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Home Cauldron - Chapter 1. Home Sweet Home

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Home Cauldron - Chapter 2. Sightseeing

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Mirabel snaps out of her thoughts with a tear dripping down her cheeks as she looks towards the sound. She smiles and wipes away the tears. “Coming!” she yells. Mirabel opens the door, the soft morning light illuminating her and her nightgown, one barely posed in a way to cover her body. “Good morning, Erika!” she says as she sees her friend waiting for her. “Good morning, Mirabel” Erika responds, her emerald locks glistening in the light. “Are you ready to g- I- ummm…” she says, but her words get tangled up as she sees Mirabel. She shyly looks away. “Sorry I didn’t realize you were still getting dressed!” she says. Mirabel’s head tilts. “Still getting dressed? What do you me-“ she says in a confused tone but as she looks down on her apparel, it is not her usual robes but her nightgown. She screams in embarrassment and slams the door behind her. “Oh my god I’m sorry be right back!” she yells. Erika chuckles “Heh, no rush! I’ll wait here.”
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Mirabel and Erika are walking on a quiet forest path. In front of a large old oak is a sun scorched post with a sign that reads Rowanill. ”So Erika, how long have you lived here?” Mirabel asks. “Around four years. My mentor had a summer retreat here which he sold to me after my apprenticeship”, Erika responds. “I take it you are not around these parts then?” Mirabel adds in which Erika responds “No, I’m from Vinen.” Mirabel’s ears zap up in excitement and her eyes glow up. “No way! Across the sea?” she shouts. “I’ve always wanted to see the golden prairies, the endless vineyards, the coastal cities! It all must be amazing!” she says enthusiastically before her excitement fades. “But why would you come here out of all places? It’s not like Avelon is a great place for witches.” Mirabel then asks. Erika smiles. “Oh, Vinen is lovely in its own way for sure! But when I came here for the first time, I just fell in love with this place. There is just something about the atmosphere, the seasons, all this!” she says and gestures around her. The old stone bridge crosses a blue stream and all around them greenery new and old surrounding them in multitude, all bathing in the golden rays of sunrise.
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”So Mirabel, have you ever been to Rowanill before?” Erika asks and glances over to Mirabel. “No, never. I have to say I’m quite excited!” Mirabel responds gleefully. “Well, you’re in luck then as the caravan market just so happens to be in the town today!” Erika responds with a smile. “Lots of travelers come here often?” Mirabel asks. Erika lowers her gaze, and her voice shifts into a subtle but still noticeable solemn tone: “Well, not as many as I heard used to. The thick woods make travel difficult and risky for large caravans. But I think many still avoid the place because of its, well, history.” The two women approach the town gates. Beautifully crafted rich woodwork embellishes the stone structures. Bright red trims with splashes of white paint frame the gate and the 10-meter stone watchtower. But despite the quality of the tower, its brother lies crumbled, barely holding the gate together and it too only barely held together by makeshift scaffolding. Two guards stand under the gate in colors similar to the trimmed gate bridge and inside the gates, a stableboy is harnessing a three horned kaurin stallion ready for travel. There is a text box which reads: “At the time I didn’t know of the events that took place in Rowanill during the Avelonian civil war, though it was clear from the first glance that even decades later the place hadn’t fully let go of that night.”
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