The Prophecy (A TTS AU FANFIC)

Chapter 4: Where is Varian?

Back at the manor, Quirin paced the length of the hall, his mind troubled. The argument with Varian, his bright son, had left a bitter taste in his mouth, and he couldn't shake the feeling that he had gone too far. He knew his son was sensitive, prone to taking harsh words deeply to heart. Quirin sighed, running a hand through his brown hair. It was time to set things right.

Determined to find Varian and apologize, Quirin made his way to his son's room. He knocked softly on the door, hoping for a response. When none came, he called out, "Varian? Are you in there? We need to talk."

Silence greeted him. Frowning, Quirin pushed the door open and peered inside. The room was empty, the bed neatly made, and Varian's belongings arranged meticulously as always. A sense of unease settled over Quirin as he stepped into the room, his eyes scanning for any sign of his son.

"Varian?" he called again, louder this time. The manor, normally filled with Varian's energy and inventions, felt eerily silent.

Quirin checked the adjoining bathroom, the small workbench Varian used for his personal projects, and even the closet. There was no sign of him. The unease grew into a knot of worry in Quirin's stomach.

He moved through the manor, calling Varian's name as he went. He checked the kitchen, the library, and the sitting room, but found no trace of his son. Panic began to creep into his mind. Varian was always so focused, so driven-he rarely left without saying where he was going.

"Varian, this isn't funny," Quirin muttered to himself, his voiced tinged with fear. He quickened his pace, checking each room more thoroughly, but his search yielded nothing.

He paused in the entryway, trying to calm his racing heart. Think, he told to himself. Where would Varian go? What would drive him to leave the manor without a word?

Quirin's mind raced through possibilities. Varian often went to the woods to gather herbs and ingredients for his experiments, but he would have taken his satchel and supplies, which were still in his room. The market back at the kingdom was another possibility, but Varian usually informed him before heading into the village.

A dreadful thought struck Quirin. What if Varian had gone out into the storm? The blizzard had been raging for hours, and it was no place for anyone, especially not his son.

Quirin grabbed his cloak and hurried to the front door, throwing it open. The cold wind hit him like a wall, the snow swirling in the air and obscuring his vision. He stepped out onto the porch, his eyes straining to see through the storm.