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*** Note I – Some prequels, despite being prequels, require the reader to read the original story first in order to fully understand said prequel . . . This will NOT be the case for my story. Though there'll undoubtedly be few things that you won't get the full picture on if you haven't read the sequel, you don't have to read it. Most of this story stands on its' own. ***

*** 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 ***

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~ 000 – The Wandering Magi ~

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"I don't know whether you can look at your past and find, woven like the hidden symbols on a treasure map, the path that will point to your final destination."

~ Jodi Picoult, Handle with Care

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"Say, Yunan," Emilia Walker began curiously after a silent minute. "Where are you from? I know you said that you're not really up to sharing much about your personal life for now, but may I at least know where you're from? Is your birth kingdom still around?"

"It is alright, little one." Wistfulness took Yunan's countenance and his lips stabilized at neither smile nor frown. "The land still very much exists, but the empire has long faded." After an inaudible sigh, he suddenly turned to her; filled with energy. "Once, there was a young man!"

The snowy white-haired girl merely blinked her ice-blue eyes.

"He hailed from a great empire, one of world's earliest, but he was one day framed for the murder of a nobleman's eldest son. Tragic as he had no proof of his innocence, he managed to flee before he could be imprisoned –"

"What about his family?"

"All had died before then to natural causes. Of the man's friends, only a select few believed that he was not guilty, and so one of them gifted him with a little boat. Taking it, he escaped across the ocean, but was soon caught in a violent and raging storm. He lost consciousness; he thought he had died, but then he later opened his eyes to a completely unfamiliar land filled with different types of people. There was a beautiful young woman gazing down at him, for she had been tending to his wounds . . ."

"Wait, is this how your father met your mother for the first time?" Emilia smiled in inkling.

"It is!" he replied cheerily with nostalgia written all over his young face. "The framed man, my father, hailed from the Empire of Babylic. The woman who found him, my mother, came from the neighboring Maledonyan Kingdom, which would soon later become the Empire of Maledonya. I was born there."

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Sighing inaudibly, the conversation with his ward replayed within Yunan's mind for the third time. Opening up in such a way and inclined to delve into his past like that, even if it were only for a few short moments, was something that he would rarely do, but he had known this girl for a while, now. They had known each other for half of a year and they had spent quite a bit of time together – it nearly felt as though he had known Emilia for much, much longer, and there had been something unfathomably familiar with regards to her Rukh . . .

But of course he would feel as though there was a certain connection between the two of them, just as she, too, had felt that there was this "weird" connection. He had dubbed her his "precious little one" after she had expressed the truth about her origins, yet there was one thing wherein stood out to him the most like a kitten emerging from a field of small bushels of forget-me-nots: The fact that she, like him, was also someone who was reborn into their original physical self with the exact same mentality as their previous life. Emilia was undoubtedly a kindred spirit to him and he had felt more than willing to get to know her more as well as become a guardian (rather a distant guardian) for her without fully realizing what he was doing himself. Going as far as to raising a Dungeon for her for her protection and then claiming her as his King's Candidate was not something that she was keen on (she more than despised it, actually, although she did come to understand why), yet he could not help himself from acting as such.

A stroke of good fortune was what the Wandering Magi had felt the more he spent time with her, just as he had felt lucky to have found a child favoured by destiny, a rare First-Class Singularity. Declaring them as his King's Candidates was something he was compelled to do as a Magi, but as a Magi who had lived through so much . . . He could not find it in himself to actually guide these two youths, as a Sorcerer of Creation was supposed to do.

Stay in tune with the Rukh? Check.

Raise Dungeons? Check.

Attempt to remove Dungeons wherein were summoned by an Al-Thamen-controlled Magi, or a Magi who had gone astray? Check.

Observe his King's Candidates every now and then from afar and interact with them for a little bit? Check.

Developing brand new experiences with them through many journeys; assisting them greatly; constantly standing by their sides, as well as thoroughly guiding them? Now that was something in which Yunan could not bring himself to do the longer he lived, for within the deepest crevices of his mind, the memories of his past – especially those formed within his very first life – prevented him from acting further. It still rudely gifted him with a special fear of what may happen, and he did not wish to experience insurmountable loss once again.

The lukewarm breeze of the Dark Continent vaguely ruffled through his platinum blond hair and the large, floppy forest green hat that donned his head whilst he lowered himself from the clear skies and landed by the Torran Chief's large tipi; the hustle and bustle of the Torran Village assaulting his eardrums. "Good day, Chief," Yunan expressed cheerily in the Torran Language with keen light blue eyes.

Beneath the awning and leaning slightly on his wooden cane, the aforementioned short and bald elder man with welcoming yet austere black eyes regarded him amicably. "Yunan. And where were you off to?" His large yet neatly-combed white beard twitched as he procured a miniscule smile.

The Magi's fingers lightly tapped against his magician's staff wherein near-resembled a fishing rod. "Ah, I was returning home, actually. I came from Imuchakk to see Emilia."

"Oh? And how is the young one doing?"

"Well enough. She's already experienced quite the adventure in just a short amount of time!" Yunan tittered.

The chief seemed pleased. "That is good, that is very good . . ." And then he scrutinized the taller man. "Why are you not still with her? As her Magi, you should be there to guide her."

Do your duty; do your duty, the Rukh chastised. Naughty Yunan, naughty Yunan!

Suppressing the childish desire to stick his tongue out at those ethereal spirit birds, the Magi merely shrugged nonchalantly with an innocent smile. "She can do well enough without me constantly being there; after all, she has met my other King's Candidate as well as some good people."

"You are the Magi. They are not."

"It is not as easy as it sounds . . ."

The longest five seconds ever passed with the Torran Chief staring at him with judgemental eyes; the hidden tension feeling nearly thick enough to touch and pierce through. "Is there perchance . . . Something that you fear from developing a close connection with someone?" the tactful elder queried curiously. "What stops you from properly fulfilling your duties?"

Eyelids shutting, Yunan released a light and airy chuckle. "Oh, how honoured I am to have your concern! You need not worry, however, but I thank you." Reopening his eyes, a lightheartedly impish glint masked the sudden loneliness and agitation that he had felt seconds ago. "No, everything will be alright. It's nothing too serious and I shall do what I must."

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The warm and gentle golden yellow-orange glows of the candles that illuminated his small log house below the deepest abyss that was the Great Rift greeted Yunan when he appeared out of thin air into his bedroom. He leant his staff against the brown wall.

Don't be sad, Yunan; don't be sad, Yunan! a few Rukh encouraged.

A small smiled played about the lips of the handsome yet feminine-looking man. "I am not, little ones."

Liar, liar . . .

Forget the past and do what you must, a kaleidoscope of Rukh that had flapped from atop the threshold to his room and down the flight of log steps chirped. Forget the past and do what you must!

"Oh, do be quiet!" He huffed as he touched the palm of his slender hand to his forehead. "And give me some peace or else I will go insane with your never-ending prattling. How I haven't done so already is astounding."

Miraculously, his command worked, for the Rukh left him after a second; muttering how rude he was being. Pouting, he strolled to his large desk ladened with parchments, scrolls and books, and sat down upon a simple chair with dark green velvety cushioning; his eyes languidly sweeping the surface before then stopping at an old and dark brown leather-bound book. A journal, to be exact, one of the many that his old friend, Odysseus, had written, keeping accounts of what had been happening throughout his life, as well as the lives of Yunan's first King's Candidate, Archelaos; said king's sister, Alexandria, and the history of the Magi's home country during the time that they were all still alive.

Reclining into the backrest of his chair, Yunan reached out and grabbed the ancient journal – the tenth volume in a whole series of them. Odysseus did have an uncanny penchant for documenting everything, to Yunan's wistful amusement.

Yet when Yunan brought the book closer, he did not read it, but held it against his chest as some form of familial comfort. Closing his eyes, his subconscious saw fleeting glances of his old friends, his wife, and of his mother, Tryphena; and his father, Akkiya.

Many lifetimes he had lived and yet these faces still continue to both haunt him and comfort him. His floppy, pointed hat tumbled to the wooden floors as he began to softly snore.

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*** After Note I – Feel free to drop a review and let me know what you think~! :D Future chapters will definitely be longer, as this is only a prologue and an experimental chapter. :3 ***

*** After Note II – Writing a story about Yunan's past has been in my mind for a little over a year, now. When I first got into Magi in mid-2017, he was definitely a character that captured my fascination, and I was saddened that there was very little information about his mysterious self after reading through both Labyrinth of Magic and Adventures of Sinbad. As I was writing the original The Dance Of Life fanfiction in 2018, I had also started to jot down ideas for how I would handle Yunan's past since I did make him a major character – I at first wasn't going to write a full-blown story about it, but I wrote down so many ideas that I may as well as actually write out a full story, just as Shinobu Ohtaka did with Sinbad and the Sindria crew. ***

*** After Note III – Just some housekeeping and a mini warning: We know that Yunan's been reborn into the same body with his same mind as his very first life and that he's living his ninth life during the current timeline of the manga. Starting from the next chapter, this fanfiction will entail more world-building and my version about how his past lives over the centuries were like – I aim to go through all of them, but the main focus and longest part of this story will take place during his very first life. Which means that this story will be very AU and OC-centric. Yes, the main focus character is a canon one, Yunan, but the fact that roughly 99% of the cast will be OCs due to the nature of this story can't be denied. If that's not your thing, then this fanfiction wouldn't be for you. ***

*** After Note IV – Just as a heads-up, this story will include a slow-burn YunanXOC romance throughout the first life part as I've already indicated in the sequel that the Yunan in my story had already married long ago. ***

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