Varian put his plan into motion as the dawn was breaking over the horizon. Sunlight drifted through the trees in lazy lilts as he left the cabin and fled with Rudiger through the dense terrain, brushing damp branches out of his path as he neared the edge of the forest. His heart was a battering ram against his ribs, but a grim look of determination was fixed on his face. Shay had removed the stitching from his shoulder some time that morning; all that was left of his wound was a pale scar, and his hair had finally stopped glowing.

I hope you find what you're looking for, was all she had said to him. Varian couldn't tell whether she was being sincere or not; she had refused to meet his eyes, and she had let her hair down over her face again. Varian left feeling just as unsettled and uncertain about her as before. Thoughts continued to plague his mind even as he exited the forest and crossed a narrow bridge over the flooded river. Anxiety fueled his footsteps as he followed the beaten path to the village of Ghislaine. Rudiger seemed to mirror his emotions, the raccoon scrambling up his leg and onto his shoulder as they entered the quiet streets. The village smelled like rain-soaked wood and leather, and Varian passed at least three different fish vendors before finding the pub. Varian pushed the door open and was nearly bowled over by the pungent stink of stale beer and burnt eggs. The floor was sticky under his feet as he fought the urge to turn around and head back out. He glanced around the pub and saw a handful of patrons passed out over their stools and tables, snoring and belching in their inebriated stupor.

The only sober person present, apart from Varian, was the bartender: a swarthy, middle-aged man with a pock-marked face and beady black eyes. His apron was stained with booze and grease, as was the rag he was using to scrub half-heartedly at the drenched bar. His efforts served only to swirl around different spilled liquors, dark ale mixing lazily with amber brandy.

The man glanced up at Varian's approach, his expression unchanging. His dry lips peeled apart stickily as his spoke. "Not that I care much," he droned, "but you seem a mite young to be entering this particular establishment, don't you think? Especially this time of day, unless the wife has kicked you out. But I bet you ain't got one of them, neither."

Varian was afraid to open his mouth because he wasn't sure if he would speak or retch. "I'm looking for a man named Caius," he managed to ask. The taste of the place nearly sent him over the edge.

"I'm here, boy." Varian whirled around to see the witch hunter standing behind him, his blind eye peering down at him like a silvery orb. He crossed his thick arms over his brawny chest. "Smart, coming to the pub to ask for information."

Varian shrugged. "It's the best place to find it."

Caius actually cracked a small smile. "You think like a hunter," he said. "A foolish one, though, considering you're a wanted man."

Varian felt alarm spike through his body as he heard a few drunkards in the pub make alerted noises, and they lifted their heads to stare blearily at him. "I was aware of the risk," he admitted, his hand itching towards the bow on his back. "But I didn't know where else I could find you."

Caius blinked slowly at him, then delivered each member of the pub an icy glare. He reached out and latched a hand onto Varian's left, injured shoulder. Even though he was healed, Varian feigned a wince, which wasn't difficult under the witch hunter's tense grip. "Let's go," Caius said, steering Varian out of the pub. Stepping out into the street was like walking into a meadow field of flowers; Varian would never complain of the smell of mildew again. He felt Rudiger quake with anger and resentment as they crossed down the street towards an old, seemingly abandoned shack. Caius urged Varian inside, closing the door behind them. The interior was impeccably clean. There were no decorations on the walls, and a single table stood by a well-worn cot and a tiny furnace. One chair stood at the table, and Caius pushed Varian down into it with his tight, controlling hand.

"So, you're the boy who committed high treason against the crown," Caius mused, leaning against the wall. "They say you kidnapped the princess, the one that was lost for eighteen years."

"Actually, I kidnapped the queen," Varian muttered.

"Even more impressive," Caius praised, dusting a smudge of dirt from his weathered fingers. "Someone your age undermining the entire Coronan royal guard like it was child's play. Have you ever considered being a mercenary? You'd be highly sought after in Saporia."

"Sorry, but I have my own agenda," Varian answered. "And since you know what I'm wanted for, I'm sure you've heard rumors why I did it."

Caius nodded slowly. "They say you want to bring your father back to life."

Varian frowned. "In a sense. I'm not actually sure whether he's dead or not. Kind of hard to tell when he's trapped inside ten feet of amber."

Caius raised a grey eyebrow. "How did that happen?"

"If I knew, I wouldn't be here," Varian sighed. "I've studied alchemy my whole life. It's my trade, it's what I do. Everything I've ever learned, all the experience I've had did nothing for me. I had six months in jail to try and figure out my next step, since the royal family didn't seem to have a solution to my problem, either. I realized I had to outsource my work, so to speak."

"I've told you, boy," Caius narrowed his gaze. "Magic isn't the answer, especially the Crimson Caster's."

"I know," Varian turned his gaze to the floor. "Your niece already told me there's nothing that can be done. Even if we did free her mother, all she could do is tell me how it happened, not how to undo it." He paused, then looked back up at Caius, his blue eyes steely and unblinking. "That's why I need someone who knows how to destroy magic. Someone like you."

Caius scratched absentmindedly at a spot on his arm. "You'll tell me where the witch is in exchange for my expertise?"

Varian shook his head. "I'll do better. I'll show you where she is." He glanced at Rudiger. "But only if you can do it."

"Oh," Caius revealed a full set of white teeth in his smile. "I can do it."

"Well, then." Varian stood and offered his hand. "Shall we do business, witch hunter?"

Caius clasped the hand and shook. "Let's begin then, alchemist."

"Your Majesty," the captain knelt down at the throne, his gloved hand clenched tightly over his heart – partly out of respect, but also to hide his nerves. Normally, the captain was fairly calm and reserved when in the presence of the king; he'd stood in the throne room often enough. It was his duty to remain collected, to keep up appearances. But the throne room was empty of commoners today, which meant that no one but the king would hear what he had to say.

King Frederick acknowledged the captain with a lift of his hand. His eyes were soft, mildly curious to hear the captain's report. "What news do you have for us?"

The captain stood and noticed Royal Advisor Nigel hovering by the king's seat, his thin mustache twitching expectantly. "It's…" He swallowed once. "It's for your ears only, my king. It's about our most recent…investigation."

King Frederick turned his head, a slight tilt to express confusion. "Are you certain, captain? I have an advisor for a reason, you know. Nigel is aware of the developments concerning our escapee."

The captain swallowed again; it did nothing to ease his dry throat. All he could say was, "The Haderon Forest, your Majesty."

Something in the king's gaze sparked. "Nigel," he addressed the advisor. "I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave."

Nigel bristled with surprise. "But sire –" He stopped mid-protest when the king trained a warning look in his direction. "Y-yes, your Majesty. Shall I wait in your study?"

The king gave a single nod, and his gaze returned to the captain as Nigel stiffly left with a worried look on his weaselly face. "I assume you have a good reason for bringing up the Haderon Forest?" His voice was composed, but the captain could detect the faintest waver.

"We've discovered evidence that the boy entered the forest less than three days ago," the captain explained, folding his arms behind his back. "It's well known that to enter the Haderon Forest is taboo."

"And you have reason to believe that I would know why the boy would dare to travel there?"

The captain produced his predecessor's report, holding out the small bundle of documentation. "If I may be so bold, sire. My only wish is to serve you. But I will not in good conscience send my men into a place that's cursed. This boy, Varian, must have obtained a degree of information we don't have…or rather, information that no one else is allowed to know."

King Frederick stood slowly from his seat, like a mountain rising from the earth. "You are bold, captain. Under any other circumstance, I would demote you for it." He sighed deeply. "But I cannot stand idly by with knowledge that can help you retrieve and detain a potential threat, especially one such as Quirin's son. If Varian has gone to the Haderon Forest, it is in search of someone who may or may not be able to help save his father. What I am about to tell you, you must swear to me on your life that you will not divulge to anyone else."

The captain gave his sincere pledge, waiting with baited breath for the king to continue.

"Years ago," the king started, pacing before the throne, "I sent the previous captain to find this individual, in the hopes that she would provide us with a means to rescue the queen from the brink of death. It was a matter handled discreetly, so as not to alarm the people. The woman's name was Lyra, but she was known as the Crimson Caster to the few common folk who knew of her existence. According to them, she was one of the most powerful witches in the known world. The captain before you was one of few who remained undaunted by these claims. The Haderon Forest is deeply rooted in an ancient magic, a power that only this woman was able to understand. The captain and his men were lost for days, searching aimlessly for her. He believed the disorientation was the witch's doing, some spell that she must have cast to deter those who may wish to harm her."

The captain processed the king's words, trying to connect the dots. "The boy wouldn't enter the forest without a means of undermining its magic, then."

"I suppose it's possible," the king admitted. "We've both learned what he's capable of, so he either found a means to navigate the forest without getting lost, or he's hoping that whatever – whoever – he's looking for will find him." He set his lips in a grim line. "Either way, it seems that my assumption was wrong."

"Which assumption might that be?"

Frederick reached for his forehead, massaging the twitching muscle over his right eye. "You know of the witch hunt, I'm sure. You can't exactly become captain of the guard without learning of it. That hunt was issued in an attempt to bring the Crimson Caster back to the castle to pay for her alleged crime of stealing my daughter. Of course, it wasn't until years later, after recovering the princess, that I learned a different culprit was responsible for her disappearance. At the time, however, I had reason to believe that the Crimson Caster was the only suspect. I tried to send more troops to the Haderon Forest to flush her out, but the forest simply turned them away, leading them back out into the countryside."

The king paused, reflecting. "For years, I believed the Crimson Caster to be either dead or a fugitive in another land, far away from Corona. If the boy truly is searching for her, then it means he is attempting to enlist her assistance in whatever plan he has in store…either for his father or for Corona. I fear it could be both."

The captain's muscles tensed. "What would have me do, sire?"

King Frederick turned to the captain. "Gather as many scouts as you are able," he ordered. "Post them in a perimeter around the entire Haderon Forest. No one is to enter or engage with anything or anyone. Wait for the boy to appear. When he does, apprehend him and whoever he's accompanied by and bring them to the castle for containment. No one is to be killed, understood?"

The captain frowned. "But your Majesty, if he attacks my men –"

"We are peacemakers, captain," the king insisted, "not pugilists. There will be no instigation on our part. I trust in your abilities. You will retrieve the boy alive and in one piece."

"I…" The captain bowed his reluctant head. "Yes, sire."