The group ventured to a secluded glen where the Hexenzirkel gathered for their infamous teas. Alice appeared in a swirl of chaos, hugging Nicole. “N! You’ve been gallivanting with Varka? I knew it’d be fun!” Barbeloth, the astrologer, nodded wisely, while other members whispered prophecies.

  Varka, unfazed, joined the circle, his presence commanding yet playful. “Ladies of mystery! Alice, you didn’t tell Nicole about my heroic deeds? Shame!”

  Alice cackled. “Oh, I did—but she feigned ignorance to tease you. Classic N!”

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  Nicole’s mind-voice teased Varka. See? Meddlers, all. But their knowledge rivals yours of battles. Barbeloth sees stars aligning for… change.

  As the tea flowed, stories unfolded—Khaenri’ah’s fall, Celestia’s curses. Varka shared his own: “I’ve sparred with gods’ remnants, like in Natlan’s tournaments. Strength isn’t just muscle—it’s heart.”

  Alone later, by a moonlit stream, Nicole confessed inwardly her growing love. They kissed again, hotter this time, bodies entwined on the grass. Varka’s hands roamed, awkward but eager. “Nicole… you’re everything.”

  And you, my knight.

  But whispers of her fate haunted her—love meant becoming a Seelie.