Enter Abyss

Chapter 33; Wandering in eternal blackness is not good for one's health.

When Archer thrust his eyes open, the first thing he saw was light. Beautiful, glorious light that nearly bloody burned his eyes out.

For a moment, he started at it-- a little gaslamp that burned with a warm golden glow-- and he did not even think to wonder as to how the lamp had gotten there in the first place. What did it matter? It was light. Light and hope and a possibility for living.

It was magic.

Sitting up, Archer blinked at the lamp, noticing for the first time that his mouth no longer tasted dry and pasty. His body still ached, and he was still laying next to Galen, but they were somehow both laying on a bed of sorts.

Odd, but not unpleasant.

Archer waited for his eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness, his curiosity burning bright as a flame. Where were they? How did they get here? And, most importantly, was there any food?

Peering around him, Archer saw that they were in a small camp constructed of long bits of fabric pinned up from  the walls of what appeared to be a shallow dip in the earth. Like most places in the Abyss, the ground and walls of the dip were coated in a thick layer of moss that glowed an icy blue.

Lanterns and lamps either sat on piles of books or crates, or hung from a complex network of string that crisscrossed above them. All in all, it cast the campsite in a sleepy sort of magical glow.

Sitting up, Archer carefully got out of bed, trying not to disturb Galen and began to explore the campsite, peering through the old books and finding them filled with scribbled handwriting and drawing of machinery that made no sense.

Judging by the design, they would never work, not if the inventor was planning on physics not being a problem.

Archer was just beginning to wonder if they were in the campsite of an inventor of some kind when he heard someone clear their throat behind him. Spinning around, he came face to face with a woman.

He froze.

She was middle aged, her once red hair greying, her skin weathered from traveling, her eyes sparkling with wonder as she stared at him. Stepping forward, she stretched out a hand, tears welling in her eyes.

"I..." her voice trembled then, "Blimey, you look so much like your father."

Then, without thinking, Archer fell into his mother's arms.

He didn't have time to doubt, to wonder if this was really her-- he simply knew. The sight of her, her scent, the familiar warmth as she held him, it was something a child could never forget.

Vaguely, he could feel his mother crying, her tears soaking into his hair. She pulled back slightly, looking at him, holding his face in her hands as if she couldn't believe he was real.

"Ember," she whispered, "My sweet little boy, all grown up."

Archer grinned at her, his heart feeling  as though it would split from joy. He wanted to hug her, to ask her as many questions as he could think of, to ask her about his father. But now, all he could think to say was, "It's Archer, actually."

His mother frowned slightly, "I destinctly remember calling you Ember."

"Yes, well Tha--" he hesitated, "That is, my caretaker named me Archer. I rather like it actually."

Brightening once more, his mother beamed at him. "Well, then. Archer it is. I rather like the sound of it as well."

Archer grinned wider, letting her lead him to the center of camp where he helped her build a fire to start dinner. In the meanwhile, he asked her every question that popped to mind, and she answered with rapid certainty.