination. "We didn’t raise you to run from who you are. We raised you to be brave. And if you’re going to face this monster, you’re not doing it alone."

Merlin looked at them—his ordinary, stubborn, fiercely loving parents—and for the first time since the soldiers attacked, he felt something other than exhaustion.

He felt like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as alone as he thought.

Outside, beneath the darkening sky, a group of travelers stepped onto the path leading to the village.

Adam paused, tilting his head. "Huh. There’s a lot of power here. Like, a lot. This just got interesting."