Varin rushed out of the academy as if his life depended on it. The air outside was brisk, and his thin tunic hardly served many purposes against the chilled winds. The sun was slowly tucking away into the horizon, and although he would have preferred to not have gone to the most dangerous part of the kingdom at night, he refused to stay in that academy one more minute.

The way the mirror mimicked his every move—a perfect reflection up until the point it was imperfect. An imposter behind the silver layer of glass that pointed him toward the sword. A sword that existed in his reality.

Shivering, he crossed his arms over his chest and grabbed one of the horses from the Lighthelm stable. It was a black one, his mane as smooth and silky as the sheets he slept on back home.

Back home, they didn’t have ghosts hiding in mirrors copying your every move, Varin told himself. Just had to come here and see a haunted mirror, didn’t you?

Sighing, he moved onward with his horse and followed the path toward Javunger. As he distanced himself from Daggernest, the light grew duller and the silence became deafening. The trees were overbearing, their long trunks reaching up into the sky with long, spiky branches stripped of their leaves. The colder seasons were beautiful in Traburg, but nothin was more terrifying than the empty, barren forrests at night.

Even as a man, a man who had fought monsters trying to steal his family’s land and life, Traburgs mysteries terrified him. The cursed Whispering Woods, the heretics that lived in Javunger, and the secrets that hid beneath his nose at Lighthelm—it was enough to drive him mad.

For his mothers sake, he had to return a sane man. His efforts would be wasted if he went home insane and delusional. He refused to live through that fate.

Shaking his head, he continued along the path and focused on his surroundings. The moon began to rise into the sky, shedding light so dull it could have not existed at all. Dark shadows stretched into the woods all around him, stealing each and every last source of light that existed until it was void of it. The only noise around were the horses hooves against the gravel and a few nocturnal creatures hooing in the background. Every now and then, Varin would turn over his shoulder when he thought he heard something strange. Eventually, he would shrug it away as nerves. He knew he was alone on this path.

Trotting up to a tall gate, he hopped onto the ground and began to push it open. Javunger was protected by a large fence, aimed to keep the heretics in the woods away from their homes. Varin doubted how effective this defense strategy was, especially considering the fact that he was able to push the unlocked gate open without a fuss.

If the normal forrest was as terrifying as it was at night, he did not want to see what was on the other side of this town, near the Whisper Woods.

They didn’t even have guards standing by. He grabbed his horse's reins and led him to a stable, securing him there before looking around the fairly empty city courtyard. It was quiet, a set of storm shutters flapping against the side of a home with each gust of wind. A dog was barking, its owner hollering from the doorway before slamming it shut again.

Sighing, Varin pulled the note Leolina had written for him and read it once more.

The cottage by the tree line with a red tarp covering the window is your destination, pay mind to his pet Lilac Hawk.

Furrowing his brow, his eyes scanned the decrepit city. To be fair, there were a dozen homes at the border of the forest, and he had little patience to look at each of their windows. Although, it wasn’t like Varin had much of a choice, Leolina wasn’t the person to ignore orders from.

Letting out a quiet groan, he moved to the houses along the perimeter of the fencing and watched as the large pine trees sprawled into the sky, seemingly more terrifying than the ones he passed on the road. Some of the homes he walked by were charred and black from the fire a year prior, remnants of a terror that plagued this city. At one point in time, this city was merely seen as an eyesore. The heretics were segregated into the woods, only an issue when they sought out a sacrifice for whatever they worshipped. There were many rumors about them, ranging from animal based rituals to human sacrifices formed around the idea of resurrection.

Often times, these citizens would leave their animals outside in hopes they would sacrifice them as opposed to their loved ones.

No matter the scenario, there was death that followed. It was what caused the fire that destroyed this city—just two days following the sacrifice of a child named Melony Grentride. It shook the entire kingdom, but Javunger never recuperated. Varin was convinced they never would.

Eventually, he approached an older building made of stone. There was hay stacked in front of the windows, a singular red blanket covering the only window on this side of the home. Clearing his throat, he walked to the front door and knocked.

Silence.

So he knocked again.

Silence.

Defeated, he unsheathed the sword and rested it against the door frame and reahced up to knock once more, this time with hesitation. A soft creaking came from the floorboards of this home, inching closer and closer until the hinges screamed, a man standing on the other side of the cracked door.

“Hello? I come bearing a gift from Headmistress Leolina?” he said, taking a half step back to create some distance.

With that, the door opened wide and an elderly man looked at Varin. He was short, almost dwarf height, and had curly gray hair. His beard stopped at his chest, pieces of bread crumbs stuck in the edges of his mustache.

“Sir,” Varin greeted and bowed his head. “I am Lord Varin, a scholar at Lighthelm.”

The man grunted and began to close the door again. Sticking his foot in the way, Varin sucked in a breath and cursed beneath his breath.

“Sir, all I ask is you accept this from Leolina. She says it is yours.”

Varin took the sword by the handle and offered it to him. His eyes got wide, the door opening further so the entirety of him was visible again. He spit onto the floorboards of his home before snatching the sword from him, observing the blade carefully.

“Boy, I am confused,” he said with a deep, raspy voice. “Are you a Lord, or are you a scholar?”

“Both.”

He grunted again. “You need to be careful on these streets at night, there are crazy men who run ‘round. Naked, chanting their rituals and prayers. Why would that elven bitch send you out at night?”

“She may have sent me, but I was the one who chose to come here at such an hour. I apologize if I woke you.”

When he smiled, Varin noticed he was missing his two front teeth. “Let me teach you something Leolina never will, got it?”

Varin raised an eyebrow, waiting for the man to continue.

“When a monster comes to your home,” he said, “and pulls a blindfold over your eye, you have to rely on your sixth sense. We all have it, and I hope you know yours.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Sixth sense. Sixth sense. Sixth sense. Sixth sense, boy, your sixth sense!”

Varin backed away as the man continued to repeat it, louder with each utterance. Hand hovering over his dagger, he waited for the man to slam the door before he took off running.

It didn’t make sense, Leolina was so particular about those she surrounded herself with. Why would she call this man an old friend, with his missing teeth and delusions of a sixth sense? Looking back towards that home once more, he clenched his fists and let the repetition drown out into the back of his mind.

Sixth sense… he sighed inwardly, what a lunatic. Javunger will never change.