Hands wreathed in broiling red magic grasped angrily for her. Shadowed eyes scowled at her, seared through her. “He can not hide his secrets forever.” The raspy voice of the demon cried out, desperate in his mania. “Show me, child! Show me where he has hidden his spells!” She stumbled backwards, landing hard upon the ground. She’d fallen over something cold. It was a body, her-her sister’s. Keela’s eyes were dim, without their usual glow. A keening sob tore from Varavere’s throat. Panicked feet scrambled to shift away from the approaching demon. Away! Away! White teeth flashed in the shadows. “Stupid little girl; give me what I need!” His voice rose to a hoarse shout. Varavere fled. She shifted to a raven’s form and tried to fly; but the swirling death captured her, pulled her down despite the frantic heaving of her straining wings.

Varavere shifted to smoke, she needed to flee! The demon could not touch her! He’d steal her life just like he’d stolen Keela’s! Her form was forced once more into physical shape, corralled by the blaring red of the demon’s magic. An icy cold hand clamped around her ankle. No! NO! She could feel it killing her! She scratched at the ground, trying to claw herself away, but it was no use; her bloody fingers made no progress. Her energy, her life was draining! Moon Mother save her! Anyone, please, save her! The suffocating fog muffled Varavere’s anguished cries.

Her eyes snapped open. There was someone standing over her bed! Varavere blasted them to the roof of her home, how dare they trespass here! “Vara! Pl-se op!” A deep voice wheezed from its place trapped against her ceiling.

What? Whose voice was that? The-the baker’s? Waking clarity slowly returned to her and she floated the panicking man back down to the ground, where he heaved great gulps of air. Varavere ignored his theatrics, focusing instead on steadying her own breathing. She sat up in her bed, wiping away the pooled sweat from her brow and throat. The sorceress frowned at the taste of salt on her lips. “So-sorry, Owain. I thought you were an intruder.” She was in no mood for her usual teasing.

Owain rolled to his back and leaned against her bed. “I tried to wake you but it was like you couldn’t hear me. You…you were screaming so loudly.” The fear in his voice revolted her. Whether she was disgusted by his cowardice or her own, she could not tell.

She flung off her sweat soaked covers and floated to her large sink, splashing her face and pouring herself some water. Varavere despised that nightmare most of all. Or rather, that memory, though it never got to the point where Teacher Rakuraf returned just in time to save her and that man fled like the coward he was. It only ever repeated the worst moment of her life over and over again.

Varavere decided to be extra nice and pour Owain some water as well, she certainly didn’t feel bad for blasting him with her magic. Not at all. She flew back towards him tiredly and handed him the cup. “To bed.”

He held her gaze for too long a moment before nodding. “To bed.” Varavere didn’t like the rasp she still heard in his voice.

The rest of her sleep was fitful.

As light poured over her enchanted windowsills, Varavere stared morosely at the bark of her ceiling. It’d been years since she’d had a night so rough. Of course it had to be the very same night her little sheep came in from the pasture. She slunk to the edge of her bed to peer down at him. Such a mountain of a man, it was no wonder he was so clumsy. The sight of his bare feet poking through the bottom of her largest blanket almost made her giggle, but the darkness yet held its phantom hold on her.

She floated above him, making sure her sleeping robe didn’t fall onto his face. Varavere matched where their feet began and found his mouth was at her eye level. She was quite tall, he was only perhaps a hand taller than her. When she made the same motion with their shoulders, she could almost double her width! Such a big lug and he was no bark and no bite.

The sorceress lifted one of his meaty hands, interlacing their fingers. It was so novel for her to want to touch someone else, to want to be near them. Her nightmare had only reminded her of her phobia, but her lambling flouted the norm for some reason. She splayed her slender fingers against his bulky ones. Varavere smiled softly. Watching him knead dough last night had been even more enjoyable up close. She was glad she’d raised the temperature.

She was so caught up in playing with his hands that she almost didn’t realize when he blearily opened his eyes. Tawny stared tiredly into maroon. Maybe if she didn’t move, he would think he was dreaming. He spoke. Drats! “Varavere? What is-”

“Hush, Owain. You’re only dreaming.~” She singsonged at him. Varavere smiled widely as she wigged her fingers, casting a little spell to rain down gentle sparkles of golden magic.

The baker yawned heavily. “What an odd dream.” He grumbled as he rolled onto his side.

This time she really did cast a sleeping spell on him. Varavere needed time to think and she did her best thinking in the bath, so off she went. One of her favorite hobbies was creating new serums for her bath time reading. As she sorted through bottles to find one she wanted today, she realized that having Owain around would give her another opinion to make changes from! Thankfully, over the last few weeks she had observed him being rather fastidious; often washing his hands and cleaning his workspace. What a horror it would be for her to have a servant that was…unhygienic. She shivered.

Her beloved enchanted bath tub was one of only a few extravagant luxuries she made the effort to haul around with her where ever she went. Moving it long distances was a hassle but sometimes a girl needed a good soak. Varavere sighed as she slipped under the bubbly water. The demon could not get her here, would not find her. She’d stayed hidden just like Teacher Rakuraf had said to.

As she surfaced for air she began to cry anew. She missed Keela, she missed her parents, she missed her teacher, she missed who she used to be. Was four centuries long enough, she wondered. When would it be safe for her to go home? Would they even want her? Varavere was not so sweet anymore, something was twisted in her that she had no idea how to mend.

She could only allow herself to mope for so long, her sleep spell would likely wear off soon and she certainly did not want Owain stumbling in to see her naked in the tub. Varavere readied herself for the day quickly, they would need to travel farther than his tiny village for proper supplies.

As she emerged from the steaming washroom, she was startled to find that Owain was not where she had left him. Oh joyous day! He was cooking breakfast! She flew happily to his shoulder. “Such initiative! Very impressive, mister baker, sir.” She chirped. As he turned to her, surprised; she giggled and flew to his other shoulder. Odd that she was already breaking free of her morning melancholy, usually dark dreams stuck with her for far longer.

“I hope you don’t mind that I used some of your ingredients.” He ducked his head as he nervously went back to working her small stove.

“Why would I mind that my new servant is doing his job well?” She questioned, resting her head on his shoulder, it was fun for her to watch him work.

“Your new-” He jumped as he turned and realized how close she was. She giggled into her hand. “Your new servant? I thought you just wanted me to bake for you, and do some ‘light gardening’?” Ah, was his confidence rising now that he did not think her quite so frightening? Varavere decided this was good, his fearful bumbling would only be so funny for so long.

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“Well,” She scooped up a few of the blue berries he had set aside. Varavere flew around him again, popping a berry into his surprised mouth. “Light gardening, baking, mostly just all my chores. I do not like chores.”

Owain chewed thoughtfully as he poured some sort of batter onto a large pan, a new type of bread perhaps? “And how long will you require my… services, Varavere?”

Varavere began to playfully muss up his hair, using wind magic to make it stick. He now looked like an ornery cockatoo, which made her happy. She tapped a finger to her chin. “Well, how old is your sister? The one I saved.”

Owain tried to flatten his new hairstyle but gave up when he realized it would only continue to spring back into the shape she’d made. “She is the oldest, at seven hundred and forty. I’m the third child, we’re all about one hundred years apart.”

Varavere clapped excitedly as she wheeled around her small room. “That makes us around the same age then! I myself am turning five hundred in only a few years! I think.” It was always hard to remember. Especially since she had no one to help her keep track.

The baker flipped the oddly shaped bread, adding in some blue berries. “Why did you ask how old Adeline was?”

“Since I saved seven hundred and forty years of sister, how about you give me seven hundred and forty years of excellent service? I’ll even take off a hundred if you do really well.” She laughed at the shocked expression the man was giving her.

“Se-seven hundred years! You really expect me to be your personal servant for that long?” He fully turned to her. Eyes angry for the first time. Oh good! So he did have some fire after all.

Varavere alighted softly on the grass in front of him, stepping into his personal space. “But Owain. You said anything, you swore on your sun god, remember?” She murmured softly. Varavere knew she was being ridiculous but it was quite amusing. She would only make him work for her for a few years, maybe ten. Nothing so drastic as seven centuries.

He could not back up, as the stove was burning hot behind him, he tried to edge his way sideways but she cut him off with a growing smile. He smelled like freshly baked bread; maybe that was why she liked being near him? A flick of the wrist turned her stove off, wouldn’t want him to burn their breakfast.

“Varavere, listen. I-uh,” He swallowed as she snaked her way ever closer, batting her lashes. She held back a cackle as she batted her lashes. “I can not give you seven hundred years of service. Please, be reasonable.”

“I’m sorry, my little lamb; but I’m not a reasonable person.” Her hands captured his face as she grinned fully. Oh, it was so difficult not to break her joke! She forced a scowl. “In fact, since you’ve questioned my magnanimous decision. Let’s make it an even thousand years. How’s that?”

His face began to waver oddly. Lips…quivering? “Pl-please, Varavere. I’m begging you.” Perhaps she’d taken her joke too far. Her chest felt odd, heavy and cold.

Varavere pulled away to scoop up a book and sprawl out on her bed. Had he made it for her while she was in the bath? “Relax,” She brought him towards her with a curled finger. His fearful stumble didn’t make her laugh like it should’ve “I’m not a monster.” A voice in her mind that sounded to similar to her own called her a liar. “I just love sweets! Do as I’ve asked for a few moons, and we’ll see how generous I’m feeling.”

Before he could begin with his usual blubbering, she twirled him back towards the stove, which she also flicked back on. Varavere didn’t like how he was looking at her, all fearful and frustrated. “Now finish this weird bread of your’s already!”

Owain was silent but she watched the moment of his shoulders as he breathed out a heavy sigh of relief. How rude! He would be so lucky to serve her for a thousand years!

It was only a short while later that he set two of her plates, now laden with circular pieces of bread and a few types of berries, down on her small dining table.

All else was forgotten at the sight and scent of this new bread. She flew to a chair, levitating over their cutlery faster than was perhaps safe. “Tell me, Lambling. What is this?”

Owain started talking but she was already ignoring him, where had the first of the circles gone? “-pancakes. I’m happy you like them.”

Goddess, these were delectable! What advancements in breakfast had been made while she had hidden away for so long! Perhaps she had been too hasty when she’d told him it wouldn’t be seven hundred years. How could she give up his cooking? Varavere needed to keep him happy to keep the foods coming. “Baker, you’ve earned yourself leave for the weekends.”

The large man paused, pancake suspended before his mouth. “You’ll let me return home on the weekends? Truly?” Why did he sound so excited to be away from her? Such rudeness was becoming common from him!

“Yes, yes.” She waved a hand at him absentmindedly. Now she was missing two of the circles! Varavere looked mournfully at her sole remaining pancake. She eyed Owain’s still full plate with bitter jealousy.

He grinned as he sacrificed one of his pancakes to her in tithe. “Thank you, Varavere! This means a lot to me, really.” She nodded to herself, satisfied. Wasn’t she such a kind employer! She finally undid her little enchantment on his hair.

They finished their breakfast in peace. Such bliss was this that she need not cook for herself. It was a boon from Leleara that her little sheep had gotten lost in her woods! Varavere floated from her chair, sending their dirty dishes to the sink with a wave of her hand. They had too much to do today to dally! “Up, you big lummox! Up I say! We’ve got to get you the supplies you need to make me whatever treats my heart so desires.”

Owain stood hesitantly from the table. “But the nearest city that would have such specialty tools ready to buy is Calalar, and that’s days away by horse!”

“By horse, yes. Tell me, Lambling. How did we get here from your village?” It was entertaining for her to talk to him upside down, it seemed to unsettle him.

“Fl-fly? You want to fly us to Calalar?” She laughed uproariously.

“Yes! You figured it out!” She flew forward to play with his cheeks, his face made such funny shapes when she mushed them around like this. “Good boy! Now, finish emptying that big pack of yours, we’ll need it, I should think.” Mayhaps she was relishing physical contact with another person a little too much.

He sighed, which turned into a small raspberry as she forced his lips together. “Yesh, Barabere.” Hah! Big fool!

After he’d finished packing his things into a few empty drawers of her dresser, they stood outside, under the eves of her oak tree. Johatun was such a lovely home, and such a handsome tree! She patted him warmly, happy that she had kept up her magic to still be able to communicate with the woodlands. Varavere looked at the rising sun, they’d need to move quickly, she didn’t want to spend more than one night outside Johatun.

The sorceress landed softly in front of the wary baker. It really did feel so odd to wear shoes! “Alright, Vara-” She latched herself to his front in a tight embrace as she launched them into the sky. His frightened screams were hilarious.