The Rascal escaped the wrath of the townsfolk, who believed him guilty of some treasonous action against their beloved daughter, the great potential, ruined. The Rascal, on the other hand, is an old hand, a voice of experience, he’s been very specifically shaped by the sum of his choices, all his steps evidenced somewhere in the calluses on his feet. Worldly, and hewn from the hardness of the lessons.
The Rascal escapes the crowd, and heads to the forest, which of course, with the continued growth of the Forge been defoliated. Not as bad nor as caustic as before, maybe a tad less lifeless but infinitely more creepy. There the Rascal traced his steps to one of the creepiest places in all of literature. The coven.