The inside of Varian's home was as eerie as Harris remembered. Shelves of worn books crowded the walls, while the faint glow of enchanted stones cast flickering shadows. The metallic tang of magic hung in the air, clinging to Harris like a heavy cloak. Outside, ivy twisted around the half-crumbling exterior, a testament to Varian's solitude. The door creaked in protest as Harris pushed it open, and the chill of the interior seeped into his skin, making the hairs on his arms stand on end—a reminder of the unnatural forces within.

Varian led them down a narrow hallway, the walls seeming to close in as the shadows deepened. The air was heavy, and an ominous creaking echoed above them as if the house itself was alive and watching. At the end of the hallway, they entered a small sitting area.

The air grew colder, thick with the scent of acrid herbs and old magic, as ghostly whispers echoed through the creaking floorboards.

Harris felt the weight of his past pressing down on him, every sound amplifying the sense of inevitability.

Varian gestured for Harris and Liam to sit on the mismatched chairs around a low table, his eyes scrutinizing them, assessing their desperation or gauging their weaknesses. Harris felt an uncomfortable heat rise to his face under Varian's gaze, a feeling of vulnerability that made him want to look away but he forced himself to hold Varian's stare. Liam shifted in his seat, his jaw clenched, the weight of Varian's scrutiny pressing down on him like a physical force.

The clutter of relics and books closed in on them, creating a claustrophobic atmosphere that weighed on the conversation. Varian took a seat opposite them, his eyes never leaving Harris.

“So, tell me, what kind of trouble are you mixed up in now?” he asked, his tone carrying curiosity and a hint of satisfaction as if relishing the opportunity to assert control over Harris once again.

Harris leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He knew Greenhollow's safety depended on him, and he couldn't let fear stop him.

“The forest near Greenhollow is corrupted,” he began, his voice heavy with the past. “We encountered dark magic—old magic. Runes, twisted trees, a figure wielding power that shouldn't exist anymore.” He paused, taking a deep breath. “I never wanted to come to you, Varian, but I have no choice. The situation is too dire.”

His gaze was intent. “It wasn't just a coincidence. Someone was behind it, and I think you know who.”

Varian raised an eyebrow, a flicker of interest in his eyes. “Twisted trees and ancient runes, you say?” He paused, considering Harris's words as if piecing together a puzzle. “That does sound like the work of someone who once followed your old path. Not every day I get to see the repercussions of your past choices unfold in such a fascinating way.”

His lips curled slightly. “And besides, the thought of wielding such power again is… intriguing, don't you think? You remember I warned you—some of your followers wouldn't easily let go of the old ways. A hooded figure, perhaps one of your former followers—someone still clinging to the old ways you tried to leave behind.”

A chill ran down Harris's spine.

“The hooded figure… someone from my past, trying to revive Malakar's legacy. I thought I left that life behind, vanished after the last war.” His voice trembled slightly. The memories of who he had been still haunted him.

He glanced at Liam, the thought of what his friend would think if he saw the darkness resurface gnawing at him. Facing the hooded figure meant confronting the darkest part of himself.

“But some never let go,” Harris continued, “and it seems one of them has resurfaced.””

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Varian chuckled, the sound devoid of humor. “Gone, perhaps, but not forgotten. He was always obsessed with harnessing ancient magic that should've stayed buried. We both knew meddling with such forces could end in ruin, yet he always thought he could control it.”

Varian's eyes glinted, a hint of desire in them. “If he’s behind this, then I’m afraid your little village is just the beginning.”

Liam, who had been silently observing, clenched his jaw, his eyes narrowing as determination settled over his features. He finally spoke.

“Whoever it is, we won't let them drag you back into that darkness, Harris. We need to stop this before it spreads.” His voice was firm, a memory flashing in his mind of the night Harris saved him in Greenhollow. Protecting Greenhollow had become his mission too.

“Is it because of what happened back then? I won't let anyone threaten our home again, Harris.”

Harris exchanged a glance with Varian before turning to Liam.

“You remember the stories I told you. Malakar was the name I used in my old life—a powerful sorcerer who believed in forbidden magic. If he's resurfaced, it means he’s found something to help restore what I tried to leave behind.”

Varian nodded.

“If someone is corrupting the forest, it’s part of a larger plan. They want the old ways to rise again, and they won’t stop until they succeed.””

Harris sighed, exhaustion weighing on him.

He had to protect Greenhollow, no matter how weary he felt. He looked at Varian, his reluctance was evident.

“I need your help, Varian. If anyone can track him down or find a way to stop him, it’s you. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

Varian’s gaze flickered to Liam, then back to Harris.

“You must be truly desperate to come to me for help,” Varian said, leaning back with a knowing smirk, curiosity flickering beneath the amusement.

“But desperation makes people useful, doesn't it?” He paused. “I might be able to help, but it won’t come for free.”

Liam’s hand moved to the hilt of his sword, his stance tightening as if preparing for a fight.

“What do you want?”

Varian smiled, his eyes glinting mischievously as he leaned back, fingers steepled. “Relax, boy. I don’t want your coin. I need a favor—something requiring subtlety.”

His gaze lingered on Liam, testing the young guard’s resolve.

Harris narrowed his eyes.

“What kind of favor?”

Varian leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “There's a relic in Valebrook, held by a noble. I need you to retrieve it—it belonged to someone important.” Varian's gaze grew distant.

Liam's eyes widened, his breath hitching as he processed Varian's words, a mix of disbelief and determination hardening his features.

“You want us to steal from a noble?”

Varian shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. Harris felt a surge of irritation, his fists clenching involuntarily, while Liam's eyes narrowed, his posture stiffening as if readying himself for a challenge. “Call it what you will. The artifact is crucial for what I need to help you. Without it, I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to track down the hooded figure.”

Harris rubbed his temples. Greenhollow needed him—fear wasn't an option. The unease of needing Varian's help gnawed at him, and the idea of stealing from a noble brought back a surge of doubt.

“Valebrook is two days away, and infiltrating a noble’s estate won't be easy.”

Varian’s expression softened slightly.

“If the hooded figure is reviving your past legacy, we’re all in danger. The artifact will help us find him before he can do more harm.””

Harris exchanged a glance with Liam, whose face was set with determination.

“We’ll do it,” Liam said firmly. “If it means protecting Greenhollow, we’ll get that artifact.”

Harris nodded, turning back to Varian.

“Fine. We’ll get your artifact. But once we do, you help us stop the hooded figure—no games, no tricks.”

Varian smiled, genuinely this time.

“You have my word, old friend. Bring me the artifact, and I’ll do everything in my power to help you.””

Harris stood and Liam followed suit.

“We leave at first light.”

Varian rose, his expression serious.

“Be careful, Harris. Valebrook has old alliances and hidden forces—some connected to dark magic. Trust no one.”

Harris nodded, exchanging a final glance with Varian before leading Liam out into the cool night air.

The door closed behind them, and Harris took a deep breath, looking up at the stars twinkling above.

“We have a long journey ahead,” Harris said quietly.

Liam nodded, determination in his eyes. “Together.”

Harris rested a hand on Liam’s shoulder, the gesture conveying what words could not. “Thank you, Liam.”

Liam smiled, his eyes filled with determination.

“You’re not alone, Harris. We’ll see this through.”

Harris nodded, and together, they began the walk back to Greenhollow. The path ahead was uncertain, but Harris knew one thing—whatever awaited them in Valebrook, they had to face it, for Greenhollow's survival depended on it.