Varian awoke to the sound of snow outside his shattered window.

It was so silent, he could hear the flakes falling, the wind running playful fingers through it like a child on a sandy beach. The cold breeze blew across his cheek, catching on his eyelashes as he sat up and yawned. The dim light outside made it difficult to tell if it was morning or evening. Either way, he was certain he had slept for too long. He crossed over to his pock-marked, soot-singed dresser and hesitated before opening a drawer; surprisingly, the capitol's investigators had sifted through, but left his garments untouched. He took a bundled black shirt and held it up to his nose. The faint hint of lavender soap was muted by his father's musk. The smell of it made Varian's eyes water, and he sucked in a deep breath to calm himself. Soon, he thought. Soon, it will all be over.

He dressed and crossed over to the broken window; since the water pipes he'd installed were in a state of disrepair, he had no running water, so he reached out gingerly past the fractured glass and scooped up a handful of snow to scrub the freckles on his sleepy face.

When he looked up, he saw something in the distance, past the months-old devastation and empty village houses. He couldn't tell what it was at first, but the sight of something moving was enough to snap Varian into high alert. He yanked on his boots, snatched his father's bow from the corner, and nocked an arrow to the string before bursting out into the lab through what was left of his bedroom door.

Rudiger had been waiting outside; the racoon jumped with a yelp when Varian emerged, and he scampered agitatedly around the floor. "Where's Shay?" Varian asked.

"I'm here," he heard her speak as she poked her pale face out from around the pantry door. It looked like she was replenishing their supplies for their last stretch to the capitol. "You slept all ni–" Her eyes went wide when she saw Varian's unkempt hair and urgent expression. "What is it?"

"I don't know yet," Varian said in a low voice. "Just keep quiet and don't go anywhere. I'm going to go check it out."

"Be careful," Shay warned.

Varian motioned at Rudiger to stay put; the racoon promptly sat down and watched as his human companion crossed to the ladder leading out of the lab. Varian disappeared as he reached the top floor of his home and ducked onto his stomach, crawling to the remains of an east-facing wall. The cold morning air nipped at his exposed skin, making his hot blood burn. He brought himself up underneath the broken window – where he used to watch the sun rise in the morning – and peeked one blue eye over the splintered pane.

He saw nothing at first; just the wind blowing snowflakes through the open air, drifting across rooftops and settling in his dark hair. Then a shape darted out behind a nearby shed, and Varian's fingers flinched across the fletching on his arrow. He drew it to the corner of his mouth and aimed over the window sill, eyes darting left and right to track the movement. The shape flew out again, and Varian realized it was too small to be human. It bounded closer, a grey-brown bundle loping up and down through the white snow.

A few moments later, Shay was startled when she heard Varian slip down the ladder, missing a rung as he tumbled to the floor. "Are you alright?" she called across the lab, hurrying over to see.

"I'm fine," Varian said brightly, chuckling under his breath as he pulled out a dismissive hand. He winced as he uncurled himself from his heap on the floor. "In fact, despite the extreme improbability, I have a present for you." He pulled his other arm away to reveal a wet, sniffling hare in his lap.

Shay's face lit up like the Sun at noonday. "Killy!" she exclaimed, scooping him up into her arms. She worked her apron over the hare's damp fur, drying him off as she crooned and fussed. "Oh, Killy. I can't believe you found me!"

Varian could hardly believe it, either; the hare must have traveled non-stop to reach them in time. How the creature had known where they would be was a mystery he could only chalk up to magic. "Do you feel better, Shay?" He asked as he stood, brushing the cold away from his wet arms.

"Very much," she answered, setting the hare down. Rudiger bounded close, sniffing Killy's face with his black nose. "I was so afraid he'd been killed. I thought I'd never see him again!"

Varian set his father's bow across a nearby table. "I thought it might have been a patrol. I'm glad it wasn't. I wasn't planning on sticking around here this long. I have work to do, and I don't have much time to do it."

The others watched as Varian disappeared back into his room. Two minutes later, he emerged with an apron-full of alchemical ingredients and tools. "Something you've probably learned about me by now," he grinned slyly, "but I always have a backup plan." He set his things down on the table and tugged on an old pair of gloves. "Funny how people always check under the bed, but they never check the mattress stuffing. That's right! I literally slept on a bed of potentially hazardous materials." He chuckled, then cleared his throat. "Of course, I'd prefer to have my entire alchemical repertoire at hand, but desperate times call for fickle guards confiscating everything they can get their uncultured hands on. Now, then – alchemy 101." He pulled his goggles from around his neck and planted the lenses squarely over his blue eyes. "Always wear protection."

After losing his satchel at Lady Caine's camp, the only item of importance Varian hadn't lost, aside from his father's bow, was his bundle of alchemical notes and leaflets. Varian had once considered writing down copies of his formulas, but he had ultimately decided that to do so would risk his work falling into the wrong hands. As such, he had only one very precious collection of every compound and procedure he'd ever made. If he had lost it, not only would he be suffering from a vicious cycle of depression and paranoia, but he would have had to recreate them all by memory, something he wasn't confident he could do. There was only one of his experiments that he knew he could make without reference, and that was Rudiger's chimera serum; he had practically meditated on it during the six months he'd spent behind bars. As he worked, Varian realized how self-conscious he was; he could feel Shay's red eye watching every move he made. No one had ever really bothered to observe his experiments first hand – is father was always too busy, and the villagers deemed Varian's work too dangerous to even get close to, let alone watch. He took extra care to accurately measure, add no more or less than what he needed, set his timers to the millisecond, and keep an eye on temperatures. It took almost two hours, but despite his nerves and lack of advanced components, Varian was able to successfully produce and resupply almost everything he had lost the night before.

Eventually, he leaned back with a sigh and removed his goggles. "There's just one thing I can't make," he mused aloud. "If I had just one bioluminescent agent, it could be…" He trailed off when a familiar pink vial was slid across the tabletop. He looked up at Shay and smiled. "Really?"

Shay shrugged without a word, but she smiled back. She helped him gather the rest of their things, tugging warm cloaks over their shoulders as they prepared to brace the first snow. The wind had died down, but fat clumps of flakes continued to shower from the sky in silvery sheets, demanding that they pull hoods over their heads the moment they emerged out into the open. As they picked their way carefully through the remains of the quiet village, Shay paused and gazed around at the still, lonely scene.

"Do you think…" She swallowed. "Do you think it will be rebuilt someday?"

Varian stopped and sighed. He'd asked himself the same question many times. "I don't know," he admitted solemnly. "There are a lot of variables in play right now. It's possible, but I don't expect it to happen."

Shay's face fell. "I remember how this place looked in the summer," she said quietly. "I always thought it was beautiful here. I never wanted to leave. I'm sorry," she suddenly said before Varian could speak. "We should go."

They made their way out of the village, up the abandoned road to the north. They followed the wagon-worn path for a while before Varian directed them across the white countryside. Eventually, he broke the silence to tell Shay about the strange storm that had struck the year before. "I heard the guards talking about it once, outside my cell. They claimed it was supernatural, some bad omen sent by an ancient spirit. Personally, I think it was just an abnormally low front that came through. It's not unheard of for it to snow that early in the year."

"I remember that storm. Killy hid under my bed and wouldn't come out." Shay shook her head. "I'd never seen anything like it."

"They said the princess had found some kind of device that was able to disperse the blizzard." He was about to make a comment about how he didn't really believe that was true, but he knew better now than to assume something as outlandish as a special storm-breaking machine was impossible.

The fields of Old Corona wore white blankets as they crossed the main road and into the trees, the fallow ground settling into sleep as early winter floated all around them. Killy slept in Shay's arms, and Rudiger climbed up onto Varian's shoulder, chittering as his coat bristled against the cold.

Shay's quiet voice filtered through Varian's thoughts, and he realized his mind had wandered off. "What? Sorry, I – "

"It's alright," she assured him. "I'm not very good at small talk."

"No, I'm sure you are," Varian said hastily. "It's just…"

Shay gave a small smile as he paused in his footsteps to glance at her. "My mother used to say a look like that will stick if you wear it too long."

Varian gave a sad smile. "My dad used to say that, too." He chewed his lip as he continued forward, leading the way pasted knotted roots and branches burdened with snow. "There's something that's been bothering me," he admitted. "I've been thinking about it for a while. Longer than I realized. According to the stories, Rapunzel used to cast this spell every night for her captor…the same one I used to heal your arm, except her captor used it to keep herself young."

Shay blinked widely. "I'd never heard it used that way before. I suppose it makes sense."

"Cellular regeneration."

"Yes," she agreed. "The princess must have a great deal of magic. Her captor must have taught the spell to her, to exploit her power. It's an ancient spell, from before Corona was settled. Many spells are."

The trees ahead opened up to reveal a snowy meadow, dead weed stalks poking up like frozen fingers through the white drifts. Varian made footsteps for Shay to tread in; she looked a bit silly as she tried her best to match his stride. "When she came to me after her hair grew back, she tried to sing the same song for me. I'd hit my head on…something, I can't remember what. Probably my magnifying station, it wouldn't have been the first time." He gave an embarrassed cough. "Anyways, she sang the song, but it didn't work. The spell."

Shay seemed to think about it for a long time. "Spells require magic to cast," she spoke slowly, almost talking to herself. "Anyone can use a spell, if they have the magic for it. You need a lot of magic to heal, though. It's why my mother couldn't save my father."

"So, you're saying it wasn't magic that made her hair grow back?"

Shay shook her head. "No, I'm sure it was, but it wasn't her magic."

Varian stopped and turned, a confused frown spreading across his cold face. "I don't follow," he said, his words puffing out into the snowy air.

Shay wobbled mid-step as Varian stopped, but she managed to place her suspended foot in the space behind her. Killy blinked himself awake and abruptly flipped out of her arms, diving and flipping through the snow. "She can't control what's happened to her, right?"

"That's debatable," Varian muttered, remembering back to the night when the black rocks had conformed to the princess' will. He shrugged. "But she wasn't able to cast the spell."

"If it's not her magic, then she can't control it." Shay conjured her mother's journal and opened it to a page for Varian to read. "Here," she indicated. "My mother collected theories from other mages for her studies. The princess must be cursed by something. Or someone."

Varian read, his blue eyes peering as the sound of falling snow filled their ears. He was able to appreciate the quantitative formulas listed in the passage, even if it was in a language he couldn't completely understand. "So then…" He closed the book and hefted it in his hand. "Then I'm not cursed?"

Shay looked taken aback. "You thought…No, Varian. You have a great gift. I still don't know where it came from any more than you do. But you're not cursed."

Varian let out a sigh of relief. He didn't know what answer he had been searching for until she'd given it to him. "That's…good." He cleared the emotion from his throat. "That's good." He held the book out for her to take, trying to keep his hand from shaking. "Thank you."

She took it back gingerly. "You're welcome."

They pressed on through more forest, dark canopies of pine and oak intertwining above them. The grey, prickly leaves bent low from their snowy burden. Rudiger leapt off of Varian's shoulder, scrambling up the bark with his black paws. Varian watched the racoon's ring tail dart about through the trees. "So," he spoke up again. "When were we going to talk about how you used to live in Old Corona?" He heard her breath catch in her throat. "How old were you, when you left with your mom?"

Shay seemed reluctant to answer at first. "Five," she whispered. "I was five."

"How old was I?"

"Six, I think, or almost. It was spring when we left."

Varian reached the edge of the forest, glancing out into the open plane of snowy ground before them. "When your father died, was I there?"

Shay stumbled, her eyes wide with shock. "What?, No, of course not! Why would you –"

"I'm just trying to figure it out," Varian answered nonchalantly. "Why your mother erased my memory." He glanced over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow in her direction. "It was her, wasn't it? And you're not supposed to know, are you?"

"I…" Shay ducked her hard face away.

"So, why would she do it, then?" Varian continued as he started trudging across the field. "The only way I can reason it is to guess why I would erase someone's memory. Naturally, I assume your mother wiped my memory because I witnessed something she wanted me to forget."

"That's not why she did it, Varian." Shay's face reddened, and she started wringing her cloak in her hands. "It's not just that it's not my place to explain. Please understand, I…It's too painful for me to explain, too horrible and petty and just…wrong." She bit her lip and sucked in a deep breath. "It was wrong what she did, and if I could have stopped her, I would have. But I didn't understand what she had done until it was too late. And the worst of it is…I don't think you will ever get those memories back."

Varian realized he had set his jaw tight, and his expression was stony and cold. His hands had clenched themselves into fists, and his shoulders were stiff and rigid. "Then I guess it's just all the more reason for us to free her, isn't it?" He brushed snowflakes off his arm in a brusque gesture. "Don't tell me you won't have words for her, either, once this is all over."

The sound of snow compacting beneath rushing feet reached Varian's ears before Shay stepped in front of him. "And what of your father?" she pointed out. "He kept secrets from you, too. Don't you deserve an explanation from him as much as from my mother?"

Anger threatened to drown the meager dregs of patience in Varian's embittered heart as he exhaled sharply. "Yes," he managed to admit. "I'll have words with both of them, eventually." Then he made an apologetic look and sighed. "But that's not important right now. We need to – hide!"

A figure had appeared over the crest of the hill; Varian didn't even bother to process who it was before snatching Shay by the hand and dragging her back into the woods, crouching behind the nearest tree. After a few moments, Varian dared to peek out from around the dense trunk, peering through the bright light reflecting off the snow.

Shay gripped his sleeve. "Is it a patrol?" she whispered.

Varian shook his head. "No. It's a trade wagon, probably from the southeast coast." He could see the entire group now, maybe five people, with a disgruntled thoroughbred mare shaking snow from her dark head. The horse pulled a roofed box cart, the wheels caked with white and creaking from the cold.

"Should we wait until they're gone?" Shay asked.

A grin spread across Varian's cold-flushed face. "That…is our ticket through the capitol gates."