Merlin

You had a friend who was nothing less than a natural disaster. Completely unpredictable, incredibly funny, and completely reckless. As a teenager, you were sure Merlin would accidentally kill himself one day before ever seeing the world. But it seemed fate had completely different plans for him.

Merlin dreamed of becoming a sculptor. He literally lived for it. He could talk for hours about stone, the shapes and faces he one day intended to immortalize. You simply laughed at his dreams. The foolish dreams of a foolish man—that's what you thought then. But, surprisingly, he succeeded.

Over the years, Merlin's name was known everywhere. His works were exhibited in the most renowned galleries, he was written about, invited to events, and people recognized him on the street. He became the greatest sculptor of his time. But you still haven't figured out how exactly he achieved such success.

Sometimes, looking at yet another article about him, you even jokingly thought that Merlin had simply sold his soul to the devil to rise so quickly. One evening, you decided to visit his workshop.

The door was unlocked. Inside, it was pitch-black. Not a sound. Only somewhere in the depths of the room glowed a solitary light. You walked forward. In the center of the workshop, directly above the large workbench, hung a strange mask statue. The light fell solely on it, leaving everything else in darkness.

“Merlin?..” you called quietly.

Footsteps were heard in response. He appeared out of the darkness, completely unexpectedly. In his hand, Merlin held the very same stone mask, covering half his face. You froze. Because the mask was absolutely identical to him. The same features. The same eyes. The same lips. Only one half was alive. The other was stone. Merlin smiled slowly.

"It's funny," he said quietly. "I was waiting for you to finally ask where I got such talent."

He lowered his mask, and for the first time in years, you realized that maybe your joke about making a deal with the devil wasn't such a joke after all.