* * *
Looking back, Dad was always a bit odd.
"Ririn! Did you sleep well? Dream about me last night?"
"Mhm. Yawn. You were in my dream."
"Wow! Really? Seriously?"
"Yeah. But it was awful."
"What? Why?"
"You watered and patted my potato plants until they all withered..."
His lifelong claim of being a farmer rang hollow - every crop he touched died.
This forced Dad to constantly scramble for odd jobs.
He called himself a farmhand, but really just tended our tiny garden.
And even that garden thrived because of me.
Anything I touch grows wildly without effort!
Yet Dad excelled at everything except farming. He chopped firewood, took odd jobs around the village, occasionally guarded merchant caravans - always providing just enough.
Our life wasn't luxurious, but never lacking.
For five wonderful years in our green-roofed cottage with its little garden, we were happy. Even more so after Theo joined us.
And now he's going to die?
I transferred dozing Theo to his crib and gripped the table edge, biting back tears.
If this continues, Dad will die like in my dream...
My legs kicked wildly beneath the table.
How could Dad be dying? On borrowed time?!
No. Impossible!
Whatever villain he might become later doesn't matter now. To me, he's not Duke Wintervalt the tyrant - just my loving father.
The only person who ever loved me.
Like Theo, I was abandoned at three. Dad found me, raised me...
Though why a renowned duke cared for mud-streaked orphans in some backwater valley remains puzzling.
Still.
He became my entire world from the moment he asked: "Will you come with me?" five years ago. That gruff voice began our life as each other's everything.
His love was real. Like plants thriving on sun and rain, I grew strong nourished by his care.
"There's only one option."
My eyes hardened with resolve.
"Save Dad. Keep our trio together."
Since age six, I've known I'm different - smarter than others, able to see futures in dreams. Maybe Dad wasn't just humoring me when calling me genius.
The dream revealed why Dad hid on my eighth birthday.
This must be when dream-Calek had his labyrinth accident, returning to the dukedom...
But he'll likely lose those five years' memories.
Meaning...
Even if I wait, he won't come.
I clenched small fists.
"Then I'll go to him!"
Wiping tears, I focused on positives: Dad hasn't fully turned evil yet!
Dream-Calek broke after losing family: "Mother died, then ___, then ___... Shouldn't I destroy this empire?"
Who hurt him so?
Unclear. But my path is certain.
Three-step plan:
Reach Capital
Infiltrate Ducal Mansion
Restore Dad's memories
Hmm...
I hesitated at Step 3's footnote.
Since Dad's nobility... Maybe claim my birthright too?
Gripping my sketchbook, I chanted thrice:
"Mend the broken gold spoon. Make it shine."
Just wait, Dad. I'll protect you now!
At dawn, I burst into neighbor Marsha's home.
"Alec didn't return? You children stayed alone? Saints preserve us!"
"We're fine! Uncle Bill said the Beast Maze collapsed last night. Maybe Dad's there?"
"Oh! That huge incident! Lumberjacks were involved... Yes!"
Theo sat munching egg soup on her lap as I pushed: "Unconscious victims were warped to the Capital Temple. Dad might be there!"
Marsha nodded. Repi Village was southern backcountry - an eight-year-old couldn't travel to Capital alone, especially with Theo.
I tried leaving him this morning...
"Bwaaaah!"
Theo Wald faceplanted on the floor, chubby rear in air - an alarmingly effective protest.
So stubborn for a toddler.
"We'll all go," Marsha decided. "I needed to visit Capital anyway."
She produced travel cloaks and a speed-boosting magical artifact. Three days by carriage without warp portal access.
When I offered Dad's emergency savings, she refused - "Still owe him for the barn fire."
Standing before our cottage at departure, I burned the scene into memory: sunlit green roof, Dad's hand-painted shutters, my doodle-covered fence.
"I'll match the roof to your eyes!" he'd said. Every plank bore his touch - except my magic garden.
Here I'd discovered my plant-growing magic, often scolding Dad: "Don't water them! They'll die!"
Of course - Wintervalts wield destructive magic! Our family's nurturing was always my doing.
"Bye home!" I whispered. The breeze carried farewell rustles from our trees.
I'll bring Dad back here.
Days later, a cloaked figure stood smoking in our ruins. Flames devoured the cottage as plants screamed into ash.
"Wow... The Capital!"
I gaped at bustling streets until Marsha nudged me. The Central Temple's locked doors dismayed me.
"Visiting hours only," she explained. "We'll check the infirmary later."
He won't be there.
But reaching the Capital meant phase two:
To Wintervalt Manor.
