Evening.
Ysara's Cottage. Enchanted grounds.
Egasrae.
V
V V
V
A knock echoed through Ysara's cottage, and she quickly set down her broom, brushing the dust from her hands as she moved to open the door. Her expression shifted to surprise, then warmth, as she recognized her visitor. It was her old friend, Sam. She let the witch in with a smile that was both tense and genuine.
"I missed you," Sam began, pulling her into a quick embrace.
"I missed you too," Ysara replied, her eyes scanning her friend. "Though you seem to have shrunk since last I saw you."
Sam scoffed. "And you've gotten bulkier."
"You're lying," Ysara shot back.
"And so were you," Sam retorted, grinning.
They burst into laughter, the sound mingling with the familiar scents of herbs and old wood that filled the cottage. It was like no time had passed, the easy banter of two witches who had shared countless years, secrets, and jests.
Sam was stunning, with soft, inviting features and a full, curvaceous figure. Her brown hair cascaded in loose waves, framing a face with brilliant blue eyes that sparkled with wit and a mouth as sharp as a blade.
Ysara, in contrast, was all edges—her black hair framed a face known for its cool, aloof beauty. She was tall, slender, and the picture of composed strength, her sharp gaze typically intimidating but softened now in her friend's presence.
Sam's eyes sparkled with curiosity as she looked around. "Where did you go this time? You'll tell me everything."
Ysara gave an offhand shrug. "Of course. Though…" She wrinkled her nose, glancing around at her cluttered, dust-coated cottage. "I've let the place go a bit."
Sam raised an eyebrow, amused. "Shall I help you clean?"
Panic flashed across Ysara's face as she stammered, "No! No need. I'll come by your place as soon as I'm done."
"Oh please, I'd help you so we can finish fast and talk,"
"No," Ysara said sharply.
"Why the sudden fuss?" Sam asked, squinting suspiciously. "Ysara, you're acting strange."
"It's just…" Ysara began, flustered. As she turned to gesture at the table, her hand accidentally knocked a pan to the floor, the clatter echoing throughout the small room.
But the clang had barely faded when another sound filled the air—a soft, hesitant cry, unmistakably that of a baby. It started, stopped, then whimpered again from a shadowed corner of the cottage.
Sam's eyes snapped to Ysara's, her face a picture of shock and dawning realization. They stood frozen, Ysara's gaze filled with a mix of defiance and unease.
Sam finally broke the silence, whispering, "Were you trying to hide it?"
"No…" Ysara's denial was unconvincing, her guilty expression giving her away.
Sam's brow furrowed, her blue eyes narrowing as she took in the taller woman's face. She wasn't as tall as Ysara, but she held her ground, commanding respect with a single look. "Who is he?" she asked, her voice tense with concern.
Ysara shrugged, struggling to maintain a casual tone. "Just… a boy."
Sam's patience wore thin. "Whose boy, Ysara?" Her voice was calm, but her words cut through the air.
"He's mine," Ysara said, her voice wavering slightly as she lied, the words slipping through clenched teeth.
Sam's mouth parted in shock, her eyes widening. "Ysara…"
The truth gnawed at Ysara, but she forced herself to maintain the lie, knowing that ears likely pressed against the walls, listening for any whispers of scandal or revelation.
She couldn't risk it, not now. Revealing the child's true identity would jeopardize everything she'd planned to keep him safe.
Ysara straightened, meeting Sam's gaze with all the conviction she could muster. "He's my child," she repeated firmly, even as her chest tightened with guilt.
Sam's shock softened, replaced by a look of sympathy. She searched Ysara's face, seeing something there she couldn't quite name. "Then I guess we have a son," Sam finally said, her tone gentle but tinged with a quiet acceptance.
Ysara swallowed hard, grateful for her friend's discretion. For now, the truth would remain hers alone, locked behind closed doors and guarded by Ysara's resolve to protect the boy at any cost.
She has a son. She scoffed in disbelief.
V
V V
V
"My lord, there's news," Callahan announced as he rushed into Lord Azul's bungalow. Lord Azul sighed, setting down his quill, and looked up at the young man with weary curiosity.
"What is it now, Callahan?" Azul asked.
Callahan hesitated, glancing over his shoulder as if he feared they were being overheard. "It's about Ysara," he said, voice low. "She's…with a child."
Lord Azul's eyes widened. "She's pregnant?" he exclaimed, disbelief edging his words. The idea was almost absurd—Ysara, the untamed nomad, a mother?
Callahan's face went pale at the intensity of Azul's reaction. "No, my lord," he stammered. "She has a son. A boy with her."
Azul's shock faded into a contemplative frown. "A son…" he murmured. Ysara, known for her fierce independence and legendary power, had returned to their enchanted forest village not alone, but with a child.
The council would need to discuss this. "Summon the council. And keep everyone else at bay—I don't want half the village in a frenzy."
"Yes, my lord." Callahan bowed deeply and hurried out to gather the seven council members.
On his way, he was stopped by Miriam, a tall, dark-skinned girl who could easily be mistaken for a boy with her short-cropped hair and wiry frame. She eyed him with curiosity, noting his urgency.
"What's going on, Callahan?" she asked, falling into step beside him.
"Ysara is with child," he muttered, too caught up in his task to fully consider the implications.
Miriam's eyes widened in shock, and before Callahan could correct her misunderstanding, she spun around and sprinted off, heading straight for a group of villagers gathered by the well. Word spread quickly, as it always did in Egasrae.
The news of Ysara's return, and the shocking detail of the child she carried, spread like wildfire. Soon, murmurs filled the air, and the village buzzed with anticipation and wonder.
Some of the elders spoke in hushed tones of ancient prophecies, recalling tales that foretold the coming of a child who would disrupt the delicate balance of their world.
Others murmured of omens and warnings, uncertain of what Ysara's return with a son might mean for their secluded, mystical society.
After all, children in Egasrae were rare—especially ones brought back from the outside by a witch as renowned and unpredictable as Ysara.
The cottages and shacks that made up the village were soon alive with speculation. People peeked out from behind handwoven curtains, exchanging guesses about the boy's origin.
Children gathered in clusters, their eyes wide with excitement, while older villagers frowned, sensing the weight of what Ysara's return could mean.
For the people of Egasrae, the presence of this child was more than an unexpected arrival—it was the stirring of something ancient, a spark that could ignite the village's deepest mysteries