Dreams of a Puppet

This is not the first time he left a home, but it is the first time to walk away instead of running. The first time he tumbled time and time again, all throughout the snow-covered landscape that activated his first powers.
As a being made of almost nothing but magic, Merodius has learned he possesses multiple powers that can bend the elements to his will. As he laid down in the snow the first time, he didn’t feel like getting up. The snow stopped falling and the flakes were kept in place, floating ever so still in the air, as if his very own presence manipulated the freezing white on a level beyond normal vision would allow. His straw body didn’t soak with melting snow as he has no real body temperature. It did spark a freezing energy somewhere in his soul. He quickly made a snow angel before crawling through the cold landscape, hiding from anyone who might chase him. He could lay for days if he wanted to. The cold didn’t bother him anyway.

Biologically, he is of infant age, just days old, but he could walk and talk like any normal adult can, only slightly clumsier. He looked like a kid from afar and a puppet from up close and that gave him the element of surprise. He was animated, a magical soul somehow possessing a near four feet tall scarecrow. His naked skin of dried straw and cloth and leather patches was covered with a ragged cloak, his head topped with a pointy witch-like hat and his face hidden behind a poorly detailed mask resembling a small human being.
One could say he looks like a halfling, but you would startle him by speaking of this fact. It were the halflings who created him for some reason, as some of them were in need of powerful magic wielders they could control, he believes.
Merodius Darvantigo was a failed prototype in their opinion, as the soul chose to claim this marionette-like body instead of the bigger metal ones they created. They treated him as a failure, instilling fear in his non-existing, non-beating heart, causing him to run away.

An elderly elf found him the first time he ran. He observed the animated little one manipulating the whirling snow around him as a true master. Curious of what other powers he had in store, he picked him up and took him in, giving him proper clothes and testing his abilities.
The old elf found a use for him as a heat conditioner, as the little puppet found a way to create warmth by waving his hands and to light fires by snapping his fingers. “You are a promising sorcerer”, he would tell him, petting his head with good intent. “Thank you, master”, Merodius chuckled, blushing if he would able to.

“Yes, Mero is a great servant. Anyone could find a proper use for him. He doesn’t need much care as he doesn’t eat and drink and needs little rest. Give him a go?”
The puppet would just stand beside the elf at one of the many markets they visited, selling magical potions to the ill and writing scrolls for those who wanted to learn magic. But no one ever took the time to look past the white eyes glowing blue behind the mask, as no one thought much of Merodius. It was a failed experiment in their opinion, but none of them bothered to tell him that.
“You promised me this would be enough, elf!” A bald, tanned man with multiple facial tattoos stands very close to his master, pressing a treating finger on his boney chest.
“Give me what I want or else…” A purple glow jumps between the fingers of his other hand, releasing crackling sparks into the air.
“Lower your hands, wizard”, Mero hisses sternly as he raises his own hands, the straw hidden inside the white gloves.
“How dare you to speak to me in such a way, to speak to me at all!” He redirects his anger to the smaller, less intimidating spellcaster. He looks down at him with a look that screams belittlement and disgust.
“You are nothing, slave. I am talking to your owner and I wish not to hear another word from you.” Merodius looks at the elf, but he stares at the dusty ground before his feet.
“Master?” The old man shifts his gaze.
“I said not another word!” The wizard raises his arm and the purple sparks start to grow.
“Merodius, put him to sleep!” And without thinking, Mero claps his hands once, creating small golden grains of sand around them. He waves his hands into the wizard’s direction, throwing the shiny particles in his eyes. Slowly, he lowers his arm and then he loses all tone in his body, collapsing into the ground.
“Well done, boy.”

“I have some questions. May I, master?”
The elf looks tired and weak, laying in bed with his eyes almost entirely closed and breathing heavily with a dry, open mouth.
“What is it?” He can hear the effort it costs him to utter these few words and prioritizes his thoughts.
“As I was in the repair shop the other day, the children asked me what I am. I didn’t know what to answer. What should I tell them the next time?” Silence controls the room for a short period of time. He can see the time ticking away on his exhausted face.
“You are who you choose to be, Mero, but that isn’t the answer you’re looking for, is it? You are a sorcerer. Your body is artificially constructed, but your mind and soul are those of a sorcerer. I think you died and someone brought you back from the realm of the dead. Those are the halflings you told me about.”
He coughs and the blood stains the white sheet covering his shivering body.
“You must be have been someone important, some special to a mighty sorcerer. It’s not unthinkable for you to be one of Children of Iavolof, a powerful and ancient spellcaster who is said to be one of the very founders of magic in our world. He disappeared a long, very long time ago, but if someone would know who you are, it would be him.”
His eyes roll upwards for a split second as he bursts into coughing.
“What does he look like, master? Tell me, please. Is he a human with pale skin, grey eyes and long black hair?” His trembling hand blocks the second load of blood spatters.
“That is a very specific question, Mero. What makes you say these things?”
He looks at him, eyelids twitching with tiredom and head shaking with the last bit of power his neck has to carry it.
“I keep dreaming about someone who looks like that, screaming at me like a banshee. I don’t understand what it means, master.”
He chuckles. “So, you really are one of his children”, he speaks softly with a frugal grin on his face. “Who would have thought… A puppet with dreams…”
He looks in Mero’s eyes and he looks back. His vision becomes blurred and his glare shifts, staring into the infinity beyond this life.

So now he leaves a home for the second time, but this time he will be free. No more masters, no more scribing scrolls and putting away books. He will find out who he is and where he can find this great sorcerer his former master spoke about. No stupid halfling or magic abusing wizards will be safe standing in his way. He snaps his fingers and a confident expression appears on his mask with greedy eyes, looking at the horizon, searching for the way to learn one of the best kept secrets of his life: who am I?