When Solomon woke up again, he found himself back at the Kamar-Taj headquarters, lying on his soft bed. A gray short-haired cat lay by his ear, purring rhythmically. Its pink tongue, rough with papillae, was sticking out as if trying to lick the aroma in the air. Solomon wasn't sure if the cat had been sleeping there the whole time or if it had deliberately kept him company after he was brought back. Either way, this warm little creature always managed to bring him comfort amidst the cold of the Himalayas.
"It really likes you," the Sorcerer Supreme said, sitting by her disciple's bedside. The thick blanket covering Solomon had been placed there by her. "As soon as I brought you back, this little one jumped onto your bed. Before that, it was happily enjoying the canned beef that Cassilius bought. There aren't many cats in the world who would refuse beef for a person."
"What happened?" Solomon asked with a puzzled expression. It had been a perfect sleep—he hadn't dreamed of anything, and upon waking, the floral fragrance still lingered in his nostrils. He couldn't recall ever feeling this mentally refreshed, not even when faced with the burdens of the stigmatic memories. "All I remember is the scent of flowers," he said. "I suppose that's Merlin's doing."
"He wanted to lead you into a dream. No one knows dreams better than Merlin because of his lineage. I'm sure you've heard the legends. Most of them are true—Merlin can enter anyone's dreams," the Sorcerer Supreme said slowly. "He diagnosed your condition. It wasn't a curse, nor had any extradimensional entities tampered with your mind. Child, you can rest assured. Those dreams didn't come from an external source—they originated from you."
"From me?" Solomon had a guess.
"Yes." The Sorcerer Supreme could see what her disciple was thinking. "From now on, you can do whatever you want. Destiny has changed. When you obtained that key, you stepped out of the gods' script. You are now the axis of fate. The silver key will be your gateway to the ultimate mysteries of the universe—or what some call the Source, the Akashic Records, or whatever name you prefer. Those who reach it gain omniscience, with wisdom surpassing even Vishanti."
"Sounds like your plan."
"It's my plan, but it can also be yours," she said with a smile. "In this universe, the so-called Source is the Eternal Supreme Being. But your path to the Source isn't confined to this universe. It's an enviable fate. Your future is far brighter than I ever imagined. The Seventh Throne is not your final destination."
"What about my dreams, then?"
"They could be glimpses of a possible future, or perhaps things that have already happened, even events from the distant past. Who knows? But they are your dreams. Even your cat appeared in them, which is evidence enough. Because they originated from within you, all defenses were useless," the Sorcerer Supreme explained. "But don't worry—Merlin has resolved the issue for you. That dream won't bother you again."
"So, does this mean I should start saying, 'By Merlin's beard!' instead of 'By Vishanti!'? They feel about the same to me." Solomon sat up, tucking the still-sleeping cat under the blanket. "And what about Balthazar? Did he meet Merlin?"
"You wake up and immediately start making jokes—not your usual style," the Sorcerer Supreme remarked as she stood. She had much to do. "As for Balthazar," she shook her head disdainfully—not at Balthazar, but at her own teacher, that mixed-blood trickster. "He didn't meet Merlin. Merlin fled before he woke up, leaving only a letter. But I'm sure it wasn't an apology—Merlin has never apologized for anything. He simply didn't want to get punched."
"From what you're saying, Merlin sounds like an insufferable guy."
"Merlin has always been like this. When he tricked me into pulling the Sword from the Stone, it was the same. To him, everything is just a joke," she said, clenching her fists in rare frustration. Few things could rile her like the mention of Merlin's antics. "But he's unkillable. As long as people keep dreaming, he'll continue to exist. Still, I didn't let that old man off easily—he's tasted my fists before. But that's far from enough. The fall of Camelot isn't fully settled yet."
"Well, if I ever have the chance to visit Avalon, I'll give Merlin two punches for you—if I can," Solomon said, stepping barefoot onto the cold stone floor. "Master, does this mean I'm fine now?"
"Yes."
"In that case, I can't wait to see what happens when witches eat cold pizza for several days. It's bound to be disastrous," he said, rubbing his stomach. "I don't know how long I've been asleep, but I'm starving."
---
"You do know you're quite good-looking, don't you, Solomon Damonet?" Jeanne said as she carefully cut into her steak with a dining knife. It was her second steak. Though she tried to maintain an air of indifference, the aroma was too tempting, and she couldn't help but take a bite. Her dining posture was elegant, but her speed rivaled that of the Cheshire cat devouring a can of beef, leaving some meat juice splattered on her loose crimson robe.
Bayonetta nodded in agreement with Jeanne's comment. During Solomon's stay at Kamar-Taj, the witches had tried cooking for themselves, but the results were disastrous. Seeing the charred remains in the trash bin and the empty pizza boxes, Solomon could only guess at the horrors they had inflicted upon beef and potatoes—if those blackened corpses even were beef and potatoes. Despite Bayonetta's claim of being a "domestic woman," the evidence suggested otherwise.
"I thought you'd been off charming some young lady these past few days. Tell me, did they claw each other's eyes out fighting over you?" Jeanne asked, sipping her wine with a sneer. "You didn't tell us anything about what happened to you. All you said was that you were going to Kamar-Taj for a few days. Are we just passing strangers to you? We might not be much help, but we're—"
"What are you?" Solomon asked.
"We're… we're…" Jeanne's face flushed. She set down her knife and fork, fumbling for words.
"We're family," Bayonetta said with a teasing smile, stepping in at the right moment. "Boya, you should know we're family. You need to share what's happening in your life with us. That's what family means. Taking everything on yourself isn't a good habit."
"Bayonetta!" Jeanne exclaimed, her face turning even redder, clearly displeased. "You're just encouraging him!"
"I just… I wasn't sure of the source of those dreams at the time, Bayonetta," Solomon said with a sigh. "I was worried they were connected to some chaotic universe—which, in a sense, they were. I didn't want you to face the unnameable horrors. I might be able to endure them without going mad, but you might not."
"Why not? Can those gods dodge bullets?"
"That, I don't know."
"Next time, Boya, no matter what happens, you have to tell me," Bayonetta said, taking a sip of wine. "And your foster mother. I've come to an agreement with Athena—you need to tell her about what's been going on. Those orphans miss you too."
"What did you say to Athena? Why has my family standing suddenly dropped? Who's below me now—the Cheshire cat?"
"No, the Cheshire cat gets to sleep on the bed," Jeanne said mercilessly. "And you don't."
"Unless you'd like to," Bayonetta said, extending a long leg from beneath her loose, glossy black silk robe, her toes lightly brushing Solomon's calf. Beneath her robe, the witch wore nothing. That was her style.
"Bayonetta!"
_________________________
[Check out my Patreon for +200 additional chapters in all my fanfics! Only $5 per novel or $15 for all!!] [www.p@treon.com/Mutter]