"Sir!" A voice called from outside the captain's study. He glanced up at the door and frowned; he didn't like being interrupted in the middle of reading papers. "We have a report about that one case. You know, the big one?"

The captain's eyebrows flew up his face. "Get in here, Pete," he barked, and the guard stumbled clumsily into the room. He looked sweaty and disheveled, but his eyes were wild with excitement. "Whatever you have for me, it had better be more than some stray raccoon sighting."

Pete deflated. "Well, yes, we've had a lot of those, but this time there's more than that." He held out a rolled-up sheet of parchment, and the captain stood from his desk to snatch it from his hands. "One of our scouts found footprints matching the kid's size."

The captain rolled his eyes. "You're joking," he scoffed, unfurling the report in his gloved hands. "Anybody could match the boy's foot size!"

Pete made a nervous noise. "Yeah, but not many size eight-and-a-half feet tread near the Haderon Forest."

The captain swallowed wrong and started hacking. The candle flame on his desk wavered as he pounded the surface with his fist. "The Haderon Forest?" he gasped between coughs. "You mean the cursed forest that no one ever returns from? The one in the south?"

"Yes sir," Pete nodded fiercely, bobbing up and down.

The captain finally calmed down, and he slumped back in his seat, reading the report. The hastily written script told the same. "Right then," he muttered. "Dismissed, soldier." Pete saluted and left, leaving the captain in a crushing silence as he closed the door behind him. The captain read the report a few more times before pushing his chair away and reaching under the desk for a lockbox. He produced a key from around his neck and opened the box to reveal a set of scrolls and old pamphlets. He sifted through them until he found a report from his predecessor, and he pulled the candle light closer as he searched for the entry he was looking for.

"Here it is," he muttered under his breath. "I thought I recognized the name." The captain before him was one of the few recorded who was able to return from the Haderon Forest, but several words and sentences had been stricken from the record. The captain could only assume that the redacted text was the explanation for their miraculous escape. He frowned sharply at the blacked-out script and tucked it back into the lockbox. So, there was a way to survive the forest, but whatever way it was must be either too dangerous, or…only one person was allowed to know:

The king.

By the time Varian woke up, it was almost dusk. The rain had stopped, droplets falling like crystals from the eaves. He sat up with a groan and rubbed at his eyes, then realized he was using his left hand. He froze and looked at his shoulder; the bandaging was caked with his blood, which made his stomach lurch, but the agony he'd experienced the night before was now just a dull pinprick. He carefully peeled the linen aside and saw that the wound was nearly closed, and new skin had already started to form.

"Impossible," he breathed, flexing his fingers. He noticed Rudiger stir, and the raccoon's eyes popped open at the sight of his master awake. He made a gleeful sound and pounced into Varian's lap, then looked startled. He bobbed his head upwards, pawing at his ears.

Varian frowned at the raccoon's behavior. "What is it?" Then he realized what Rudiger was trying to communicate, and he reached up to pull a lock of hair down into view. The streak in his dark bangs was glowing again, blue light seeping over his forehead. The sight of it snapped him fully awake, and he raked an agitated hand through it. "Why is it doing that?" he hissed out loud. He was pulled out of his momentary panic by the sound of scratching at the door, and Killy emerged as it opened. Varian wasn't sure when or how the hare had managed to leave in the first place, but it sped to Varian, jumping up on the bed. Rudiger stood, sniffing at Killy as the hare pawed urgently at Varian's side.

Varian reached to calm the creature, smoothing his velvety ears over his head. "Easy, little guy. What's –" He stopped when he heard a voice from downstairs through the open door. It sounded like a man. Alarm flared up his spine, singing the hairs on his neck as he left the room and crept carefully down the steps. He paused before he could pass the corner, and he listened carefully with his back pressed to the cold wall.

"…Told you before," the man was saying, his voice husky and deep. "You're not a child anymore. How much longer are you going to live this fantasy? You know your mother can't be trusted."

"There's only one person I don't trust," Varian heard Shay say. Her quiet voice shook with anger. "And that's you. I don't know how you found your way here, but I have no intention of allowing you to stay."

Varian's eyes widened. He had been worried at first that this man, whoever he was, was after him. Instead, it sounded almost worse. There was a long pause in the conversation, which only made him more uncomfortable. Then the man said something that made his blood run cold.

"You have a guest here."

Crap. He must have seen Varian's boots at the door. He waited on baited breath for Shay to say something. "The only guest I have," Shay said coldly, "is standing right in front of me. I won't ask you again, Caius. Go back to Ghislaine. There is no place for you here, and there never will be."

The man, Caius, gave a sharp sigh. "Alright, little hawk. I'll leave. But you know it's only a matter of time." Varian heard footsteps, then the man whispered, "I know you found her, and you will lead me to wherever she's hiding, one way or another." Then Varian listened to the man leave, closing the front door behind him so quietly, Varian almost didn't hear it.

Rudiger darted out before Varian could catch him, his claws clicking on the wood floor. He heard Shay exhale shakily. "How long have you been listening?" she asked.

Varian gave a sigh of his own and stepped out into the open. "Not long," he answered, shrugging around in the blanket she'd given him. He noted Shay's haggard appearance; she looked like she'd barely slept. She'd tied her hair back, so Varian could see her whole face. She was pretty in a petite, wholesome way, kind of like the baker's daughter that Varian had swooned over when he was kid. Soot smudged her cheek, which told him she'd fallen asleep by the fireplace. Her apron was missing, and her feet were bare. He saw that she'd cleaned up after attending his wound; the table was scrubbed clean of blood, and the floor was perfectly dry. He wasn't sure how, but even his coat and shirt had been mended. He didn't even see any stitching; she must have repaired them with magic.

Shay must have noticed him staring, because she reached to undo her hair, to hide her scarlet eye. "You don't have to do that," Varian stopped her. "Hide it, I mean. Your eye."

"O-oh," Shay's cheeks turned pink, and her hands hesitantly fell back. "You don't mind it?"

"Why should I?"

"Well, because…H-How's your shoulder?" she changed the subject.

Varian showed her. "I take it that was more than just a pain killer you gave me?"

Shay stared openly at him, confused. "No, I…" She stepped around the table and crossed over to him to inspect the wound, peering at the stitching as she traced it with her finger. "This wasn't me." She glanced up at him. "And your hair is reacting again."

In any other situation, Varian might have been too busy concentrating on the fact that he'd never stood so close to a member of the opposite sex before. In this case, he was too preoccupied with the visitor who had just left. "Who's Caius?" he asked, pulling her hand away.

Shay frowned and stepped back. "No one that concerns you," she mumbled.

"I think I get to decide what concerns me," Varian countered.

Shay made a dismissive cough in her throat. She turned away and stepped towards the pot over the fire. Something was bubbling under the lid. "He's a witch hunter," she told him reluctantly as she lifted the lid and stirred the mixture inside. "One of the last from the great witch hunt that the king issued almost twenty years ago."

"Witch hunt?" Varian sat down at the table, wincing when his shoulder ached. His hair was still glowing, blue light flickering in and out of his vision. Rudiger leapt into his lap, curling comfortably against his stomach. "I've read almost every book on the history of Corona. Nowhere does it say anything about a witch hunt."

Shay tapped her ladle over the rim of the pot. It looked like she was cooking stew. Varian could see diced golden potatoes swimming in rich, seasoned broth. He realized he hadn't eaten anything much better than shoe leather for the past six months, and his insides started howling. He could barely pay attention to what Shay was saying as she answered him. "That's because the king kept it a secret," she replied. "He didn't want to publicly explain people disappearing from their homes in the night."

Varian planted his chin in his hand. "That sounds about right," he grumbled. "I mean," he stammered hastily, "being the king and all, he has appearances to keep, you know?"

"Yes," Shay agreed sourly. "Like an infant hiding his sheets when he wets the bed."

Varian gave a dark chuckle, then became sober again. "Alright, humor me. Why would the king issue a witch hunt?"

Shay snapped her fingers, and a wooden bowl flew out of a cupboard on the opposite side of the room into her outstretched hand. Varian was almost used to the strange techniques she used to conduct herself about the house, but he still didn't understand how it worked. "Because he believed it was a witch who stole his child," she answered, tapping a large scoop of stew into the bowl. She placed it in front of Varian on the table with a spoon and a tumbler of water. "After the princess went missing, the king seemed to nearly lose his mind. Something so precious to him, suddenly gone. He believed magic to be the culprit, so it was magic he decided to pursue and bring to his throne for interrogation and judgment. Some mages were brought to the castle against their will. Many resisted and were killed, or disappeared without a trace. My mother was one who survived."

Varian picked up the spoon and took a bite, then started wolfing down the entire bowl. Whether the stew was good or not was a moot point; he was starving. Rudiger whined, and he paused long enough for the raccoon to have his share. "Why go after magic users?" he asked around a mouthful.

"I don't know," Shay admitted truthfully as she ate from her own bowl. "I tried asking my mother once. It's the one question she told me never to ask again."

Varian frowned. "So, what you're telling me is that this Caius has a vendetta?"

Shay swallowed and looked down at her toes, refusing to meet his eyes. "Of a sort," was all she said, settling her spoon back into her half-eaten bowl as she set it aside. It seemed she'd lost her appetite.

Varian licked his spoon clean and brandished it in her direction. "I hope you understand that 'Of a sort' is not enough information for me, especially when this guy is clearly after your mom. The last thing we need is some vengeful witch hunter getting in our way."

"He'll only get in the way if he knows where to find her," Shay said, though she sounded doubtful. "And he hasn't known for over seven years."

"Yeah," Varian smirked. "But we found her, and eventually we're going to have to go back. You see what I'm saying?"

Shay pursed her lips. "He won't be able to follow us through the forest. I'm the only one who understands its magic, which means I'm the only one who can find the way."

"I was able to find this place," Varian pointed out.

"That's because you had a map," Shay explained without hesitation. "That map had to be more than just a path on a piece of paper. It must have protected you from the forest's influence."

Varian shrugged, then hissed when the action hurt. "Well, it looks like your witch hunter has protection of his own, since he just walked through your front door."

"I –" Shay swallowed. "I-I don't know how he did that," she admitted with a blush. "But as long as we make sure –"

"You still don't get it, do you?" Varian sighed impatiently. "Shay, a witch hunter isn't some gnat you can swat away. Just how do you know this guy, anyway?"

"He's my uncle," Shay answered bitterly.

Varian's eyes popped. He made a weak noise in his throat, then cleared it and took a deep breath. "What?"

Shay turned away from him and leaned against the table, folding her arms around herself. "This is why I didn't want to tell you," she insisted. "Caius is my concern, not yours. He won't harm you as long as you stay out of his way. I'm trying to protect you. You were almost killed yesterday."

"I noticed," Varian said wryly, setting Rudiger on the floor as he stood. "And I appreciate the worry, but you should be more concerned about your own safety. That wasn't exactly a hidden threat he made back there. It sounds like he'll use you to find her if he gets the chance."

"Caius has had many chances to hurt me," Shay told him. She stared unblinkingly into the flames. "For as long as I've known him, he's never so much as touched me. He claims that he cares about me, but…" She glanced over at him, her scarlet eye burning. "I don't share the sentiment."

"That's understandable," Varian agreed solemnly. "But I know firsthand that sentiments can change." He felt something strange fill his stomach, something hot and cold at the same time, and it wasn't the stew. "The moment you choose ambition over standard. When you compromise to get what you want." He stepped around the table until he stood in front of her, and he reached to place a hand on her shoulder. "How long do you think it will take for his personal goals to outweigh his love for you?"

Shay refused to look at him, her glare intensifying as the flames flickered in her eyes. "It's not love," she whispered. "It's guilt. He doesn't know what to do with it, so he nurses it by sparing me."

"What kind of guilt?"

"What other kind is there?" Shay finally transferred her glare to his face. "The kind when you know you've done something wrong. The kind that hurts because you don't know how to fix it. Since you don't know, you try to justify it to make yourself feel better." Her words were sharp and caustic, like thin slivers of glass. "It's a paradox. You think you're easing your burden, but you're only making things worse, doing more terrible things."

The feeling in Varian's stomach turned to nausea, and his hand fell away from her. Looking at her was like looking at a bright light, so he averted his eyes and swallowed the stomachache down. His hair fell in a black curtain, so she couldn't see how pale he'd become. "Okay," he said quietly. "I'm scared to ask. What exactly did he do?"

"He murdered my father."

Varian choked on a swallow. "Of course, he did," he managed to speak as his face streamed. It sounded like something out of a Flynn Rider novel he'd once read as a kid, the one where the town bishop turned out to be a criminal, as well as the blacksmith's long-lost cousin. Actually, now that he thought about it, it wasn't exactly the same, but the twist had still left him floored. It was actually one of his favorite installments in the series, although he always thought that Flynn's portrayal in that one was a little out of character…He realized that Shay was waiting for him to say more, and he cleared his sore throat. "Uh, right, so he killed your dad. That's…uh, that's bad." He felt something brush his leg, and he looked down to see Killy there. He reached to pick up the hare, and it settled passively into his arms. "Care to explain why he would do that?"

"I'd rather not," Shay answered. She noticed Rudiger on the table and scooped him up before he could knock something over. "It's a long story. It's painful, and…I'm not really supposed to know about it," she admitted with a blush.

Varian nodded knowingly. "From your mother's journal, I guess?"

Shay nodded, stroking Rudiger's ears. He looked comfortable there, sleepy even. "You should get some more rest," she told him. "I don't know how you've healed so quickly, but you're still hurt."

"Here," Varian offered. "I'll trade you." They exchanged animals, and Rudiger crawled up over his good shoulder. "Listen, I've been thinking about what we could use to open that coffin. We might not have something here that could work, but I know where we might be able to get something that could. It'll be risky, though."

Shay shifted Killy in her arms. "Varian…I don't think we should go back to the crypt alone. I think we need more than what you and I can offer."

"You're thinking of asking someone else to help us?" Varian exchanged glances with Rudiger. "You're kidding, right?"

"Just hear me out," Shay murmured gently. "There's a man who lives at the capitol. His name is Xavier, he was an old friend of my mother's. I haven't seen him since I was a little girl, but he knows about old legends and magic better than anyone. He can help us learn more about the crypt."

"Yeah, if he's still there," Varian pointed out bluntly, "and if we don't get caught by your uncle first. Besides, I…" He sighed through his nose. "If you want to go to the capitol, you'll…you'll have to go without me."

"Why?" Shay blinked confusedly. "I thought…" She ducked her head, a strand of hair falling into her reddening face. "I thought this was something we were both doing now. Together."

"Well, I –" Varian's voice abruptly died when he wasn't sure what to say. They both stood there awkwardly for a long moment, then they jumped when the fireplace gave a loud pop. "We are," he stammered hurriedly. "It's just that I hadn't really thought of it that way. But that's not why I'm saying I can't go with you."

Shay looked up at him, studying his face until he became uncomfortable. "You're hiding from something, aren't you?" She suddenly asked. "You didn't come here just to see my mother. You ran away from something, something terrible –"

"That's enough," Varian cut her off. Killy's head snapped up, his ears furled in the direction of Varian's terse tone. Varian sighed sharply. "I've told you before," he said, more gently this time. "It's not something I want to talk about." He slipped past her and walked towards the stairs. He paused at the bottom and turned to face her. "You said you were trying to protect me. Think of this as my way of returning the favor."

Shay's lips parted, and she gave a silent exhale.

Varian looked away; he didn't know why, but he didn't want to see her expression anymore. "Thank you for your hospitality. I'll be leaving in the morning. Whether you come with me or not is your choice." He trudged back up the stairs, his head hung low. Rudiger felt heavier on his shoulder, and he could hear the raccoon sniffing at his ear. Am I doing the right thing? Varian wondered, not for the first time. He doubted she would come with him. She seemed convinced that this Xavier could help. But going to the capitol was too dangerous, and if he could make it to Old Corona without running into any –

He lost his train of thought, as well as all semblance of composure, when he entered Shay's room. He hadn't noticed Caius hiding behind the door; the man grabbed him from behind, smothering him with a hand over his startled face. Varian kicked and squirmed as Caius quietly closed the door. "Relax, boy," he muttered in Varian's ear. "You'll tear your shoulder open again. You'll only get hurt if you raise a ruckus, understand? I just want to talk."

Varian recognized the voice and took a moment to process the man's words. He supposed that if the witch hunter really wanted to kill him, he would have the moment he'd crossed the threshold. It went against every instinct in his body, but he slowly managed to stop fighting Caius' grip, and the man let him go. Varian whirled to see Rudiger's tail released from under the witch hunter's boot, and the raccoon leapt up onto the bed, hissing and snarling. Varian mirrored the disposition, fixing Caius with a vicious glare as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't call Shay," he threatened.

Caius seemed to fill up the room with his broad shoulders, his scarred eye staring down at Varian from above his chiseled jaw. He gave a wry smirk. "You need a little girl to come protect you, now?" he pointed out bluntly. "Pathetic. I don't know who you are, boy, or what it is you need the girl's mother for."

"I'm Varian," the alchemist said. "Son of Quirin. Any business I have here is my own. And as I recall, my hostess asked you to leave some time ago."

But Caius seemed to have stopped listening, and his expression became nebulous. "Quirin," he muttered under his breath. "Quirin, Quirin. Where do I know that name?" Then his face dawned with recognition. "Ah, yes. Quirin, from Old Corona, fancied himself the village leader. Of course, I never really wondered what happened to that miserable village, but now that I think about it –"

"Hey, that's my village you're talking about," Varian spat. Although, he supposed his village did seem to fit that description now.

Caius snapped his attention back to Varian, his grey hair glinting from the dusky light spilling into the room. Varian noticed that the man was equipped with a massive sword, and that he had the biceps to lift it. This man may have been out of the hunt for a while, but he certainly didn't look it. He spoke calmly, as if he was a local fisherman instead of a deadly witch hunter. "You would be wise to take your troubles elsewhere. For your own safety, it's better that you don't interfere – with the girl's plans, or my own."

"And if I refuse?"

"Let me tell you something, boy," Caius continued. "Something you should take quick to heart. Magic isn't the solution to whatever predicament you're in. Magic solves nothing. It only causes pain and fear and death." His milky eye twitched in the direction of the door. "Pray tell, what exactly has the little hawk told you about me?"

"What do you think she told me?" Varian spoke hesitantly, worried that he might say something stupid, or worse. He'd already been shot by an arrow. He didn't want a knife in the gut to be next.

"What any witch tells," Caius answered simply. "Lies and deceit. It's what they do. It's in their nature as much as their own tainted blood. My sorrow is that my niece is soiled by such petulance. She can't help it, you see. It's a compulsion, a drive that she doesn't even know has corrupted her every thought and action. A corruption her mother encouraged. I doubt you even realize it."

Varian felt something cold slide down his spine. "Realize what?"

Caius reached to tap his left temple. "She's got you bewitched, son of Quirin. Enchanted, spellbound, whatever you wish to call it."

Varian felt his face grow red, his heart pumping in his chest as his breath shortened. "That's not true."

"Oh?" Caius crossed over to the bed and sat down; Rudiger scrambled out of the way, spitting and shaking all over. "Explain this, then. You stumble upon this place, meet this girl, and less than…what, one, two days later? Suddenly you're the best of friends. You claim you're trying to protect her from something. She acts like you've known each other for years, and you find yourself buying into it. She seems vulnerable, sensitive…appealing. You think she's pretty. You think she's kind." He planted his chin in his hand when Varian struggled and failed to find a rebuke. "Do you really believe that all happens naturally in so short a time? It doesn't. She's placed you under her heel like a common mongrel dog."

"That's not true," Varian repeated through gritted teeth.

"You have a choice," Caius said unblinkingly. "Abandon whatever ambition set you on this path and never return to this forest or continue your involvement with my niece…and accept the risk of crossing my path."

Varian took a moment to process the threat. "Abandon my ambition?" He found himself narrowing his eyes, two blue slits peering at Caius' scarred face. "Just what makes you think your ambition is greater than mine? Maybe you're the one who should be steering clear of me."

Caius lifted his index finger to his mouth and bit down on it hard to keep from bursting into laughter. "I like you, boy," he admitted after the shameless glee in his chest subsided. "It's a shame I'll probably be killing you later. Unless, of course, you wise up and get as far away from this place as possible. Or, better yet, perhaps you'd be willing to tell me where you managed to find the child's mother?"

Varian was no fool. At least, he didn't think he was. He knew there was a chance that if he told this man anything he wanted to know, Caius would kill him the moment he stopped talking. So he said nothing, glaring and simmering.

The witch hunter smirked at him. "No," he murmured low in his throat. "I suppose you wouldn't, considering you're under a spell." He stood and crossed over to the window, unlatching it and pushing the pane out into the evening air. "I have no desire to soil my blade in cold blood. You have been warned, son of Quirin. Leave these woods or suffer the consequences."

As Varian watched the man climb out of the room, his thoughts slowly picked up speed, swirling in tumultuous tumbles around his addled brain. His hands were shaking as he sat numbly down in the same spot on the bed where Caius had been. He barely felt the cold touch of Rudiger's nose on his arm as he clenched and unclenched his fingers in an effort to calm his nerves, his nails digging crescents into his naked palms.

The funny thing about it all was that Varian wasn't even upset about being on the receiving end of a transparent death threat. He was upset by the implication that Shay had placed some kind of enchantment on him. After what had happened in the crypt, after everything he'd seen in just the past day, he had nothing to refute the evidence of real magic…which also meant that being under a spell was also a possibility. He searched inside himself, trying to find something that felt wrong or out of sorts. Aside from the dull pain in his shoulder and a need to use the privy, he felt fine. He grabbed his hair and pulled it down; the blue streak was still glowing, the strands interwoven with tingling sparks. Was this Shay's doing, then? He had never experienced his hair glowing before until he met her. But she couldn't have, could she? She'd barely even spoken to him, let alone touched him. He had absolutely no reason to trust Caius, but at the same time, it was true that he probably wouldn't be able to tell whether he was bewitched or not purely based on the nature of the enchantment. But then, even if he was able to tell, would he even care? Whether he was under a spell or not, the very notion that Shay could perform such a feat was enough to induce paranoia. But could she cast a spell like that, to control somebody? How was he to know?!

He made a frustrated noise and planted his face in his hands, staring into the wood floor. The strange images from the night before pushed themselves round in his mind, incomprehensible and familiar all at once. He placed them aside, further frustrated at the continued annoyance. Regardless of whether he had fallen under the influence of a supernatural force, at least Caius' threat was truth. As long as Varian didn't interfere with the witch hunter's plans, he would be left alone. But if Caius had something nasty planned for Shay, Varian couldn't just stand aside and let him do it. But what if that was the enchantment speaking? How was he to tell between twisted magic and the troubled thoughts of his own heart? It was in his nature to want to protect an innocent girl, wasn't it?

But his father. What about Old Corona? His home was still a smoking, devastated mark pinned into the countryside by bitter actions and cold black rocks. He had tried everything to fix it, everything except magic. For his father, he couldn't give up now. He had to free the Crimson Caster.

Suddenly, he had an idea.