[edited: 25/01/2018]

The tail of Maksim's green coat flew out from behind him as he paced through Astracia, searching every nook and cranny for a sign of Remy. So far, there had been none, but he refused to give up without finding her first.

Guilt mixed with worry and fear clawed at his chest as he remembered the way that he had spoken to her and the way that she had responded, with tears in her eyes and an expression of somebody whose world had just been pulled from under her feet. He had never expected for her to look at him that way; he had never expected her to feel so intensely about his opinion at all. He supposed at least now he could be sure of her feelings for him, though it had not been worth finding out in such a way that both of them had ended the conversation feeling broken.

"Maksim!" a voice called from behind him, and he did not have to look to know who it belonged to: Tykon. He did not stop, instead continuing his march with his face set in determination. He did not have the time nor the energy to talk to his friend.

"What on Refilyn is going on?" Tykon continued as though he had not just been ignored. He was much closer now, and Maksim could hear his footsteps clunking against the cobbles. He supposed that he was pursuing him, but would not slow down for his benefit. "What is the rush?"

"I do not suppose that you have seen Remy roaming the streets, have you?" he questioned as lightly as he could. "I seem to have misplaced her somewhere."

"What do you mean, 'misplaced'?" Tykon responded, sounding rather out of breath as he stepped in front of Maksim so that he was forced to stop in his tracks. "Where is she? What has happened?"

He gritted his teeth and rolled his eyes in annoyance. "If I knew where she was, I would not be asking. She wandered off into Astracia on her own and now I cannot find her anywhere."

"Have you tried a t—"

He cut him off immediately. "Tracking spell? Of course I have. I cannot pick her up. She is either too far away or she is..."

Tykon gulped and lowered his eyes as though he did not dare see the worry in Maskim's eyes, or perhaps the brokenness of his soul, when he trailed off. He did not want to finish that sentence. He could not finish that sentence, could not even think about it.

"I will alert the Central Hall. Perhaps they will have better luck."

Maksim nodded gratefully.

"Is there anywhere you have not looked yet? Perhaps a place in particular that she liked?"

He wondered then where he might go if he was in the same situation and an image instantly sprang to mind; Remy, weaving in between golden trees and gazing at clear blue water. They had only been there once, but he knew that she had loved it perhaps just as much as he did. He still remembered the way that her grey eyes had glittered the first time she saw the waterfall. It was the first time he had realised she was more like him than he cared to admit.

"The lake," he whispered, so quietly that Tykon frowned as though he hadn't heard him. "You were right." 

He set off in the direction of the forest before Tykon could even consider his reply. The feeling of desperation increased each time his boots collided with the ground until he could barely breathe. Still, he continued to run, continued to hope. He did not remember how he had gotten to the beginning of the trail, only that at some point he had stopped walking on stone and started walking on rich soil. His lungs burned as he tread through the fallen leaves and eventually came to a halt when he found the clearing that led to the lake.

It had once been a place that calmed him. Now, it did anything but that, for any hope that Remy was here disappeared as quickly as the vapour that rose from the top of the waterfall and into the afternoon sky. There was no sign of her; no footprints in the dirt, no sound of her feet scuffing dried foliage, no body sitting beside the water. It was empty. Silent, but for the sound of trickling water and his own shallow breaths.

"Remy?" Maksim called despite already knowing that he would get no reply. Without hesitation, he drew his palm out and began another tracking spell, but he was interrupted by a meow before his fingers even began to tingle with sparks. When he searched for the source of the noise, he found an annoyingly familiar furry animal watching him intently, its black tail waving through the air as it emerged from the trees.

"What on Refilyn are you doing here?" He gave the cat a disgusted look, his brows furrowing in confusion. "Did you follow me here, you nosey little rat?"

Needless to say, the cat did not reply. Not at first, anyway. After a moment, a cloud of black smoke seemed to arise from its paws until they were not paws at all, but feet and hands. Almost instantly, the cat became a woman—one that looked too familiar, though he had never met this witch before, he was sure.

Maksim could do nothing but gape at her. Of all of the things he had expected to see today, this was not one of them.

"As a matter of fact, I did," the witch said with a strange smile painted on her lips.

She could not have been much older than Maksim, though he could tell that she was by at least a few decades, for there was a superior air to her that only the most mature people of Refilyn seemed to possess. Rather than black like the cat's fur, her hair was a ghastly shade of red that  drained all colour from her complexion. At first glance, it resembled his mother's. In fact, everything about the girl resembled his mother, and if she had been standing further away, he might have thought it was her. He had to remind himself that he did not know this woman after looking at her curiously for a few moments. 

"Have you always been disguising yourself as my cat, or is this a relatively new development?" was the first question that he could think to ask.

The witch chuckled as though she found his reaction rather amusing. "I am afraid that without me, there would be no cat to begin with. It was me from the moment we met in the grotty alleyway of that awful Mortal World."

Maksim sighed and put his head in his hands, feeling a sudden heaviness weigh down his limbs. Despite his bewilderment, he could not help but sound bored; his worry for Remy seemed to overpower any concern for the peculiar situation that he was in now. "You have chosen a rather inconvenient time to reveal yourself. I do not suppose this could wait until after I have found Remy?—Whom, of course, I assume you know well, seeing as she was far more fond of the flea-ridden version of you than I. I do not suppose you have seen her about?"

"You will not find her here, little brother. In fact, I do not think that you will find her anywhere in Astracia." Her green eyes glimmered knowingly and he remembered then all the times that the cat had curled around his feet or hopped onto Remy's bed whilst they had been discussing something. He had barely noticed then, but now he doubted that it had been a coincidence. The witch had not been pretending to be a household pet for the sake of it.

Little brother, she had said. He was almost too afraid to ask why, though something in him had known since the moment she had transformed. She was too much like Hilda to not be related.

"If you know of her whereabouts, I suggest that you tell me." He narrowed his eyes and felt body tense. "Whatever you are trying to achieve is nowhere near as important to me as finding her."

"Perhaps it should be. It is all connected, you see: You, me, your brother, and of course, Remy. We are inextricably linked, and we always shall be, though I admit that I would rather your little mortal girlfriend return back to her own world once she has handed over the key."

"You want the key." He gulped, blinked, tried to understand her words without having much luck. "Why?"

"You are asking all of the wrong questions, brother. It is ruining the theatricality of our first meeting together."

"Why do you keep calling me that?" His voice rose so that he could be heard properly over the splash of the waterfall in the background. "Who are you?"

"Ah, there we go." She grinned and took a step towards him. Even though he was taller than her, Maksim felt incredibly small when he faced her. "The right questions, finally."

"It would be excellent if you could stop babbling and answer them," he pointed out impatiently. "I understand that you wish to be dramatic, but I am a busy warlock and I have never had much taste for theatricality myself."

"It is true. You are your mother's son." She exhaled slowly, giving Maksim the opportunity to scoff. "And I am your mother's daughter. I am your sister, Maksim."

"Well, that is unfortunate," he responded and raised his eyebrows, "particularly as I do not have a sister."

"No?" She cocked her head to the side confidently. "Am I not the spitting image of Hilda? Do I not share your bone structure, your hair colour?"

He glanced at her hair, knowing already that he would see the resemblance. Though hers was the colour of fire and his the colour of blood, sometimes too black to even see the red, he could not deny that some strands were almost identical to his. All of them were identical to Hilda's.

"What do you want from me? I do not have the key; Remy does. I cannot help you."

"I do not want the key. I merely wanted to introduce myself to my brother." She crossed her arms behind her back as though pondering something. "Family has always been important to me, you see."

"I suppose that is why I have seen so much of you in my four hundred years of existence," he agreed sarcastically.

"Well, you have your mother to thank for that. It would appear that she does not quite share the same values."

"I will not ask you again." He almost shouted this time, for he was growing increasingly anxious at the thought of Remy being in danger, particularly if the unhinged woman in front of him had anything to do with her disappearance. "Where is Remy?"

"You needn't worry," she shrugged. "I expect that Ackmard is taking wonderful care of her."

His heart dropped to his stomach and he was not sure that his legs could support his weight for a second, but somehow he found enough strength to throw his magic at the witch so that she flew into the nearest tree. Subconsciously, he noticed that the hue of his sparks were not their usual silver, but a dark grey. He paid no attention to that, now though. He could pay attention to nothing else but the fear in the pit of his stomach at the thought of Remy and the trouble she might be in with Ackmard.

"Where is she?" he yelled, his voice echoing throughout the forest so loudly that it shocked even himself. "Tell me!"

The witch pulled herself up quickly and brushed down her black dress with a reproachful expression. "You are not as charming as you appear, brother, though I suppose that is to be expected; you are, after all, an Opal." She sighed then. "If you really must know, you will find your girlfriend at Nil Lake."

Maksim stumbled back ever so slightly. He had visited Nil Lake only once and had vowed never to go again. The waters were black, as were the cliffs, and it had been rumoured for centuries that if one so much as touched the surface of the lake, they would never be seen again. 

An image burned itself into his mind. It was the words he had seen on the only remaining wall after the explosion in the church. 

"Their fate is in the fiery lake of burning sulphur." He had said it aloud without meaning to, and Hilda looked pleased that he had finally pieced it together.

Ackmard had left Maksim a clue before Remy had even been taken. It was always supposed to end like this, and without realising it, Maksim had pushed Remy right into his brother's trap, had driven her away when he should have been pulling her closer to him than ever. He hated himself for it.

He had to find her.

He did not waste another moment speaking to the witch; he set off running and did not stop until he returned home and found his mother lying unconscious on the kitchen floor with Annika crouching over her. By then he felt as though he could barely breathe at all.