Each moment that passed was ripe with anxiety, Varin realized life right now was beyond his control and the only way to stay sane was to let the wind take him where he needed to go. Leolina and her little pet-of-an-elf, Jaspar, had met with him and Thaddius routinely throughout the past days, further explaining the dangers of what they were to do. There were only two things that struck him as particularly dangerous, and it had little to do with the idea of traveling to an unknown kingdom. He had traveled from an entirely different region, he paid little mind to the idea of a boat ride across the Emerald Strait. The two things that could serve fatal to Varin, and all those who he had surrounded himself with, was, firstly, the fact that Leolina’s intended to use doppelgangers in a war she knows will happen—approaching it more so as a given as opposed to a result of conflict—and secondly, the idea of Seraphine having so much influence of Aiora. Even if they were both puzzle pieces to whatever end goal this long-since departed Chosen One requested and decreed, he knew she deserved a different fate. A fate she would pave. Even if he ended up being the sacrifice Leolina foretold while fulfilling the Chosen One’s prophecy, he would make sure Aiora made it out alive. Varin stood out in the city of Daggernest, overlooking the foggy waters as he helped the citizens of Traburg clean the aftermath of the chaos that occurred just days prior. The city’s buildings had crumbled to ruin, men had passed, and children ran around the kingdom newly orphaned. Leolina took a few in, promising to care for them in Lighthelm, but he doubted her intent. Even after all he had discovered, he did not trust a single thing about her. He only knew she was a moving piece in the path of saving both Cateline and Aiora. He wondered if Gerard still lay in his tower, unmoving and decaying. Closing his eyes, he grimaced at the recollection of the deceased. So much had fallen that night—one only serving as a bad dream, and the other notably by his own hands. The thing that bothered Varin the most was the fact that he knew nothing of the spell he had cast on Cateline—not of its origin, or how he came to know it. It felt Divine. "Mister Varin,” a child called from the distance. Opening his eyes, he turned and watched a little girl run towards him. Senevia was a young, newly orphaned child dedicated to the idea of helping. She never cried, nor did she question the evil that lurked behind the chaos that tore her parents from her. Senevia accepted what had happened, crying only when she was behind closed doors. One of the only children Varin had met that stood so strong; she was surely a warrior in the making. The only way a bystander would know she was involved with that night, was by the burn mark across her cheek that would surely scar. Despite the pain she was feeling, those green eyes never looked livelier. She wore a pink dress stained with mud at the ends, the unmarked cheek covered with soot and dirt. He wet a rag at the shoreline, wiping some of the dirt off her as she continued. “I am hungry, Mister Varin.” “Senevia,” he sighed and rested the rag down on a wooden table. “Why do you not stay at Lighthelm? We have caretakers for you there, ready to feed you at your request.” “Why would I stay there?” She asked with a scrunched nose, turning her head wildly and gestured towards the men carrying large logs and wooden planks. “There is so much to be done!” “Yes, things for men and women much older than you to do, Senevia. Go and rest, you have been through far too much.” Varin said, crossing his arms over his chest to appear as intimidating as possible to the tiny girl. He had little experience with children, and by the looks of her unwavering face, she was not moved by his attempt. He wondered if she was even old enough to comprehend the idea of death. “I am old enough to move a few planks of wood. What is next on your list? Surely, I can help!”

Varin sighed and shook his head, looking around as the families all around frowned and drove planks into the ground. They were rebuilding the burned fencing, slowly closing the acreage that had once housed cattle and horses. When his focus returned to the child, her eyes glistened, and despite her smile, she looked so sad. He wondered why she forced herself to cover up those feelings—any child would be distraught after being told their parents were gone. “We can find something for you to do if you insist. Come along, Senevia.” The grin held on her face was so triumphant and toothy, it nearly made him smile. It was infectious, but the idea of this child remaining unhoused, unparented, and alone outweighed any happiness that youthful glee could give. He knelt by a stone block piled with fabric, where younger children and women folded and knit clothes. He patted the spot next to him and ignored the glares the mother shot towards him. Most of the town thanked him for saving them, but despite the magical influence of this kingdom, and city, there were plenty of judgmental wretches running amuck. He laid a pile of fabric before her, furrowing his brow and he stared down at the task at hand. It only now dawned on him that he would have to attempt to teach her how to sew—these women avoided anything that interacted with mages like the plague. Even if it was a newly orphaned child. “Alright, Senevia… You take the pieces of fabric you wish to sew, and you push the needle through with the thread like… this!” Varin shoved that needle through the fabric and smiled, he had figured it out! Sewing was easy. He would have coats and pants for the entire town before sunset. Now that he had the first step done, he needed to bring the thread back through so it would connect the pieces together. When he did, the needle poked him on the finger, and he cursed under his breath as a droplet of blood oozed from the tiny wound. A woman across from him giggled, the older women both slapping her on the arm before standing. “Come, we can leave the man and that child to do their sewing. Clearly, they can do it just fine without our assistance.” Varin narrowed his eyes at the maid’s as they scurried off, not waiting for the maiden to follow. His eyes rested on her, his brow arching as she sat still. “Are you not going to follow them?” “Why would I?” she responded with a huff, strands of hair blowing out of her face and falling to the side. She continued to sew, her gaze not lifting from the fabric as she shrugged her shoulders. “Clearly, you are not going to be the one to teach this child how to make some clothes.” A smile twitching at his lips, he nodded and continued his efforts. Senevia smiled up at Varin before grabbing hold of the fabric, nodding her head with confidence. “Varin, I think I can make a far superior shirt. How much would you like to bet?” “Betting is a fool’s game, Senevia.” Varin folded part of the fabric as he continued to sew. “No.” the lady across from him chimed with a sneer. “Clearly, a fool would bet that this inexperienced girl could sew far better than you. Not only would he bet right, but he would also go home with some coin and a way to feed his children at night.” Varin grinned at the jab and shrugged his shoulders. “Who am I to judge how a man or woman chooses to lead their life?” “Good answer,” she whispered and looked towards Senevia. “And what is your name? Clearly, the town needs to know who to call on when they need a new dress.” “Senevia,” she said quietly, her lip pouting out slightly. Varin furrowed his brow at this, biting his tongue so he didn’t further question why she appeared so unhappy. “Well, Senevia, do you want me to teach you a few tricks of mine while Varin goes and does what Varin’s do?” He watched as the woman scooted closer to Senevia, her hair dark and braided. She looked to be the age of twenty, her skin only wrinkled when she pulled her lips into a smile. She practically glowed in the light, her eyes as inviting as sky and her skin radiant and tan. “So, I am being thrown out of the sewing club so early on?” “I think it’s only best, Varin. Perhaps you have some more towns to save from burning to the ground.” He looked at the half stitched patch of fabric, pouting before resting it carefully on the tabletop. He pointed at it dramatically before gesturing to Senevia. “This is your dress to sew, alright? I want you to make the dress you would attend a ball to. I won’t settle for any less.” Senevia’s trembling lip curved into a smile before she finally let out a laugh, nodding her head. “A ball? What type of ball?” “One where Prince’s and Princess’s dance, only to part as the moon sings in the sky! Nothing less, you hear me?” “I do, Varin!” “Alright,” he said and stood. “I will come to fetch you at dusk.” He looked towards the lady one more time, this time with a slight smile. She did not look up at Varin, but he knew she could feel his stare. She seemed independent, a strange trait for a woman in Traburg. Although this Kingdom was relatively welcoming of the idea of magic, the patriarchy was evident. Women were to sew, cook and clean, and men were to hunt, attend to the farms, and slaughter the cattle. Children were to be mentored by their parents according to their gender. Naturally, it was strange to see a woman so vocal and laden with sass. It was a breath of fresh air to Varin. As he parted from them, his ears perked up as he attempted to eavesdrop when Senevia spoke up. “What is your name?” “Adeline is my name, the daughter of…” Varin smiled as the rest of her sentence trailed off. He turned over his shoulder, making one last look before turning a corner to keep rebuilding the city. He knew he shouldn’t indulge in the idea of courting a woman, but he felt a draw to her. He wasn’t sure if it was the confidence and fire that radiated from her pores, or the fact that she did not let the matriarchs over her control what she did, but he wanted to get to know this Adeline. Sadly, he had much more important things to do than woo a beautiful maiden. Perhaps he could find the time after finding Aiora, resurrecting Cateline, and defeating a dead witch who would continue to haunt him. Sure, Varin told himself, I think that is reasonable. I can plan a night out by the water after I kill an already dead witch. Sounds perfectly reasonable. Helping a man lift a log, he couldn’t help but frown at the idea of trying to defeat a witch he wasn’t even sure truly existed. As time ticked on, he knew the likelihood of saving both Aiora and Cateline became increasingly less probable. He needed to speed this plan up, and unfortunately, it seemed the only way to do it was by taking some measures of his own.