He will forgive you. I’m sure of it.

I crossed my arms over my chest, the hood of my cloak pulled low as I walked between the crowds.

He will forgive you.

Or at least that was what I had been telling myself for the last few weeks since I had left my only child in the world to fend for himself.

Won’t he?

I had left him a note, and I hoped he would understand. I prayed that he would because I would never forgive myself if he didn’t.

You did what was best.

I just couldn’t endanger my poor baby again, not after what had happened. Even just thinking back to the day, I felt my blood run cold as the feeling of phantom fingers clasped around my neck returned.

No. Never again.

The man had been there looking for a so-called ‘Sage,’ but when none had turned up, he instead decided I would make for a decent compensating reward.

Asalyn Baster. The famed witch. I had never expected my past to catch up with me in a small village in the middle of nowhere like Junaper. I had put that life away, adventuring, making enemies, and being a figure of renown.

It had all been one big ego trip, I had realized long ago. Making myself feel vindicated for my own childhood was just a way of getting back at my father.

I’d settled down, had a kid with a man I thought I loved, and when he passed on, I had raised the child myself.

My sweet, precious baby. My entire world.

And yet, he wasn’t my baby, not anymore. Just as with the memory of the Sage Hunter and his fingers clasped around my neck, I could just as vividly recall my once baby standing in front of me, holding his sword out against an enemy he had no chance against.

Would he have been in such danger if I hadn’t been around? Or would they have left the village upon finding there was no one of interest?

It was that which had pushed me to finally abandon him.

No. No abandon. One day you will see him again.

I clung to the possibility, the only thing that kept me strong in the days and nights when I would wonder what he was up to. I’d left him all my savings, a few sparse rosts. It would be a fortune for a place like Junaper, enough to survive for quite some time.

He’ll be fine.

Rook was a bright, capable young man and a hard worker. I was sure he would manage, and the village, while they had made it abundantly clear that I was unwelcome, would relax their unease towards Rook with time.

My fault. And yet he is suffering for it.

As much as I tried to take my mind off the prospect of how my son was doing, it was impossible to not think about it.

He was my son, after all. But even more than that, I couldn’t deny feelings of guilt that came from somewhere else entirely.

I had failed him. That much, I was sure. From our bloodline as the infamous Baster family came some of the most distinguished mages of our type in over three hundred years.

And yet, Rook had inherited none of it. I wasn’t how, but I was sure it was my fault. Perhaps during my pregnancy, I had been too stressed. Thinking about raising a child on my own tended to do that to a mother. Or maybe I had failed to give him the nutrition he needed while growing up.

Oh, father. If only I knew what it was like raising a child when I said the things I did to you.

At best, Rook could feel some magic within himself, but not once had he shown signs of being able to manifest our Kin magic for which we were known.

Instead, he had been swinging a sword since a young age, missing only a handful of days in any given year. Rain or shine, he swung that sword, hoping it would one day bring him the happiness he sought.

As a mother, I had failed there as well. Instead of squashing his dreams, leading him down a safer direction, I had fed into them. I’d even made Illiah give him pointers when he had come to visit.

So many things I should have done differently, but I wasn’t sure any of them mattered.

At the end of the day, I had been forced to leave my son.

What if he doesn’t forgive me?

“Oye, you. What’sa gal like you doin’ goin’ round without bein’ on a real man’s arm?”

Oh, just what I needed. A pick me up.

I turned to my right, a crass-looking excuse of a man staring straight at me, licking his lips as he did.

Goodness, you really would think they would learn to keep to themselves.

Sighing, I raised my hand, gesturing him over towards me with one wagging finger, the man seeming surprised his vulgarity had done something for once. He trudged over towards me, an ugly grin forming on his face.

“Aye, yer be-”

“Hush.” I stuck a finger in his face, and immediately the man quieted down, his eyes glazing over. “You had a traumatic accident in the marketplace, the fires of retribution setting you ablaze from the inside out. After surviving such an ordeal, you will realize it is time to shape up your life. Understand?”

“Aye.”

“Good. Now off with you.”

The man set off towards the marketplace, the scene where the impromptu theater would play out. I followed, keeping my head down and several paces away so there would be no connection between us on the off chance someone was watching.

Why I was following, well, perhaps it was a bit of the darker personality traits of my youth resurfacing. Stopping just outside the marketplace, I watched as the man continued his way in, examining fruits and vegetables.

“Here..we..go.” I whispered, snapping softly under my cloak.

On command, the man began to flail and thrash about wildly, screaming at the top of his lungs.

“It burns! It burns!”

He was lucky he didn’t have a lick of magical talent; otherwise, the illusion created within his mind would have been brought to life, using his own mana to grow stronger and more real.

I watched in passive silence from the shadows of a nearby alley as he was finally subdued, the man blubbering about the fires of the underworld reaching out to claim him, crying that he was sorry.

A half-smile on my face, I turned around, heading back in the direction I had initially been going.

The docks.

I could still hear the occasional whimper from the man, the murmuring chatter of the crowds about how ‘ole Stephen’ finally broke.

It was just a taste of why the Baster family had earned the infamy that we had. Illusions weren’t always as simple as a trick of the eye. Powerful illusions could convince the mind of anything, shake and change a person to their very core.

Kings could become servants, all without anyone knowing the wiser.

Not that it mattered against those of absolute power, did it?

My soft smile of self-satisfaction was dashed as the bitter thought entered my mind.

My illusions had done nothing against the Sage Hunter. My son hadn’t known that the entire time we confronted him, I had been blasting the most powerful illusions my magic could conjure directly into the man’s mind.

And he hadn’t even batted an eye.

I had always thought myself strong, our unique Kin magic all but impossible to defend against. I had even assumed once when I was younger that had I wanted to, I could have reached the heights of legends of old with the magic of my bloodline.

How I had been naïve, mistaken. I had been nothing more than a big fish in a small pond, but I had failed the first time I had been against someone with more potent magic than my own.

Had it not been for the positive impression my son had left upon him, he would have died that day.

Just like Sarah.

And what would have become of my son then? Gone, forever?

Or worse, replaced by…. Someone else.

I shivered from inside my cloak.

I was weak.

But I knew a place where I could change that.

Home.

I stopped, having made it to the small dock of the small city near the coast. Several ships were anchored, people coming and going from the boat’s decks ahead of me.

It’s about time I returned, isn’t it, father?