Thea dismissed her clone, holding back a laugh as she began to "explain" what had happened — seven parts truth, three parts carefully edited fiction.
She told Malcolm how Solomon Grundy had chased her through half of Gotham, how she'd been driven to the brink of death, and in that moment of desperation, something ancient within her had awakened. The memories buried deep in her blood had whispered the name Merlyn and revealed fragments of lost knowledge.
"Merlyn…" Malcolm murmured, the name rolling off his tongue with strange familiarity — like a man who'd lived his whole life in a slum, only to be told his house was sitting on a gold vein slated for redevelopment.
Excitement. Disbelief. Awe. All tangled together on the face of the usually imperturbable Malcolm Merlyn.
At last, he couldn't help himself. "Do you think I could have this kind of power too?"
Thea had already expected that question. Every man dreamed of power, and especially one like Malcolm — a man broken, scarred, and desperate for control.
Of course, the truth was: probably not. He didn't have the spark. She couldn't sense even the faintest resonance of the awakened bloodline in him. But telling him that outright would crush him—and she still needed to keep this "parental relationship" warm.
And maybe, just maybe, he could awaken someday. Miracles existed, right?
Thea thought for a moment, then gave him a measured, ambiguous smile. "I don't know yet. The memories I've inherited are incomplete—I'm still fumbling through the basics myself. But… there's hope."
Malcolm started pacing in small circles, the idea already consuming him. He stopped suddenly, pointing at the blue pendant around her neck. "That necklace — does it do something? Have you figured it out?"
Ah, that was a topic Thea was proud of.
"From what I can tell," she began, sitting straighter, "the world is built on four primal elements: earth, fire, water, and air. Later, light and darkness were added. This necklace contains both water and air energy. My personal affinity leans toward fire and air, so I've only been able to decode the wind aspect so far."
Malcolm listened with a skeptical squint — the kind that said 'aren't we made of atoms?' — but after seeing her clone with his own eyes, he wasn't about to question her cosmology.
"The Merlyn bloodline," she continued, "has always been tied to the wind. That's why this part is so vivid in my memories. Here — I'll show you."
She gripped the pendant tightly in her left hand and began tracing complex sigils in the air with her right.
This spell was leagues beyond her comfort zone. The seven runes took thirty whole seconds to carve, each shimmering emerald glyph draining more of her strength. By the end, her mana reserves were completely empty — she was only standing thanks to the necklace amplifying her.
Malcolm's eyes widened as faint green light coiled around her fingers. Before he could speak, Thea pointed lightly at him.
A soft gust of energy enveloped him instantly.
Startled, he flinched — almost jumping out of his chair.
"Relax," Thea said, smirking. "It's called Windstride. Try walking."
Malcolm hesitated, then, with the solemn air of a man trying to look dignified in front of his daughter, took a careful step forward—
THUD!
His body shot forward like a spring-loaded cannonball. His left foot missed the ground completely; his right foot pushed harder than intended, and before he knew it—
BANG!
He rocketed straight into the ceiling.
Thea collapsed onto the sofa, laughing so hard she could barely breathe.
Malcolm rubbed his head, grimacing, his carefully maintained image of stoic grace completely shattered. Still, once the shock wore off, he tested his balance again. Within moments, his frown began to melt into wonder.
He dashed around the office, light as air, even managing to run two steps along the wall before gravity reclaimed him.
"It's incredible," he said, his voice breathless, his face uncharacteristically bright. "I feel… weightless."
"How long does it last?" he asked, glancing back at her.
"For me, about thirty minutes," she replied smoothly. "For you… we'll see."
"Why's there a difference?" he pressed, frowning.
He was probably already thinking, Is my aptitude too low?
And, well, he wasn't wrong. But Thea wasn't going to explain magical physiology to a man who still thought physics solved everything.
"It varies," she said vaguely. "Different people, different energy flow. You'll get used to it."
Sure enough, fifteen minutes later, the last trace of green shimmer faded from his body. Thea discreetly noted the difference in duration — half as long when cast on others. Useful data.
Then, she gently steered the conversation toward what she really came for.
"I'm still missing pieces of the Merlyn inheritance," she said. "Do you remember anything — family archives, heirlooms, letters, anything that might help?"
Now that he'd felt real magic firsthand, Malcolm was even more desperate. He rummaged through decades-old memories, trying to recall anything his father had ever said.
And then it hit him — or almost.
His father, Thea's grandfather, had died during the Cold War, leaving behind nothing but… a shoemaking kit. That was it. The old man had taught him to mend shoes before passing, and Malcolm had tossed the box aside when he went to work in shipping.
Was there something in that? A secret? A clue?
The longer he thought, the darker his expression grew — red, then blue, then black.
Thea quickly interrupted before he could spiral into existential despair. "Think bigger," she said. "How long has our family been in Star City? What about before that? Any surviving relatives? Maybe overseas?"
That brought him back to the present. "Relatives?" he muttered. "The Merlyns have been around for centuries. There could be thousands in America alone. In Europe? Even more. Finding any of them would take… forever."
Thea smiled inwardly. Exactly.
"Still," she said sweetly, "it might be worth tracing the lineage. If we can find someone who knows more about our bloodline, it could unlock more of our potential."
Malcolm's expression hardened with resolve. "You're right. I'll start digging immediately."
Perfect.
She watched him mentally assembling research teams, genealogical searches, travel plans — all the busywork that would keep him too occupied to stir up any trouble.
It was the same trick she'd used on Batman: keep geniuses and zealots busy.
Batman she trapped with responsibility.
Malcolm, with ambition.
Different bait. Same hook.
And judging by the gleam of obsession in his eyes, Thea knew —
He was already hooked.