Varin stood there with the handle of his dagger gripped tightly, eyes following every movement Cateline made. She seemed stately, a superiority that exuded from her very pores. This confidence was lacking prior; each time she wielded magic she was insecure, a child among magic. This was not the Cateline he had known. This was a formidable witch, standing tall and upright, wielding her magic with the confidence of the heavens and the strength of any superior brute. She was terrifying, a walking vision of evil hidden beneath a skin of beauty. “Cateline, we can talk this out. I need you to calm yourself, you’ve wrecked this town enough.” The flames were dancing around them, slowly consuming the shrubbery. Each twig hissed as it burned, embers floating into the air and filling his lungs as the smoke grew black. Coughing, he reached up to cover his mouth with the collar of his shirt. “I have not wrecked a town; I have wrecked the beasts that inhabit this land. You are one, too! How do you know my name, you are nothing but a monster!” Varin narrowed his eyes and loosened his grip on the blade. She was mad, a clueless woman who was hallucinating. He knew he had to tread lightly. “You really do not know me?” Cateline shook her head, her hands glowing blue and bright, a ribbon of magic crawling up her arm like a vine. She was growing agitated. “I am your friend,” Varin said carefully. He was not sure how true his words were, but perhaps any semblance of companionship would trigger her memory. The scoff told him it was a sour attempt. He continued. “We must return to Lighthelm, Cateline. You will be safe there, away from these beasts.” Just as he muttered the word ‘beast,’ a child ran by with burned clothes and tearful eyes. He sighed and watched to make sure the child made it to safety before returning his focus. She was eerie; still. “Lighthelm has monsters, too,” Cateline whispered. “Monsters greater than you, greater than me. We must rid the world of these beasts.” Furrowing his brow, he shook his head. “What beasts, Cateline? What beasts do you speak of?” The electric ribbon grew into a whip as she cackled, snaking down her arm and onto the ground. She started to walk towards him, the whip dragging behind her. Electricity—a form of magic she had never harnessed before. It was the type of magic only the masters wielded, Jaspar being the only warlock he had witnessed harnessing it with such ease. Varin had only harnessed it as an enchantment, using it with his own mana was an entirely different level of mastery. “The beast is within each of us. That school breeds them—trains them into mindless bunches of witches and wizards that serve no purpose on Denzethea. Waste of space, you are. That’s why Aiora left.” Varin’s breath caught in his throat before he regained his composure. He was certain this was not Cateline—even as spoiled as she was, she was not evil. She couldn’t be. Suddenly, her electric whip lashed at him. Rolling out of the way, he kneeled and stared in disbelief. “Cateline, you must be careful. You don’t know what you’re doing!” “I think I do,” Cateline said in a whisper, her smile slithering up her face and eyes like diamonds. Dirty diamonds, hidden beneath in the rough. When she spoke again, her voice boomed. “Varin Lunifare, the son of a wretched man who called warriors to battle—a battle that ended in a massacre!” “How did you know—” The electric ribbon whipped again, barely missing him as he fell backward. Varin knew he had to find a way out—he refused to fight Cateline, she was an inexperienced witch… he knew she was not the one responsible for this mayhem. “The Lunifare name is evil, just like the rest of Leolina’s little underlings! She thought she could control this one, but she was far too powerful to give up. Aiora even agreed.” Varin scoffed, she. Cateline was referring to herself in the third person, a telltale sign of bewitchment. Whoever it was that controlled her was enraged, Varin had to act fast if he wanted to make sure this city did not burn to ash, only to be told in a tragic tune hidden behind tavern doors. Daggernest was a hotspot in the heart of Traburg, he refused to let it die in the name of an evil witch. Seraphine—or, whoever was in charge of these bewitchments—had tormented him, Cateline, and was most likely the person behind the kidnapping of Aiora. He refused to believe she up and left willingly. With the third lash, he rolled away before standing to his feet, running to her, and grabbing her by the wrist. The electricity burned the edges of his hand, the energy everywhere but the bare skin he was touching. She stood on her tiptoes, staring him in the eyes and smirked. “A brave warrior, approaching a witch like me. Aren’t you scared, Varin?” “Never.” She hummed, raising her other hand and twisted her fingers into her palm, a pulse of energy emitting from it and pushed him back. So far back, he was lifted into the air and smashed against the wall, the breath leaving his lungs in a gasp as his head banged against the wooden panels. “So defiant, a true warrior. Tell me, Varin…” Cateline started and paced back and forth once in front of him. “What is a warrior without a war? I am interested in what you have to say.” “You are nothing but a bitch!” She hissed, sucking in a breath in a false statement of sorrow. “A Princess like I would never be a bitch—prostitutes, nothing but wretches. Do you really see me as a pitiful prostitute, Varin?” He remained there, his feet dangling in the air. Pressing his palms against the wood, he tried to push himself off. Twisting her hand, he felt the air catch in his lungs; a twisting feeling arising at the core of his chest and throat. He couldn’t breathe. “You’re not Cateline,” he said between gasps, trying to steal each breath possible. She tapped her tongue against the roof of her mouth and walked up to him, looking up at his floating body with a frown. “Such ignorance. How could I not be Cateline?” After a few seconds, she laughed and leaned over, holding herself up by her knees. “Oh, Varin! You got me there. You are a wise man; it is hard to trick you!” Lifting herself back upright, she twisted her hand once more and the air was restored in his lungs. Letting out a gasp, he clenched his fists and stared down at her. “Who are you?” He asked with a weak voice. “I am everything, Varin. I have a little piece of my soul in each of you—I am you.” “You are insane!” “Perhaps. I can see the anger inside of you. How does it make you feel, knowing I control this girl? What a gift she is, so much unused, raw potential.” “If you do not let her be I will—” “What, kill me?” She chimed in with a laugh. “I am Cateline. You will not rid yourself of me without ridding yourself of Cateline. Aiora. Yourself.” “When I find you, I will wrap my fingers around your neck and watch the life drain out of your eyes, and I will find pleasure in it!” Cateline looked at him with narrow eyes, whipping the electric band next to his hand. The sparks flew, and the wood of the home he was hung up on lit into flames. He screamed and reached up, patting a flame that singed the seam of his shirt. The skin beneath the fabric burned from impact. Within an instant, he was released from the air and slammed to the floor. He gasped; the air yet again knocked from his lungs. He looked up, reaching for the dagger just feet away. Cateline slammed her foot down onto his arm, shaking her head as he cried out. He couldn’t be submissive, he had to treat this woman as a threat—she was not Cateline. Closing his eyes, he drowned out whatever ill-fated threats she threw at him. He could hear the rancor in her voice; the venom so thick and spiteful it was enough to boil his blood. Varin could feel the core of his stomach twist, a warm feeling rising from his chest, down his arms, and into his hands. He grabbed a handful of dirt and tossed it upwards and into her face. She spat out, backing away from the temporary and inadequate distraction. He stood, grabbing the dagger with his good arm and glared at her. “A witch… nothing but an evil, spiteful witch.” With a blink of his eyes, Cateline was shoved backward, further than she had shoved him. She landed in a pile of hay, eyes wide and hair tousled. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he walked towards her. His bones ached, and he felt blood drying on his skin from the blunt force of hitting the shed. He needed to hurt Cateline, do just enough damage to shut her down long enough to suppress this bewitchment. She rolled from the hay and kneeled, wiping strands away from her arm and stood—she seemed unaffected. He should have aimed for the brick house—surely that would have shut the witch up. If this was not Cateline, he would have gone for a kill. He was enraged by this mayhem, the site of children crying and homes burning. It took every ounce of discipline to remind him of the reality of this situation: this was not Cateline. Cateline’s whip receded into her palms, forming into a sphere of energy that grew each second. Her arms had ice traveling up to her elbow, the skin frosting and her hair appearing white as the energy around her grew stronger. Reaching back, she screamed and released the mana from her core, exploding through her tendrils in a shockwave of electrical energy so strong it paled in comparison to a thunderstorm. This time, it didn’t miss Varin. It hit him in his core, his body growing numb—but it wasn't enough to shut him down. He fell backward, bolts of lightning bouncing along his skin as he gasped for air. Everything felt still, his lungs would not accept air and his vision was growing hazy. He stretched his fingers to grab onto the dagger, cursing as it slipped through his aching hands, only securely grasping it after stretching his fingers. He reached up as she put each foot on either side of his waist, slashing at her calf. She didn't flinch despite the blood that trickled down from the slice. Leaning down, her knees straddling either side of him, she was just inches from his face; her eyes were dead, unapologetic, and dull. She reached her hand up and caressed his cheek, cooing at him as he continued to gasp. He felt like he was going to die—he had no control. She used her free hand to wipe some of the blood on her fingers, staring at it in awe before cackling.

“Such an unfortunate fate—she fancied the idea of you, Varin. I thought the warriors were supposed to save Princesses like her. You, just like your father, are a disgrace.” She wiped the blood across her bottom lip, sucking it in before tapping him on the nose with it. The last of her words drowned into the abyss as his vision grew black. His heart rate slowed. He could feel each beat within his chest, growing harder and more infrequent with each second that passed by. Her fingers wrapped around his neck, squeezing at either side as she leaned down to his ear. “Nothing but a failed warrior.” Eyes opening wide, he felt something inside of him explode. Energy he had never tapped into, a power so great it shook the earth beneath him. Her grasp released from his neck within an instant, her body growing still as she fell to her side. His chest released, the pressure lifting from him and releasing into the air. Coughing up blood, he vomited to his side and pulled himself up. With each cough, more blood fell onto the dirt beneath him. As his vision returned to him, he looked all around and saw the fire had been squashed, the screams had ceased. When he looked to Cateline, she was pale and still, lying there with closed eyes. Around her was a golden aura that radiated with each breath. He sat up carefully, wincing with each movement as his bones cracked. He rested his hand against her, searching for a pulse. He began to panic, thinking the worst had happened. Varin had killed an innocent woman—a Princess who was bewitched and tortured into this chaos. He couldn’t control his magic, and it was the reason she was dead. He let out a cry at the sight, his vision blurring—this time, from the tears. Varin was not a man to cry because he found it useless in most circumstances. A useless expression of failure. But, this felt needed. He had never killed a person, the only thing that experienced his strength were sparring dummies. Never had he killed a human being. He leaned down and pulled her into his arms, watching as the glowing aura grew brighter. Moving a strand of hair away, he studied her face with a trembling lip. Varin had treated Cateline—the real Cateline—with such distaste. With harshness she didn’t deserve. She was narcissistic no doubt, and perhaps arrogant, but it was all she knew. A Princess was of a different breed—a breed of royalty. He was no stranger to that kin and yet he treated her like the bottom of the barrel. Leaning down, he hugged her with a sob. He couldn’t live with the idea of killing a person. She had no pulse. She was unmoving. She was dead. A hand rested on his shoulder, a calm and reassuring touch. He turned his stare upwards, staring at Leolina who stared down at them. Shaking her head, she held a knowing look beneath her gaze. “Come, Varin. We have much to do if you wish to save Cateline.”