Rapunzel opened her green eyes to the sight of a white void, stretching endlessly out before her in a depthless field. There was light, but she couldn't tell where, and there was ground beneath her bare feet, but only her shadow accompanied her. No sound reached her ears but her own breathing, which froze as she held her breath in shock.

"What is this?" she whispered, tentatively taking a step forward. Her foot landed on the white beneath her, and as she moved forward, she could feel the subtle weight of her golden hair settle on the back of her neck. She took another step forward, her pace falling into an uncertain walk. "Hello!" she called out, cupping her hands around her mouth. "Is anyone here?!"

No one answered, and her voice didn't even seem to echo. As she kept walking, her scenery didn't change; she might as well have been walking in place. She stopped to try and think, but it felt like her brain was full of molasses. How did I get here? Have I always been here? There's someone…Eugene, right? Yes, where is Eugene? Wasn't I home? Where is home?

She couldn't remember, for some reason. Her freckled face wrinkled as she frowned. Something about this seemed familiar, like she'd been here before. But she couldn't remember a place like this. Was this a dream? A dream, of course! She just needed to wake up before she started falling, or before something tried to attack her…

The sudden burst of lucidity caused an image to flash before her eyes: at first, she thought it might have been a lost memory, but as she tried to focus on it, she didn't think it was a memory at all. It looked like a forest, blanketed deep with freshly fallen snow. She didn't recognize the forest, but at the same time, the trees looked familiar. She squinted, peering closer, and she could almost feel herself drifting between the branches, like a bird in flight. She found herself floating down a craggy stream, the freezing current bubbling over smooth rocks and underneath unruly tree roots, until she found herself outside a meadow. At the center of the meadow was a modest cabin, something she still didn't recognize. She could sense a warmth from it, though, like the light of a candle flame. She found herself drawn towards the front door, and she reached out a hand to knock on it.

The door opened before her knuckles reached the wood, and a figure stood there, staring directly into Rapunzel's eyes. It was a woman of about thirty, with a head of red hair sprinkled with streaks of grey. She seemed comely, her height was average, and she looked like she ate well enough to be healthy, but dark circles crept like shadows underneath her piercing gaze. Rapunzel noticed the woman's heterochromia immediately, her mismatched eyes almost glowing, one a deep orange and the other a fiery crimson. Her lips were pursed into a tight, grim line, and the muscles of her jaw became tight. In any other circumstance, Rapunzel would have been unsettled by the look, but instead she felt intrigued. She still couldn't remember, but she knew one thing for certain; she knew this woman. Somehow, they had met before.

"Mam?" A small voice echoed from within the cabin. Rapunzel saw movement, and a little girl appeared at the woman's hip. She couldn't have been older than six, and her hair was tied back from her timid face so that Rapunzel could see she had the same orange and red eyes. The girl spoke again, in a language the princess couldn't understand, but it felt like a question.

The woman didn't answer at first. She was still staring directly at Rapunzel, her single red eye simmering as she narrowed her gaze. Now Rapunzel was beginning to worry; could the woman actually see her? Another lucid burst reminded her that this was just a dream…but it didn't feel very much like a dream anymore.

Finally, the woman blinked, and she sighed through her nose. She turned to the girl and gave a weak smile as she answered in a voice so soft and loving, it nearly brought tears to Rapunzel's eyes. As the door closed, an ache lingered in her chest, a longing for her own mother.

I wish I could have stopped her. I wish she was here.

Rapunzel spun around; she was back in the white space, but she was still alone. "Who is that?" she asked, a note of urgency in her voice. "Who's there?!"

I wish she was here. The words echoed around her, even though her own voice didn't travel. She could fix this, all of it. I have to get her back. A roaring sound began to build, vibrating in Rapunzel's ears until she clapped her hands over them. I have to! The voice was a shout now, loud enough to make Rapunzel jump. As she did, she could feel herself begin to wake up.

"Wait!" she cried. "Please, tell me who you are! Who is she?!"

Silence.

Then, Eugene snored loudly. Rapunzel's eyes opened wide to see early morning light filtering in through the caravan's rain-streaked windows. The rumble of thunder caused the glass pane to thrum almost melodically, and it set Rapunzel's teeth on edge as she sat up from her bunk and crossed over to the water barrel.

"Rapunzel?" Cassandra's contralto tone murmured behind her. Rapunzel turned to see her handmaiden's pale face creased into a concerned expression. "Is everything alright? It's not quite dawn yet, there's still time for you to sleep."

Rapunzel took a sip, the chill water settling down into her uneasy stomach. "I think I've had enough sleep," she admitted quietly.

Cassandra blinked once, flicking a lock of dark hair out of her way. "You had another dream? Was it about Varian, again?"

Rapunzel shook her head. "No, this one was different. There was a woman, with her daughter, I think. They both had this one red eye, the right one, like it was some kind of magic."

"Red eye?" Cassandra folded her arms, leaning against the wall as her forehead creased in thought. "Red eye…"

Rapunzel's face brightened with hope. "Do you know anything about it? She seemed so familiar, but I don't remember ever meeting anyone like her before."

Cassandra sighed. "I can't remember, either, but it sounds familiar. Something I might have heard from one of the soldiers, maybe?"

"Maybe that's what it is," Rapunzel conceded glumly. "I guess I must have heard it, too. But it's just…she looked at me, in the dream. Like she knew who I was. But how could that be if I've never met her? I hadn't met anybody outside my tower for years."

"I'm sure it was just a dream, Raps." Cassandra flexed her gloved hand – the hand that Rapunzel's incantation had burned. The only sign of pain she gave was a slight purse of her lips, and her steely gaze darted away. "They fade away with the dawn. They always do."

Rapunzel gave a weak smile. "We're almost there, aren't we?"

"Not sure," Cassandra admitted, still not looking at her. "Judging from the terrain and what we've been able to learn, maybe a few more weeks. Of course, if it keeps raining like this, who knows how long it'll really take."

"Well," Rapunzel said brightly. "At least the roof's not leaking."

"Yet," Cassandra noted wryly. "It's not leaking yet."

Martin had never been to a witch's house before, but he'd read about them in stories when he was a child. They had always been described as old and dank, with a dark door of doom that always led to the throat of a monster or an open oven spouting green flames. He was surprised, then, when the Crimson Caster's cabin turned out to be just like any other forest house. The trees were dense with silver snow, their bark shimmering with frost, and the ground crinkled and crunched under his feet as he cautiously approached the half-dead horse outside the garden.

As he reached to brush his hand across the creature's dark neck, he wondered if the horse would make it through the night, like the witch girl said it would. He'd managed to purchase a mare without too much trouble, but even with the energy draught the boy had given her, it had still taken them three days to reach the Haderon Forest – an entire day more than how long they'd expected the racoon to live. Carrying three people across such a distance in so little time…Martin was impressed that she was still breathing.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to her, tears blurring his vision. "If you live, I swear I'll never let anything like this happen to you again."

The mare's eye swiveled towards the sound of his voice, her breath pluming in the cold air.

"Please don't hate me," he muttered.

"She doesn't hate you," a voice said from behind. Martin swiveled his head to see the witch girl approaching, a wool shawl draped across her slim shoulders. Her black hair was down, covering her red eye as she stopped about five feet away. "I told you, she'll be alright."

Martin narrowed his gaze at her. "Why should I believe you?"

"Because I'm right," she answered without blinking.

Martin sighed sharply. "She can't even stand."

"She will. Give her time."

The royal guard stood. "Don't you have a racoon to save?"

Shay folded her shawl closer. "I can't save him."

Fury slowly bubbled through Martin like molten lava, causing him to spring to his feet. "Do you mean to tell me that this horse is going to die needlessly because you couldn't save his stupid rat?!"

Shay flinched at his words, a flash of fear flickering across her flushed face. "I…there's food inside, if you want any," she managed to mumble before turning back towards the house; Martin could see her entire frame tremble, and a hint of guilt caused his anger to subside. He took no pleasure from scaring girls. But what was he even doing here? Strong-armed into helping a wanted criminal and his witch friend. How had he lost so much control of his situation? And what would the Captain be thinking, now that Martin had gone missing? Would he be assumed dead? A deserter? An accomplice?

What was he to do?

Eventually, he did come inside; darkness was beginning to fall, and he wanted to fetch another blanket for the mare. The witch girl was nowhere to be seen. At the cabin's table, Varian sat with his shoulders slumped, staring with bloodshot eyes at his dying racoon. Rudiger was barely breathing, his fur matted with sweat.

"Hey," Martin said.

Varian said nothing back. His black hair was smeared askew, like he'd run his hands through it in a panic. His forehead was slick, and his arms hung limply at his sides. He blinked once, quickly, as if he was forcing himself to keep his eyes open for as long as possible. Something seemed to emanate from him, something that made Martin uneasy.

Martin cleared his throat. "You should…probably get some rest."

The muscles in Varian's jaw clenched once. When he spoke, his voice was thick and hoarse. "One of the only friends I have, the one who saved me from that cell and brought me all this way, who helped me find this place, find the person who could save my dad, who's saved me from thieves and a witch hunter and Heaven knows what else…is dying." His blue eyes finally turned towards Martin's pallid face. "And you think I should get some rest?"

"Is there really nothing you can do?"

"Do I look like I've been twiddling my thumbs for the past three days?!" Varian stood so quickly from his seat, his chair toppled over onto the floor. The sound of his raised voice brought Shay down from her room, her bare feet thumping down the stairs until she stood at the bottom in a frightened fuss. Martin's eyes went wide as Varian looked like he was about to have a conniption. "I have tried everything I can think of to save him! Don't you get it?! This is my punishment, my consequence for everything I've done! And he's the one who suffers for it!" His hands were on Martin's shirt now, wringing fistfuls of fabric. "What more do you want from me?! As if everything I've done wasn't enough?! I know! Why don't I just feed him more serum and see where that gets…"

He stopped. The anger on his face slowly morphed into something like awe. "The serum," he blinked, his fists falling away. "The serum." He looked over. "Shay! What if we…"

The fear disappeared from Shay's orange eye. "Yes. Yes, it – it might work. There's a spell I can use."

"It's our best chance, isn't it?"

"Yes, but…there won't be any going back."

Martin was left to wonder what on earth was happening as Varian launched himself into his things, searching through his bag until he found a half-used vial of strange, alchemical fluid. "If it'll save him, that's all that matters." He rushed towards the table, and Shay met him there with a leather-bound tome in her hands. She opened it to a page and planted her finger on the passage she was looking for, tucking her hair out of her face so she could see with both eyes.

"How much should I give him?" Varian asked as he filled a dropper.

"As much as you can," Shay answered. "Once he's ingested it, I'll take it from there."

"But isn't that the same stuff that's killing him?" Martin exclaimed. Had they both gone insane?!

Varian and Shay ignored him as they worked; Varian scooped Rudiger gingerly into his arms and forced the dropper into the creature's mouth. "Come on, Rudiger," he hissed, his entire frame tight as a wire. "Don't give up. It's going to be okay, now."

The racoon gulped once, coughed, then gulped some more.

"We need to take him outside," Shay urged, leading the way out the front door. Varian followed, Martin close behind. Rudiger was placed in the snow, and they all stood back as Shay began the incantation. She gestured swiftly with her fingers, tracing glowing red figures in the air. She finished with a flourish, and the characters shot towards Rudiger, swirling around him into a whirling circle of crimson light.

There was a flash, blinding them with red. Then there was a loud, hissing sound, and steam blossomed around them, so thick that they couldn't see.

"Did it work?" Varian exclaimed, batting at the fog.

When it finally cleared, Martin felt a pang of fear enter his heart. Slumped before him in a heap was the same beastly creature that Varian had created on the night of his escape. Brown grass hissed beneath its hulking frame, snow melting in wet heaps near Martin's feet.

Varian rushed forward, calling the creature's name. "Rudiger!" he cried, searching for the beast's face. He found it underneath a front leg, heaving it aside to check its eyes. The witch stood still, watching warily.

Then Rudiger lifted his head and yawned, his massive, toothy maw open wide as he breathed the fresh, winter air.