Varin felt ill. He was pacing around in his living quarters, tearing at the roots of his hair as he moved from one end of the room to the other. Each thought that entered his mind echoed through the chambers of his skull like a bad dream, reminding him of his two grave failures. His dearest friend was missing, and amid searching, he was met with nothing but a presumptive, irreversible death and forever-missing friend. Leolina had gone mad, and her ideas were just cherries on top of the disaster that his life had turned into. He was relatively inexperienced, practiced a dark spell he had never heard of, and had no idea where to begin in terms of reversing it. The only person he knew that would be any help was crazier than Seraphine, it seemed. He fiddled with the vial from the tower in his hand, closing his eyes as the remnants of the deceased man clouded his mind. Varin had only just realized how thoughtless it was for him to leave that man behind—a disgrace to the departed. A gentle thud greeted him at the door. He slipped the vial into his pocket before looking to the source. “Varin,” Thaddius said after clearing his throat. “What has gotten into you?” “What has gotten into me? Pray tell, did that burn to the face didn’t fry away the last of your common sense?” Varin snapped, crossing his arms as he continued to pace. “Alright, fair enough. I should rephrase: What good will pacing do for you?” “Nothing. It will do nothing good. However, I am not sure what good I could do, I am rather useless it seems.” Thaddius remained quiet as he entered the room, taking a seat on the bed. Tapping his fingers on the wool blanket idly, he let out a sigh and shook his head. “Is it true?” “Is what true?” Varin grumbled, finally stopping to look at the satyr. “The spell you had cast. Leolina and Jaspar were talking about it after you left.” Varin hesitated before shrugging, lowering his gaze to the ground. “I’m not sure. She was fighting me, and I spent the entire battle trying to avoid any conflict. I tried to avoid hurting her. In the end, though, when she held me in a chokehold, I kind of just exploded. I don’t know what I did, all I know is she’s in some sort of permanent resting status because of it.” Thaddius hummed, moving his stare away. “Leolina says there is a way to fix it.” “I know… I was there?” “I meant that she is passionate about this idea. I am wondering if we should trust her.” “Why would you ever want to trust her? We spent our entire time at Lighthelm questioning her ethicality—she is hiding something, and we’ve always suspected it. Now, she comes to us with the idea of preparing for sacrificial magic, and you just shrug your shoulders and propose it to be valid?” “I mean… we have no idea where Aiora is, and Cateline is in an eternal resting state. What more can we lose?” Varin pinched the fabric of his pants as he pursed his lips, shaking his head. His eyebrows relaxed as he felt the vial of liquid still in his pocket, moving as he twiddled his fingers. Sliding it into his palm, he nodded slowly. “Alright, fine. Why don’t we pretend we can trust the magical Elf and hear what she has to say.” At the very least, if all went to hell, he had a potion to help him get out of it. ───── ❝ 𝖑𝖔𝖛𝖊, 𝖊𝖓𝖛𝖞 & 𝖒𝖆𝖌𝖎𝖈 ❞ ───── Varin sat in the common hall at one of the circular tables where students would eat. However, the hall was empty, and there was no food scattered around for people to grab. It was still, the only sound his foot tapping against the stone flooring and Thaddius’s humming. Eventually, Leolina and Jaspar entered the room with a book in hand. They took a seat across from them, setting the manuscript down before opening it. Jaspar traced his finger down the pages, flipping obnoxiously as he licked the tip of his finger with each flip. Varin recoiled before turning his gaze to look at the headmistress. “I am glad you reconsidered, Varin,” Leolina said, folding her hands atop the table. “Thaddius told me you had a few questions.” “Indeed. First and foremost, when we placed Cateline to rest up in the western wing, you were aware of our nosiness regarding your… plants. Why did you not approach us sooner?” Leolina grinned, lowering her stare to the wooden tabletop. “I did not approach you because it was not the right time. To be fair, you cannot be all that surprised I knew. Your friend did not hide the warped lock.” Thaddius shifted in his seat, clearing his throat before speaking up. “Moving on, what is the plant for? Why do we see ourselves through the portal?” The grin wiped clean, her golden irises staring at them as she peered through her lashes. “It is for a dark time, Thaddius. Dark times are to come, and I am sure you can feel it, too. We must have an army ready, and when we do not have the men… well, I will make them. It may serve us useful faster than I would have expected, too…” Varin cocked his head, folding his arms across his chest before biting the corner of his cheek. He was nervous, such a foreign emotion he fought off every time it reared its ugly head. “Dark times? From my knowledge, Leolina, doppelgangers were only used for evil. What is your intent?” She let out an idle sigh, scratching her nails against the wooden tabletop before standing to her feet. She rubbed her fingers on the fabric of her skirt while her tongue tapped against the roof of her mouth. She resembled a mother about to scold her children for prying. “It does not matter for the now. In fact, my copycats may serve you well with the plan I have in mind, Varin.” “Pray tell.” Varin could feel the unease returning, he was immediately regretting his decision to hear this mad woman out. “I told you that to reverse the comatose placed upon Cateline, we must free her of her impure relationships and prior doings…” “I do not think I am following…” “We understand that she, along with you and Aiora, are being followed by Seraphine. The woman I told you who had bewitched you, do you remember?” His skin crawled at the sound of that name. How could he have forgotten? When Varin and Thaddius did not respond, she continued. “She has been watching over Lighthelm for years, much longer than you would think. Long before you even attended this academy, you see… She desires and yearns to fulfill her prophecy. She has been called on by the Chosen One.” “Why have you not mentioned this Chosen One to us before?” Thaddius inquired. “Oh, but I have. In our preliminary days, where you two learned of the history behind our magic from one of my scholars, they mentioned to you, to Aiora, and to Varin about a woman who was rumored to be of the first mages on Denzethea. Once her village had discovered her, they stoned her and sent her down a river. Supposedly, a man found her decaying body and felt the mana—felt that she was not of his origin. He was called on, by this seemingly deceased woman, and followed the duties to bury her into the ground near the heart of Denzethea. In the heart of Ellixus. The mana has since seeped through each of the roots that spread throughout our Kingdoms, thus marking few children who were lucky enough to harness the magic within. It’s a mark given at birth, sometimes hereditary and sometimes luck, but it’s one we cannot ignore.” Varin nodded with wide eyes. Of course, he recalled some of the early lessons he participated in, but he never thought much of it. A myth to be moved by—a tale to make him feel unique. “That is where this Mark of Ellixus comes in. After her burial, this man found the mark in his home. He passed it along with the generations, prompting that the holder only gave it to those who were worthy of the mark. We do not know what the mark is, but it brings a sense of chaos wherever it goes. Whether it be given to blood or to friends, it still lives in Ellixus and has bounced between our kingdoms ever since. I have reason to believe it was the pendant.” Varin’s head felt like it was about to explode. He leaned forward, supporting himself up by his elbows as he rubbed his temples. He opened his mouth a few times to respond but could not find his voice. Thaddius seemed unbothered, as if this were normal news to him. “So, Cateline is… dead… and the pendant is gone… You think this has to do with some Chosen One?” “Precisely, Thaddius,” the headmistress responded. She returned to her seat as Jaspar tapped on the page of the book he was flipping through. She leaned over to take a closer look, nodding approvingly before he slid the book towards them. “You two have always impressed me,” Jaspar whispered with a slight nod. His pointed ear twitched as he narrowed his eyes towards them. It was like this comment bothered him to admit. “However, our headmistress seems to trust your potential far more than I do.” “Trust us to do what, exactly?” Varin groaned, closing his eyes to avoid whatever monstrosity existed on this page. “To wipe Cateline’s impurities away.” Varin scoffed, his eyes shooting open. “We are responsible for wiping some bratty Princess’s history clean?” “No, you are responsible for fixing any issues that remain. I want you to deal with her family.” Varin ground his teeth together as he looked at Thaddius, shaking his head. He had hoped to see his friend as dumbfounded as he was, but all he saw was a blank stare. “Are you going to sit there in silence, Thaddius? Don’t you see the madness? Or were you finally bewitched too?” He shook his head, raising his shoulders in a shrug. “I think it makes sense. We know magic is not normal—I think you are trying to approach this from a logical standpoint. There is no logic in magic, it is only a visceral reaction housed behind a bit of fine-tuning and crafting.” “Yes, and what about Aiora? Have you forgotten about her, or are you all on board with the idea of saving our Princess?” “My, my,” Leolina said with a grin. “The man who once wept over our fallen Princess has now turned his back to her. Do not fear, Varin. I know exactly where Aiora is.” This was when he felt his body shut down. He turned to face the headmistress, fire residing in his soul as his cheeks flushed. “I am sorry—what?” “I said, I know exactly where Aiora is. She is with Seraphine.” “I’m sorry… what? You are talking like this is normal. If she is with Seraphine, like I suspected, we must save her! I will not stand by idly any longer.” “She is safe.” “She is not!” Varin stood to his feet, slamming his hand onto the table as his voice echoed throughout the empty halls. His chest heaved with each breath, his lips drawn back into a scowl. Leolina held a hand up, her eyes turned into slits. “She is safe. Seraphine is not the threat we are to handle—she is hardly a threat at all.” Varin scoffed. “Not a threat? How was Cateline bewitched, then? Why was I bewitched, then? How is the woman truly behind Cateline’s death not a threat?” Varin’s voice was echoing throughout the commons, his heart racing and his skin warming. He felt the heat of flames tickling his skin. Fire was not an element he had completely mastered—the magic behind that blaze was far too chaotic for him to practice without a source. If he did not calm himself, he could burn this entire academy to the ground. Leolina did not mind, though. Leaning forward, she placed her finger on the tip of the page and whispered something in her native, Elven tongue. The instance her phrase ended, he was shoved into his seat from an unknown force and his palms rested against the table face up. He had been played. “Now that your tantrum has ended, we must think carefully. Read this page.” Thaddius grabbed the book, placing it between himself and Varin so they could both see. It was a page about the Chosen One from a book he had never seen. It was tattered and aged, but he doubted many had seen this information. Leolina probably kept it hidden away in her own library. On it was the tale of the Chosen One, however, it extended past where he thought the story had ended. Apparently, after the Chosen One had been buried, the night that followed was full of storms. “Read on, Varin. Know of the storms to come.”