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*** Note I – A big thank you to those favoring, following and reviewing my fanfic; it really makes me happyyy~ =') You people are awesome, and I hope you enjoy this next chapter~! =D ***

*** Note II – Disclaimer: All canonical work is under the ownership of their respective creators. All fanworks posted are intended for personal, entertainment and non-commercial use. No copyright infringement is intended. *** I only own the following: My OCs, non-canon places; ideas, events, storylines and plots that are my own and not in the original canon; and, my imagination~ :3 ***

*** Note III – Sincere and profuse apologies for the later-than-usual update. I tend to be busy, and work is the number one main factor for said busyness. A more detailed explanation as to why my updates are generally not very frequent has already been typed up around the top of my profile page, so I won't be writing any more here in regards to that . . . And despite that, I still feel bad about not updating a lot. *cries internally* The next couple of chapters should be up soon, though! ***

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~ 001 – Yunan Things ~

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"Death is only a place to rest while we decide where to go next."

~ Anthony T. Hincks

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Her neck throbbed in pain. The room was dark, save for the faint golden yellow-orange glow of a candle within a lantern that was stood upon the wooden sill of a small and somewhat round window.

"Oh, you finally woke up!" Yunan exclaimed with elation. "You slept for two days absent any movement nor sound – I was forced to use my magic to sustain you." A look of determination then sparkled within his light blue eyes. "But I expect you to explain yourself later!"

The first week of the New Year proved to be an interesting one for him: He desired to know why his mind had felt a certain spark, a sudden pressure just when this unknown girl appeared atop the cold, hard earth ten feet away from the door to his small log house. Even the Rukh were frenzied at the time.

Uneasy, uncertain and silent, Emilia Walker shrewdly regarded the Magi of the Great Rift as he was already sat upon a short wooden stool by her temporary bed: Overall, she thought that he looked like he could pass for being a character from The Legend of Zelda . . . Or even an elf from J.R.R. Tolkien's fictional universe, who had somehow stolen Gandalf's big pointed hat and modified it to a much more prettier state. He seemed rather androgynous; and if it were not for his wide, white collar exposing his chest, she would have thought him to be a young woman at first glance. His stunning, long platinum blond hair was vaguely parted down the middle, and it was loosely tied into a single, slim braid that fell over his right shoulder and down the front of his body; seeming to go on indefinitely. He was donned in a loose forest green tunic with subtle yellow-golden trim and vaguely wide sleeves in which came to his elbows. Said tunic was cinched around his waist by a brown leather belt that was knotted at the front. High-waisted, formfitting white breeches were tucked into sturdy, thigh-high brown leather boots wherein also owned an elegantly simple yellow-golden design.

Drawn to Yunan's presence, a large kaleidoscope of the pale gold-glowing white Rukh fluttered for but a moment.

Between his knees, the Magi hugged his tall and thin dark brown staff against his torso; and from the top of it, a few tendrils of slender dark green vine were sprouted. Delicately, they trailed down the length of the wooden object, loosely encircling it. Withal, there was a gold point fastened at the tip of the bottom of said staff.

Oh. I really am here. I really am in the Magi world. Damn you, Ugo . . . As much as she desired to curse her newfound fate, she did not, for she knew that doing so with such fervour and malice and for a long period of time would eventually stain her Rukh black. She could not afford that at all now that she was in this new world. She refused to fall into depravity and despair.

At least, she would try not to.

She also wanted to face-palm herself hard for her behaviour whilst leaving the Sacred Palace; she thought her pleading was rather pathetic and a bit too desperate, no matter how frightened she was . . .

With a small smile and a thin brow raised in amusement, Yunan waved a slender hand before Emilia's eyes. "Oh, am I that handsome?"

"No!" Flushing a deep shade of red for a moment, Emilia brought the white blanket over her face and under her eyes. She avoided his expectant gaze whilst wondering why her voice had sounded a little more like a girl's rather than a woman's. "Well, sorry; I mean yes, you are good-looking, but –" Her pupils re-met his. "– I just did not expect to wake up in your house."

Wake up, wake up . . . Wake up, wake up . . .

Calm and high-pitched voices resonated into her ears; repeating, "Wake up," like a mantra, and she knew not where their source was.

"Indeed, it would come as a blatant shock to wake up in a random stranger's abode." Yunan procured a light, breezy chuckle. "You have nothing to fear, little one. My name is 'Yunan;' but judging by your reaction, you already know that, do you not? Emilia?"

Said young lady rose her left brow. For the most part, she had liked Yunan from the series, yet she thought that the way he always presented himself as someone who knew everything (regardless if he actually did or did not) was something that she felt was a tiny bit eerie. Lowering the blanket to just under her chin, she pouted. "Yes," she mumbled. "And you know my name . . . How?"

"The Rukh kept chirping it –"

Huh . . . That's interesting.

"– and you almost took me by surprise when you merely materialized out of thin air outside of my door," the Magi finished as his delicate fingers lightly tapped against the smooth wood of his magician's staff.

Momentarily taken aback, Emilia blinked. "Well, that is odd."

"Very!" Yunan seemed to own a fascinated disposition despite his response. He then stood with a smile. "I will go prepare some herbal tea downstairs – would you like me to bring it up?"

She procured a small smile. "Oh, no, I should be fine. I'll come downstairs in a few minutes."

"That is good to hear. Incidentally, your clothes are draped over the foot of the bed." And Yunan left; the vague creaks upon the wooden floors gradually fading away.

Oddly enough, she really did feel well; in fact, she felt rather refreshed . . . Then again, Yunan did mention something about sustaining her unconscious self with magic. If anything, she was quite thirsty. And hungry.

Her neck no longer throbbed in pain, but it tingled.

A few Rukh flapped about above her head and across the bedroom, near the threshold wherein led to a flight of log stairs that trailed down. Otherworlder, Otherworlder . . . Otherworlder, Otherworlder . . .

A little bewildered, Emilia pursed her lips and her toes curled. Those voices are the Rukh? I can actually hear the Rukh to some extent? What the hell?

Otherworlder, Otherworlder . . .

"Oh, please shut up," she mumbled with a strained expression upon her face. "I don't need the constant reminder that I don't belong here."

. . . Belong, belong . . .

Rolling her eyes, Emilia swiftly shot up into a cross-legged position. As soon as the blankets pooled into her lap, a sudden chill claimed her skin, and that was when she screamed. "YUNAN, WHAT THE FUCK?!"

An instantaneously appearing Magi now towered before her; his large and floppy forest green pointed hat perceiving his head as more abnormally massive. "No –"

"Yunan –"

"– swearing –"

"– why –"

"– in –"

"– am –"

"– this –"

"– I –"

"– house!"

"– naked?!"

Following their failed attempt at communication, the man and the young lady merely glared into each other's eyes in silence; neither one breaking contact from the other. She noticed a very slight pout on his face, and his light blue eyes gleamed akin to a child who had just discovered that someone had eaten his last precious slice of cake that he had been saving.

"Wait." With her left hand, Emilia slowly brought the blanket up to her collarbones. "Could you say that again?"

Although Yunan continued to hold her pupils with his, he ceased his glaring and he crossed his arms. "I said, 'No swearing in this house!' It is bad energy, and the plants are sensitive to it."

Bloody hell, he sounds like my uncle . . . Procuring a quiet sigh, Emilia lowered her gaze; a light pink blush now tinting her cheeks. "And where are the clothes I was wearing before?"

He dared to blink at her in the most innocent of ways. "You came here naked. Excluding those piercings on your ears, there was nothing on nor around you."

Sheepish, she hung her head. Yunan saw me in the nude. Yunan saw me in the nude. What did I ever do to deserve this torture? Yunan saw me naked for fuck's sake!

A gentle hand caressed the hair atop her head; and when she looked up with an embarrassed pout, she noticed the platinum blond-haired man smiling down at her. "Come now, little one, it's nothing to worry about. Keeping you under those blankets for almost the entire time, I barely saw anything."

"If you say so . . ." Emilia drawled; believing Yunan as he was definitely not one to lasciviously leer at those who were vulnerable, unconscious and in the nude. She then shook her head. "I . . . I understand and you did act accordingly; it's not your fault that I just randomly appeared naked in front of your house. I am sorry for overreacting – it's usually not like me – and for the swearing."

"It's quite alright. A natural reaction for a child, no less."

'Child?' She tilted her head to the side in silent confusion. He had referred to her as a "child," and her voice was no longer on the womanly side of the spectrum. She inwardly began to dread. Please don't tell me . . .

"Come down once you've clothed yourself." With a light tap of the golden point of his staff against the wooden floor, the Magi disappeared; and after a few seconds, some movement was then heard in the room below.

Now more alert than when she had first woken up, Emilia took a gander around the simple and somewhat darkened room wherein was filled with many books, scrolls and parchments fitted into shelving and strewn upon a couple of dressers and a decently-sized desk. Flinging back the blankets, she swung her legs over and stood upon the floor; stretching out her arms and back in the process before then looking down at herself: She was shorter; her breasts were smaller, and her muscles were not nearly as toned or developed as before. Yep. I'm no longer twenty-five now, am I? Coming into a new world after death – I daresay it was not guaranteed that I would arrive here exactly the same as I was when I had died.

Recalling what Ugo had mumbled about in regards to him somewhat knowing why she was brought over to this world, Emilia scowled. No reason, Ugo; someone merely desired to make a mockery out of my death!

Irate, she took a couple of steps towards a plain, full-body mirror that was in between the bed and a dark brown dresser. A pair of piercing, bright ice-blue eyes upon a girl of thirteen years of age stared fixedly at her. Hair as white as snow delicately fell over her shoulders and down her back; silken, straight and waist-length. Pulling her hair away for a moment, she saw that her piercings were, indeed, still there: A pair of shiny golden rose studs were embedded into both of her earlobes; and slightly away from those – at the top corner of her lobes and just under the bottom of the rim – were a pair of diamond studs, the latter being a gift from her aunt.

Annoyed that she was thirteen again, she was at least grateful that every other physical characteristic stayed the same. Withal, she was overjoyed that she had also retained her twenty-five-year-old mind.

Emilia tched when she glanced at her throat, for a noticeable, long pink-red scar was stretched across her neck from ear to ear. "Hm. That'll attract some attention. How troublesome."

Attract, attract, chirped a couple of Rukh.

Immediately, the girl turned and strolled to the foot of the bed, finding the clothes that Yunan had briefly mentioned about. She donned her bottom in white underwear, soon then wrapping a white breast band around her chest.

Hmm . . . As I was leaving the Sacred Palace, Ugo also claimed that sending me here rather than having my soul stay there was not 'up to him,' but, isn't that bullshit? Or at least, somewhat not entirely true? After all of those years in the Palace, didn't he end up becoming some sort of lower-level 'god'; ergo, he should've had some control over having me shoved here or not? Ahhhh, I can't remember!

In order to properly gauge for herself the current timeline from the manga that she had landed herself in, she made a mental note to immediately ask Yunan in regards to what was now happening in the world. Hopefully, that should assist her in some way. Emilia was the most familiar with the events that had occurred throughout the first two seasons of the anime, as she had watched them thrice – twice when she was younger, and the third time was only one year prior. Because she had only read the manga once, all of the events that had happened after the anime's second season was either a hit or a miss for her. A lot of the information stayed with her, yet there were also parts of the story in which she had either completely forgotten, or was somewhat unsure about.

And then there was the Adventures of Sinbad prequel series . . . She had indulged herself in the anime on Netflix, once. Its' corresponding manga, however, was something that she had opted to wait for its completion before reading it; ergo, it was the time period wherein she was the least familiar with.

The girl bit her lip. In her brief sojourn at the Sacred Palace, Ugo did mention that Aladdin was still somewhere there with him. She pondered on just how many years were left before the beginning of the main series . . . And why, for the love of all things good in this world, was she thirteen again?!

A myriad of thoughts ransacked Emilia's brain as she pulled on a sleeveless white dress with skirts that came to her ankles and a modest, V-shaped neckline. Ehhh, there is no use in worrying about it incessantly. What's done is done, even if I don't like it. I will just have to deal with it . . . And the horrifying revelation that Yunan saw me naked, even if it was only for a couple of brief moments. Hm. I must try to forget that as quickly as possible.

Lifting up a dark blue sash, she wrapped it snugly around her waist before then tying it into a neat bow at her back. She caught a slight glimpse of a hole in her new dress when she was shoving her feet into a pair of flat black shoes, and when she inspected it, she found that that there were two expertly-hidden slits sewn in either side of the skirt. Most of her left leg poked out through the left slit when she rose it to mimic a kick; and after making a couple more exaggerated movements with her legs, the girl procured a rather mirthful grin: Now this was a dress that would not impede her movements. She absolutely loved it.

"Yunan!" Calming, soft light from multiple candles greeted the snowy white-haired girl's eyes as she sauntered down the stairs; as well as a plethora of potted plants, herbs and cacti that were mainly strewn along the floor, almost touching the light brown walls. A ton of wooden pegs were embedded into said walls, many of them holding both freshly-picked and dried herbs, as well as a few vegetables.

"I see that you're in better spirits now, little one," the Magi's gentle, pleased voice resonated throughout the room. He placed two off-white clay teacups upon his dining table (which was actually one fat, protruding tree stump), along with a matching teapot before then pouring some herbal tea into both of the cups.

"A bit, yes," came Emilia's response as she made her way across a medium-sized, plain yet well-made carpet that was a dark red in colour, accompanied with yellow-gold edging. And then her lips morphed into a small smile. "Thank you for the dress, by the way! I do really like it."

Yunan smiled. "That is good to hear, and I'm pleased to see that it fits well." He lowered himself onto a chair at his "dining table" (which was, like the table, a smaller tree stump that protruded from the ground).

Icy blue eyes took a quick gander at the steaming beverage as their owner joined Yunan on one of his tree stump chairs. It smelled like lemon balm tea. "Too well, actually. You didn't secretly take my measurements, did you?"

His reply was both innocent and nonchalant: "I did."

In less than a second, Emilia crossed her arms over her chest and her eyes widened in shock. "Yunan!"

"Emilia!" the Magi whined. Actually whined. "I told you that I barely saw anything! I was focused on the measuring – do you honestly expect me to leave you naked? Or to give you some clothing that is too uncomfortably big for you?" He sipped his tea. "In hindsight, I do apologize for your discomfort."

"No, it's . . . Fine." She gulped down some of her tea after taking in a deep breath to calm herself. "Like I've said before: 'I understand the circumstances.' What you did was appropriate enough," she said, trying to brush off her embarrassment. "I am surprised, though, I didn't know you were pretty good at sewing?"

"I'm not." With his eyes, Yunan gestured to the right side of the wall, where his magician's staff leant against.

"Magic, then?" She cocked her head to the side . . . Oh, that's right! He's supposed to be really skilled at alchemy, is he not? He should be able to make anything.

He nodded. "See, the first time I had picked up a needle, I accidently stabbed myself so hard that I bled a lot. Since then, I've been relying on my magic for all of my sewing endeavours– why are you laughing?! Is my pain that amusing to you?" he demanded of a tittering Emilia.

"But Yunaaaaaan! How are you supposed to learn with your hands if you give up after the first attempt?"

"Don't make fun of me, you mean child. That incident had brought me such pain!" the Magi whined, and the Otherworlder could have sworn that he looked like he was about to cry.

Smirking, she rose her hands in surrender. "Jeez, fine, then. I'm sorry for poking at old wounds." Sensitive baby.

Composing himself, he drank some more lemon balm tea. "Apology accepted. Now then, will you please tell me from whence you came from?"

Otherworlder, Otherworlder, chirped a Rukh perched upon her right shoulder; its' sudden voice almost startling the girl when she glanced at it.

"Ahhh, so you can see them," Yunan perceived with an intrigued smile playing about his lips.

"And hear them." Her pupils re-met his. "Sometimes."

"So the Rukh tell me. I had initially thought that they were merely playing around with me, but you confirmed their words."

"I see. Well, I am not from around here."

"No, little one, you are not." Propping his right elbow upon the fat tree stump table, he rested his chin into the palm of his hand. His smile stayed as he scrutinized her. "You are most definitely not."

Stop being creepy, Yunan. Emilia sighed, a little perturbed. "I'm not from this world."

Yunan chuckled. "I am no stranger to the possible existences of worlds other than the one we are residing in now."

"Like Alma Torran?" She swallowed the remainder of her tea. "May I?" she asked as she gestured to the off-white teapot.

"Allow me." Lips stabilizing at neither smile nor frown, the man sat up straight. He was both fascinated and uneasy. "You are not Torran yourself –" He refilled her cup. "– and are not from this world, yet you are aware of that . . . Unfortunate place? You aren't even a Magi!"

Almost laughing at his expression, Emilia had instead thanked him for the hot beverage. "This world is only a series of fictional stories that were written in my world." Again, she left out the words, 'manga' and 'anime' as she did not yet feel like explaining what exactly they were.

Enthrallment was clearly evident within the Magi's eyes and yet, for some reason, he felt a slight tinge of fear within the pit of his stomach. "And Alma Torran was included in these books?"

"It encompassed a part of them. Most of the story was dedicated to this world's future."

"That is both fascinating yet unsettling. I take it, then, that you also know of Al-Thamen?"

The girl procured a knowing smirk. "You aren't the first to express that," she commented, recalling Ugo's reaction. "And yes. The author of these books detailed them well, as well as what they aim to achieve . . . But you don't need me to continue. You already know of the Organization and of what exactly happened in Alma Torran."

Gulping down the last of his tea, Yunan refilled his cup in silence. He hid his emotions behind a small, neutral smile. "You assume that I already know so much."

"I'm not assuming. I know that you know."

Oh? Do you challenge me, little one? The Magi frowned at her perceived arrogant-sounding answer. "Yes, I do know."

A vague scent of lemon filled Emilia's nostrils as she brought the cup to her lips; gazing at the blond man with newfound confidence. She held a wicked smile. "You know . . . If you really feel the need to do as such, I'll let you see into my memories. You're quite adept at clairvoyance magic, right? If it'll make you believe me, I am fine with you seeing into my memories of what my life was like in the world I was born in. Perhaps, you may even catch a glimpse of me reading the fictional story that pertains to this world?"

This impudent child, Yunan thought with somewhat of an entertained smirk. He also found her words to be a little bit of a shocker – what person would willingly share their own precious memories merely to support such far-fetched claims absent any hesitation? Especially when said claims involved knowledge of future events . . . And yet, to Yunan, these claims were not so far-fetched at all. He would be lying if he had said that he had never pondered on the existence of worlds other than this one and Alma Torran. Since she had first opened her eyes, the girl seemed to already be aware of where she was and of who he was. Not to mention that she knew certain things about him, and she did not at all seem surprised at his alchemic abilities via his hinting that her new clothes had been crafted through his magic. When she had informed him of where she came from, the young one had stared directly into his own eyes with such confidence and surety and truth.

And then there were the Rukh, those ethereal birds of light who would always flutter near her. "Otherworlder," they kept on calling her.

"Yuuunaaaaaan," Emilia pressed; a rather impish half-smirk now gracing her features.

"Stop picking on me, you mean child!" Yunan whined. And this time, with a pout. He composed himself yet again. "Tell me something about myself wherein only I would know . . . And perchance a certain Sacred Palace guardian; but ultimately, something that no one living on this planet would know. I am a secretive man, after all."

Her answer was instant: "Ugo has allowed you to be reborn in the same body and with the same consciousness as your very first life. You're now living your eighth life."

The Magi broke out into lighthearted laughter, all apprehension dissipating from his mind. Rukh happily chirped and fluttered around him. "Oh, there really was no point in hiding any information from you, now, was there? Fear not, little one, there will be no need for some clairvoyance." He took a deep breath to settle himself down. "Only one small correction: I am currently living my ninth life."

A low whistle flew out of Emilia's mouth. "Yeah, you are definitely older than Scheherazade," she mumbled in awe.

The comment caught Yunan's attention. "You know her?" He paused for a moment. "No, of course you would have read of her. You apparently know the future."

She shrugged rather nonchalantly. "Not every little detail."

"Nevertheless, precautions must be made."

The girl scowled. "Yunan, you are not locking me up in here!"

His eyes widened with faux offence. "I have no intention of doing something that drastic. My only suggestion is to never repeat our conversation to anyone else. Blend in with this world."

"Yes, I know; I understand the ramifications of uttering the wrong thing around the wrong people. I'll simply be known as a traveller who came from a peculiar, far-away land that is unknown to all!" Emilia exclaimed her last sentence with dramatic flair. And then her shoulders drooped. I still can't believe that I didn't stay dead. I should have stayed dead.

Reaching over his table, Yunan brought his hand to her head and he stroked her hair. "I offer you my condolences, if you'll accept them."

Her icy blues met his light blues. "Ah . . . You know how I got here? This scar?" She jabbed a thumb towards her throat.

His expression was solemn. "That does not look like a wound one would survive from."

"It was sloppily done. What followed was the most painful thirty seconds of my life." She bit the inside of her cheek; thinking of her close friend for whom was the original target of said friend's stalker ex-boyfriend. I dearly hope she managed to get away.

Curiously, her eyes explored the part of the house to Yunan's back, where she found a more kitchen-like area with many wooden cupboards, a long counter, a cooking fire, a large barrel filled with potatoes and much more. All of the windows around the house exposed a black, abyss-like oblivion; but with Yunan around, she felt nothing of it. She did not have to be anxious of what may be lurking outside. "Thank you, though, for the condolences."

"You're welcome, little one." He retracted his hand; feeling genuine concern for her.

The girl then gifted him with a somewhat irritated look. "Could you please stop calling me, 'little one'; I'm not little."

"You are twelve, are you not?" Yunan tilted his head to the side in vague amusement.

"Thirteen!" she blurted out with a slight blush. "And, well, twenty-five at the same time."

"Oh? Do tell."

"I was twenty-five when I died. My mind is still that of my past twenty-five-year-old self, but this body is basically what I had looked like when I was thirteen."

The Magi chuckled. "And is it really such a bad thing?"

"Yes! This is a huge blow to my pride and dignity!" came Emilia's dramatic response. She wanted to face-palm herself against the table.

"Oh, come now! You get to grow up all over again; in a different world, no less. Is that not exciting?"

Furrowing her brows, the girl fixated upon him for a long three seconds. "It is," she conceded, if only a bit reluctantly, "but, I never asked for this –"

"And I never asked for the burdens and responsibilities of that of a Magi," interrupted Yunan in an uncharacteristically harsh tone. Finishing his second cup of tea, he then spoke with a kinder voice, and his eyes gleamed with a certain blithe encouragement: "But I have long since learned to live without dwelling on past sorrows and to accept my fate. I'm now satisfied with my life. No, I'm more than satisfied. I am beyond grateful that I was blessed with the powers of a Magi. I truly love this world, Emilia, and I would hate to see it defiled and destroyed, which is why I . . . I have this desire to be reborn in it over and over again."

"And so you refuse to properly meet death until you see this world being led by the right person; or, at least until Al-Thamen has been permanently removed from it," Emilia presumed as her lips twitched upwards into a soft smile. "That is quite commendable."

A cheery smile was his first response. "Thank you for– wait. You're making fun of me again, are you not?" he accused with a barely-noticeable pout.

She rose her hands in a mock surrender whilst smirking. "No, great Magi, my words and feelings are true. Stop being so sensitive," she huffed.

"I am not sensitive, little one."

Her left eye twitched and her smirk dropped when he called her that. "I've one question."

Standing, Yunan picked up his teacup and pot. "Only one?" he pressed; back to his calm yet cheery self. He made his way towards the kitchen area and placed his items atop the counter.

She followed suit. "For now, yes. Currently, what's going on in the world?" She placed her cup beside his after drinking the last of her tea, which was now only a little less than lukewarm. Her stomach procured a low grumble. "I'd like to know where I am in the story's events." Although, it's now no longer just a story. It is my new reality.

"Are you looking for something specific?"

She looked up at him and pondered for but a moment. "How many Dungeons have been risen so far?"

"Only one: The First Dungeon, Baal . . . Though, I sense that his capture will come soon. Very soon. Does my answer suffice?"

She nodded rather enthusiastically. "It does! Thank you." Her stomach grumbled louder.

Okay, then, I'm fourteen years away from the Labyrinth of Magic's events. Great, I just happened to be dropped in the timeline wherein I'm the least familiar with . . . Oh, what am I thinking? I may not be aware of a lot of what's happening right now; but finding out, learning, and exploring should be fun enough.

Crossing his arms, Yunan sighed as though he were a tired parent. "Emilia, why didn't you tell me that you were quite hungry? I cannot have you pass out – you just woke up!"

"Well, I was and then I wasn't because I would not have felt relaxed enough to eat without getting our introductory out of the way first." Not to mention that conversing with him had soothed her sanity.

Yunan merely gave her an unimpressed look whilst inwardly admitting that he should have already known that considering that she had been lying unconscious upstairs for two days and two nights. "You are shaking a little," he stated. "Go sit and I'll prepare something." He strolled to the wall where his magician's staff leaned against. "I tend to cook the same way that normal humans cook in, but considering your state, I'll be having the Rukh assist me for today. It's faster."

Emilia lowered herself on a tree stump chair as the Magi grabbed his staff. His words piqued her intrigue. "Is cooking more of a hobby for you, then?" she asked of him.

"It's my favourite hobby; oh, how I love it so!" he exclaimed with such guileless mirth. "If I was not a Magi, I would have loved to become a travelling chef and food savant. And why are you looking at me like that?"

A smirking girl with impishness swirling within her eyes let out a giggle. "Yunaaaaaaaan," she called out his name in a singsong tone. "One can fall victim to many an accident in the kitchen, especially when they're starting out, do they not?"

"Naturally. I am no stranger to it. Your point is . . . ?"

"Oh, Yunan," she tsked. "Considering that, how can you live with yourself knowing that you gave up sewing by hand after one itty-bitty prick?"

"You mean child . . ." An actual tear cascaded down Yunan's right cheek. He bit his lip. "What happened to you that caused you to be so merciless?"

"And what caused you to become so damn sensitive?"

"The plants, Emilia; do not swear in front of my plants nor myself, thank you very much!"

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The third day after waking up in the Magi universe found Emilia Walker lifting up a somewhat large wooden pail of water from a well from which she could have sworn was put there at some point in time via Yunan's alchemy. There was no way that a well would naturally develop within the area that she was in.

As expected of the bottom of the abysmal pit that was the Great Rift, the air was stagnant and cool. The girl found the darkness to be eerie, and this odd, gooey chill creeped up the length of her spine as her eyes nervously looked about her. The back of Yunan's log house was a most welcome sight. She sauntered towards it; the skirts of her white dress softly brushing against her legs. The cold water sloshed around in the pail she carried.

Safe, safe, chirped the flittering Rukh.

Although gradually acclimating to her new situation, Emilia could not help but be irate where some things were concerned, and she sorely missed her family, friends and her work life. I worked very hard to earn my Charted Professional Accountant's designation six months ago. I worked hard to obtain my new position at the Toronto-Dominion Bank two months ago. And here I am now. This is depressing.

Trudging around the side of the house, she was about to make her way towards the front door when she ceased moving. She looked behind her again, her pupils bearing into the never-ending darkness behind Yunan's house and beyond his well. Huh. The Fanalises are over there; the Fanalises in their true forms . . .

Tempted to just drop the water pail and break out into a run to see the greater side of the Dark Continent, Emilia ultimately decided against doing that for the time being.

Entering Yunan's abode, she placed the pail on top of the edge of the carpet and by a cactus with pretty bright red flora. She stretched out her arms as her eyes trailed over the back of a sitting Magi, who was using his magic to sew a hole in one of his white undertunics. He had just finished, actually, and now the needle was floating away from him, embedding itself into a palm-sized dark green pin cushion.

As per usual, many Rukh flew around him.

Akin to a curious kitten, the girl batted at the pretty cluster of white feathers that were attached to a circular ruby encased in gold atop his floppy hat. "Yuuunaaaaaaan."

"Stop that," the man chided, albeit with a half-cheery, half-amused smile playing about his lips.

"What's that?" She pointed at a dark brown leather-bound book in which laid upon the tree stump table.

"Your sketchbook." Folding his undertunic, he then looked up at her from his seat. "I have noticed that you've been drawing every now and then on my spare parchment, and so I'd thought to craft you one."

"Oh! Well, thank you."

"And why are you blushing, little one? There's no need to be shy –"

"I am not blushing, Nan." Emilia briefly fanned herself with her left hand.

"'Nan?'" He looked to be comically offended.

Smug, she crossed her arms. "Every time you call me 'little one,' I call you 'Nan.' I think it's only fair."

"As you say, then, little one," Yunan reluctantly ceded with a sigh. "Anyways, I've already prepared the fish. I will have you cook again today – you need to get accustomed to cooking and baking using my 'odd and archaic oven,' as you have so eloquently put it two days ago."

The girl snickered. "Well, it is archaic to me." Although, she had to admit that it was not that entirely different from a modern stove and oven.

"That it would be," Yunan replied; recalling two days ago when he and Emilia had a decent conversation in regards to some aspects of her world, and with how despite having more differences, there were still quite a few similarities. Magic may not have existed in her world, but it seemed as though, to him via her descriptions, it was compensated with more advanced sciences and technologies.

He now stood with his folded undertunic in hand; and Emilia lifted the heavy pail of water, immediately then walking to the kitchen at the back of the house. "Later, I'll be teaching you how to wash your clothes and the bedsheets in the 'odd and archaic way of this ancient world,' as you've so articulately expressed the other day," the Magi stated with a humourful smile whilst he strolled to the staircase.

Lowering the pail onto the kitchen floor, Emilia sniggered. "Then I greatly look forward to your teachings." Suddenly, her facial expression morphed into that of a horrified child. "Oh my goodness, I can't believe I forgot!" she exclaimed with a panic as her palm lightly slapped against the side of her head.

A little taken aback by her sudden change in demeanor, Yunan stopped in his tracks and turned to face her. "What is wrong?"

"Yunan, please tell me that you have some spare, unused rags? Cotton, or any material good enough for soaking?"

"I've some upstairs from the fabric that I used to make your dress. What do you need them for?"

"Pads! After I make lunch, I need to sew up some cloth pads."

He was utterly confused. "And what do you need these 'pads' for?"

Emilia huffed. "For my period. I have yet to get mine for this month, but it's only a matter of time," she responded in quite the casual fashion to a blank-faced Magi. "You know – when women bleed a river through their vaginas once a month while feeling like a hundred piranhas may as well be feasting on our uteruses?"

"Yes, Emilia, I have lived a long time. I know how the human female body functions." Sighing, Yunan deadpanned. "I rarely ever meet a girl who would just simply blurt out such private things in a graphic manner to a man, especially to a man they've only fairly recently met."

Considering the time period, Emilia believed him; and although still in a brief panic, she could not help but laugh for a few seconds at his expression and final sentence. "Well, you did ask. So, can I have the rags to make my pads?"

Yunan turned and proceeded to walk upstairs. "Yes, please take them; anything to put a stop to this conversation."

Pads, pads, twittered some of the Rukh that followed him.

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Having been born and raised in Canada, Emilia was definitely not accustomed to experiencing July or August weather in the middle of January. Cicadas buzzed their weird sounds in the heat of the portion of the Dark Continent that was just above the Great Rift; yet thankfully, the ample shade of the green forest provided her with a . . . Decent enough comfort. A warm breeze delicately brushed through her long snowy white hair. Birds chirped incessantly; and to her right peripheral, a large kaleidoscope of beautiful sapphire blue butterflies with thin black edging around their wings fluttered hither and tither.

Warm, warm, peeped a couple of Rukh. Safe, safe . . .

For the first twenty minutes after Yunan had left her here to do lord knows what, the girl amused herself by exploring the forest; and for the past forty minutes, she had been sitting atop soft bright green grass with a tree against her back and a book in her lap. Said book was one of Yunan's magic-related texts, specifically one about alchemy. She could see a plethora of his own handwritten notes recorded in ink with the original text – could this perchance be from when the Magi was just beginning to learn such things?

Initially, she was surprised at her ability to be able to read (and write) in this world's commonly written text; then again, why should she be shocked if she was able to communicate with Yunan using this world's Common Tongue? She wondered that since her comprehension of the common language seemed to have switched, does this mean that she was no longer able to read, write and speak in the English language? Inwardly sighing, she turned a slightly worn-out, yellowed page.

From a few feet before her, a platinum blond-haired man with an ankle-length braid materialized out of thin air. "I do wonder, little one," Yunan began cheerily with his staff grasped in his right hand and a handle of a woven basket in his left. "Why do you peruse my books and scrolls on magic if you yourself do not have the makings to be a magician? You know I cannot teach you anything because of that."

Emilia hummed; her ice-blue eyes excitedly skimming over a page. "Yet I read it anyway because it's all very enthralling to me. Unlike in my world, magic is very real here; it's tangible, and it's so diverse. Just because I'm unable to do something does not mean I can't read about its' basic fundamentals and such. If it's intriguing enough, then it's intriguing enough. Besides, some things may actually be quite useful for me to know, like the information on Magoi since everyone here has it."

When she finally looked up, she noticed Yunan gazing at her with a pleased, warm smile adorning his lips. She had always thought that his light blue eyes were really pretty, yet the way that the natural sunlight reflected off of them perceived them as utterly gorgeous. "Did the books foretelling the future of this world not detail the magic adequately?" he asked after a minute.

"There was a lot of information about them, but I can't remember everything if I haven't re-read it many times before. And anyways . . . Living in this world will offer me a hundred times the amount of information." Closing the worn book and nestling it in her left arm, she stood and made her way towards the Magi before then gesturing to his basket. "Oooh, are those apples?"

Akin to a child finding a good piece of chocolate, Yunan procured a bright grin. "I have this need to bake a pie."

"I want to help!"

"Please," came his short and lighthearted response as he turned; and with his charge now by his side, the two of them proceeded to lackadaisically meander around the trees and bushes of the forest.

Fanning herself with her spare hand for a couple of minutes, Emilia was the first to break the tranquil silence: "I've been wondering this since last week when we first spoke, but I am kind of surprised that you didn't ask me anything specific in regards to the future."

"In truth, I probably would have if I was living in my first or second life – or even my third life – but I know better now. I have no intention of asking you what may come to pass; I do not want to know. I will live my life naturally as the flow of my destiny dictates."

Destiny, destiny, cheeped all of the Rukh within the vicinity.

"I see," she commented flatly; understanding his words whilst trying her hardest to not roll her eyes at his mention of 'destiny.' Well, that makes it easier on me, so thank you.

His voice calmly floated into her ears: "I was just at the Torran Village, by the way."

Her mouth opened into a wide 'O' shape. "That's where you were? What didn't you take me with you?"

Lips stabilizing at neither smile nor frown, Yunan spared her a glance. "They are, ah, sensitive to outsiders. I am an exception as, for decades, I've been making constant visits to their village, and I meet and share tea with the chief every time. I also assist them with some of their problems, should I happen to be in the area."

But the Torran People seemed welcoming and more open-minded to outsiders in the main series . . . Hm. Considering his goal, I wonder if Sinbad had anything to do with it. She tilted her head to the side. "Are they just not used to them, or are they victims to the occasional group of slavers, like the Fanalis Village on this side of the Dark Continent? Isn't that village somewhat near the Torran's, anyways?"

Nodding to both of her questions, he smiled for the nth time. "However, you are with me . . . I shall bring you there sometime soon."

The powerful humming of a waterfall was suddenly heard nearby and the sun shone brighter (which made Yunan recoil rather dramatically). The forest thinned and, before long, the duo's feet stepped on grassless light brown soil; and many feet away, was the largest rift Emilia had ever seen. A black ocean of shadow stretched on yonder the horizon; northwards, westwards and eastwards.

She let out a low whistle. "Wow. Seeing this in real life rather than in a book is quite something."

"I would imagine so!" Yunan tittered as he stepped towards three naked, brown tree trunks. "We just ran out of firewood and I need to craft a new door, so I gathered these only prior coming to you," he mentioned whilst raising his magician's staff. "Please wait for a couple of minutes."

"Alrighty, then." The girl stood with the book clutched against her chest.

Utilizing his gravity magic, Yunan brought the pieces of wood into the air; and they floated away until they were further out in the distance, hovering just above the blackness. He dropped his arm, and the trunks tumbled downwards, disappearing beneath.

The Magi held out his arm as he turned to Emilia. "Shall we, little one?"

Absent hesitation, she looped her arm around his; and in seconds, they were once again surrounded in darkness with the front of Yunan's home greeting them. The just-thrown tree trunks laid messily by the left side of his house.

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One Week Later

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Emilia pulled out a couple of toasted loaf slices from Yunan's old-fashioned stone oven; spreading some butter over them and promptly shoving them into her mouth before then peeling two small oranges and eating them as well. She read one of his scrolls about this world's geography, and then a book regarding some lost ancient civilization of centuries' past. She washed and cleaned both of her and Yunan's bedsheets and pillows, hanging the laundry up on clotheslines at the back of the house. She dedicated an hour to practice drawing hands and feet in her sketchbook. Afterwards, she took it upon herself to water Yunan's plants whilst contemplating on how said plants could even stay standing strong if they were not receiving any natural sunlight . . . Eh, he was probably doing something "magic-related" to them.

Such was her Yunan-less day thus far.

It was quiet without him. Then again, it was also quiet with him here (only when she was not teasing him, though), but she at least had someone to talk too. During these times, it was the Rukh who shared her company, albeit she could not communicate with them entirely the same way that Yunan can.

Emilia currently laid upon her back, on top of the Magi's red carpet with her arms and legs spread out like a starfish. Slightly restless, she daydreamed about some of the foods that she had dearly missed eating: Sushi, pizza, chicken and salmon teriyaki, various pasta dishes, avocados, blueberries, kiwi, dim sum, tacos, cheesecake, lemon tarts, chocolate, ice cream, matcha tea, the occasional glass of alcohol; and many, many others.

Suddenly, the Rukh fluttered in a bit of a gleeful frenzy. Yunan, Yunan! Yunan, Yunan!

On cue, the front door opened, and the aforementioned Guardian of the Great Rift now towered above her laying form with a strange look marring his seemingly youthful face. "What are you doing down there?"

"Hello to you too, Yunan," came the thirteen-year-old's somewhat impassive greeting. She proceeded to bat at the ends of his braid and the slender, soft white feathers attached to it. "It is surprisingly comfortable."

For the first time ever, Emilia saw Yunan actually procure an eye-roll and that greatly amused her. With a flick of the tip of his staff, she suddenly felt herself floating upwards until her eyes met his chest and her flat black shoes touched the floor. Reaching behind her waist, she adjusted the bow from her dark blue sash. "Oh? Are we going somewhere?"

He smiled; taking her hand when she finished. "Come, little one, we will be visiting a village."

Suddenly, it was hot. Sunlight assaulted her vision and the sweet scent of nature was in the air. Birds chirped ceaselessly, and there was a low hum of a nearby river. The pair were now in the centre of the Torran Village.

Torran, Torran, chirped the Rukh excitedly.

For the Otherworlder, it was as though she had been transported into a painting that was published in one of her elementary school history textbooks about the North American natives: Surrounded by the trees of the gargantuan forest, stick fences and simple yet well-made tents – or rather, tipis – were littered throughout the large area. Beautifully-crafted and painted totem poles decorated the land; and in the slight distance, Emilia could see parts of a circular, grey stone structure, the architectural style of it bearing a very close resemblance to the Stonehenge. The people of the village owned tan skin of different shades; their hair was of black or dark brown (with a small handful of them owning a more red-brown type); and their eyes were of black, brown, hazel, and the occasional grey. The white or light cream-coloured clothes that they wore were unadorned and their feet were either bare or clad in brown sandals or moccasins. Simple yet well-crafted jewellery adorned their bodies; made of leather string, small beads, and white animal teeth and bones. The people wore a thin strip of dark brown leather around their heads and foreheads, with at least one black-tipped white feather attached to it (some had two, three, or even four or five feathers).

What stood out to Emilia the most was the myriad of blue tribal markings – tattoo or a special type of paint; she could not tell, but she assumed that it was the latter – in which had adorned the peoples' bodies and faces. The men, especially, had slightly more intricate markings along their bare chests, abdomens and backs. Whereas everyone had some personalization to their own markings, they all shared one exact piece: A dot surrounded by a circle upon their forehead almost in between their eyebrows, representing the third eye.

Emilia rose a brow. "Yunan, why are you still holding onto my hand?" she asked with a vague nervousness as a lot of the Torran natives fixed their gazes upon the duo.

The Magi did not answer her, but he did call out a cheerfully polite greeting to the people in the Torran Language.

Many of the people had good-natured expressions as they returned Yunan's greeting, and they all held respect within their eyes – Emilia assumed that they probably already knew that he was a Magi. They barely paid her any heed, though . . . Well, ten of them gave her suspicious, uneasy looks. The rest looked like they were trying not to make eye-contact with her, yet they also seemed curious in regards as to why the Magi was tenderly holding onto this strange girl's hand.

In no time at all, the Torrans returned to whatever they had been doing prior the duo's sudden appearance; and as Yunan pulled the girl along, the peoples' eyes lingered on her back.

"So this is your 'precious little one,' as you have mentioned a couple of times during your recent visits," observed the Chief of the Torran Village in Common Tongue as he scrutinized Emilia Walker. In white robes, he was quite the short old man with shiny black eyes and a bald head. His long and insanely thick white beard was neatly combed.

Maintaining a calm expression, the girl had almost shot the Magi a strange look. Wait, what? "His precious little one?"

"Yes, this is Emilia," Yunan responded with a pleased, calm smile. "I am grateful of your allowing her to come here." From within the chief's home, he, the girl and said chief all sat on their knees and shins upon a sea of simple, yet lovely and colourful well-made rugs. They were alone within the tipi, save for a Torran warrior who stood tall and proud many feet behind Emilia and Yunan; guarding the entrance.

"If I may speak, Village Chief?" Emilia rose her voice, and when the elder reclined into his nest of pillows and procured a nod, she continued: "Yunan has 'already talked about me' . . . Could you please elaborate?"

"I am pleased to see that she is a well-mannered child," the chief said; facing Emilia after a moment. "Yunan had prior talked to me about the possibility of leaving someone here for a bit of education on combat. Naturally, this surprised me until he mentioned that he had a child; which then furthered my bewilderment as I had presumed that you were of his blood and, ergo, would be a magician."

"The Torran Tribe calls no magician their own; and so if you did have magical ability, I would have taught you myself . . . Chief, you can be a little over-suspicious at times!" Yunan chuckled.

"With good reason, corn-hair!" the chief grumbled; glaring at the briefly pouting Magi before then resting his eyes upon Emilia again. "He described how during his travels, he found you naked and unconscious; that you were from a far-away land that no longer exists."

Frowning, Emilia nodded. "I don't like talking about it, but yes. My home is no more, and everyone else I knew was gone. Yunan took care of me since." She felt the blue-eyed man place a comforting hand against the small of her back.

Yunan smiled a bit on the embarrassed side of the spectrum. "See, little one, I am most unskilled in physical combat. Asking the chief to spare one of his warriors was the most logical way."

"Know this, child," the Torran Chief suddenly spoke in a very firm tone. "The only reason why I had agreed to the Magi bringing you, an outsider, here is because he had claimed you as his child absent any hesitation."

Emilia's eyes widened. Well, that escalated quickly . . . "I understand, sir."

"And his assistance with some of my village's problems have been most appreciated. Yunan, as you are unable to teach your child on how to properly defend herself, I will have one of my best warriors do that for a little while. Tio, come!"

Instantly, the rather intimidating-looking warrior from the entrance of the chief's tipi walked around the fair-haired duo, now standing by the chief's side. The thirty-year-old man was six feet and three inches tall, and strongly-built, with many scars caressing his well-developed muscles. His dark brown hair was short and his hazel eyes were unreadable.

"This is Tio, my nephew, and he will be your instructor," the Torran Chief introduced. "His Common Tongue is not as refined as mine, but he understands it well enough."

Emilia could not understand why her palms were sweating. She was both tense and excited. "Hello, then, Mister Instructor," she peeped.

His response was an expressionless expression to rival all blank expressions. "Hello," Tio forced out after a painfully long ten seconds.

"Well, now, it is time for me to go!" Yunan exclaimed happily. "I shall come by later to bring you home. And remember, little one, precautions must be made. Right?"

She merely smirked at his alluding to his previous words from three weeks ago. "Of course, Nan."

.


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*** After Note I – Feel free to drop a review and let me know what you think~! :D Soooooo, I've been re-reading Magi to refresh my memory and properly plan out things. Currently, I'm reading the later parts in AoS that I actually haven't read before and holy lemon tarts . . . Is Seto Kaiba– I MEAN BARBAROSSA, seriously becoming Magi's resident Hitler? Because I'm getting those vibes. O.O ***

*** After Note II – My having the Rukh being able to chirp out random words and short phrases in the manner that they have been so far in this fanfic is just this fun little head-canon that I have. Naturally, I couldn't resist writing it in, hehe. x3 ***

*** After Note III – Despite Yunan being a recurring character in Labyrinth of Magic and Adventures of Sinbad, he's more of a minor side character who happens to still be pretty damn mysterious – especially where his background is concerned. Because of that, I will be utilizing the powers of AU-ish fanfiction and fill in some gaps here and there as the story goes on. ***

*** After Note IV – So I generally answer reviews via PM; however, I'll be responding to those who I can't PM here~ :3 ***

Guest: Glad you think so~ And yeah – for modern-person/people-ends-up-in-fictional-world fanfiction, I try to write their reactions based on their characters and current feelings, and every person's reaction is different. Thanks very much and I hope you have a great week~! :D

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