Chapter Text

Prologue: Recounting the Stitches

Beyond the realm of Dreamland, there are so many other worlds to explore, all with their quirks and eccentricities. But none are quite like the felted wonder that is Patchland. At least, that’s what its people would like to think. Patchland was a cozy planet, filled with all kinds of crafty types. From crochet to macrame, if you wanted a fiber arts expert, you could find one here.

Our story begins here, a year after the defeat of the nefarious sorcerer, Yin Yarn. Once upon a time, Yin Yarn had run off to Dreamland to try and build himself an empire made of yarn. But he'd made a fatal mistake: he sent Dreamland’s most hopeful hero, Kirby, back to Patchland in its broken state. Little did he know, Kirby’s heroism didn't come from just his incredible abilities (most of which Yin Yarn had locked away), but his incredibly kind and noble heart. And upon finding friendship with Patchland’s young noble, Prince Fluff, the two were able to stitch the pieces back into place with the magic yarn that bound the planet together. When they stood together, Yin Yarn stood no chance of defeating them. They were stronger as a team than they were alone.

Yin Yarn knew he stood no chance of building a kingdom of his own without some help. But where would a treacherous villain such as himself find help? Who would be his comrade, his partner in crime? No one in Patchland liked him after all he'd done. He was lucky if he received less than five dirty looks when going to the market. The only people who treated him with any kind of grace were his family.

By some stroke of luck, Yin Yarn was married! He had a strong and dedicated husband, the wonderful wizard Woolfgang, whose needle felting was truly something to behold. He was not cut out for villainy like Yin Yarn was, but he would tolerate his husband's schemes. Yin Yarn knew Woolfgang would come around, that someday he'd make a wonderful king to rule beside him. But he was not built to conquer worlds, and Yin Yarn accepted that. He would surely change his mind once he was gifted a world for both of them to rule together, Yin Yarn reasoned. But he was not fit to help with this part of the plan.

Woolfgang had a powerful sister: the weaver witch, Spinstra. Spinstra, by all accounts, probably should have been a villain. For starters, she was a spider, and she was horribly large and scary to look at. But Spinstra was no villain either. She was soft, and gentle, and very quiet. Spinstra was a healer, opening up her doors to the sick and wounded to mend their fibers back together. She also had a habit of capturing nightmares within her webs to devour, which was hardly heinous if you asked Yin Yarn. Spinstra knew what it was like to be an outcast, so she showed kindness to all who weren't given any. When Yin Yarn had been arrested for his crimes, Spinstra had offered her palace as a place to rehabilitate him, in hopes that maybe he could change his ways. (He wasn't doing spectacularly on that front.) No, she could not help him either, not in the ways he wanted at least.

But there was one more member of their little family, one who wasn't quite as set in her ways. Spinstra had a daughter, a beautiful daughter that had been stitched with all the love in her heart. Her name was Bobbin. Bobbin was a tiny thing, barely taller than the hero of Dreamland himself, but what she lacked in height, she made up for in raw passion. Bobbin was curious. She loved to read and learn new things, devouring books at a ridiculous rate. She loved to crochet, she could chain like a pro and made so many trinkets and garments as gifts for her loved ones.

But for Yin Yarn, there was something of much greater interest in his niece: her magical potential. From a young age, it was clear Bobbin was on track to become a great spellcaster. She had an instinct for it, a natural knack for the craft. When she was just a toddler, he'd found her having summoned some yarn he'd left lying around to be a ladder, so she could climb to the top of the bookshelf for another story. Ever since, he knew she was the perfect candidate, someone that could help him achieve his dreams. She was young, moldable even, and that gave him hope.

There was only one problem: Bobbin had no interest in villainy. She had a great curiosity for magic, but not the same drive as her uncle. And that was a disappointment. But Yin Yarn was not one to give up. She was still ripe with potential, and he would make full use of that, in good time. For now, all he could do was set a good example, his example, for her to learn from.

After all, it’s not like she had anyone else. Who would ever want to be friends with the niece of the terrible sorcerer? She was destined to either be lonely forever, or to seek companionship with what little she had. They’d make a marvelous pair, and the world would be theirs! That was their fate. What a wonderful destiny it would be!

Unfortunately for Yin Yarn, Bobbin didn’t believe in destiny.

This is the story of Bobbin Bobble, the mage who would aim to be the greatest in Patchland.

Chapter Text

Chapter 1: A Fray in the Design

On the dim side of Treat Land, attached to the Dark Manor, there laid an old path that was not often walked upon. But should you find yourself stepping along its broken tiles, you might find your way to the abode of the Weaver Witch. It wasn't the most pleasant of sights, what with it's yarny lichen and ivy overrunning everything, but it wasn't the scariest place to be either. At the very least, four people called it home, along with a sprinkling of ghosts and rodents. And their housekeeper of course, it was a second home for him and a handful of servants brave enough to seek out employment there. But we're getting ahead of ourselves.

It was your average day at Castle Spinstra. The plucky posies were finally in bloom, the sun was shining, and the button bees were humming as they went about their work. Yes, the world was right, exactly as it should be, within the confines of the walls. The old weeping willow tree danced in the breeze, the veil of its branches shifting as the light dappled over the pages of a little mage's book.

Yes, on such a lovely day, how could Bobbin not go out and enjoy the fresh air? But bookish as always, while her body was out in nature, her head was lost in a faraway land. Tales of heroism, knights and wizards facing unspeakable evils, saving those in distress, those were the topics of today's reading. Grasping the pages with her mittened hands, Bobbin’s minty eyes sparkled with anticipation for the next chapter. Soon, Sir Urchin would make his way to storm the underwater palace. And with the help of his trusty sidekick, Mage Metaphora, he would rescue the mermaid princess from the clutches of the dreadful Lord of the Deep.

She'd read this book a hundred times by now, and yet, it didn't lose its luster. Bobbin loved a good story, and this one was comfortable, familiar even. It always turned out well, the hero always won. And that's the way it should be, good triumphing over evil.

“Oh underling!” A voice trilled out. “Come, we have work to do, no frittering away the day!”

Bobbin groaned. Of course. Typical Uncle, she thought. Yin Yarn was nothing less than the greatest annoyance to ever exist. But unfortunately, he was her burden to bear. Bobbin clasped her book shut and tucked it back in her pocket before hurrying back inside.

“Ah, there you are.” The nefarious sorcerer turned around, his grin ever toothy as he greeted her. He had a bag draped over both of his knitting needles. “Come child, we're going out. Here.”

Bobbin stumbled back a little as he tossed her the reusable shopping bag, all patched together with denim scraps and cotton squares.

“Where are we going?” She asked with an eyebrow raised.

“The market. We need more ingredients for the cauldron.” He started making his way towards the doorway.

“Oh, is it…a lot of ingredients?”

“Yes.” He huffed impatiently. “We're making a big batch this afternoon, healing potions for the castle guard.” He rolled his eye.

Community service work. Bobbin could live with that. She cracked a small smile and nodded, draping the bag across her body. She followed Yin Yarn wordlessly as they headed to the market.

It was a bit of a trek from their home to the marketplace, but Yin Yarn was quite the expert at chatting away. And Bobbin had proved herself a master of responding at just the right time to seem like she was listening. But the truth was, she wasn't paying too much attention for most of it. It was the same spiel every time, about the wonderful world he would craft for his empire, and how they would all finally be on top of society, where they belonged. It was frankly exhausting. But if he wanted to yap, he could yap all he wanted. Soon this trip would be over, and she could get back to her book.

“You know I really should find a decent metalworker once our kingdom is settled.” Yin Yarn pondered. “I'll need a nice crown if I'm to be its ruler. Or maybe a band for my existing hat. I do quite like my hat. What say you, Bobbin?”

Wow, actually calling me by my name for once? She shrugged. “Guess you'll have to see what's available. Crown's gotta match your interior decorating, right?”

“Oh you're absolutely right! Clever, clever girl.” He chortled. “Yes, the crown should match the throne room of my new palace, I think. Maybe something with claws. Have you ever seen the art from the Ancients’ era? Truly inspiring stuff. Very high quality, lots of gold. Gold would be quite fetching on me, don't you think?”

“Of course Uncle.”

“You really are so supportive, dear niece. You really should join me for the hostile takeover, we'd have such FUN terrorizing the locals.” He giggled gleefully, rubbing his needles together.

Bobbin couldn't help but roll her eyes. Not this again.

“Oh don't give me that look young lady. You know deep down you want to cause a little chaos.” He elbowed her, his bushy mustache brushing against her cheek as he leaned in a little too close.

Bobbin gently pushed him away, groaning. “Uncle, for the hundredth time, I have no interest in taking over the world with you.”

“You don't have a choice in the matter.” He trilled in a sing-songy voice. “It's going to happen, and you're going to love it!”

“Yeah, and how well did that work out for you last time? You got your butt handed to you by two marshmallows.”

Yin Yarn’s mustache spiked itself out harshly before drooping. But his button eye continued to glare at her.

“Thought so.” She smirked and shook her head as they continued their walk. “Face it Uncle, your plans for world domination aren't even close to being achievable. You're better off just serving your sentence and trying to make a change.”

“And give up on my dreams? Never.” He laughed. “You’ll see it my way someday, my dear niece.”

As they strolled into town, the marketplace was buzzing with their fellow Patchlanders. Patchwork and yarn people of all shapes and sizes were getting their shopping done. So many colors, so many textures, it was a treat for the eyes to see such a busy scene. At least, for Bobbin it was. Groceries were gathered and bagged up for journeys home. Thread and needles were packed into first aid kits. Beads were exchanged between hands.

Yin Yarn wasted no time heading to the fruit stand. He made his business quick and concise, but not quick enough. Bobbin had her hood pulled up, watching all the people going by. She quite enjoyed people watching. It wasn’t often she got to leave the palace, but when she did, it was nice to just, blend in, and observe.

And it would continue that way. Yin Yarn went about his shopping, and she would wander after him. Sometimes he would load up her bag with something he didn’t want to carry, but most of the time, she was just existing, amongst the people. It was a delicious thing, something she savored, to just breathe the same air as other Patchlanders. The closest thing she could get to feeling normal-

“OOF!”

So close.

And then it was gone.

“Pardon me! I’m so sorry!” Her little voice rang out.

The poor waddle doo she bumped into had dropped all his candy. She was quick to get on the ground and start picking it up for him. Letting down some of the yarn from her bun, she twirled a finger in the air, and with a few sparkles behind it, directed the strand to start pulling all the pieces together, before anyone could step on it.

“Oh it’s alright, no worries!” He replied. His voice was so low and gruff for a creature so small, but it was cheery nonetheless. “Thank ya kindly, miss.”

“Of course!” She smiled softly in return, her heart still pounding. It’s okay, it’s okay. You’re just a stranger. You’re alone, you’re just a stranger. Just a stranger in the market. You’re fine.

“Don’t think I’ve seen you around here before. You new in town?”

“Oh, yeah yeah.” She carefully loaded the rest of the candy back into the brown paper bag he’d been carrying it in. “It’s a bit of a trek out here, I don’t come too often-”

“Nor should ya!”

Oh sweet stars, not you, she thought. Please, please not him, anyone but him.

“What brings you back here, leech?” The voice practically spat it out. It belonged to a little yarn boy, all bundled up in a colorful coat. His beady eyes were glaring daggers at her.

Don’t give into him, just ignore him. “Hope you have a great rest of the day, sir.” She smiled sweetly to the waddle doo before turning around and trying to walk away.

“No!”

THUD!

Bobbin felt a sharp STOMP on her skirt. She whipped around, pulling on her dress to try and get it out from under his foot.

“Please, let go-” She pleaded.

“Nuh-uh, not until I’m sure you never set foot in town again.”

“Stitchian-” She grunted. “I’m grocery shopping, please, leave me alone. I promise, I’m leaving as soon as I can-”

“Whatcha got against the poor miss?” The waddle doo huffed and put his nubs on his hips. “How dare you be so rude!”

“‘Poor miss’? PLEASE!” Stitchian scoffed, grinding his foot into the ground even more as he RIPPED off her hood, exposing her face to the harsh sunlight. “You really don’t see through her? She’s the mad sorcerer’s family! She can’t be trusted, not here, not anywhere!”

The waddle doo gasped in surprise, along with several other shoppers that surrounded them. Bobbin held her head down anxiously, grabbing her hood and pulling it back up.

“I keep telling you, I’m nothing like him! I didn’t choose to be related to him!”

“Yeah, but your witchy mum sure did bust him outta prison! He should be locked up behind bars for all he’s done!” Stitchian shouted.

The crowd was closing in around them, murmuring over and over. What about, she couldn't quite focus in on, but she was sure it was about her. About how horrible her uncle was, about how much of a threat he'd been to them all. About how much of a fool her mother was. About how she was a disaster waiting to happen. No trip could happen without something going wrong. Oh that was too many eyes for one little yarn girl. Absolute chaos this was.

“Sh-she’s just trying to-”

“Trying to what? Make sure we end up terrorized again? You’re all rotten, the whole lot of you! Get out of Patchland, no one wants you here!”

“And go where, Stitchian?” She could feel the tears welling up in her eyes. She'd told herself last time she wouldn't cry, but she wasn't a very good liar. That was a promise she couldn't keep. “What do you expect me to do? I'm stuck here, but believe me, I would leave if I could-”

“Go crawl in a sock and DIE-”

“That is ENOUGH young man.”

Finally, Yin Yarn emerged from the tent where he’d gotten the last of his ingredients. He was calm, collected, and cold. At least, he appeared that way to most people. But Bobbin knew better. She could feel the burning from his chest, the way his magic flared, the way it growled in his core, it scared her. She'd been on the receiving end of his spells far too many times.

“Uncle, please, let's just go-”

“Oh no, I don't think so.” He glared at Stitchian, but his mouth soon curled into a devilish grin. His eye was lit with a purple hue, and the tips of his knitting needles were ever so shimmery. “That would be too good for a brat like him, don't you think?”

“Uncle,” she pleaded, “Please, not now-”

“Yes now!” He yelled. “You're really going to let them push you around like that? You could be rid of them all if you tried! Heck, I would be rid of them for you if you'd just-”

“I will NOT.” She yelled back, clinging tighter to the strap of her bag as she backed away from him.

“There he goes threatening us again!” Stitchian spat. “Pathetic old man, what are you gonna do, turn us into toads?”

“Oh please, I'm a sorcerer honey, not a witch. Besides, a toad is too good for you.” The sorcerer got right up in the boy's face, towering over him. Malice dripped from his tongue. “No, you would be far more useful to me as a broom. At least then you'd have to eat the dirt you insist on kicking around.” He patted the tops of his needles carefully, stroking his chin for a moment.

“Oh the horrible things I could do to you.” He leaned in closer, carefully pushing Stitchian further and further into the crowd. Everyone backed up, shaking like leaves as the terrible sorcerer drew nearer. “I could force you to sweep my entire abode, until your little knees fall clean off. I could make you a parakeet, so the only sound coming out of your wretched little mouth was a serenade, just for me. Heck, I could replace your voice with the sound of a pathetic goat’s screams if I so wished!” He threw back his head and laughed. “Wouldn't that be something! Stewart! The little goat boy! A shame I wouldn't be able to use you for cheese.”

Stitchian had acted brave and tough before, but now? Now he seemed terrified, shrinking into his coat further and further. “Y-y-you- you're a MONSTER!” He squeaked.

“Thank you for noticing! Kindest thing you've said all day!” Yin Yarn chuckled as he thrust one of his needles in the kid's face. “Prepare to face oblivion, child.”

The tips of the sorcerer's tools glowed with an ethereal light. Whatever it was charged with wasn't any good, Bobbin knew that. She had to do something!

She tried to hurry after Yin Yarn, but tripping over her stretched out skirt, she tumbled over and knocked right into him, sending his magic blast into the sky. As the eerie purple beam hit the clouds above, a terrifying eyeball opened from its fluffy center. And it looked angry. The crowd gasped and started to scream, as a terrible monster known as Kracko descended upon them, thundering as it chased everyone around the market, but especially Stitchian.

“Hey, hey hey hey WATCH THE THREADS!”

The rude little boy ran off with his tail between his legs, and Yin Yarn couldn't help but cackle to himself. Bobbin held her head in her hands from the spot where she had fallen. This was a disaster. Everyone was screaming and crying all around them, and now there was a thunderstorm monster terrorizing Stitchian.

“Hey, kiddo?...”

Quietly, the waddle doo from earlier offered her a hand. She looked at him in confusion, wiping her glasses before hesitantly taking his nub. As she pulled herself up and dusted herself off, she bowed to him ever so meekly.

“Here, you look like you need this.” He carefully handed her a candy from his bag. The wrapper was brightly colored and very secure around the spherical sweet. It even matched the minty green of her hair.

“T-thank you,” she barely managed to choke out the words.

The waddle doo gave her a little salute before running off. Amidst all the chaos, she didn't blame him. She wanted to leave too.

Yin Yarn thankfully hadn't seen it any. He was too busy cackling at all the mess he'd caused. But eventually, he came down from his high, wiping the joyful tears from his eye.

“Oh that was delightful. Your uncle's still got it kiddo! We'd best be getting back now.”

With the town all riled up, they made their path back home. Bobbin had her head hung low the entire time. This was always such a mess. She was always so hopeful that a market trip wouldn't be so bad, but every time she was proven wrong. Even with his magic restricted, Yin Yarn could still do horrible things to Patchland. Bobbin knew that better than anyone. Stitchian wasn't wrong, he was a menace. A horrible, horrible menace. But there was little she could do about it.

Frankly, she didn't blame anyone for hating her guts. She was related to the terrible sorcerer. By all accounts, she probably should have been just as wretched as he was. But she wasn't. She was just a teen. A shrimpy, vulnerable teenager. And she would've given anything to get out of his shadow. Anything to stop being tied to his legacy.

It took a while for them to get back. But once Bobbin helped unload their supplies, she was quick to run off to her room. She couldn't look at Yin Yarn anymore, not now.

In the privacy of her own little corner, she threw herself on the bed and cried. All she wanted was a normal life. All she wanted was a friend, someone who saw her for her instead of who she was tied to. Was that too much to ask?

At least she had one safe haven amidst it all. For as awful as things could be, her bedroom was at least hers. The walls were covered in so many colors. She'd quilted it all herself, making a scene that transitioned from a sunrise to a sunset across all four walls. There were crochet chains hanging from the ceiling, with little beads and charms attached, glowing ever so softly to keep her room illuminated. And all of it connected to a large dreamcatcher on her ceiling. Custom made by her mother, it served as a great protection against the worst of nightmares. Her bright pink desk was absolutely covered in craft supplies, and her journal, home to the drafts of her latest short stories. She'd have to put that wrapper there later. Maybe add it to a junk journal or something.

She was a messy crafter, but looking around the room at all she'd made, you could tell she was a skilled one too. So many plushies were on her shelves with the books, or on the bed for her to snuggle with. Some were crocheted, and some were sewn and stitched with love. She found herself snuggling up to a plushie she'd made of her dear Sir Urchin. Her book hero had to be imagined, as it wasn't quite clear what he looked like, but she'd done a decent job putting him together. Truth be told, she'd accidentally taken some influence from the great Kirby with his design.

Kirby…now there was a hero. Not just any hero, THE hero. The Star Warrior. Stories of his bravery and heroism echoed all across the galaxy, and a select few even made their way to Patchland. Kirby stood for everything that was good in the world: love, joy, friendship, good food. He was a beacon of hope, all in the form of a little pink puffball. Bobbin hadn't had the pleasure of meeting him for herself. Despite his broad tour of Patchland, he hadn't stumbled upon Castle Spinstra, though how he had missed them was beyond her. As she laid in bed, she wondered if she would ever meet him. She knew that their prince had decreed he was always welcome to visit, but when does a great hero have time to visit such a place? He probably had more important hero things to do.

Gosh, wouldn't that be the life? Being a hero of the stars, a champion of the people. Bobbin snuggled up with her plushies and stared at the ceiling longingly.

Twirling her hand, she summoned a spare strand of yarn to her grasp, twisting and turning it in the air as she laid there, lost in thought. She traced out the star systems and constellations on her ceiling, thinking about all the places Kirby had been reported at over the years. That sounded just splendid, adventuring across the universe. Fighting evil, restoring peace to the people of the land. She wished she could do something so grand. That sounded mighty important, and it sure beat whatever Yin Yarn was trying to sell her.

“Imagine. Lil old me, a warrior of the stars.” She sighed and rolled over, Sir Urchin still held tightly in her arms. “What I wouldn't give to be like him…”

RING RING!

The sound of a tinkling bell sent her jolting out of bed. Her uncle needed her again. It was probably time to brew. Guess her dreaming would have to wait.

The palace was quite old in terms of its structure. Bobbin couldn’t tell you how old it was exactly, just that it had been there for a long time before she had been born. And as such, it had all the things an old castle needed. Such as, several spiraling staircases that went further and further down, and occasionally up. But in this case, Bobbin needed to go down, down to the basement from where Yin Yarn had set up his workspace. The little mage hopped up on the railing and let herself slide down. If she really had to have her night interrupted, at least she’d have a little fun along the way.

Down in the basement, Yin Yarn’s lair was lit with the eerie glow of the candles that lined the walls. The sorcerer was bent over his cauldron, waving his needles in a very practiced pattern over the brew. You wouldn’t think such steam would come off of something involving apples and cinnamon, but then again, you’ve never quite seen a sorcerer like Yin Yarn.

“Ah, dear niece, just in time. Come, stir this for me, will you?”

Yin Yarn had gone to the trouble of setting up a step stool for her, parked right next to the hook where the cauldron spoon lived. She hurried up the steps and grabbed it, dipping the tool into the pot and immediately getting to work.

“Smells good so far,” she remarked.

“Of course it does.” He smirked as he floated over to the other side of the cauldron. “The salesman at the spice booth had the potent stuff this time. Will make for a much richer brew. Might just shave a little more time off my sentence.” He snickered.

Bobbin couldn't help but sigh. He truly had no shame. But at least this brew wasn't gonna hurt anyone.

“The guardsmen will be grateful at least.”

“Oh I'm sure they will.” He grinned like a Cheshire cat as he threw in the next ingredient. The brew shimmered and sparkled with glitter as Bobbin continued stirring. “So, what happened earlier?”

“Earlier?”

“At the market. Why was that kid bothering you?” The sorcerer inquired.

“He just…doesn't like you. Doesn't like us.” She sighed. She didn't want to go through this, there wasn't any good way to talk about it.

“A shame you're not more proficient in your studies. Stewart would make a great ottoman.”

Maybe I’d be more proficient if you bothered to teach me anything… She flinched.

“Uncle, please.” She huffed. “I have no interest in making Stitchian into a piece of furniture.”

“Stitchian? That's his name?” Yin Yarn stuck out his tongue. “No wonder he's so rude, what were his parents thinking?” He gagged. “Dreadful, honestly. But you don't have to go with an ottoman. He might make a good ladle. It'd be fun to hear him scream as we're serving soup-”

“Uncle, for the last time, I have no interest in transmutations.” She groaned.

“Well then what magic do you want to learn?” He huffed impatiently.

“Things that help people. Healing spells, constructs, stuff that-”

“The boring stuff.” Yin Yarn leaned on the edge of the cauldron, twirling his mustache. “Can't you pick something interesting? Something a little more, sinister?”

“What if I don't want to be sinister?” Bobbin looked him in the eye. “What if I want my magic to be different than yours?”

“Well you don't get to choose that silly.” He laughed. “We're of Patchland, dearest, our magic is yarn through and through.”

“You know that's not what I meant.” She huffed, grunting as she continued to stir.

“I knoooooow.” He giggled gleefully. But it soon gave way to a wistful sigh. “I really do wish you'd join me in taking over the world. It's no fun when it's just me.”

“You seemed like you were having plenty of fun on your own today.” Bobbin stopped looking at him, instead focusing on the thick brew below her. “You'll find someone better than me for that anyway.”

“Honey, you're my family. Can't just replace that.”

“Being family is what gets me harassed every time I leave the house.” She gripped the handle of her spoon tighter.

“And why should you put up with that?” He asked coyly. “Don't you want at least a little revenge?”

“I just want it to stop.” She sighed. “I just want to be normal, Uncle.”

“But normal is overrated, darling. It's much more fun to strike fear into the hearts of your enemies!~” He splayed himself out, leaning on the edge of the cauldron in a most excited and flamboyant manner.

“I don't want any enemies!” She held her hand out in exasperation. “I just want friends. Normal, teenager things! Is that too much to ask?!”

“Bobbin, dearest, friends come and go. They aren't reliable, and frankly, you're better off without them.” He waved his needles nonchalantly. “You're better off with us. Family looks out for each other.”

Yeah right, she thought to herself. Yin Yarn hadn't done a darn thing to look out for anyone but himself, ever. She scowled.

“You seem…unconvinced.” He pouted. “But your scowl is getting better, top notch.”

She rolled her eyes and tried to relax her face muscles. “I just want it to stop. I can't leave the house without someone treating me like I'm you. I'm not you, Uncle.”

“Well of course not, no one is!” He laughed. “There's only room for one Yin Yarn in this world after all. And that is moi.~”

He got quiet for a moment, adjusting the brim of his hat ever earnestly.

“You know, you don't have to take that. I’d make it all go away, if only you'd help me get these things off-”

“Fat chance, Uncle.” Bobbin stated simply.

She dared to spare a glance at him, at the golden bands that encircled his knitting needles. The shackles for his crimes, the bands that kept him from casting anything too big. Or at least, they were supposed to. They glistened under the candle light, as though they were taunting him.

“But don't you love your poor uncle? Shouldn't I be at my best, for your sake?” He pouted.

Bobbin rolled her eyes. “Aren't you the one who's always telling me to learn from everything?”

“Yes, but I hardly see what that has to do with anything. This would be a valuable learning opportunity for y-”

“Not nearly as valuable as it is for you.” Bobbin narrowed her eyes. “Far be it from me to disobey the royal family’s decrees. Until you've learned your lesson to stop hurting people with your magic, those shackles are staying on.”

The sorcerer hissed, his eye dark and cruel as he proceeded to circle the cauldron. “You do realize I wouldn't have to take so much from you if I could simply use my own, right?”

“You shouldn't be taking from me period.” She snapped back. Her hand quickly flew in front of her mouth.

But it was too late. There was no taking that back.

“What was that?~” Yin Yarn's voice was as smooth as honey, but she could feel how much it dripped with anger. Oh why did she have to open her big mouth?

“Nothing, Uncle. Nothing-”

“Oh no, that's very much something.” He hissed. Yin Yarn circled over to her as she continued to stir the pot, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She could feel his magic again, growling, ready to pounce on her. “Dear niece, you know I'm only doing what's best, right? Your pool of magic is so shallow. You couldn't possibly use it to cast any meaningful magic yourself. It's better if I put it to good use.”

His needle head rubbed across the back of her neck ever so gently. She shivered, scooching herself a few paces away with the step stool. She hated it. Oh she hated it.

“Don't touch me.” She growled.

The sorcerer sighed. “You know, you were a lot more cooperative as a child.”

“I'm fifteen, Yin Yarn. I've grown up.”

“I hardly think someone who points that out knows what those words really mean.” He chortled.

Yin Yarn threw in another couple of spices as his niece continued to stir. This was taking far longer than she wanted. Bobbin huffed and pushed as her spoon started to get caught in the stiffness.

“Don't push so hard,” her uncle warned. “You wouldn't want your feelings to color the brew.”

Hypocrite. She thought. He was just as fed up as she was. But he was unfortunately right, she needed to calm down. A potion meant to heal shouldn't be laced with her anger. She was supposed to help people. She took a deep breath, and she kept going. Soon this would be over. Soon she could go back to her book. And everything would be fine.

They kept at this for a while. The size of the batch they were making was a little bigger than usual. The king must have asked for more, perhaps there were new recruits? That was fine. So long as this was going to help people, that was good enough for Bobbin.

“There we are!” Yin Yarn clapped. “Perfect, oh this brew came out great. Now, for the final touch.”

Bobbin nodded. Soon, it would be over.

Yin Yarn couldn't finish it without her, much to her annoyance. His magic was so suppressed, the potion wouldn't have enough punch without another mage. Her magic was weak, but it would be enough to get the job done. That's what she'd learned over the years, that's how it had always been. So as her uncle wound the stray locks of her yarn hair around his needles, she sat perfectly still in front of him. He would take what he needed to weave the final part of the spell, and then she could go. That was the deal.

The sorcerer whispered his incantations, all in a tongue that Bobbin couldn't speak, but she was nonetheless familiar with. She could feel its pull, it called to her, almost like a siren’s song. The mint green of her hair turned to red as the sorcerer beckoned her magic to him, the glow of its power trailing between them. Red was a fitting color, it matched the weaving in his poncho, his favorite part. She could feel her magic as it departed, her fists clenched. It was only a little painful these days, but she was used to it. The whispers of her uncle were ethereal, ghostly, doubled over, as though it were more than just him casting such a spell. But it was just him. It was only ever him.

Bobbin could practically time it at this point. She knew how all the words went. She knew precisely how long it took to get his fill. So she would count down the seconds before she could leave. Just a little more, almost done.

But as her internal timer ran out, he wasn't done. She adjusted her posture, moving to untangle herself, only to find a harsh strand of yarn wrapping around her wrist. Grabbing her. She whipped around to face her uncle, and the look in his eye, oh it frightened her. It was stern, yet, terribly gleeful.

“Ah ah ah, not yet.”

“But-”

“No no.” He stated simply. “More”

Bobbin looked up at him weakly. “But- I don't have any more-”

“You do. You have plenty.”

He pulled at her more. Her precious magic gathered into the fibers of his being. Bobbin felt faint. This was more than she bargained for. He never took more than his fair share. Her well, it was depleting too fast. There were lots of things she knew about magic, and that was a big one: you don't dry up your well unless absolutely necessary. That was too risky.

“Let GO-” She felt so weak, so tired, like he'd gone beyond tapping into her magic.

“Oh I don't think so.” His eye narrowed. “Maybe this will teach you to be grateful.”

Her eyes widened in horror. The realization finally dawned on her. He wasn't just sapping at her magic. He was sapping at her life force. Looking down at her mitten hands, the color was draining from the tips at a rapid pace. She couldn't sit by, she had to fight back! But she was so small, and wrapped up in his hold. This was worse than the time Sir Urchin had gotten tangled in the seaweed forest. All seemed lost! There wasn't a way out!

…Yes there WAS!

With quick thinking, Bobbin reached into her pocket, grabbing her book from earlier. And with what little strength she had left, she SMACKED him across the face.

“GAH!”

Yin Yarn pulled back in pain, and Bobbin yelped as it tugged on her hair. She quickly pulled the strands up to her mouth and bit them free. Thank the stars she had fangs like a crafting blade. As soon as she was free, she put some distance between them, holding her book defensively. There was so much gray where her color had been. At least half of her body was reduced to dullness as she got a good look at herself. She was breathing heavily, her vision blurring. Just what was that?

The sorcerer got up from where he had fallen, his face seething in rage. “You little BRAT! I'll show you-”

He summoned a fireball in his grasp and proceeded to hurl it right at her. In a panic, Bobbin threw her book in its path, and both were reduced to ash within seconds. It took her a moment to realize what she'd done.

“NO!” She dove to the floor where the remains of her precious book now laid, tears streaming down her face. Her precious Sir Urchin, her hero, gone…destroyed by her good for nothing uncle.

“Serves you right…” he huffed, dusting himself off.

“What's WRONG with you? How can you be so- so CRUEL?!” She shouted.

“I'm the evil sorcerer, honey. And you're my niece.” He scowled. “One day you'll see it my way. Either you join me, or you'll meet the same fate as everyone else who opposes me: oblivion.”

She puffed up her chest and clenched her fists, trying to be brave amidst her tears. “Mom would never let you-”

“Your mother is nothing, compared to my power.” He chuckled darkly. “She's only still alive because I let her live. You're only here because I've deemed you should be.”

The sorcerer floated above her, his gaze uncaring, and ruthless, as he leaned in. He tapped her glasses to spook her, sending her tumbling backwards.

“Let's get something straight, Bobbin.” He stated coldly, a bit of a growl coming off at the end. “Patchland is only peaceful because I allow people to think it is. I could take over this realm whenever I want. And there is nothing a worm like you could do to stop me. Think long and hard about that before you try to sass me, young lady.”

He got out of her face and returned to the cauldron. Taking the final step, he dipped his knitting needles in the brew. The magic that has once belonged to Bobbin flowed through him, and into the potion they'd spent so long making. Trails of minty sparkles intertwined with the shimmering colors of the mixture. It was so vibrant, just like she usually was. A stark contrast to how she felt now.

The job was done, but…she certainly didn't feel like the work was finished. It wasn't. It never would be. It couldn't be.

In all the books and legends Bobbin had read, there were no words to describe how powerless she felt in that moment. Yin Yarn had hurt her so many times before. He knew every button to push, every nasty remark to get under her seams. But this was a new low. Never had he gone this far.

Deep down, she could feel her little heart coming apart at the stitches. Even with his magic so heavily reduced, he could still tear her to shreds. He could still hurt her family. Nothing was truly going to stop him from taking over Patchland again, was it? The royal family was wrong, her mother and Uncle Woolfgang were wrong, he was a threat! A threat to all of them! A threat to everything she loved! She couldn’t-she couldn’t let him do this any longer! She couldn’t let him hurt them!

But what could she do? She wasn’t nearly as powerful as Yin Yarn, and what little magic she did have was merely breakfast to him. No, she had to get help. But where? From who? No one in Patchland would believe her. No one would help her stop Yin Yarn, not when they were so intertwined. Not when he was so feared. She needed someone else, someone stronger, someone who didn’t know she was his niece. Someone with honor. Someone who wouldn’t let her down.

She glanced at the charred remains of her book.

Someone…like a hero of legend.

Bobbin scurried out of Yin Yarn's lair and hurried back up to her room, slamming the door behind her.

“The legendary star warrior…” She whispered to herself, her back firmly against the door, holding it shut in terror. Her voice trembled. But she stood up straight, and she said it again. “The star warrior…Kirby. If anyone can help, it’s him.” She pounded her fist onto her hand. “He’s got to…he’s just gotta!”

Bobbin clenched her teeth before running to her closet. She had to make haste. She only had so much time. He would not succeed. There was no way she was letting him get away with his threats. There was only one problem. She needed a way out. And for that, she’d have to leave her palace for another.

It was time to pay the royal family a little visit.