A feather-soft rustling sounded in the darkness. Dull, muted sounds grew gradually sharper and colors danced behind closed eyelids.

Theiden inhaled, and was greeted with the familiar scent of wool and wood smoke. Gradually, he opened his eyes.

He was lying on a small sofa in a room with gray stone walls and a large auburn fire roaring in the fireplace. Someone had draped a patterned blanket over him, and Theiden pushed it off as he struggled to sit up. He was warm—too warm. Sudden realization of this fact had him craving the cool air of the outdoors, or at least a glass of water.

As soon as the thought crossed his mind, a bright-red teacup was pushed into his line of vision, grasped by a slightly-wrinkled hand with gold-painted nails.

Theiden gave a start and looked up, only to find the older witch, Kivirra, leaning over his shoulder with an amused glint in her eyes.

"Don't worry," she said. "I've made him promise not to bite. Drink up! It's only water."

Hesitantly, Theiden took the offered beverage and glanced at the contents. Only red porcelain and the clear liquid she had promised gleamed back at him, trembling slightly in its vessel.

"It's...not a goblin?" Theiden asked, noting that the cup had the same gold filigree around the rim and base as the one that had showed up at Lenesa's doorstep.

"Oh, he is," the witch promised slyly, coming around to sit beside him on the sofa. "But he'll only change to his goblin form once night falls. And there will be no snarling as you drink—this one knows his manners. Gil, on the other hand, still needs to learn proper etiquette. But he's the most adventurous of the bunch, and so carries out the messenger duties."

Theiden cautiously brought the cup to his lips and took a sip, expecting a red, fanged face to reflect back at him at any moment.

Nothing happened.

Spurred on by his thirst, Theiden quickly downed the rest of the contents, and Kivirra took the teacup out of his hands when he had finished.

"Good boy," she crooned, and it took Theiden a few startled seconds before realizing that she had been speaking to the teacup, actually, and not him.

Kivirra stroked the cup and set it on a small table next to the sofa.

Theiden cleared his throat. "What happened?"

"Oh, well..." Kivirra waved a hand as though the question was unimportant. "We cleansed the body of dark magic, and you passed out, it seems. All the spellcasting probably made you a bit lightheaded—it happens to some who are unaccustomed to it. Lenesa and I brought you back to my home for a bit to recover before your return. Normally I wouldn't have agreed to such a thing, but for you, I made an exception. You have a very...alluring aura."

At her words, the witch extended a hand to pat his knee reassuringly, though her touch seemed to linger a tad longer than necessary before she finally withdrew.

Theiden eased away and glanced around the cottage uncomfortably, unsure of how to respond. The first thing he noticed was the color—red, everywhere he looked. A thick red-and-gold rug covered most of the stone floor, and the furniture set in the kitchen area consisted of three burgundy stools and a matching table. A scarlet cloak with swirling golden embroidery hung on a hook by the door next to his own borrowed cloak, and a pair of crimson gloves was sticking half-out of the pocket.

Looking down, Theiden discovered that the witch was even wearing ruby-red shoes. They peeked out from beneath the hem of Kivirra's black robes and glistened in the rosy light from the fireplace.

"Ah, these?" the witch said with a fond smile when she caught Theiden looking. "These were some of the first goblins I spoke to life. Isn't that right, darlings?" She smiled down at her shoes. "They're a right hassle at night when they change to their true forms, but I have another pair." She gestured to the two ordinary brown boots sitting by the mat at the doorway. "Besides, during the daytime, these dears are quite the help in getting from place-to-place."

Theiden made some sort of disconcerted noise in the back of his throat. "Where is Lenesa?" he asked.

"Oh she went out for a bit. In the garden, I think. But now we have more time to get to know each other, in private. I've read the stars, Theiden Guster, and you have quite the interesting fortune."

Kivirra leaned forward, then, far too close for Theiden's comfort. Warm, minty breath tickled his nose on the witch's exhale. He tried to lean away, but found his back firmly against the sofa armrest—trapped.

The witch smiled, seemingly oblivious to Theiden's unease.

"Y-you know my future?" Theiden stuttered. He was both intrigued and repulsed by this witch, but the curiosity only just outweighed the other emotion for now.

Kivirra exhaled in a short, quiet chuckle. "Bits and pieces. I'm a scrying witch, my dear. It's what I do."

Despite the water, Theiden's mouth suddenly felt dry again. "And what is in my future?"

The witch tilted her head, taking a moment to study him in silence. "You have come to these mountains on the winds of change," she said at last. "But whether that change is good or bad is yet to be determined. You bring with you hope, but also the potential for terrible destruction. You must choose wisely."

"What are you talking about?"

The witch leaned in closer, if that was possible, and narrowed her eyes. "You want revenge, to correct the wrongs done in the past. Or, you could open your eyes and focus on the problems in the present, and leave the past behind."

Theiden felt a scowl begin to start across his face. He didn't know how much the witch knew about him, but her words sent the blood pounding through his veins, hot and angry. "You want me to just forget about what happened?" he began, fighting to keep calm. He was outnumbered here, and the witch could probably strike him down with a flick of her wrist if he tried to fight her. "She cursed my daughter and is now holding me here—"

"I am not talking about that," Kivirra interrupted, voice cold and steady and as strong as the torrent of rain pounding against the walls of her home. Why Lenesa had wanted to visit the witch's garden on a day like this, Theiden had no clue.

"Your blood pact with the witch was a mutual agreement," Kivirra continued. "And it is your daughter's fault that she wandered."

"How dare—"

"You know it to be true." Something in the witch's gaze flickered like the fire at the other end of the room, a warning not to provoke her. "But the story in your past that you hold on to so desperately, that you still let consume your thoughts and actions every day, is a tragedy that happened many years ago." She leaned back, then, finally allowing Theiden room to breathe. Her next words took his breath away. "Your wife."

Stillness reigned in the air between them, and Theiden couldn't tell if it was shock or fear coursing through his body in a fiery rush. Perhaps both. How had she known?

"Was it you?" he finally asked, but his voice came out no louder than the hush of sandpaper against wood.

The witch gave a single shake of her head, dislodging a shimmery lock of hair in the process. The silvery-blue strands swayed against her cheek for a moment before coming to a stop against her temple, near the feathery wrinkles at the corner of her eye.

Theiden let out a breath and felt his shoulders slump back against the cushion behind him. It was both a disappointment and a relief. He didn't know what he would have done if the answer had been an affirmative.

"Let it go," Kivirra said, voice gentle. She reached out as though to touch him once more, but Theiden recoiled and the hand dropped.

"You say it as though it is so easy to forget," he snapped. "Malisse was everything to me. You don't understand. You witches know nothing of love."

Kivirra raised her chin and sat back against her side of the sofa. "The memory poisons your perception still," she said. "I am not asking you to erase her from your heart. Only to bury the pain and look at what surrounds you now. You are missing out on so much. If you want to make a positive impact on this world, you must do this."

"You said my future had a choice," Theiden began, trying to ignore the ire that the witch had stirred up.

The witch gave a smile that only just turned up the corners of her mouth. "Doesn't it always? But you must be invested in the present first to have any outcome on the future. And this particular choice is more important than usual. The lives of others depend on it. Your fate is interwoven in a tale that has already begun."

"What's going to happen?"

"Oh, that would be cheating," Kivirra tutted. "Only a neutral third party such as myself should be privy to the details. But I'll give you a hint."

This time, it was Theiden who leaned forward. "A hint?" When the witch's sly smile only widened in response, he quickly returned to his side of the sofa.

"Do you like rhymes?"

Not particularly, and not from witches, Theiden thought, but he instead nodded once and said, "Let's hear it, then." Did he have any other choice, really?

Kivirra closed her eyes, and then began after a deep breath. Theiden could almost imagine the words she spoke leaving her mouth to spiral upwards and mix with the shadows that danced on the ceiling overhead. Her tone was a hum, hypnotizing like the lock that curled and swayed against the side of her face, forgotten in the rhythm of the tale that she told.

"One of wisdom, teaches three,

"The first will die, the second, flee.

"The third remains to fix the pain,

"But cannot make her whole again.

"So in the ring of rosy light,

"In darkest day and longest night,

"With smoke that rises to the skies,

"When ashes fall the curse will rise.

"Wretched fate! A short delay

"Lest peace is found by end of day,

"Then surely second's footsteps follow,

"And third's dear heart will become hollow."

Kivirra's eyes opened again, unnervingly calm. "I must not tell you more than that," she said, in a voice that had resumed its usual pitch and clarity, and contained none of the strange cadence from earlier.

"None of it makes sense," Theiden said. "What curse are you talking about?"

Before the witch could answer, the front door opened with a bang. At the sudden noise, Kivirra abruptly stood up, and the shadows by the fireplace shifted—the fire, no, Kivirra's wisp, Theiden realized—lifted its lion-like head from the logs to assess the sudden disruption.

Lenesa stood in the doorway, hair dancing in the wind and face partially silhouetted by her wisp's eerie blue glow. The rain had let up marginally, but rivulets of water still streamed from the hood of her cloak and spattered in droplets on her shoulders.

"Good, you're back," the older witch said stiffly in the silence that followed. "It's time you left."

Lenesa gave a single nod. "I agree." Her eyes flicked to Theiden, in a silent order for him to follow.

Startled by the sudden turn in conversation, Theiden looked back to Kivirra. The witch had been looking at Lenesa, but upon feeling his gaze, directed her attention to him. Something stirred deep behind those violet eyes, something dark and dangerous that reminded Theiden of a bird of prey, ready to strike.

"It's been quite the pleasure meeting you," Kivirra said. The words were as heavy and sickly-sweet as molasses, and the impression they left trickled through Theiden's mind to leave a sticky, unpleasant residue in their wake. Theiden only just resisted a horrified shudder.

"Yes," he said, jumping to his feet. "Likewise." The lie was a mere echo of sincerity, and sounded false even to his own ears. Hopefully the witch wouldn't jinx him for it.

Lenesa avoided his gaze when Theiden reached the door, and merely turned and strode out into the rain without a single glance back. Theiden hesitated just before stepping outside and pulled up the hood of his cloak. As soon as he passed over the threshold, the door slammed shut behind him, and he swore under his breath at the start it had given him.

Between Helaine, and Kivirra's ominous mutterings about fate and curses—not to mention dredging up old memories of his wife that still stung—Thieden wondered if it would have been better to have listened to Lenesa's advice that morning and stayed home, after all.

~~

So I'm listening to The Prince of Egypt Soundtrack as I post this and it totally doesn't go along with this chapter at all haha but anyway, here it is!  XD  I would love, love, love to hear your thoughts on this chapter especially, because we get some info here that will be important later.  What do you think of Kivirra, and the little prophecy/story she told Theiden?

Also, it started out as a one-time tribute, but now it's starting to turn into a theme...I find myself making more and more Wizard of Oz references in this story.  Take Em, for instance.  Back when I was writing the characters with real names, I gave Em hers as a tribute to Dorothy's dear aunt.  Emmaline just became an extended version of that.  Theiden is a modification of Theodore, the male version of the name Dorothy.  And then, of course, there's the green skin curse.  But now with all the red goblins, I decided to have some fun and give Kivirra red shoes, too.  Because, why not?

Thankfully, water doesn't melt these witches, or else the rain in these past few chapters would have put an end to this story very quickly.  XD

The name of the little teacup-messenger-goblin, Gil, is taken from "gill", which is apparently an old-fashioned term for a unit of measurement for volume roughly equal to the amount in a teacup.  Wow that was a long sentence.  Sorry.

This chapter was supposed to also include the walk back to Lenesa's cottage, but it got too long, so that's something to look forward to in the next chapter!

Thanks for reading! (and apologies for the long author's note!)