"That would be me," Merlin said.
The Dark Lord studied him for a long moment. His ancient eyes moved over Merlin's face, his posture, the way he held himself. Then he let out a quiet sound—half chuckle, half sigh.
"You're a kid," he said.
Merlin's expression darkened. His jaw tightened. "I hate that. I'm not a kid."
Behind him, Adam leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper that only Merlin could hear. "Hey. I'm gonna skip this one. Let you handle it. But take it easy on him, alright? There are people watching. Reading. You know how it is."
Merlin frowned, his brow furrowing. For a split second, something flickered in his eyes—recognition, maybe, or the beginning of understanding. Then it was gone, replaced by confusion that lingered just a moment too long before he shook it off.
"Whatever," he muttered. He stepped forward, away from the group, away from Adam's strange words. Morgana fell into step beside him, her staff glowing with pale light.
