"And just how exactly did you two end up passing out at your post?!"

As the afternoon drifted into fiery sheets of dusk, the guards, who had finally awoken from their alchemy-induced slumber, glanced embarrassedly at each other. The first one cleared his throat nervously. "Well, sir, you see, we don't…exactly…know."

The interrogating lieutenant abruptly stopped his furious pacing in front of the woods. He looked like he was about ready to have a conniption. "You both realize," he fumed, "that your little naptime will not only reflect poorly on my report. It will get you both discharged on account of falling asleep in the line of duty while on an assignment to capture one of the most dangerous criminals in all of Corona!" Spittle flew from his livid mouth, and he paused to wipe a fleck from the corner of his snarling lips. "You think the captain is someone to fear? How about the king when he finds out you just might have given our convict the opportunity he needed to escape, thereby rendering our assignment out here completely futile?!"

When silence followed the lieutenant's outburst, the other guard spoke. "Sir, with all due respect, we've taken this assignment very seriously. We were trained from day one – never fall asleep while on post. What I'm trying to say is –"

"Excuses," the lieutenant hissed. "There's no evidence, no other indication, that there's any other reason for you both fell asleep in the line of duty!"

"Actually, gentlemen, there is."

The voice came from a man emerging from the forest, smoothing back his greying hair as he stepped out into the open. The three soldiers immediately produced their crossbows, leveling them squarely in the man's direction. "Who are you?" the lieutenant barked. "Identify yourself immediately!"

The man raised his arms. "My name is Caius, and I mean you no harm."

The first guard began to quake and shudder. "Are you th-the one who knocked us out?!"

Caius rolled his eyes. "Of course not. I have no reason for it, and if I did, I would have done a better job than the one who did." He lowered his arms, his hands still held open at his sides. "As you can see, I am unarmed."

The lieutenant wasn't buying it. "You're unarmed, but your armored? You expect me to believe you're not dangerous?"

"Oh, I am dangerous," Caius clarified. "But at the moment, I share a common interest with the house of Corona. You're looking for an escaped criminal, are you not? Young man, skinny, blue eyes, dark hair with a streak, travels with a racoon. Is that correct?"

The guards glanced at each other. "That fits his description to a T," the second guard whispered.

"So, you've seen him, then?" The lieutenant kept his crossbow ready. "The alchemist?"

"I have," Caius answered with a blink. "And I know where he's going."

The lieutenant sneered. "And why should I believe you?"

Caius remained stationary, but he peered at the man's decorations. "What's your name, lieutenant?"

The lieutenant raised an eyebrow under his helmet. "Yeager."

"Lieutenant Yeager, you and your men are wasting your time here." Caius stepped forward, aiming the second guard's crossbow away with a firm hand. "I would love to tell you why and where your target has fled, but I feel less inclined to divulge that information when I'm being threatened."

Yeager held his breath. "Lower your weapons," he ordered stiffly. "I can't exactly give my men a new assignment. My orders come from the captain of the royal guard."

Caius fixed the lieutenant with a look that could only be described as condescending. "You can send a scout, can't you? Or is this your first day on the job?"

"You know something?" Yeager raised his crossbow once more. "Every word out of your mouth makes me want to see how much it'll take to make you bleed."

"You'd still be wasting your time, just as you are now." Caius folded his arms. "Tell your captain you've found a lead on the whereabouts of your runaway alchemist. Better than that, tell him you've found a…consultant on the matter. It would serve Corona's best interests if we work together, Lieutenant." He gave a small, cold smile. "I think in time, you'll find that you'll agree."

Newbarth was a peculiar town, for a number of reasons. For one thing, it wasn't built next to any major body of water; its people subsisted from a handful of ancient, manmade wells that had been dug centuries before settlers had established the town. For another thing, despite being small, Newbarth was busy, full of traders and travelers looking for a place to rest before making the final stretch through untamed Coronan territory, usually towards the capitol or towards Vardaros in the south. For those who didn't seek out Newbarth as a pitstop, more permanent residents were not found lacking in years or financial credit; they were very rich, very privileged, and very old, using the funds they'd saved over the years to settle down in their artificial oasis in the middle of Corona's countryside.

Since it was a popular spot for travelers to spend the night, Newbarth's main source of economy was in its many inns and taverns, each outfitted with some of the best accommodations Corona could offer. As such, the town was also a den of gossip, crime and politics being the topics most often discussed:

"I heard that that woman escaped from prison again. Cayley or Caren, something like that."

"I believe the name is Caine, dear."

"Oh, but didn't you know? She escaped the same night as that wizard!"

"What wizard? I don't know anything about a wizard."

"They say he blew up half of the capitol, riding off on a wild beast."

"You're just making up nonsense, again. There are no such things as wizards or wild beasts."

"Well, wizard or not, I'll bet my pension that he has something to do with those strange black spikes sprouting up out of the ground."

"That wizard – wasn't he involved with the princess?"

"Nah, I heard it was her handmaiden."

"No, no, no, not that sort of involvement! I meant he tried to assassinate the royal family."

"Didn't I tell you to stop speaking nonsense?"

As the town dipped into evening and the noise of rumors and chatter began to fill the streets, Varian stared openly at the wanted poster plastered to the bulletin outside a bustling establishment called The Violet Clover, his lips curling into a disdainful frown. "Look at this," he gestured at his hastily-scribbled image on the paper. "Look at their description. My hair's not brown, and I don't have a scar. And I'm not a wizard!"

"Shh," Shay hissed, tugging the hood of her cloak over her head. Her hair hid her eye once more, away from the prying eyes of Newbarth's townsfolk. "Do you want someone to hear you? Besides, if the description is inaccurate, isn't that to your advantage? People will be less likely to identify you."

But Varian remained dissatisfied. "'Missing tooth?'" He ran his tongue self-consciously over his front teeth. "That's just mean."

"Come on," Shay tugged at him. "We shouldn't be standing in front of it, anyways. We'll be noticed!"

"Alright, alright. Let's get inside." Varian finally allowed her to pull him across the threshold and into the inn, still a bit disgruntled at his unsatisfactory wanted poster. The Violet Clover was a brighter place than the dreary pub in Ghislaine; the patrons here were loud and lively, their eyes bright as they exchanged witty banter and made uproarious laughter. Two barmaids wound their way around tables, scrubbing at stains and slapping unwanted hands away. "Looks like this is as good a place as any," Varian muttered to Shay.

The innkeeper stood closer to the door than Varian had anticipated. He was a large man, almost as big as Varian's father, with a dark grey beard hiding a strong jaw. His eyes peered under heavy eyebrows as he approached them, cleaning out a mug the size of a Clydesdale's hoof. "What have we here?" he mused in a voice as deep as a well. "You two children looking for a long-lost relative in my humble establishment? Afraid that only happens in storybooks, you know." He noticed the sword and bow over Varian's back; Varian had insisted he carry the sword through Newbarth's streets, to divert suspicion from the girl. "Quite the weapon you have there. Pray tell, what exactly does a young man expect to slay with a letter opener that size? Giants are few and far between in the realm of reality."

Varian felt Shay duck behind him, clutching his sleeve. He'd forgotten how little she'd experienced outside her secluded cabin in the woods; a place like this, despite being warm and open, was probably still terrifying to her. It probably didn't help that she was traveling with an escaped traitor to the crown. He covered his surprise with a sheepish grin. "Sorry," he apologized, keeping his hands limp and open at his sides. "My sister and I are from the capitol. We're not used to traveling, you see. We're actually on our way to meet our uncle in Ghislaine – our father's having me deliver the sword to him, for a ceremony. He'd have done it himself, but he had to stay and look after our mother."

The innkeeper gave a single, cold chuckle. "That's quite the story, young man. Sorry to say, I don't believe a word of it."

Varian felt panic cause his guts to lurch. His smile faltered, and his legs grew tight.

"John?" he suddenly heard Shay mutter, loud enough for the innkeeper to hear. "We're not going to have to stay outside tonight, are we?"

"Of course not, Jane," Varian said automatically. He reached for her hand; her fingers were ice-cold as he tugged her into the open. "I'm not about to force my little sister to travel at night, am I?" He glanced hopefully at the innkeeper once more. "I'm afraid that's a decision our new friend will have to make for us."

To her credit, Shay managed to look up into the innkeeper's face and give a weak smile.

The innkeeper didn't seem moved at first, but he gave a resigned sigh. "I suppose I can't expect a young lady to spend the night out in the cold." He fixed his gaze on Varian once more. "Of course," he continued, "I'm not exactly running a charity here. Rate of pay is the same, regardless of age. Ten silver for one room, two beds."

Varian instantly felt the urge to protest. Ten silver for one room? That kind of money would pay for a horse and a room, and at the capitol, no less. It certainly wasn't a rate he was charging his other customers, or this place would look like a palace. But Varian knew that arguing the matter would only raise more suspicion. He forced a stiff, joyless smile as he counted the pieces into the innkeeper's outstretched hand, his blue eyes icy and bitter. The innkeeper bit one of the coins, then tucked them into his pocket and barked at one of the maids to show their guests to their room. Shay stayed no less than six inches away from Varian as they followed the barmaid up the creaky wooden stairs to the second landing. She gave them the key to a room at the end of the hall and explained quickly that breakfast was not complementary before turning on her slippered heel and disappearing back down the stairs.

To the innkeeper's credit, the room itself was in decent shape. The floor was clean, and a single window framed the opposite wall. No desk or trappings, but a small washroom was to the right, a private amenity Varian hadn't expected – though for paying as much as he had, they deserved to wash off.

It wasn't until Varian crossed over and lit the gas lamp that he noticed one problem. "Oh no," he groaned, his blood pressure rising.

"What is it?" Shay asked as she closed the door. Scuttling sounds clicked across the wood floor, and invisible paws tugged at the hem of her skirt. She reached down and spoke a quick counter-spell, bringing Rudiger and Killy back into plain sight. "Neither of you were stepped on, were you?"

"This." Varian gestured at the bed. There was only one. "I'm going back down there to give that cheat what for."

"We can't do that," Shay shook her head as Varian approached the door. "The innkeeper already suspects us enough. We can work with this."

"No, we can't," Varian insisted. "I paid for two beds, not one. Extorted for my trouble, too!"

"I know you were," Shay agreed, her fingers tangling themselves into knots. "But if that's the price we have to pay for his discretion, then what choice to we have?"

"I…" Varian bit his lip; she was right. "It's not just the pay. It's…" He cleared his throat uncomfortably, his eyes flitting back and forth between Shay and the bed. "You're not actually my sister," he mumbled.

"O-oh." Shay suddenly realized the issue, and her face turned red. "No," she whispered, almost too softly for Varian to hear. "No, I-I'm not." She took a deep breath, ignoring Killy as the hare sat down on her cold foot.

Varian sighed shakily, running a hand through his hair. "It's fine," he grumbled. "I'll sleep on the floor." It was better than a cell, at least, and there was still a roof over his head. Time and the weather would tell whether it was leaky or not, but he could deal with that, too.

But Shay seemed to disagree. "What? No," she insisted, finally picking up Killy. "You've done far more traveling these past few weeks than I have."

"Yeah, but you slept near the fireplace the other night," Varian reminded her.

"That's when I was hosting you. This is different."

Varian gave a loud, nervous chuckle. "You can say that again." Then he sobered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Shay, you're not sleeping on the floor."

Shay tapped her foot twice. "There's a simple solution to this," she told him suddenly. "I'll sleep under the covers and you sleep on top. If you get cold, we'll switch." When Varian opened his mouth to protest, Shay continued, "Or I could sew you into a bag."

"Sew me into a…" Varian mouthed, clenching and unclenching his shaking hands.

"See?" Shay folded her arms. "I think it's completely unnecessary, but if it makes you feel better about sharing a bed, I'd be happy to oblige. Which do you prefer?"

Varian stood slack-jawed, blinking widely at the proposition. He'd felt less shocked after hearing his father lie to the king. He'd been ignored and imprisoned by the royal family, threatened by a rogue witch hunter, and he had nearly been killed by the undead. Now he had this to deal with, and he wasn't sure which situation had been less stressful. In the end, fatigue decided for him. "Fine," he grumbled under his breath, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. "But take the far side, okay?"

"Why?" Shay asked, setting Killy down as he handed over her father's sword.

"Because," Varian explained as he set the rest of his things down, "if someone tries to break in, I don't want you caught in the crossfire."

Shay stiffened, clutching the sword to her. "You don't really think the innkeeper recognized you, do you?"

"I wouldn't put it past him," Varian replied as he tugged his boots off. "It's obvious he smelled something strange about the both of us. We're too young to be traveling alone and…unchaperoned." His face turned red. "There's, uh…that's a washroom, that door there, if you, um…you know, if you wanted to wash up."

"Oh," Shay noticed the door. "Right then. I-I'll just be a minute."

Varian gave a sigh of relief as Shay disappeared into the washroom; his heartrate could finally settle down, at least for a few moments. He focused his thoughts towards safeguarding the room. He produced a ball of string and tied it to the doorknob, then hooked it around a large vial of acid that he placed very carefully over the top of the frame. Rudiger brushed up against his leg, and he glanced down at the racoon. "Relax, it's not going to kill anyone. It might scar them, though. It's not much, but it'll have to do for now. It's a shame, we don't have anything to barricade it." Even a chair would have been nice. Maybe there was one in the washroom he could use. "We're only here for tonight, anyways."

"I could always place a ward on the door, if you'd like," Shay said from behind.

Varian jumped, his heartbeat accelerating once more; he hadn't heard her come out. He turned and saw that her hair was damp, and she'd changed into a simple, dark grey nightgown. Varian wasn't exactly sure where or how she'd brought sleepwear, but he didn't bother to ask. The answer was probably magic, anyway. "No," he answered after a moment. "No, you don't have to."

Shay gave a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness. I think I'm too tired to cast another spell."

Varian shrugged. "I guess, just…make yourself comfortable?" He grabbed a spare cotton top from his bag and sheepishly dragged himself into the washroom without another word, avoiding eye-contact as she watched him go. He popped his head out before closing the door. "If anyone knocks, don't answer it, okay?"

"Leave your clothes outside the door," she told him before he could disappear. "I'll take care of them."

Varian shrugged his gloves, coat, and shirt off and took a long pull of air through his nose before quickly passing them out into Shay's arms, hiding behind the door as best as he could. "I can take care of my unmentionables, thank you," he told her tersely before she could ask. He heard her give an exasperated sigh through the wall as he pumped the frigid water from the basin to scrub the grime from his skin and rinse the sweat out of his hair. As he worked, he spoke out loud to fill the silence. "After my mother passed, I grew up doing most of the work around the house. Things like laundry and cooking aren't exactly strangers to me. Of course, I invented a few machines here and there to do a lot of the work for me. Once I got older, that is." He heard Shay's muffled voice, and he paused to press his ear to the door. "What was that?"

"Your father," she spoke more clearly. "Did he ever thank you?"

Varian felt something settle on his shoulders, weighing them down until it felt like they'd reached his knees. He slid his forehead to the grain, his hair dripping down his neck. "Sometimes," he mumbled. He tugged the clean top over his head before taking a deep breath and opening the door ajar to peek out into the room. Shay was reaching to turn off the lamp as he stepped out, winding the gas down until the flame flickered out. The moonlight from outside filtered in through the window in hazy sheets, reflecting off the streak in Varian's hair like silver. His clothes were inexplicably clean and folded into a floating pile in the air, which he carefully took and set down by his things. "Thanks."

Shay said nothing as she obediently crossed over to the far side of the bed and crawled under the musty sheets, tucking them up to her chin like a child. Killy leaped up and nestled near her head, his breath ruffling her dark hair. When Varian didn't move, she brought one arm out to pat the space next to her.

Varian came over slowly, anxiety dragging at his heels like fiery cords. If Dad was here, he'd kill me for this. He turned about to sit down, but his legs refused to bend. I might kill me for this. Then he felt fingers grab the back belt loop of his trousers and tug hard, forcing him to stagger down.

"Could you please stop making this so awkward?" he heard Shay grumble sleepily as she settled back. "Just pretend it's a sleepover. You can't tell me you've never been someone's bedfellow before."

"Not really," Varian said in a stiff monotone, planting his clammy palms on his knees. Especially not with a girl. He realized his arms were shaking. "I've never stayed over at anyone's house before." He glanced over his shoulder at her. "Why, have you?"

Shay went beet red from her hairline to her chest. "I…no," she said, avoiding his eyes. She started gnawing at her lip, and her hands were clutching tightly at the sheets. "No."

Varian shook his head. He'd learned over the past few days that Shay was good at a few things, but lying wasn't one of them. He didn't press the subject, though; such a small point wasn't worth it. He heard her swallow loudly as he finally leaned back, lacing his fingers over his breast as he stared up at the moonlit ceiling. His knuckles were pale and white, and, despite the miles that they'd walked, sleep seemed leagues out of reach.

"What do you think of dreams?" he suddenly asked.

"What about them?" Shay whispered.

"Do they ever mean anything?" Varian asked. "There are theories about it, scientific speculation about how the brain works. Some scholars think it's our minds trying to process the day." He rolled over to face her, propping himself up on his elbow. "What do mages think of it?"

Shay stared at him, her mismatched eyes wide and unblinking.

"What do mages think of dreams?" Varian repeated.

"Oh," Shay said breathlessly, blinking away as her blush returned. "They, um…the-they think that…well, it depends on the dream…I suppose."

"What about dreams when you're a different person?" Varian pressed. "Like, you're still you, but you're living through someone else. What does magic say about that?"

Shay looked at him again; this time, her gaze was clear and piercing, and the redness in her face faded. "What did you dream about? That's why you're asking, isn't it? You dreamt about something. What was it?"

Varian worked his jaw back and forth. "Nothing," he said, turning onto his back once more. "Nothing," he repeated, as if to convince himself. "Dreams are just that, right? They're just dreams."

Shay didn't answer. She slowly turned away, facing the opposite wall. Killy opened one eye to stare at Varian, then closed it again. Rudiger jumped up onto the bed and draped himself over Varian's leg, scratching the back of his ear. Varian reached to help with the racoon's itch until the creature purred with joy.

They lay there in silence for a while, waiting for sleep to come. When it didn't, Varian spoke again. "But if they weren't just dreams," he whispered, "what would they be?"

When Shay answered, her words were slurred and drowsy. "Visions…prophecies…memories…messages…"

Messages. Varian took his hand away from Rudiger; the racoon had licked his palm clean. "What kind of messages?"

Shay sighed, and Varian felt the sheets pull under him as she turned to face him again. Her eyes were still closed, but her brow was knotted in frustration. "Like letters," she answered. Varian could feel her breath on his arm, and it made his anxiety return in a tidal wave. She smelled like vanilla, warm and sweet. It made Varian all the more self-conscious. "But in your head," she continued. "Sometimes it was to warn someone, sometimes to encourage. It was a common way for lovers to use magic, when they were far apart. It makes it easier to bear being away from each other." She opened her eyes, "To have a single moment before the morning breaks, to not feel so alone."

"Heh." Varian inhaled, held his breath for an entire minute, then exhaled through his nose. It did absolutely nothing to calm his nerves. "I didn't take you for a romantic," he managed to admit out loud.

Shay said nothing, but she hummed a disapproving note.

Varian blinked, his panic stalling. He glanced over at her. "Why? There's nothing wrong with it."

"Yes, there is." Shay grumbled. She cringed into the sheets, gathering a fistful of fabric towards her mouth like a child. "You get your hopes up, thinking that your dreams can come true. And then it's all taken away from you." Her eyes watered. "The lovers dream, but when they wake up, they're miles apart again." She blinked once, and tears made tracks over her nose. "Sorry," she croaked, wiping her face clean. "I-I'm fine. Let's just get some sleep."

Varian cursed himself, and guilt replaced his anxiety. It burned a hole in the pit of his stomach like acid. Of course, he knew what she was talking about. He'd felt the same way. Usually, anger and determination kept the sorrow at bay, like a sea wall against a hurricane. But Shay's words pelted his conscience like rain drops, pitter-pattering into a puddle of grief and self-pity. Memories of that day resurfaced there, images of the princess huddled on the floor of his lab, embracing her parents like they were the only people in the world. It had been too much for Varian to bear, that spectacle of love and devotion. Why couldn't he have the same? Why couldn't Shay have it, too?

He didn't want to leave things the way they were; it didn't feel right for Shay to cry herself to sleep without Varian doing something to make her feel better. Impulsively, he reached over and grabbed her hand. He didn't ask for permission, didn't look to see if she was surprised or repulsed. He waited for her to yank her hand away, but she didn't so much as twitch.

"I think you'll like the capitol," he said quietly. "The castle itself is on an island, just off the mainland. It's ridiculous, if you ask me, since it limits the king's options when it comes to an invasion or some other state of emergency. Still, it's nice there. The streets are new, and the castle has some very impressive architecture. And that's not even getting into what's under the castle." He went on, explaining the underground tunnels that led to a secret passage under the king's vault. "Not that we'll be going anywhere near the castle, unless you really want…" He realized Shay was asleep. "…To." He gave a heavy sigh of relief. Thank goodness. Maybe now, he could finally get some rest himself. They still had another two days left to travel on foot. He wondered if he should resupply in Newbarth. Some ham would be nice. Maybe purchase a mount…No, a mount would make them too conspicuous…and Rudiger's serum was meant for emergencies…Did Shay even know how to ride…?

Varian.

His eyes snapped open; he hadn't realized he'd closed them. He lurched up to see a petite woman with long crimson hair standing at the other side of the room. Her red and orange eyes stared, unblinking, and her hands were folded in front of her. She wore dark clothes and a blue scarf, and her mouth was pursed in a grim expression. It was difficult to tell how old she was, but streaks of grey could be seen near her temples.

Varian immediately reached for his bow, Rudiger rolling off his leg as he moved. He stopped when the woman raised her hand.

There's no need for that, child. The woman's words echoed in the space between them, as if from the depths of a well. Her Irish voice was lilting and melodic. I mean you no harm.

Varian glanced at the floor and noticed that the woman cast no shadow. He still grabbed his weapon, slowly this time, settling it across his lap; he felt more secure just holding it. He glanced over at the others; Shay slept on, and Killy and Rudiger didn't even stir. "First undead, now ghosts," he mused out loud.

Not a ghost, the woman answered. Just an astral projection. It shouldn't baffle you, really. I'm sure you've seen enough of the arcane by now.

Varian leaned forward on his knees. "You're the Crimson Caster."

I prefer to be called Lyra, the witch said. The Crimson Caster was always a more…derogatory title. Her eyes widened when she saw Shay, and her voice softened until it was almost a whisper. I…I see that my daughter is with you. That is her, isn't it? She's grown so much…I'm sure it's been years now.

Varian glanced anxiously back and forth between Lyra and her sleeping daughter. His face went red. "I swear, this isn't what it looks like!"

But the woman actually smiled. It's alright, little one. She seems very comfortable with you.

"Well, I-I don't know about that, it's just –"

I know. I'm glad to see that she's safe. I can't begin to imagine… Her smile faded. I'm sure you have many questions, but I don't have the strength to stay for long. I've been trying to speak to you for days, ever since you broke my seal on the necromancer's crypt. Only a power greater than my own could have done it. Her red eye gave a very discernable glow. And I assure you, there are few greater.

Varian made a skeptical frown. "How do I know it's you and not someone…something else?"

An excellent question. Lyra tilted her head. What does your heart tell you?

Varian gave a bemused look. "A heart can't give me solid evidence. It's just a muscle."

The witch sighed sadly. That's not what your father believed.

Varian flinched, like he'd just been stung. "What is it that you want? Why are you talking to me, anyway? Shouldn't you be talking to your daughter instead?"

There is something I must ask you, Quirinson. Something my daughter would never agree with. Lyra paused, as if taking a deep breath. Under no circumstances should you release me from Haderon's crypt.

"Wait…What?"

The power within that tomb rivals that of the Celestials themselves, the witch explained. Her voice grew increasingly desperate. The necromancer uncovered something great and terrible in his day, something that should never be unleashed upon Corona ever again. It is a power I once believed I could wield. Regret and a twinge of fear flitted across her gaze, turning it pallid. I was horribly wrong.

"Hold on a second," Varian stammered. Sweat slid down his neck, and his hands had turned clammy as he spun his fingers in a retractive motion. "Back up. What is a Celestial?"

The Celestials are ancient magics, a myth even among mages. Lyra raised a hand and placed it over her red eye. I once called upon such a myth, in my hour of need. They sleep within the cosmos, drifting through the ages until called upon for their boundless power, a power that can never be fully controlled. A gust of wind struck against the window, and the latch broke off as a chill breeze filled the room. Varian was startled by the sudden burst of icy air on his skin, but the Crimson Caster still didn't move. They are not personages, but they do yield a certain sentience – a purpose of feeling, a calling to be fulfilled when destiny comes. They are primordial, resting within nature like seeds in winter. It is rare that the Celestials choose vessels for their magic. Her hand fell back to her side. Even rarer when they choose someone like you.

"What do you mean?" Varian gestured wildly. "Wha…ho-how am I chosen by anything?"

The Crimson Caster raised her hand again, her fingers flitting in the direction of Varian's hair. Varian reached to tug a lock into view; it was all glowing now, a bright, luminous blue. The sight of it froze his blood. Her words were firm and resolute. The moon is full tonight.

Quirin's bow fell from his lap as Varian lurched to the open window. He slapped his palms to the frame as he leaned outside, staring up into the night sky. She was right; it was the harvest moon. The lunar satellite loomed over the world in a massive disk of flowing light. Something else caught Varian's eye, and his gaze darted to a flutter of sparkling embers lingering on the black horizon. He could just make out the jutting shapes of the black rocks winking like needles threading across the illuminated landscape.

"No," Varian shook his head numbly. "No, you can't…you can't tell me I'm connected to those…those things! No, the princess was, that's why…" He whirled about to face the witch. "There has to be another answer to this!"

The woman stepped towards him. She reached out as if to place a hand on his shoulder, then stopped and let her hand fall to her side. That's the difference between science and magic, Varian. There is always more than one answer.

"More like no answers," Varian spat.

Something cold and distant entered the witch's voice. You cannot dictate Providence, Quirinson.

Varian coughed out a bitter, incredulous laugh. "Providence? What part has Providence played in this, except to cause me pain?" He looked away, glaring at his toes. "If there even is such a thing."

Clearly, you have yet to live in a foxhole, the witch mused wryly. Then she sighed. You're obstinate, like your father. You see what needs to be done, and you do it. But there is so much that you don't see, things that this Celestial must have realized you cannot understand, cannot accomplish, without its power. It has been calling to you for some time, now, trying to help you. It must have sensed a kinship in you, as the Seven Sisters did in me.

"But I…" Varian swallowed down his panic, raking his hands through his hair. "I don't want it." He licked his lips, his entire body trembling with anger and fear. "I didn't ask for this! I just want my father back!"

It is not a matter of what you want, Varian. It is a matter of what you need, what Corona needs. To be chosen by a Celestial is a great honor.

"I don't care about honor!" Varian shouted. The moonlight from the window seemed to intensify, settling on his shoulders like fine dust. He clenched his fists at his sides, and sparks gushed out of his grip like water. "I don't care about Corona or Celestials or any of it! I won't be part of some supernatural agenda that has nothing to do with me! I'm no mage, and I'm not an astronomer. I'm an alchemist!"

Her expression became somber, regretful. You can't even begin to imagine how much more you can be. How much you are. Lyra's voice started to grow faint, and her visage began to fade. I am sorry, little one, for many things. I wish I could tell you more. Tell my little hawk that I'm sorry. Tears welled up in her eyes. I will miss her, for all my days. But Haderon's power must remain sealed away at all costs. When you wake, tell her…Tell her I should have…I should have…

Then Varian opened his eyes, this time to a real world.

He was flat on his back, staring up at the wood ceiling. He was on the bed, Rudiger still curled up against his leg. He noticed that he wasn't holding his bow; it remained unmoved and unstrung on the floor by his feet. He realized that he hadn't moved an inch the entire night. Dawn was starting to break through the closed window, rosy tints glowing through the foggy glass. Shay must have gotten cold, because she'd curled up into a ball next to him, her face tucked under his shoulder. Heat crept up his neck when he noticed he was still holding her hand, and he carefully slipped his fingers away. Killy was nowhere to be seen at first, but Varian heard the hare approach the bedside as he slowly sat up and reached for his bag. He produced a small, round mirror and held it up to see the crown of his head. His hair wasn't glowing, but he could feel a fading warmth from his scalp, and there was a dimmed light in his eyes that didn't seem to come from the morning sky. His fingers tingled, as if they'd fallen asleep; as he flexed them, a flutter of sparks descended like the dying embers of a blue fire.

Chosen? He shook his head helplessly, and he set the mirror down in his lap. Chosen for what? And why? Why him, why now? What had he done to deserve the attention of something he'd never even heard of before? And the princess…Varian had never considered where it had come from, the Sundrop flower. Resting within nature…

He jumped out of his troubled thoughts when Shay shifted, groaning sleepily. She opened her orange eye at him, then closed it again. "What is it?" she mumbled.

Varian swallowed, and he quickly tucked the mirror away. "We need to get going," he told her, his tone husky and grim.

Shay blinked more widely at him as she tilted her head. "Why? What happened?"

Varian stood and started gathering his things. "Nothing," he lied, forcing a note of levity. "Nothing happened. It's just that we still have a ways to go before we reach the capitol, that's all." He was so full of anxious energy that he didn't even consider asking Shay to avert her gaze as he changed back into his old shirt. "I thought about picking out a mount for us," he explained as he tugged his apron over his head, "but it would make it harder to hide in case a guard notices us. Well, notices me, anyway."

Shay gave a meek hum of acknowledgment, trying her best to seem unflustered by him as she sat up. Killy followed her as she crossed over to the washroom to change. "I don't mind walking, Varian," she told him when he reappeared, tugging her cloak over her shoulders. "My mother's not going anywhere."

Lyra's nebulous face snapped back into Varian's mind, hardening his expression as he yanked his arms through the sleeves of his coat. "You're…right," he stammered. "Right. Neither's my dad," he added hastily. "So yeah, walking's fine."

Shay shrouded Rudiger and Killy with another spell. Varian returned the key to the innkeeper with a false smile on his face and a forced casualness in his step. Shay trailed behind him like a shadow, silent and submissive. By some miracle, they left the inn without incident. The streets were busy once more, this time with merchants and traders bartering their wares. Varian led the way, avoiding eye-contact and keeping his head low. After skirting a few tight corners filled with gossipy buyers and grumbling old men, they finally reached the town's border. The local guards glanced once in Varian's direction, but he managed to duck behind a group of newcomers before escaping into the open.

"That was close," Varian exhaled as they made their way across the beaten country path. "Let's hope we'll be that lucky in the future."

Shay dissolved the spell over their animal companions. "I hope they don't follow us."

"They won't," Varian said confidently. "Newbarth has too many incoming visitors for the town to spare any outgoing security like that. But it won't be the same at the capitol. I'm afraid we'll be camping out under the stars from now on."

Shay nodded. Silence fell between them as Newbarth faded into the distance. The sun ascended brightly into the morning sky as they began winding their way across the countryside once more. With Newbarth behind them, Varian hoped that he might be able to set his thoughts straight, to make a decision about what he'd learned in the night. Varian realized his choice wasn't as difficult to make as he'd feared. After all, even if he didn't tell Shay, his intentions would still be the same; he would free the Crimson Caster, regardless of the consequences.

As they neared a small, dry gully, he paused in his footsteps. "Shay," he said hesitantly. "There's something I have to tell you."

The girl stopped up ahead and turned to face him. She didn't speak at first, but when she did, she sounded breathless and urgent. "There's something I have to tell you, too. I know I told you it's not my secret to tell, but after last night –"

"Yeah, about last night," Varian cut her off. "And the night before, and possibly the night before that." He glanced down at Rudiger; the racoon waited expectantly, along with the others, for him to speak. He took a deep breath. "I've been –"

He was cut off by the distant sound of a large explosion, echoing through the trees like thunder. The boom was loud enough to startle both of them, and their animals' ears turned swiftly in the direction of great plume of smoke as it blossomed like a cloud into the far-off sky.

"What was that?!" Shay gasped.

Varian's brain worked quickly. "Looks like it was about two miles ahead of us. It's white smoke, which means the ignition source was black powder. That much of it, though – that can't have been an accident. And it's north of us…" It dawned on him, and his veins filled with burning dread. "Oh no."

Shay looked fearfully at him, waiting for him to explain.

"There's only one thing that anyone would bother to mess with in that direction – the Saison Bridge. It's the only way over the Saison River, which we need to cross if we're going to reach the capitol."

Realization made Shay's eyes grow wide. "That means…"

Just my luck. Varian shook his head, a wry, hopeless grin spreading across his face. "Someone just blew it to kingdom come."