Chapter Two: Varn

"Varn!" Stan nudged Harry. "Look, it's Varn."

"Why, hello there, Varn." Harry nudged Burt and nearly spilled Burt's bread beer.

"Harry! Erm, I mean, Varn!" Burt wiped his mouth on his sleeve and then waved. "You're back."

"As you can see," Morwenna gestured to the three older gentlemen. "The intelligence of my patrons has not improved since you left. Which is surprising, considering how much time they spend in my company."

Varn cracked a slight smile at Morwenna's dry remark. The familiarity of it all—the dim, cozy tavern, the friendly, if simple-minded regulars, even the ever-present sarcastic edge to the witch's voice—was comforting.

It's good to be back, his dragon said and puffed out a plume of smoke.

It is , Varn replied, although he had hoped when he returned to Wishing Moon Bay he would do so with his mate on his arm. Alas, that was not the case.

She eludes us still , his dragon said with a heavy sigh.

He nodded at the three men, their faces ruddy and jovial in the warm glow of the tavern's hearth. It appeared they were under the influence of more than Christmas cheer. "Stan, Harry, Burt." He turned to Morwenna. "I see you're still putting up with this lot."

Morwenna snorted, the delicate silver charms adorning her black dress clinking as she wiped down the bar with a rag. "Someone has to keep them in line. They'd be causing mischief all over town if not for my keeping them here. It's a civil service, really." She arched a gray eyebrow at Varn. "And what about you? Did you find what you were looking for out there?"

Varn's smile faded, and he shook his head, a familiar ache settling in his chest. "No. No sign of her, even after a year of searching every corner of the realm." He slid onto a barstool, the old wood creaking beneath his weight. "I'm starting to wonder if..."

"What you need is drink to cheer you up," Morwenna interrupted, already reaching for a tankard, while the rag continued to wipe the bar by itself. She filled the tankard with a pungent smelling brew and slid it across the bar to him. "On the house. Welcome back."

"On the house?" Stan arched a questioning eyebrow at Morwenna.

"If you would do us the courtesy of going off to a distant land for a year, I would give you a drink on the house, too." Morwenna shot him a look as if challenging Stan to do just that.

"Thank you, Morwenna." Varn chuckled as he accepted the mug of tart beer. "I have missed this place."

"But not the beer, I'm sure," Burt murmured under his breath as he eyed Varn's free drink.

Harry waited for Varn to set his mug back down on the bar, then asked, "So, tell us all about it."

"There's little to tell," Varn replied.

"You've been gone for nearly a year," Harry reminded him.

As if we could forget, Varn's dragon snorted.

Varn took another swig of the sour beer, the taste barely registering as his mind drifted back over the long, fruitless months of his search. The endless miles of flying and walking, the countless inns and taverns… All for naught.

"I searched. I pushed my senses to their limit, flew over thousands of miles of territories from the tallest mountains across the widest seas," he said at last, his voice heavy with weariness and disappointment. "But nothing." He shook his head. "Maybe it was just a dream all that time ago…when I thought I sensed her."

It was not a dream, his dragon said sharply. She was not a dream. Curse ours and Flint's father for imprisoning us, for whisking her away to who knows where.

Flint once offered to help us find her…maybe it is time we ask him to fulfill that promise .

"Have you ever considered…" Morwenna began, and all eyes turned to her. "That your trip was all an enormous waste of time?"

There was a moment of silence.

"A waste of time?" Harry's voice rose in disbelief, his brows furrowing. "How can you say that, Morwenna? The man's been searching for his mate!"

Morwenna shrugged, her charms tinkling with the movement. "All I'm saying is, sometimes fate has other plans. Maybe it's time to stop chasing a ghost…"

Varn's grip tightened on his mug, the dragon within him bristling at the witch's words. "She's not a ghost. She's real. I sensed her."

Morwenna's piercing gaze met Varn's. "And yet she remains elusive, like a wisp of smoke on the wind." She waved her hand in an arc, moving her fingers. Then her voice softened slightly. "Don't look so dejected, Varn. It's against the rules to mope in here. Besides, I'm not saying give up hope. I'm just saying that you may have to let fate take its course. Let her find you . Something that's hard to do when you are flying so damn fast all the time on a wild turkey chase."

"You mean goose—"

"‘Turkey' is more festive, Stan." Morwenna folded her arms. "And it is the festive season, after all."

The Regulars turned their eyes to the undecorated tavern.

"Look, my very festive dragon shifter bartender has been busy with his newborn baby," Morwenna said. "If you want to decorate, you're more than welcome to."

Varn's shoulders slumped, the fight draining out of him as quickly as it had risen. Deep down, he knew Morwenna was right. He couldn't keep wandering aimlessly forever, chasing a dream that seemed to slip further away with each passing day.

But accepting that truth didn't make it any easier to swallow. He'd spent so long clinging to the hope, the certainty, that his mate was out there somewhere, waiting for him to find her. Letting go of that felt like losing a part of himself.

Varn sighed heavily and took another swig of the tart beer, letting the burn of the alcohol sear away some of the ache in his chest. "Perhaps you're right, Morwenna. I can't spend the rest of my days as a nomad, forever searching."

"That's the spirit," Morwenna said as she reached for the still cleaning rag again and began to polish a glass before placing it on the shelf above the bar. "And if you're in need of a different one, Liselle's just whipped up a new batch of festive themed spirits! How wonderful does that sound, hm?"

"Morwenna," Harry said sternly. "You can't possibly be asking Varn to give up on searching for his mate."

"Can't I?" Morwenna fixed Harry with a stare that would make most men quake in their boots.

"This is true love we're talking about," Stan reminded her.

"Varn deserves to find her," Burt added.

"But as Varn has so obviously discovered, searching for a mate is fruitless." Morwenna looked up as the tavern door opened. "Fate has a funny way of working…"

Varn did not need to turn around to know it was Flint who had walked through the tavern door. He got up from his seat at the bar and went to meet his friend.

A friend who had once been his sworn enemy.

A friend who had given him hope that happy endings were possible.

"Flint." Varn clasped the other man's hand in a firm shake, a genuine smile spreading across his face despite the heaviness in his heart. Flint's presence always seemed to have that effect on him, lifting his spirits no matter how low they had sunk.

"Varn, you old dragon," Flint said with a grin, his eyes crinkling at the corners as the huge man looked down at him. "You made it."

Varn held out his arms. "As you can see."

"Liselle will be thrilled. We weren't sure you would get our message," Flint said.

"It landed right on my lap, literally," Varn said. "I was drinking tea in a small teahouse in the Sharpeak Isles when the pigeon flew in and dropped the scroll onto my lap, nearly causing me to spill my drink."

Flint chuckled, shaking his head. "You can blame Elsbeth for that. She concocted a spell that used a location map and one of your shoes."

Your shoes! Varn's dragon rolled his eyes.

"I don't know about blaming her," Varn said. "I'd like to thank her for tracking me down."

"You'll get the opportunity later. She's hosting a tea party tonight. Oh! And Ash said you were welcome to stay in his spare apartment for a few days."

"That's great, really, thank you." Varn smiled. "And I can't tell you how happy I was to hear that you and Liselle had a child."

"Koralyn." Flint's smile softened at the mention of his daughter, a look of pure love and pride settling over his features. "She's perfect, Varn. I never knew it was possible to love someone so completely, so instantly."

Varn felt a pang in his chest, a bittersweet mix of joy for his friend and longing for what he himself had yet to find. "I'm happy for you, truly. You and Liselle deserve all the happiness in the world."

"And you will find yours, too, my friend," Flint said, clasping Varn's shoulder. "I know it."

Varn managed a small smile, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Maybe Morwenna was right. "I'm starting to wonder if it's time to stop searching and just...let fate take its course. If it's meant to be, it will be, right?"

Flint studied him for a long moment, his expression thoughtful. "Fate works in mysterious ways, Varn. Sometimes the things we seek are closer than we realize. Don't lose heart just yet."

"And you are in the right place," Burt said, wiping a tear from under his eye.

"You are," Flint agreed with a nod.

"Wishing Moon Bay?" Varn asked.

"No, The Lonely Tavern, of course," Morwenna said as she handed Flint a mug of bread beer.

"Is that on the house, too?" Stan asked.

"You'll be wearing it on your head if you don't mind your own business," Morwenna told him sharply.

"Morwenna is right," Flint told Varn. "It might not look like much…"

Flint paused as the Regulars took a collective breath, their eyes on Morwenna, as if waiting for a sharp retort from the witch. But Morwenna merely snorted and waved a hand for Flint to continue, an amused expression on her face.

Flint grinned and took a swig of his beer, wincing at the sour taste before turning back to Varn. "As I was saying, it might not look like much, but there's a certain magic to this place. It has a way of bringing people together, of making things happen when you least expect it."

"Matchmaker Central, we like to call it," Harry agreed.

"Matchmaker Central," Varn repeated as he glanced around the cozy tavern, taking in the cluttered shelves lining the rafters, the rustic furniture, the constant warm lighting.

"It happened for me here," Flint reminded Varn. "You remember?"

How can we forget when we tried to break Flint and Liselle apart? His dragon shook his head in shame.

That was the old us, Varn reminded his dragon. The us who was stuck in the past, who was out for revenge.

Varn knew what truly bothered his dragon. It was the idea that had started like a dark shadow in the back of his mind, but had grown, spreading its tendrils of doubt with each passing day of their fruitless search. The thought that maybe, just maybe, his behavior toward others, toward Flint, was the root of the reason he could not find his mate.

That fate had turned its back on him.

But as he looked around at the faces of the Regulars, at Flint who had shown him forgiveness and understanding, Varn felt a flicker of hope reignite within him. Perhaps fate hadn't abandoned him after all. Perhaps, as Flint said, the things he sought were closer than he realized.

Varn felt his dragon stir, a tentative optimism threading through their bond. Maybe, just maybe, they were exactly where they needed to be.

That the invitation that had fallen into his lap, after being carried for thousands of miles, might have brought him back here for a reason.

"Thank you for the beer." Flint downed the last of his bread beer and shook his head, his face screwed up as if he had been sucking on a lemon.

"Going so soon?" Morwenna asked.

"Is there something you need, Morwenna?" Flint placed his mug on the bar and arched a questioning eyebrow at the witch.

"You are my bartender," Morwenna said.

"Your bartender who is on paternity leave and was going to take his far traveled friend out for lunch," Flint countered.

"Err…" She looked around, and then her eyes widened, and she nodded. "Yes! Yes, there is in fact something that I need." She bustled around the bar. "Something that will need two dragon shifters, and take approximately fifteen to, err, thirty minutes…"

"So the beer wasn't on the house," Stan said with some satisfaction.

"I have some very heavy barrels that need moving," Morwenna finished, shooting Stan a sharp look. "If you two strapping young men wouldn't mind lending a hand?"

Varn and Flint exchanged a glance. They both knew Morwenna well enough to recognize when she had an ulterior motive.

But we also know better than to question the witch directly, Varn's dragon said.

And I am curious to know what her ulterior motive is , Varn replied.

Yes, because a witch as powerful as Morwenna could move heavy barrels with a flick of her hand , his dragon added.

Perhaps there's something living in her storage room.

"Of course," Varn said, setting his tankard down on the bar. "Lead the way."

"Good, good, follow me." Morwenna nodded and tilted her head to look past the two men toward the tavern door, before she beckoned to them to follow her.

She is expecting someone , Varn's dragon said.

I believe you are right, Varn agreed, and that small glimmer of hope, that tiny flicker of possibility, burned a little brighter in Varn's chest as he followed Morwenna through the tavern and down a narrow hallway through a door he realized he had never noticed before.

But he quickly extinguished it. For that same small glimmer of hope, that same tiny flicker of possibility had tortured him in all the long months he'd been away.

Whatever Morwenna's motives, he was fooling himself if he allowed himself to believe that she was expecting his mate to walk through the tavern door.

Morwenna led them to a small storage room at the back of the tavern, its shelves lined with dusty bottles and casks. She gestured to a stack of barrels in the corner. "Those need to be moved to the cellar."

"We have a cellar?" Flint asked.

Varn and Flint exchanged another glance before rolling up their sleeves and getting to work. As they hefted the heavy barrels, the muscles in their arms straining, Varn couldn't shake the feeling that Morwenna had something up her voluminous black sleeves.

"That's it, as quick as you like," Morwenna said with a clap of her hands as she got the door for them.

"You do know this is my morning off, and after lunch I am expected at Elsbeth's house with Varn. Her niece arrived on The Wind Raider this morning and we're having a small celebration. Not to mention this is the first time she's visited in three years," Flint grumbled as he carried the barrel out of the room and into the corridor. "What's this really about, Morwenna?"

The witch looked affronted, as if she had been accused of a crime she was innocent of. "Why, I don't have the faintest idea what you mean, Flint. Can't an old woman ask for a bit of help from time to time?"

Flint craned his neck to look at her, his brow furrowed. "An old woman, perhaps. But a powerful witch like yourself? I think not."

Morwenna rolled her eyes and puffed out her cheeks. "Well, that's gratitude for you, after I gave you a job when you were desperate. Don't you think if I wanted to use magic for every little thing, I would need to pay a bar keep? Hum?" She leaned forward, her eyes boring into Flint.

Things have changed in the time we were away. Varn's dragon chuckled. I would never have expected Flint to be so blunt with Morwenna.

"Yes, but you can't boss your magic around, can you?" Flint retorted, but there was no malice in his voice. "Nor can you send your magic to serve people in the bar while you hide out in the back room when there is someone in the bar you want to avoid."

"Now…there's never ‘someone' at the bar I want to avoid. I want to avoid everyone ." Morwenna wagged her finger at him. "Besides, I can't help it if important things, needing my urgent attention, pop up from time to time."

Flint shook his head, his eyes carrying a mischievous twinkle as he said, "Very convenient timing these things have."

"Oh!" She stuck her finger up as if to silence him, her eyes out of focus for a second. "We're done. Back to the bar."

And just like that, she had them drop the barrels and shooed them out of the room and back toward the bar area.

"She seems crazier than she was before I left," Varn muttered to Flint under his breath.

"Oh, she might seem crazy," Flint replied. "But Morwenna is the wiliest person I know. She has all her faculties and then some."

So what is going on? Varn's dragon asked.

I have no idea …

"Liselle is here," Flint said in surprise as he strode forward. "I thought we were meeting later, at Elsbeth's."

Varn frowned. What machinations did the witch have?

However, as they emerged back into the main tavern area, Varn's gaze was immediately drawn to a woman with long, dark auburn hair tumbling down her back in soft waves. Something about the line of her shoulders, the tilt of her head, seemed achingly familiar...

Varn's heart stuttered in his chest, his dragon stirring with a sudden, fierce intensity. Could it be...?

The woman turned then, as if sensing his presence, and Varn found himself at last, allowing in that small glimmer of hope, that tiny flicker of possibility…