Eric screamed loudly as he plummeted, feeling the wind whipping his face and stinging his eyes. He and Samuel were high above the landscape, up above even the highest of mountains, but not for long. Eric could tell it would be only seconds until they were pasted on the plains below them. Turning his body with difficulty, he caught a glimpse of Samuel, robes billowing, falling beside him. The mage looked exceptionally calm, almost as if he were enjoying a slight breeze on his way down.

“Help me!” Eric yelled, not sure his voice could be heard over the furor of the wind.

Samuel glanced casually over at him, a broad grin stretched over his face. “Don’t worry! We’re not in any danger!”

How could he say that? Eric thought, not for the first time, that Samuel wasn’t all there in the head. They might not be under attack, but they were unmistakably rushing to their deaths. The plains below them were closer than ever now, almost leaping up to catch them. Eric could imagine the news. Archmage and unfortunate soldier trainee dropped from the heavens, too broken to recover. He wondered what Emma would think.

But wait, he thought, glancing back down at the ground again. Was the ground really rushing up to meet them? The wind was still rushing around him as if he were falling fast, but he didn’t seem to be moving anymore. Actually, though he was drifting softly from side to side, he was quite upright. He looked back at Samuel, confused.

“I told you,” said the grinning Archmage. “We’re not in any danger.”

His heart still pounding hard as if trying to break out through his ribs, Eric looked all around him. They were still hundreds of feet above the ground. But now he could see the air, strong enough to be solid, supporting his body and stopping him from falling further. Samuel was stretched out on his back, arms linked behind his head, as if it were a comfy bed as it supported him.

“What is this?” Eric shouted. The wind might be keeping him alive, but it was still very loud, like thunder in his ears. “Is this part of the trap?”

“Indeed,” Samuel replied calmly. “But it’s about to end. Here we go.”

The wind faltered, then died. Eric started to yell again as he felt himself start to fall down. Then, suddenly, the scenery around him changed. He was back in the short dark hallway, mere inches from the soft carpeted floor. Samuel alighted gracefully on his feet, brushing the shaggy hair out of his eyes. Eric, without warning of contact, slammed face-first onto the carpet, hearing a nasty crack as his nose broke.

Just above his groan of pain, Eric heard the door at the end of the hallway open. Samuel was chuckling, a deep, humorous sound. At first, Eric thought the Archmage was laughing at him for freaking out over what he thought was an amusing sidetrack. Then he heard the sound of another person running over to Samuel, a small child by the footsteps. Then there was an impact, and he heard Samuel grunt as the smaller body collided with him.

“Did I get you, Papa?” A high-pitched, excitable voice said. “Did I spook you with my trap?”

Eric jerked his head up to see a small girl in a green woolen dress hanging off of Samuel’s neck, held up by one arm. She had thick red hair that hung down to her waist, braided in intricate patterns. A broad grin covered her face, matching Samuel’s own expression perfectly. She had the same mysterious, mischievous air about her as the Archmage.

“You sure did!” Samuel said, chuckling again. “You spooked my friend here, too.”

The little girl turned her head to stare down at Eric, smiling adorably from ear to ear. So she had made the trap that had scared him out of his wits, eh? Still, Eric couldn’t really find a way to be angry with her, despite the burning pain from his broken nose. The smile faded from her face as she saw the blood streaming down from his nose, and he quickly covered it with one hand, clambering to his feet.

“Yeah, you got me good,” he said, trying to grin, but only managing a slight grimace of pain as his nose twinged again. “Good one.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed, letting go of Samuel and practically bouncing when she hit the ground. “I’m sorry for hurting you! Let me heal that!”

Bewildered, Eric spared a glance for Samuel, who gave him a reassuring nod. So he went down on one knee for her to more easily reach the injury. Her big blue eyes, quite unlike Samuel’s were only an inch or two away now as she studied the broken nose, her face scrunched up in a thoughtful frown.

“That looks painful,” she commented, her eyes widening. “I’m sorry.”

She put one hand gingerly on the nose, her touch light enough to avoid hurting. Then she became intensely still, and Eric could feel the nose growing cool as if water were flowing from her to his nose. She didn’t blink throughout the entire process, and Eric watched her eyes. Suddenly, they switched from the ocean blue to a deep, shining violet in color. His nose grew very warm, then very cold. She blinked, and her eyes were blue again.

“There you go!” she said brightly, smiling at him. “You’re all better now!”

“Thanks,” Eric said, gingerly feeling his nose. It didn’t seem to be broken anymore. In fact, it felt as normal as it ever had. He glanced at Samuel again. “I had no idea you had a daughter.”

“Most don’t,” Samuel said with a grin.  “Her name is Elena Bragg-Inaro. Elena, this is my friend Eric.”

“Hi!” Elena said, then added again. “Sorry!”

“It’s fine,” Eric answered her, feeling a smile form on his face without meaning to. “It’s nice to meet you, Elena. How old are you?”

Her face lit up the same way that every child’s face did when asked this question. Eric almost expected her to hold her hands up, fingers extended, to show him a number. Instead, she did a little bounce on her feet, as if trying to make herself seem taller.

“I’m three-hundred and eighteen!” she exclaimed proudly, putting her hands on her hips. “My birthday is next week!”

Eric blinked, not sure he heard her correctly. “What?”

“Err,” Samuel interjected. “Elena, is your mother with you?”

“Yep!” Elena said brightly. “She’s drinking tea in your office with Arthur!”

“You go join her, then,” he said, forestalling Eric’s question with a finger. “We’ll be up in a minute.”

“Okay!” She skipped out of sight, each step a light bounce that carried her several feet at once. “Don’t take forever!”

Eric looked from the spot she’d vanished at to Samuel, who had stopped smiling for once. He looked a little uncomfortable as he regarded Samuel, his mouth twisted into a slight frown. He was peering at Eric owlishly as if trying to decide how much to divulge.

“Elena is… different from most people,” he finally said.

“I could tell that, funny enough,” Eric said. “Is she really three hundred years old?”

“Yes. She’s got a lot of fairy blood in her, so she’ll never grow bigger than she is. But she was struck by an Ancient’s curse when she was much younger, and it stops her mind from maturing past the point when I first met her.”

“So she’s your adopted daughter.”

“No, she is my true daughter, by blood,” Samuel corrected, gesturing for Eric to follow him. “She is a gifted healer and alchemist, but she cannot go anywhere without me or her mother. There are too many who would try to harm her, as she is a young Ancient.”

“Ancient,” Eric muttered, thinking fast. “That’s not the first time I’ve heard that word. What exactly is an Ancient?”

“One of the first races to ever exist in this world,” Samuel said. His face went soft as if he were remembering an old friend. “Strictly speaking, they were all made by Ahya herself, to maintain the balance of the world. Each Ancient has their own set purpose. Elena and I are the only living exceptions.”

“You’re one of these Ancients?” Eric queried. Then he nodded. “That’s why you’ve lived so long.”

“Indeed,” Samuel agreed. “Arcana made me this body so that I could serve as his Champion. As far as I know, he is the only one who was able to do so.”

“And Elena?” Eric reminded him. “She’s.. half-Ancient then?”

“Best I can tell, yes,” Samuel answered him. “Her mother is, or rather was, an Elven chancellor in Zaban. I met her long ago, and we grew close over many common experiences.”

They made their way up a sweeping staircase in the entry hall of what Eric assumed was Samuel’s own home. It was comfortable enough, and sunlight streamed through the windows, warming the dark wood of the walls and the pale wood of the floors. The light and dark theme seemed repeated here, just as in the Archives. Clearly Samuel’s preferred aesthetic, he thought.

Samuel led him down another long hallway to a set of double doors on the second floor. When they were opened, Eric had a glimpse of tall bookshelves dominating the walls, a cozy hearth with crackling flames, and a large mahogany desk set on the far side of the room. Elena was behind the desk, sitting on the lap of a very elderly woman, who was reading a book laid upon the desk. Samuel swept across the room to this woman, kissing her lightly on the forehead.

“Welcome home, Ry,” Eric could barely hear him. “How is life in Zaban?”

“It’s fine,” the woman said, closing the book gently and looking up at the tall mage with an adoring smile. “How are you, Sam? You look pale.”

“I’m fine,” Samuel assured her with a grin. Then, noticing Eric lingering by the door, he beckoned him forward. “This is Eric Breeden. Eric, this is my wife, Ryllae Inaro.”