Once upon a time, the man called John Pritkin had perceived his life in three ages.
The first, and now the least familiar, was his childhood—a long, feckless childhood in the far reaches of Britain. As Myrddin, he had spent his days singing and wandering, causing trouble and receiving it in return, dancing in and out of the borders of Faerie. Yes, there had been pain and injustices, but his young soul had carried a deep well of hope. Hope for love, hope for peace, and hope for a better world.
Then his father arrived, and carried him away beyond the earth.
That was the second age of his life, the one he lived under the name Emrys. At first, he had been dazzled by his father's kingdom, but he soon found the barbs hidden beneath the silk and perfume. The more he learned about demonkind, the more he hated them, and himself. Before long he was plotting a way out, and then he was ejected by the demons themselves.
He came hurtling back towards Earth and found that it had grown strange and crowded and cold while he was imprisoned in hell. Painstakingly, he learned and adapted. In this third age of his long life, he chose a name for himself: John Pritkin, unremarkable and slightly abrasive. Slowly, the world grew familiar again and he settled into new habits. Everything brightened when he met a beautiful, vivacious woman with laughing eyes.
That third age ended with horror and madness. He expected he would die, even welcomed it, but the end never came.
So he emerged into an unexpected fourth age. He was even harder and grimmer than before, but he used his anger as a weapon to protect others. The singing, laughing magic of his youth was gone; he dedicated himself to the harsh, destructive spells and potions of the Circle's war mages. He disciplined his body. He was muscle, bone, skin, and sharp green eyes like chips of stone.
And then he met the unlikely Pythia, Cassandra Palmer, and his life changed again.
Four months later, he was freefalling—and then, inexplicably, free.
John realized that he could no longer anticipate the course of his long life. He kept expecting the end and it kept dancing out of his grasp. For the first time in hundreds of years, he felt the prickling of hope. The future extended before him, unknowable, but he realized that it might, possibly be... good.
John was giddy. And terrified.