Known Aliases: Emrys, the Last Mage, the Kingmaker, Atlantean Mage
He took me in when I was about nine. He never called himself a wizard. He never called me special. He said I had potential, and that was enough.
He taught me to see magic, not just wield it. He taught me to feel when the world shifted. He taught me how to listen for the quieter things. He taught me about Atlantis, our home… our past.
He was good. He was frustrating. He rarely gave a straight answer. But when he did, I listened. I still remember.
He built Camelot; not with stone, but with faith. He believed it could be done. A place where the old world and the new could exist, without having to kill each other.
After Arthur fell, he changed. He became quieter. He watched the stars more than the road. Then one day, he was just gone. No body. No note. No explanation.
Some say he went to Avalon. Some say he died fighting Oberon. I don’t know.
But when the wind changes, sometimes I still feel him watching me.
