Theiden slowly lifted the teacup from the silverware drawer. If he hadn't seen what it was capable of, he would never have imagined that it was anything other than an ordinary red teacup. But the memory of the snarling face in the water rose up in his memory, undeniably clear. Lenesa had said it would be a way for him to see his family—why hadn't she told him it had arrived from Kivirra's cottage?

He spun to the sink, lifting the pump handle and pushing down. Water gushed out and splashed over the brim, filling the cup to a precarious level.

Theiden set the teacup not-so-gently on the counter, and some of the water sloshed over the sides. A warning growl sounded from the depths of the vessel, and a familiar horned face appeared, looking very not-pleased with being so manhandled.

"Show me my family," Theiden demanded. "Let me see them. Please."

The goblin gave a slow blink, then the water swirled to a vortex, finally stilling to reveal another image. Theiden's mother was standing outside a door—the back of the Tawny Inn, judging by the grimy whitewashed walls of the building. She wasn't alone. Several other ragged figures stood with her in the gathering darkness, jockeying for positions as the door opened and a golden light spilled from within.

Theiden watched, feeling sick to his stomach, as one of the inn's cooks emerged with a basket of kitchen scraps. The crowd surged forward, and, for fear of being trampled, the cook quickly tossed the scraps into the mob and shut the door. The starving mass dove to the ground, eagerly scraping at the bits of food. For a moment, Theiden lost sight of his mother, until finally her gray-streaked bun popped out of the wrestling bodies and she stood, hurrying off with a cut bleeding from above her eyebrow and what looked like a lump of crumbling bread under her arm, barely large enough to feed one person.

"Em," Theiden whispered, his voice coming out like the grating of a carving knife on wood. "Show me my daughter."

The water rippled and smoothed to a dark room, with a shivering figure huddling under the blankets in her bed. Alone and scared, she had backed herself into the farthest corner of the bed, against the wall.

Theiden had seen enough.

He tossed the water into the sink and stormed outside. The sun was little more than a bloody line on the horizon at this point, but it was still light enough to see the witch's shock as she registered the teacup goblin in his hand.

"Theiden, I—"

"You lied to me," he interrupted, not wanting to hear her excuses. "How long has this been here?"

"It just arrived this morning," she answered. Her eyes were the same shade as the wine left in their glasses, glimmering up at him with regret. "I didn't want you to worry."

Thieden shoved the teacup in a pocket and crossed his arms. "I had promised you that I would stay," he said. "In return for me helping you fight back the Turned creatures, you'd show me my family. You broke your promise."

"It was going to be broken anyway," she said, rising to her feet. Kettle stayed where she was on the dessert tray, watching the two of them in silence.

Theiden scowled. "What do you mean?"

"As soon as I saw your family, I knew you had to return," she said. "It's wrong of me to keep you here any longer, no matter what we agreed on in the past. Your life is in the city."

Anger flowered within him, blooming hot and bright at the simplicity in her tone. She might as well have been reading the ingredients of one of her recipes, for all the emotion that was in her statement.

"And if I hadn't found the teacup, just when would you have sent me home, exactly?" he shot back.

He might not have noticed her flinch at his tone, if not for a telltale tremor of the thick scar along her face. He realized then that her seeming disinterest in his reaction had only been a mask, but the smoothness swiftly returned to her expression, and she lifted her chin to reply. "I did bring it up earlier this evening, if you'd care to recall," she said. "Though I seem to remember you being slightly less inclined to the notion back then." Her voice lacked the full frigid force that she usually spoke with during their arguments, but he was too angry to care.

Theiden gave a single, mirthless laugh. "What else have you been hiding from me?"

His question was met with an averted gaze and Theiden scowled at the thought of the locked chest at the foot of her bed that she hadn't wanted him looking through. But what was the point in asking her about that, when she'd most likely just lie again to him?

"Send me home, then," he said, the words echoing in the stillness around them. "I'm through with this."

She bobbed her head in a motion that just barely passed for a nod. "As you wish. Follow me."

He had been taken away to the witch's house with only the clothes on his back, and yet, it was an odd sensation to start off so suddenly, without even packing anything, or even a word of protest from the witch's part. Kettle gave a silent, solemn wave as he passed the quilts to follow after the witch, and he managed a nod in reply. He felt a tinge of remorse at the recollection of the evening starting out with such promise, only to now end on such a sour note. He'd miss the little tomte, for all her quirks and pint-sized fierceness.

Lenesa made scarcely a sound as she moved through the trees ahead of him, back ramrod straight and dress fluttering at her movements. A blue sheen reflected against her starlight hair, and Theiden looked up to see Shwei floating through the air above them, a simple, unreadable ball of light once more.

It wasn't until the wisp zoomed ahead to light the way that Theiden saw the circle of stones in the ground, barely visible as misshapen lumps in the encroaching darkness. The witch stopped before the ring and turned, not quite meeting his gaze.

"Give me your hand," she said.

Theiden began to raise his right hand, but she shook her head.

"No, the other one."

He lifted his left hand slowly, not understanding what she was asking until he turned his palm upward. The faded scar from that night he had exchanged his freedom for Em's well-being was still there, but barely visible as a thin line a shade lighter than the rest of his skin.

Lenesa's hand slid into his with a detached gentleness. Her skin was cold and rough with callouses that the ladies in the city would have covered with gloves out of shame, but she showed no embarrassment as her fingers wrapped around his hand.

"With these words, I release you," Lenesa muttered, looking down at their hands rather than directly at Theiden. "From this bond, you are freed."

A single foreign word passed her lips, curling away on the breeze like smoke before Theiden could get a solid grasp of its pronunciation or meaning. The space between their hands grew warm then, and he jerked away when several red drops fell from between their fingers.

He raised his hand for inspection, only to find that not only was there no wound, but no scar remaining, either. It was as though it had never happened.

But Lenesa's hand—Theiden looked up just in time to see her shove it within the folds of her dress, a second too slow to hide the shadows clawing across her skin. The way she curled into that side of her body alone spoke of how the magic had affected her. It must have hurt.

It didn't matter now, he told himself. He wasn't the one who had broken their agreement. The witch had wanted to send him back. What happened to her was no longer any of his concern.

"Step in," Lenesa said, gesturing to the small ring of stones before them with her good hand.

He put one foot inside the circle, but before he could bring his other foot to join it, she suddenly grabbed his arm, holding him back.

Slowly, Theiden turned. Had she decided she'd rather keep him longer, and force him to return with her? Or perhaps, since the bond was broken, she'd plead with him instead?

But the witch did neither of those things. Instead, she met his annoyed glare full-on, with only an earnestness reflected in her gaze.

"Be careful on your walk back," she said. "The faerie ring at the base of this mountain is still far from the city."

Theiden pulled away from her grasp. "Isn't that what you've been teaching me this whole time—how to fight off your kind?" he replied. "Do you have so little faith in my abilities?"

With that, he turned away and brought his other foot into the stone circle.  Only a moment later, the forest around him slowly began to blur like a pastel painting left out in the rain. Just before Lenesa's figure beside him faded away entirely, though, he thought he heard her whisper a reply.

"Only mine."

The colors around him shifted, and with it came a plunging sensation that knotted his stomach. When the world again solidified, he was standing in a ring of mushrooms, on a small hill at the base of Nagamora Mountain. The lights of Patachal City glimmered in the distance.

He was home.

Theiden staggered forward, nicking the top of a mushroom with his boot as he stepped out of the faerie ring in the direction of the city lights. Reality sunk in, and he stumbled down the knoll at a breakneck pace, letting his momentum carry him downhill and through the trees. The leaves of the oaks and beeches rustled a welcome as he passed, and he hastily brushed their branches aside so as not to lose sight of the city.

There wasn't much sunlight left. The sun itself had completely set, and only a few residual rays flickered and faded in the clouds above, rapidly consumed by the approaching darkness. Theiden strained for any odd sounds in the forest, mindful of Lenesa's warning, but he could barely hear anything above the sounds of his own hasty progress as he trampled over roots and clods of dirt, and he wasn't about to slow down now. He was so close.

The berry bushes soon became visible up ahead, and behind them, the path back to the city. Theiden forced himself to slow his pace when he approached the outer city gate, and crouched down near a more overgrown section of the wall.  There was a sizable stone near the root of an elm, and he tossed it into the bushes near the guards standing at the entrance.

Works every time, he thought, as the eight men on duty snapped to attention and all turned in the direction of the sound. Theiden took the opportunity to launch himself up and over the wall, rolling over the top and dropping to the other side, unseen. He had pulled the trick during the autumn game season for several years in a row now, as a way to sneak out in the early hours of the morning and get a head start on the rest of the competition. It worked just as well for going in as it did going out.

Without delay, he headed for the large cluster of stone buildings ahead. The streets were winding and confusing to visitors, but even after so long away, Theiden strode across the cobblestones without hesitation. All the houses had locked their doors and shuttered their windows by this hour, and only once did a flash of light from a second-floor shop window betray the actions of a stranger peeking out through their curtains, curious to see who was roaming the streets at this hour.

Theiden turned at the bell tower and headed towards the house at the end of the next street with the familiar faded blue door. Suddenly feeling anxious, he hesitated with his fist over the door, then rapped against the wood.

Were they asleep? Several moments passed in silence, and he was just about to try again when the sliding of a lock sounded from the inside. Slowly, the door creaked open an inch, and then more. His mother stood before him, disbelief and pain etched in the lines of her face.

"You can't be real," she whispered, hugging her robe more tightly around herself. The candle in her hand wavered and Theiden stepped forward to take it from her, careful not to spill any wax.

As if afraid he would vanish before her eyes, his mother reached out to touch his coat, a tear sneaking from the corner of her eye as her fingertips brushed the fabric.

"It's really you," she said, unable to stop a half-sob from escaping her lips. "Theiden, where have you been?" Her hand moved to his arm and gripped it tight, as if afraid he would try to leave. She looked up at him, brown eyes searching for an answer that he couldn't begin to explain.

"I'm sorry I took so long," Theiden finally managed around the lump in his throat. Gently, he raised a finger to the gash above his mother's forehead and traced it, feeling to see how deep it ran. "I made you both suffer."

She stepped back and quickly wiped a rogue tear on her cheek. "Come in, Em will want to see you."

Theiden shut the door behind him and followed his mother up the stairs. "How is she?" he whispered, voice as rough as a bitter wind.

"I—" his mother broke off, shaking her head. "It's good that you're back," she finally said, avoiding his gaze and continuing up the stairs. Theiden could hear his pulse pounding in his ears. Why had she avoided his question?

Em's room was the first door to the right, and Theiden stood in the flickering shadows that the candle projected along the hallway while his mother knocked and opened the door.

"Emmaline, dear?" he heard her say. "Someone's here to see you."

"Grandma?"

Theiden let out a breath at his daughter's small voice and leaned against the wall. She sounded so scared and tired. Had he really been thinking of staying with the witch to fulfill his promise instead of returning home when she had given him the chance? The teacup had been a blessing in disguise.

Theiden stepped forward into the room, and was met with a gasp. Em was sitting up on the bed, one hand frozen in the act of rubbing the sleep from her eyes. No matter how many times her grandmother had warned her not to stretch her skin like that, she still did it, because that's what Papa does.

"Em," he whispered, setting the candle down on a side table before approaching the bed. Tears stung at his eyes and he forced them back with a blink, determined not to let his daughter see them.

"Papa?" she asked, choking on a sob. "Papa!"

She wrestled with the tangle of the blankets for only a moment before she had sprung out of the bed and into his outstretched arms. Theiden sank down to her height and held her close, closing his eyes.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured into her hair, making soft shushing sounds as she cried into his chest. "I'm so sorry."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The End.

Just kidding!  Haha but we know that "Belle" has to return home in the middle of the story at some point.  I'm actually really excited for this next section of the story (yes, even though they're apart now), because we'll get to learn what's happened in Theiden's absence and get a much better understanding of Lenesa and how the witches operate.  I feel like I could still make the first part clearer with a few more rewrites, but that's why I started posting this here--so that I wouldn't be tempted to go back and start rewriting...again.

Theiden's return home is so drastically different every time I write it (No, really--he's done everything from being sent home in a clock, making a break for it, or even just being sent back in his sleep and waking up in his own bed), so please feel free to point out anything that didn't seem quite right to you because when the plot changes that much, there's bound to be inconsistencies.  Probably.

Music is "Faded (Restrung)", with clips from the show Hwayugi.  Usually I'm not a fan of music with words during chapters, because in my opinion it's hard to read words when you're listening to a different set of them.  But I just fell in love with this song and kept listening to it while writing this chapter, so it seems like nothing else really fits music-wise.

Please comment and vote!  I love you all!  <3