The Merlin Paradox (undergoing revisions)

1. Escaped lab rat

"Ah, my empty head doesn't render me clueless."

He understood that he was looking at raw magic and that it remained harmless and aimless until directed by a runecaster, but how was it harnessed within the glass and what could it do? He couldn't remember. This room had to be a magical laboratory. He looked back at the glass contraption he broke out of. It definitely looked like someone's invention, but why was he inside it? Was he an invention? Absurd.

He wished he could see what other surprises hid in the clutter, but everything further than his shoulder was blurry. Did he have glasses? He needed glasses badly. He searched his pockets but found only a stick—an ice cream stick. Now he craved ice cream. Vanilla. Hmmm...

A high-pitched squeak made him spin around, and his tail knocked an empty glass orb off the table. He cringed at the crash and called out, "Hello?"

No one answered. He held his breath and his tail before it caused more destruction and listened for the source of the sound. That hazy white blob could be someone hunched over a desk, but why hadn't they responded when he called for help before? Was this some kind of a sick experiment? Or worse—a prank. Let's lock this guy in our glass sphere, sit back and enjoy the comedy as he makes a fool of himself.

"Ha-ha. The joke's over. Can I have my glasses back now?"

The silence was only interrupted by soft scratching like someone was writing vigorous notes with observations about his behavior. This was unfair. He didn't agree to be their test subject. At least, he didn't think he would have. Would he?

He stumbled through the room with his hands outstretched, hoping to get some answers from this person, but when he was close enough to see, he found a white coat thrown over a tall chair. He swallowed a prick of shame over the mistake, but on the other hand, he was relieved that he wasn't someone's punchline.

The source of the noises was on the table under a small hand-written sign "ARTHUR'S CASTLE."

"Hi there, little guy. Are you Arthur?" he greeted a white rat that sat in an open cage, shredding a piece of cardboard into long strips. Its home was closer to being a funhouse than a cage. The multi-floor "castle" had an obstacle course, a hammock, sturdy toys to play with, soft ones to chew, and the food dish held a pink cookie in the shape of a heart.

"Your owner is a big softie, huh? At least you're loved."

Bending down to admire the rat's home, he spotted a small mirror and squinted at it, trying to see himself. His facial features were blurry, but his vivid ruby-red hair stood out even to his piss-poor eyes.

He glanced over his shoulder at his red tail.

"You match my hair," he said.

The naughty appendage wagged behind him, pushing his trousers down. He tightened his belt and noticed a clasp above his tail. Though loose, these clothes were clearly tailored for a cambion like him. He found comfort in that like it was an assurance that he wasn't just born in that sphere. He was someone real and someone out there knew his name. Perhaps they were still in this house.

After numerous encounters with wicked furniture that added to the growing collection of bruises on his thighs, he found a door that opened into a long and dark, lavender-scented hallway. As soon as he stepped in, a thin strip of light illuminated his path, running between mahogany wall panels and in all the corners. He brought his useless eyes close enough to recognize the stream of liquid magic flowing through a thin glass tube.

"Remarkable," he mused, wondering where it was coming from and where it ended its journey. He was loving this place more and more.

The cushioned rug quieted his footsteps as he carried on, eager to learn where he was. He heard a door closing and rushed forward, calling out, "Is someone here?" Yes, this was exactly what he needed. Someone with answers.