Mero steps into the light. A deafening sound, similar to a swirling whirlpool, surrounds him entirely and shakes his body. He is overwhelmed with so many emotions and sensations. Simultaneously, he feels the joy of having new friends and finding a family member, and the sadness of his life as a slave, as a nobody. The uncertainty of not knowing who he is, the happiness of acquiring his new hat and the exhaustion of collecting the Enochian gems. He’s experiencing it all at the same time. But nothing is as intense as the pain that runs through his entire body. Every cut, every punch, every spell he has ever been struck with, echoes within him. And then it all stops.
(Arcana 12)
“Tell me what the light shows you.”
The voice of Oanoa echoes loudly in his head. Mero looks around. All kinds of magical manifestations surround him. He recognizes some of the colourful energies: the warmth coming of the orange flames, the freezing cold of the thin, crackling ray of frost. These are spells he knows, but most of the other ones he doesn’t know.
“I see the forms of magic I use in battle, but there are many things I have never seen or felt before.”
As he says so, eight sources of white light brighten up the room.
“You are wrong”, the Beholder’s voice echoes. “These are all powers you possess, powers you could control in your former life. I’m guessing it took so much power to bring you back from the dead that these abilities are locked away. This body of yours can only handle a limited amount of magic potential. Straw and leather patches aren’t made to maintain such a mighty soul.”
Mero looks at all the lights, but they are all exactly the same.
“What am I supposed to do with them, uncle? I feel so lost.”
His voice is breaking.
“Listen to your soul, nephew”. Oanoa sounds reassuring. “Deep down your soul knows what feels right to do. Just focus and, when you think you have found the light that fits you best, reach out to it.”
Silence returns.
Mero closes his eyes and stretches out his arm, trying to feel if one of these magical sources speaks to him or draws him to it. He tries so hard, but nothing seems to happen. He lowers his arms and sighs.
“Son?” Two unknown voices echo in his head, one male and one female. “Mero, can you hear me?”
He is overwhelmed and he starts shaking.
“What is happening?” He sounds scared.
“Mero, please come to me”, the female voice says.
“No, come to me, Mero”, the male voice says.
The room goes dark and only two of the eight lights remain. They both are shining brighter than before.
“Mother? Father? Is that you? How can this be?”
“It matters not”, the woman says quickly, “you must come to me. I can help you become whole again.”
“It’s not that simple”, the man says loudly. “You hear us because you are a product of what once was our love for each other. Your powers are our powers. Come to me and I will explain everything, son.”
Mero doesn’t know what to do and moves his head from left to right to see if he feels a spark between him and the light.
A very clear picture appears in his head when he looks to the left, to the light with the voice of his mother. He sees himself casting a bolt of fire on an opponent, but there is something different. The fire burns brighter and the magic feels more powerful.
“I will give you power”, the woman says. “No one will treat you as a slave with your mother at your side. Come to me.”
He turns to the right light. He sees himself fighting two enemies and casting two rays of frost at the same time.
“You can do so much more than you know. Come to your father and I’ll help you discover everything.”
He keeps looking from left to right.
“How can I choose between my mother and father? How can I put one part of my soul above the other? Why can I only pick one of you?”
The voices remain silent.
“No”, Mero says slowly and he raises his arms, each hand pointing at one of the light sources. “I will not choose one. I want everything, I deserve to know everything.”
Both sources brighten up and the white light is all that remains.
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