Varian trudged through the blizzard, his shoulders hunched against the biting wind. Snowflakes swirled around him, stinging his reddened cheeks and eyes. He kept his head down, focusing on the crunch of his footsteps in the snow.

His mind was a storm of its own, filled with thoughts of self-loathing. Each step seemed heavier than the last, weighed down by the memories of his father's harsh words. "A disappointment," his father had called him. The sting of that accusation cut deeper than the cold.

Varian's vision blurred with unshed tears, freezing before they could fall. He replayed the argument over and over, wishing he could take back every word, every accusation, but it's too late now. All he needs... is to get away for some fresh air. His chest tightened with pain, a physical ache that matched the relentless cold.

The landscape around him was desolate, mirroring his internal turmoil. The once-familiar path seemed endless, a journey with no destination, much like his own spiraling thoughts.

"I'm sorry," he whispered to the howling wind, his voice barely audible. "I tried... I really tried, but you care about the village more than me, it seems..."

He stumbled, catching himself just before falling, and continued to mutter under his breath. "Why did I think I could stop the black rocks issue by myself? I always mess things up. Always."

He shook his head, his eyes fixed on the ground. "Dad was right. I'm just a disappointment. I can't get anything right."

His steps faltered, and for a moment, he considered stopping his walk and turn around, to feel the comfort of his own home. Maybe it would be easier to feel his comforter on top of his body, cuddle with Ruddiger, get a nice cup of cocoa...

But some small, stubborn part of him kept moving, a bitter feeling in his usually bright heart. "What's the point?" he mumbled, his breath visible in the frigid air. "No one believes in me. Not even him."

The wind blew harsher, the icy gusts biting into his skin and making his eyes water. He hunched his shoulders, trying to shield himself from the relentless cold. He shivered violently, his teeth chattering uncontrollably. Desperately seeking respite, he pulled the hood of his coat over his head, tucking it tightly around his face.

Through the swirling snow, Varian spotted a dark shape in the distance. As he drew closer, he realized it was a dead tree, tall enough to almost make his manor put to shame. With no other shelter in sight, he decided to approach it.

Once he reached it, he sank down, leaning his back against the rough bark. He pulled his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them for warmth.

The cold seeped through his clothes, but he was too tired to care. His body ached, and his mind felt like a heavy fog, filled with thoughts he couldn't escape from.

"I'm so tired," he whispered to himself, his breath a cloud of mist in the frigid air. "Tired of trying. Tired of failing..."

He looked up at the branches above, their starkness a reflection of his own despair. "Why can't I ever get it right?" he muttered, his voice tinged with bitterness. "Why do I always mess things up?"

His eyes closed, and for a moment, he let himself drift, the relentless wind howling around him. The tree offered little protection from the elements, but it was better than nothing. He felt a small measure of comfort leaning against its solid trunk, as if it were an anchor in the storm.

His thoughts continued to spiral, the argument with his father replaying in his mind. Then, his thoughts drift to her. Cassandra. The woman who first saved his life, who he grew to admire. He can't help but let out a slight smile at the thought of her. It saddens him that she mostly appears closed off, hating to be seen vulnerable. One day, he plans to show her that it's okay. That's he's there for her.

But not right now. Right now, he needs some time away. He buried his face in his arms, the cold biting at his exposed skin. "If I can't make my dad proud..." he whispered. "...I hope I can make at least her proud."

"I don't know if you're able to do that, child."

Varian's head snapped up, his eyes wide with alarm. He glanced around, but saw nothing but the swirling snow and the skeletal branches. His heart pounded in his chest, each beat echoing in his ears.

"Who's there?" he called out, his voice trembling. The voice came again, much louder than before.

"Oh, no one important. Just...a former friend..."

A ghostly figure of a young girl materialized before him, a mocking grin on her face. She dons a white and blue dress, braided hair and a head strap with a gem in the middle, her eyes glinting with malice. Varian's breath caught in his throat.

"What do you want?" he demanded, trying to sound braver than he felt.

The girl floated closer, her grin widening. "I want to see how far the mighty have fallen," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "And it seems, young child, you've fallen quite far indeed."

Varian's hands clenched into fists. "I don't know who you are, but you don't know anything about me."

"Oh, but I do," she replied, her tone mocking. "I know you're a disappointment to your father. A failure. Just like you failed to convince your village to help you with the rocks. What makes you think you can ever make anyone proud?"

Varian flinched, her words hitting their mark. "I won't listen to you," he snapped, though his voice wavered.

The ghost laughed, a cruel, hollow sound. "I expected that from you. Nothing more. Nothing less. But what if..." she trails off, her grin growing more sinister. "Instead of desperately gain your father's approval, you steal it? Take what's yours."

Varian's eyes widen, a look of shock crossing his face. "What...?"

"You heard me," the ghost continued, circling around Varian like a predator. "Why try to gain something you'll never receive when you can just take it?"

Varian glared at the ghost, his voice firm.  "If you're trying to get me to steal something and betray my friends and family, it won't work."

The ghost tilted her head, a mocking smile playing on her lips. "Is that so? Think about it, child. All the pain, the disappointment. Why keep fighting for something that's always out of reach?"

He glanced towards the direction he came from, his posture faltering slightly at the memory of what happened earlier before he hardens his gaze and turns to the ghost once more. "I may have been hurt. More than once, especially by my dad, but that doesn't mean that I have to be so butthurt over it that I have to resort to that. I'll remain loyal to my friends, whether you like it or not!"

The ghost's mocking grin twisted into a sinister frown. "You think loyalty is enough to save you? To make you worthy?" She moved closer, her eyes glowing with malevolent intent. "You think you can just hope and trust, and everything will be fine? Foolish boy."

Varian stood his ground, though his heart pounded in his chest. "I don't care what you say. I won't betray my friends. I won't betray Cassandra."

The ghost's frown deepened, her expression turning dark and ominous. "Very well, then. Since you're so determined to cling to your foolish beliefs, let me share something with you—a prophecy shared by some ancestors of this prophecied person to me and a former friend."

Varian's face paled as the ghost began to speak, her voice echoing with an otherworldly resonance. "Inside someone's heart, a flower will bloom. The flower has great power, enough power to bring enough beauty and strength to a whole universe. This flower will stop the demons and guard the universe for as long as they live," the ghost stopped talking for a moment before huffing, glaring daggers at the alchemist. "And that flower is closer to you than you think."

Varian stared at her, confusion and fear mingling in his eyes. "What... what do you mean?"

The ghost's eyes gleamed with a cold, cruel light. "You will help this person, this 'flower', whoever they are, fulfill their destiny. But I cannot allow that."

Varian's breath quickened, panic rising within him. "What are you talking about? Who is this person?"

The ghost didn't answer. Instead, she raised her hand and blew a handful of shimmering blue dust into Varian's face. He coughed violently, trying to wave the dust away, but it clung to him, making his vision blur.

"No!" he gasped, his voice growing weaker. "I won't let you..."

His eyes began to droop, his body growing heavy. The ghost stared at him with a mocking smirk, her expression triumphant. Varian's knees buckled, and he slumped into the ground, the snow cushioning his fall.

As darkness claimed him, the ghost leaned in close, her voice a whisper in his ear. "I, Zhan Tiri, will rise, and you will be powerless to stop it. I may not be able to convince you to betray you care about, but I will make sure no one will be able to find you until your name is a distant memory very soon. Remember that as you sleep, child."

With those final words, the ghost finally disappears, leaving Varian unconscious in the snow. The blizzard raged on, the wind howling through the skeletal branches of the dead tree. Varian lays still, his breath shallow, the weight of the prophecy and the ghost's words lingering in the air around him. Zhan Tiri? The ancient warlock? That's the identity of the ghost? Now, he knows...

He isn't safe.