Varin felt freed. The prior evening was void of the bewitched amnesia, but instead rampant with his mindless anxieties. Sleep was a luxury; one he went another night lacking.

He made way towards the armory, running his fingertips along the various weapons he could use to relieve any tension. He could draw a bow, but the idea of missing his target so frequently would further his frustration. Deciding on a sword, he removed it from the wall and placed it on a large wooden table. He reached over to a bowl that had herbs ground into powder, pinching it between his fingers before letting it fall back into its home. Grabbing a handful, he tossed it around the sword and closed his eyes.

He began to focus in on the cool metal, and how the soft leather of the handle tickled his skin. With words that flowed like water, he began to enchant the sword.

“Arma ad Caelum, flectere hoc metallo, et facere ignis,” he said beneath his breath and felt the cool metal grow warm. He repeated it thrice, wincing as the fire that ignited along the blade of his sword breathed to life. When he opened his eyes, the weapon was glowing red, and the herbs that once surrounded now orbited it.

He grasped the handle and lifted it to eye level, studying the specs of gingerroot and mullein leaf as they circled the tip. Waving the weapon around, a small flame chased the wind and brought a smile to his face. Magic was a give and take, and Varin was well aware he was inevitably weakening himself when he practiced enchantments without allowing something to be sacrificed. He was selfish in that sense and was fine with sacrifice if the magic had little impact on the now. He would worry about the later when it came time.

Walking out to the grass, he stared down a sparring dummy with a frown curled across his lips. The tiniest pieces of hay stuck out through the seam, the burlap material tattered and uneven at the edges. When he first arrived at the academy, he and Aiora were in charge of building replacement dummies after an elder scholar tore apart a few dozen during a match. He, unfortunately, would be giving some poor newcomer the responsibility of creating a new burlap figure after he let out this bout of rage.

He swung his sword, slicing the chest with the tip of his blade, and smiled at the sight of fire. The strands of hay singed at the tips, tiny embers blowing away in the air just as he swung again. With each movement, the material screamed out and tore into pieces, falling to the ground before disintegrating into ash. Varin couldn’t help but let out a chuckle from the feeling, his fingertips feeling warm as the energy flowed throughout his veins.

Varin spent his childhood years with his father, deep into the meadows that stretched beyond his home, and danced around the trees in an attempt to learn the moves of battle. At a young age, he learned how to take down the most giant beasts with his fists, how to execute a monster with a blade, and later on, how to hone in on the magic his father so hoped he would one day obtain. Varin was a man set for war. He was bred on the idea of dispute, and nothing would get in the way of his father’s last wish. To defeat those who wronged him.

Varin never found what or who wronged his family, but he was aware his last name used to bleed through the country lines, intercepting the Kingdom’s walls and made even the mightiest King shake.

Varin was to exhale life back into the Lunifare name. That was what his father wished at death, and that was what he agreed to. It would have helped to understand what influence his family had before, though. It was wiped away at his birth, and his father never gave much of an explanation to what happened. Just that it was what was owed.

With a snarl, he took a final swing and watched as the burlap began to shed from the wooden spike, falling to the ground and igniting the dry patches of grass before eventually dying out. He squashed his foot on the last of the flames, stabbing the blade into the soil and wiped a bead of sweat away. He turned his head and saw a set of blue eyes peering through a long, open window, her stare tracing the streams of smoke that floated away into the air. Eventually, she narrowed her eyes towards him, moving to the doorway and stepped outside. Cateline.

Her steps were careful, with hands held behind her back and hair tied into a braid. She looked tired, with eyes so sunken and dark that it was alarming. Her skin, pale, and her lips curled into a frown; she was a walking portrait of despair.

“My, my, Princess. Tired? Don’t have a servant to wake you in the morning with a cup of tea?”

Ignoring his prod, she stomped on one of the final flames and looked around at the tattered burlap. “Seems you’ve made a bit of a mess.”

“Nothing I cannot clean up.”

She hummed, picking up a piece that was blackened to a crisp. Turning her eyes to the sword, she walked over and traced the handle with her fingertips, pinching the end that reached a decorative point.

“How did you do this?” She asked quietly with pursed lips.

Varin raised an eyebrow, smirking at the sight of her curious stare that raked along the blade, resting on the small little flares that snaked around the point of the blade that was stabbed into the earth.

“It’s called an enchantment, Cateline. You already know this.”

She looked at him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, nodding with such insecurity it rang loud throughout the air. “Of course,” she said, but the way Cateline fidgeted and shuffled her feet told Varin she was, in fact, unsure what an enchantment was.

“Cateline, I know you’re not too…experienced with magic, but what do you know? Definitively know?”

Varin smiled as Cateline’s mouth opened a few times before clamping shut. She was stumbling for her words, which caused her cheeks to redden more dramatically. Cateline lifted the skirt of her dress and she took a few steps away, staring over the horizon and focused on the green mountaintops before letting out a sigh so dramatic it made Varin chuckle.

“I don’t know what I know, Varin. To be fair, I think it’s safe to say I know nothing, and nothing knows me.”

“I’m sorry?” Varin said, bewildered.

Cateline, again, sighed. “Incompetent.”

This aroused a defensive reaction, his fists clenched. “Watch your mouth, Princess.”

Cateline turned to look at him from over her shoulder, her jaw dropping from his tone. “I think you should watch it, Varin. I wasn’t talking about you, I’m the incompetent one.”

Varin relaxed at her confession, picking a piece of hay from his pants before moving towards her. “Alright, incompetence can be fixed. I will ask again: what do you know?”

She hesitated, her eyes flickering across the horizon and her lip puckered as she sucked in a breath. “I know I have only used magic in moments of danger. This academy, Lighthelm, was the first time I’ve ever tried to harness any sort of control.”

“Interesting. Any reason why? How long have you known of your magic?”

“I have known since I was ten. I kept it concealed, for my parent’s sake.”

Varin flickered his gaze to her chest, watching as she messed with a necklace that sat loosely against her skin. The jewels shined beneath the harsh sun; his attention was being captured by the allure of the gem. He felt a desire to reach for the large pendant, to rip it from her neck.

“That’s quite a necklace. Did you know it was enchanted?”

Cateline turned towards him, grasping the necklace tighter in her hands. “Enchanted?”

He nodded. “Strongly, too. What is it?”

Cateline huffed, tearing her focus from him to the skirt of her dress as she picked a few pieces of fuzz away. Varin found a sense of joy watching as the Princess anxiously touched anything in an attempt to ease her puzzlement. It was unlikely she felt so questioned in her own Kingdom. Varin couldn’t help it, he felt a desire to pick her brain and learn what made her tick. Mostly because he had never met somebody so powerful with such little experience, but also because the idea of her throwing yet another tantrum meant he could have another day full of comedic relief.

“You’re quite the inquisitive one, Varin. If you must know, I was not made aware this pendant was enchanted. My mother gave it to me.”

He shrugged his shoulders and lifted his hands up into the air as if to mock a surrender. “Duly noted. I can stop inquiring of your precious gems, Princess.”

Varin did his best to bow as dramatically as possible before tearing the sword from the ground. He waved the blade around mindlessly as he went towards the armory. Although his back was turned, he could feel Cateline’s stare on the string of smoke that trailed the blade, each swing igniting into the air in a show of wonder. Despite Cateline’s most futile attempt to remain stubborn, Varin knew she wanted more. She was as curious as a cat, one that would most definitely get on each of his last nerves before the day could end.

Without much hesitation, Varin heard a haste patter as Cateline trailed him just in time to see him set the blade on the table, swaying his hand over the gentle aura of warmth it emanated. Removing an enchantment was easier than placing one, but if done incorrectly it could harm the mage in practice. Specifically, when dealing with enchantments that dealt directly with something as alive and hot as fire.

Cateline stood close to Varin, her eyes glued to the sword as it illuminated an orange hue against the wooden table. He looked down at the girl, poking a single finger against her shoulder to move her away.

“Move away, Cateline. There’s no room for you to burn, again.”

“Excuse you! I want to learn, Varin.”

He cocked a brow. “Learn, you say? What good is learning if you fall to the floor again, burning to a crisp?”

Varin watched as her tiny hands clenched into fists, a vein protruding from the center of her forehead. Stumbling for her words, she decided a groan was the best response and crossed her arms. “I am more capable than burning away. How am I to master elemental magic if I cannot try?”

“How are you to learn if you, again, are charred? You must not know how to listen, Cateline. I figured a royal castle would be dust-free, but it seems it has clogged your ears.”

“I cannot believe your nerve, Varin! I should have minded my own, you have never treated me with care.”

Cateline took one final look at the sword before making way towards the door. Varin’s lips twisted into a frown as he watched her walk off in a fit, her arms crossed, and her gaze set on the floor. Cursing under his breath, he called out for the Princess.

“Cateline,” he huffed, “come here.”

She turned on her heel right at the sound, her eyes narrowed and set towards Varin. After hesitating, she returned to his side and focused back on the blade.

Finally, Varin thought to himself, she is quiet.

“An enchantment is simple, it involves binding some type of material to an object, or person. When somebody is enchanted, it is often called bewitchment. There is magic that stems from our own energy, and there is magic that stems from the materials found within the earth. The enchantment I used on the sword involved two primary materials: gingerroot and mullein leaf.

“Mullein leaf is known to represent fire. It lives in the dry landscapes where water is but a luxury, it prospers in the desert. Do not ask me about the gingerroot, though, I am not sure why this enchantment calls for it.

“There are two ways you can remove spells that are bound to objects. If the magic is not potent enough, you simply can let it die out. It will return to its natural state without a fuss. If it is from a mage who knows what they are doing, though, you will need to remove it. There isn’t much I can do to explain this, it’s more of a feeling as opposed to a sequence of events.”

Cateline’s gaze flickered between the sword and Varin as he lectured on, his own stare set on the blade as the specs of gingerroot danced around the metal aimlessly. Varin placed his hand over the sword, closed his eyes, and breathed the same spell he used to place the enchantment. His fingers glowed, and the core of his chest grew warmer as the energy lifted into the air. Beside him, he could feel the Princess step back and let out a gasp, surely awing over the spectacle that was floating herbs. Varin couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if she learned more about the magic that was possible outside of Lighthelm’s doors.

Just like Arabelle, Varin reminded himself. Arabelle, the apparent name to the girl who stalked him in the bar, practiced the type of magic he had been sheltered from the second he entered this academy. The type of magic that could destroy villages, and level mountains. For some reason, Arabelle knew of him, Leolina knew of Arabelle, but he knew of nothing. Dark magic was a draw to him, a dream that he would never experience in real-time.

Sucking in a breath, he clenched his fists and gripped the sword at the base. He practically threw the weapon back on its holder before turning to Cateline, nodding his head.

“You got your explanation. Surely you can stop bothering me, now.”

Varin mocked a bow before walking past her, shaking his head as he rubbed the temples of his forehead. He was freed from that woman who stalked him in the bar, but as Leolina had let on, this woman, Arabelle, was not to be messed with.

Despite this common sense, he found himself yearning to know what magic the ‘children of the night’ possessed, what power they could rest in the palms of his hands. It was all speculation, but he was certain it was grand in comparison to an enchanted fiery word.

“Varin,” Cateline called out from the courtyard just as he was opening the academy doors. “I need a favor.”

With an exasperated sigh, he turned and smiled coyly. “Yes, Princess Cateline?”

She furrowed her brow. “Evidently, my knowledge of magic is little to none. Aiora has served to be unreliable, and Leolina is limiting my exposure to magic extensively. I know you and I do not get along, and I do not think we ever will, but I would be forever grateful if you showed me how to use my magic.”

“Aiora—unreliable? What do you mean?”

“She hasn’t been inside the academy in a few days. Have you not noticed?”

Varin stood, silence overtaking the empty courtyard. He cleared his throat before nodding, “Of course I have noticed. She is off… visiting her family in a village nearby.”

Cateline hummed. “Alright. That does not answer my question, though. Will you?”

Varin gave Cateline a once over, biting the corner of his cheek and looked around at the academy. Thaddius was his mentor when he first arrived, and the troubles they both went through were the primary reason he had such control over elemental magic. Thaddius was just experienced enough to take people under his wing, but the number of mistakes they both made served to be comical. This academy would not have made him as strong of an individual if he didn’t have a mentor. Despite this, he found himself wary of teaching Cateline. Not because he did not believe in her, but because whatever he did with Cateline directly led back to the Mistress. And the Mistress clearly had something planned for the Princess.

“Fine, I can teach you the little I know, but fire is off-limits for now. We will focus on potions, and simple spells that I know won’t absolutely kill you.” Varin said, turning his head to look at the Princess once more. “But this stays between you and I. The Mistress finds out, and it is done. I don’t want to get in the way of whatever she has in store for you. Got it?”

Cateline gulped, nodding with wide eyes and a wavering smile. Behind those eyes help an essence of curiosity and excitement, but he could tell she was nervous. Nervous of him, or nervous of magic, he was not so sure.

He went back into the academy, taking heavy strides towards Aiora’s living quarters.

───── ❝ 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊, 𝖊𝖓𝖛𝖞 & 𝖒𝖆𝖌𝖎𝖈 ❞ ─────

Cateline watched as he walked off, her smile fading away. Her heart was bumping inside her chest, and despite pinching her palms she still felt nauseous. Nobody knew of her daydream of an experience, where she got to sit in on a gentleman’s only meeting. Axulran was a fleeting dream, but now that she knew that her father planned to use and dispose of her, she questioned the possibility of actually returning home. If she were to go home, though, she needed to know how to fight. Aiora had not made an effort to contact Cateline, and Thaddius was under the impression her curiosity would get them all killed.

The last was Varin. The hardheaded, rude, and disrespectful Varin.

She reached up and pinched the necklace between her fingers, peering down at the gem before letting it fall back to her skin. She had no time to worry about the supposed enchantments Varin noticed on her necklace, if she had survived this long while wearing it without a second thought, she would survive a few more days.

Making way to the western wing, she walked down the long corridor that had floor to ceiling archway windows, the wind blowing through as she stepped onward. Outside, the rain was seeping into the grass and forming puddles around Lighthelm. As she stared down at a pond, her evening spent being washed away by a wave crossed through her mind like a bad dream. The feeling of suffocating beneath the surface level of a lake was something she hoped to never experience again. More importantly, though, she hoped to know what caused this, just so she could hopefully prevent its repetition.

“Princess Cateline,” a smooth voice called from the end of the hall. Turning away from her reverie, she met eyes with the Mistress. “It is time for our lesson, is it not?”

Biting the corner of her cheek, she nodded and promptly followed her into the classroom. As the door shut behind her, a rising feeling of anxiety crept around her chest and wrapped around her heart, the thumping within increasing without cause. Magic scared her, but she needed to master her fears to continue on with her life like normal.