Sachse held Corrin’s head against the wall, ignoring his squirming as he listened. Multiple footsteps made their way down the path and between the vines, he could see flickers of fire in their hands or above their heads. Their dark cloaks dragged on the ground as they passed the alley, not knowing they were being heard by the residents inside. 

Sachse waited until the whole group had turned the corner until he released a breath and glanced at Ostara, who held up a hand for silence. 

“Before you say anything, they’re disconnected from our society. I don’t know what they’re doing here and they didn’t follow me here.”

“Do you know who they are, at the very least?” Sachse asked. 

She nodded, pinching her other palm repeatedly. “They’re the Cardmakers.” 

Cotton looked at him, both of them confused, before they looked back at Ostara, who was beginning to tremble. 

“T-they’re a Witch legend mostly, but they, uhm, they’ve been using their Cards to torment the North. I didn’t think they’d get involved in Wizardly affairs.” 

“Yes, and those affairs are in the tavern.” Corrin said, pushing Sachse’s hand off his mouth to speak. “I wonder what they’re doing there?” 

“Drinking away their problems. What else?” 

“That’s not who I meant.” 

“Maybe be more clear next time.” 

Sachse stood from the plank to look outside the vines, but didn’t make it far before Corrin grabbed his wrist and pulled him back to sit next to him. 

“What are you doing?” he hissed as Corrin stood in front of him. 

“You are aware that you’re not going alone. Correct?” 

“That only applied to her-“

“No, but I’m sure Ostara is curious about them?” He glanced over at her for clarification, but she shook her head furiously, hair shaking out of her collar. 

“Of course not!” She snapped. “You haven’t heard the rumors that I have. You don’t know what you’ll witness!” 

Corrin laughed, actually laughed, at this threat. “Oh please. Me and this dumbass” He grabbed him by the forehead and forced his head against the wall, smiling as he seethed. “aren’t strangers to rumors.” 

“It isn’t something simple like he likes her. I’ve heard that they’ve killed.” 

Corrin blinked, turning to face her. “How can some playing cards kill people?”

“I’ve heard their cards are bewitched.” 

Sachse chuckled. “Not surprising. It’s in their name. Witches.”

“I mean spelled, cursed, hexed, haunted. Some say they’re played by the dead. Y-you know what I mean!” 

“What’s the spell, then?” Corrin asked. 

“That’s just it, it’s impossible to know. I’ve spent hours upon hours studying wand lore and I can’t find anything like it. The cards always predict familial deaths or the player’s suffering. There have been more cases of those coming true then those living in fear of a certain day, or those trying to avoid what they cannot.” 

“So the cards predict, what, murder?” Corrin said, connecting the dots. “Is Ozul playing these cards in secret, or is this something insane that Skylar has created? Seems like the type of prank they’d do.” 

“It’s not a prank!” Ostara insisted, standing. 

“It sounds like a childish story to get you to behave.” 

“A childish story that continues well into adulthood. Do your childhood stories walk out of your imagination and through the streets of a foreign town? I don’t think so!”

“I’m assuming you’d object if I suggest we follow them?” Corrin added. “Just to see what they’re up to?” 

“They’re off to torment the drunks. Nothing special.” Sachse muttered, but Corrin pushed him out of his lap and stood, letting him lead them out of the alley. 

Sachse noticed their cloaks had made tracks on the ground and followed the trail towards the tavern, taking an alley towards the back of the shop. He ducked under a window, the other two following, as the Witches began their speech. 

“To begin this game,” the first one announced. There was a swish of fabric through the air, and Sachse assumed she’d taken off her hood. “Shall I call ourselves Witches?” 

They heard the scrape of weapons being grabbed and drawn, but the voice only chuckled. 

“I assume you’ve heard of us.” 

“We don’t allow Witches in this here tavern.” Sachse’s manager said, his message being broken with drunken hiccups. 

“Oh! Oh, my poor man, we are not the Witches of the towns, of course we aren’t! No, we are Witches of the wild, here to play a simple game, then to leave.” 

“A game with what?” another man called. Sachse recognized this tone from Sir Salemon, the chief of Purerest. 

“Cards.” 

The women giggled amongst themselves as the cards flip between their hands and they picked out the soberest of men to play with. 

The Witch who’d spoken first had chosen to play with the chief, and Sachse got the courage to look over the ledge. The smell of alcohol and sweat was stronger now, but he could see the Witches sitting across from the men at their tables, both of their friends overlooking them either slumped over another table or watching from the walls. 

All at once, the Witches shuffled and dealt three cards to the man in front of her, all of them facedown. Most of them pulled out a notebook and set it next to her before each flipped their first card. Sachse focused on the first Witch, the one with gray hair and fair skin. 

She looked at the card and smiled at the chief. “A struggling relationship. You’re better to let it go if it won’t hurt you more.” 

The chief glared, taking a swig from his glass. Sachse noticed a halo of blonde curls next to him and shoved it towards the ground. 

Corrin hissed up at him, holding his hand down. “What was that for?” 

“They can’t see you. You’re too obvious.” 

“Oh, thank you very much, you arse.” 

The Witches flipped the next card and told their opponent what it meant. The first Witch’s smile only grew. 

“A death in the family. A son or a nephew of yours? Ah, one moment.” She held up a finger as she examined the card. “This has not occurred yet. A future hurdle for you to cross, I believe?” 

“This is rubbish.” the chief spat, glaring down at the cards like they were his enemies. “This can’t be true.” 

“It’s a prediction, sir. Nothing more, nothing less. It may not even happen in your lifetime.” 

“But these cards are of my future, so that statement is nonsense-” 

“Ladies.” the Witch called to the rest of the tavern. “The final card.” 

Their arms moved in sync as they flipped the final card. The chief, who had been calling for another glass, grabbed the waiter’s arm and called for the whole barrel. 

The Witch’s smile couldn’t get wider, but it did. “Ah, I'm quite curious about this card. Miss. Aliyah, may I borrow this?” 

She took a notebook from her friend and flipped through it, finding her answer before she handed it back. “This card…it predicts a gruesome injury you will sustain. That, or a battle is coming where this injury shall occur.” 

“The only battle that is happening is between us!” the chief roared, standing so quickly he knocked the table forward. “You came here with those cards to provoke us, didn’t you?”

“I never said that.” 

“You never say’d anything correctly!” 

“Sir, if you’ll let me make my final prediction-” 

“No! You came here to torment us with these papers, to befuddle our minds before you ransacked our town. Weren’t you?” 

“Now, if I shall speak-” 

The chief opened his mouth to swear some more, but all that came from his mouth was vomit. Within seconds, the Witch had whipped out her wand and directed the liquids to the floor, wiping away the single drop from her face. 

The chief gripped the table, a fist over his lips in politeness, staring daggers into the Witch. “That’s the last straw, wench.” 

Sachse ducked his head under the ledge as wands were taken out over the tavern and spells shot across the room. 

“What’s going on?” Corrin whispered. 

“We need to go.” Ostara ordered, ducking under the ledge. “Back to the alley. Now!” 

A spell shot out the window right where Sachse’s head had been and the wooden wall in front of them ripped open with a fire spell. 

“That makes sense.” Corrin gulped. Sachse shoved him by the shoulder away from the tavern and ran through the streets, ending up outside the alley first. Seconds later, Corrin came around the corner, holding Ostara’s arm and pulling her with him. Sachse shoved them between the vines before he followed them in. 

Ostara plopped herself on the plank. “I’m assuming that doesn’t normally happen when you leave this alley.” 

Sachse nodded as Corrin slumped against the wall, clutching his chest. 

“What’s wrong with you?” 

“Don’t you understand what we’ve just witnessed?” Corrin asked. 

Sachse and Ostara shook their heads in unison. 

“War has begun,” he whispered. “Witches and Wizards will be fighting each other by first light.” 

“B-but those Witches are disconnected from our societies, so it won’t affect them. Right?” Ostara guessed, but they all knew that wouldn’t happen. 

“They don’t see it like that.” Sachse explained, wiping a spider off the wall. ”All they know is that the other side of the feud has launched war and they must respond in kind.” He looked at both of them, noticing Corrin was looking green. “We’ll wait for Sol to wake before we decide anything else. If Corrin is unable to, I can bring you home.” 

“No, I-I’ll do it.” Corrin swallowed the lump in his throat and stood straighter, pushing himself off the wall. “Besides, my friends aren’t allowed to find me here. Goodnight, Lexis.” 

Sachse nodded at him. “Goodnight, Freidger.” 

He watched Corrin lead her out of the alley and cast another glance back at him before they vanished through the vines. Sachse lied on the plank and felt his eyes draw to the sky, his mouth whispering in a prayer to those above. 

"Deities, I ask for their safety and mine as we navigate through this treacherous war."