Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Alt-Text: Three characters are depicted in front of a pastel background, one that looks similar to that of a city skyline. At the top is Luz, whose appearance mirrors her beta character design. With long brown hair, bangs that reach just below her shoulders, and a red beanie that rests on her head, she wears a composed smile. Her outfit is steampunk-inspired, a leather tunic colored brown and tan with long sleeves. She also wears a pair of red goggles around her neck. Finally, she holds a steam-powered chainsaw in her hands that reads: "Owl's Talon". Below and to the left of Luz is a Beta-Willow, whose purple hair is cut short and rests messily on her head. The girl has a pair of glasses on with a crack on the right side and happens to have an augmented right eye that shines green. She has pointed ears, as well as a prosthetic arm. Her outfit is also steampunk-inspired, carrying the leather theme and brown colors. The collar of her brown leather jacket covers her neck, and her face is pressed into a sinister grin. Finally, to the immediate right of Willow is Beta-Amity, who wears her mane of green hair up in a half-ponytail. With pointed ears and a leather assassin's mask that's inspired by a plague doctor, she faces the side and aims her golden rifle to the right of the image. Her outfit is darker than Luz and Willow's, though still keeping the brown undertones. Her body is mostly covered by leather and harnesses that keep her rifle in place. At the bottom of the image, Golden gears sit in the foreground, lined with petals of flowers and roots that grow into the spokes.

Why she had needed to get an augmentation, Willow wasn’t quite sure. Her eyes worked fine—sure, she needed glasses, but they worked fine. They didn’t need to be replaced. 

The “minor adjustments” were ‘essential’, apparently. That was what her fathers had said. It was better to get the prosthetics installed while she was young, while the risk of rejection was next to none. This was something that would help her navigate the surrounding world. The Empire would need people like her, and even though she was only fourteen, she knew how the world worked, at least on that front. Her dads were almost certainly right. 

That didn’t mean she had to like the choice that had been made for her. 

And yet, on that cold winter morning, she found herself rubbing at her new ‘improvement.’ Her face still ached, the cold metal clung to the interior of her eye socket, and she’d already gotten a migraine. The injections and routines designed to minimize her discomfort hadn’t taken effect yet. The sensation was new, but it was only temporary. So they claimed at least. Within time, it would feel as though this foreign object had always been there, her fathers had said. They had their own augmentations, so she believed them on that, at least. 

It didn’t change how she felt right now, though. 

As they walked down the pristine streets, the cold air really only served to perpetuate the strange feeling inside her head. Absentmindedly, Willow looked up to her father. Her new eye allowed her to rapidly perceive every detail in a way she had never been able to before; his sweaty brow, fidgeting hands, and stiff posture.

“Why are you doing that?” She deadpanned, a tone not common for a child of her age. Her father flinched, but regained his composure quickly and responded with feigned cluelessness.

“Doing what?”

“Dad, you're acting super nervous. Is there something going on?” She furrowed her brow, Willow knew something was off about her father today.

“No, no, I'm not,” Forrest said as he fidgeted with the hem of his coat. “I'm just… Excited to bring you into the lab today! You know, not every child prodigy gets to drink fantastic break room coffee in her father’s top-secret lab,” The jest in her father’s tone seemed to mask his anxiety.

“I—I’m not a genius, Dad.” She said as a warm blush swept across her face. An unexpected, yet pleasant, side-effect of this, was that it made the cold metal in her eye feel slightly more bearable. “I just… Y’know, got lucky is all.”

“Are you seriously going to look me in the eyes and tell me that your experimental growth hormone was just dumb luck? Wildflower, I know you’re smarter than that.”

“W… Well, no,” She replied, trying her best to accept his compliment without letting him on to her embarrassment. Alas, even the most stoic face she could muster did nothing to hide the red flush in her cheeks. Her father gave a hearty laugh, and to that, she reddened further. “But-”

“Come on, Wildflower. When you make a myrtle pine sapling reach maturity in a week, any well-trained scientist will start to take notice,” he said as he ruffled her hair. “Try and give yourself more credit. You’ve got a lot to take pride in, after all.” 

She’d opened her mouth to respond, but briefly felt an ache where her right eye once was. Where it should be. Was she really expected to take pride in herself? 

Like this?

Their conversation came to a close as the ivy-crested entrance of her father’s lab drew nearer. With snowflakes falling lightly from the leaden misty sky, Willow couldn’t have imagined a more picturesque scenery. Walking through the entryway, though, she was reminded of how deceiving looks could be. 

She loved science, that wasn’t the part that left her feeling cold and empty. That ‘honor’ was reserved for the laboratory itself. Everything from the lifeless, barren steel walls, to the low, yellow lights gave the building an unwelcoming ambiance. It felt dreary. It felt dead. A stark contrast to the wonders such a laboratory could produce. As much as Willow knew her father loved his work, she never understood why he chose to be in a place like this. Especially not when there was an abundance of better greenhouses scattered throughout the city. 

As the two walked through the front doors and hung their coats, the outside world of snow and frost fell away. A cold chill still remained in the foreign metal embedded inside of her head, and the sickening warmth of the building quickly overtook her. 

She contemplated whether or not a person could get whiplash from temperature change as they walked through the doors of the elevator. Willow noticed how her father’s hands trembled as he pulled the releasing mechanism that would not only get the elevator moving but would also ensure that they would stop on the seventeenth floor. 

Maybe just a few days ago, Willow's apparently broken eyes wouldn’t have been able to pick up the tiny differences, and maybe she would have attributed them to the outside temperature. 

But she knew it wasn’t the cold. 

It didn’t take an augmented eye to notice the small inflictions on his face. There was a certain degree of control. A certain way his fingers quivered as he loosely gripped the elevator’s controls. A certain look in his eyes that gave it all away. 

It was fear. 

What, exactly, could he be so afraid of? She had never seen her father act this way before. Sure, he’d had his fair share of nervous falters, but nothing like this. To Willow, it looked as if his entire body was consumed by it. A long and heavy silence filled the chamber they stood in, one that only the whirring and hissing of steam within the elevator dared to interrupt. Willow heard her father’s guarded sigh resonate within the cramped walls and listened, waiting for him to break the silence.

“Wildflower, I need you to do something for me when this elevator stops, okay?” His voice quivered, but his expression was set in stone. Willow grabbed her father’s hand and held it in her own. Even in the stuffy laboratory building, it somehow felt cold to the touch.

“What's going on?” She tried to look up at him, to maybe gain a semblance of understanding for what he could possibly be going through, but he turned his eyes away and looked solemnly at the ground. If she wasn’t worried before, Willow most certainly was now. She shifted over to where his eyes met the floor, and asked again, “Dad, what is going-”

“I need you to do something for me,” he repeated just as stone-faced, and just as sternly as he’d spoken before. “I need you to head to the left of the botanical supplies closet. When you're over there, look underneath the rose bush,” the words fell out of his mouth much faster now, but her father didn't so much as stumble over a thought, "there should be a padlocked hatch. Turn clockwise, go into the boiler room, and close the Main Steam Line." Willow took notice of her father's expression—there were fleeting moments where it would soften, where his stone walls would crack. She looked up at him in confusion.

Why in Titan’s name would he want me to do that?

There were half a dozen issues with what he just asked of her, the absolute least of which being that the Main Steam Line was used to power deadlocks throughout the entire laboratory. The valves in the boiler room were interconnected, linked to nearly every chamber in the building. The system was designed so that if the Main Line’s pressure dropped, either because of backed-up pressure or a manual override, the resulting risk of an explosion wouldn't be able to damage that many of the laboratory's sectors. The logic was that if something catastrophic were to happen, at the very least, only one room would be affected. 

"Do you understand me, Willow?"

Willow let go of her father’s hand, and felt her concern turn to frustration; turn to anger.

What couldn’t he tell her that was so pressing? Why couldn’t he trust her? Why couldn’t he ever explain to her what was going on?

Feeling her anger spiral out of control, she tried to collect herself. Willow clenched her fist and tried to shut her eyes out of habit, but felt a familiar pain quickly overtake her senses. A sharp pain flashed through her skull, and she covered her augmentation. 

Her father’s eyes darted towards the elevator controls. A small bell made a short ding and an accompanying light switched on next to the floor indicator, signifying another level had been passed. He looked to Willow and back to the control board again. He seemed more frantic than before, as if every passing second dripped poison through his veins. Forrest spoke again, his resolve fading ever so slightly.

He tried to turn his voice into a forced command, like he was giving an order. “Willow. I need you to head to the Boiler Room and do what I told you. I need you to just trust me -”  

Finally, the frustration boiled over. 

“ The last time I just trusted you, ” Willow suddenly yelled, letting out days of built up anger all at once, and causing her father to flinch. “You were convinced that I was so broken that I needed to be fixed. The last time you asked for ‘just a few minor adjustments’ t- to,” she gestured to her arm, to her leg, “ all of me,” and finally to her newest augmentation. “You gouged out my eye!” She shuddered briefly, feeling the effects of her own words. “And after all of that, you expect me to trust you ?”

Willow paused for a moment, taking a breath. The explosion of all of her pent up feelings seemed to destroy any ounce of resolve her father once had. She watched as his eyes glossed over, and briefly regretted what she had said. Willow shed a lone tear from her left eye, and when nothing came of her right, she felt empty inside. After the impact, she stood in the wake of her own destruction. Her father was no longer frantic, and he had stopped fidgeting.

There was regret in his eyes, she could sense him stirring after his initial shock. The calm, calculated, meticulous father she once knew was now nowhere to be found. It took him some time to respond to her outburst, minutes of heavy silence filled only by the hissing steam of the elevator system, yet again.

“Wildfl- Willow, I…” Her father started to say, but he was cut off as the elevator suddenly came to a halt, and the longer held ringing of the bell informed them that they had arrived on the selected floor. The doors opened with a short hiss of steam, and her father turned to face them, before looking back at his daughter. 

There was something he wanted to say, Willow could see that there was. But he didn’t. 

“I… I can’t explain right now, Willow. I’m sorry, but there isn’t enough time—I need you to do what I’ve asked. It’s important. ” He backed out of the elevator, looking between his daughter, and the destination he was headed in. “I—I’ll explain everything soon—I promise. Willow, I promise you.” 

A look of regret filled her father’s face, and Willow made a motion to grab out at his hand, but he’d already separated from her and was hastily making his way over to the primary lab. 

Willow watched him break into a sprint for just a moment. She wanted to call after him, go after him—try to get… some sort of explanation out of him. 

… But what would be the point? He wouldn’t tell her anything he hadn’t already said to her. She had tried to be a good daughter, and that had failed. Then, she had snapped, called him out, and that hadn’t done anything either. 

Instead, she followed his instructions and turned around, heading towards the botanical supplies closet. Investigating was the only real way she could think of to have even a chance at getting some sort of answer to- well- anything. 

The padlock was rusted and groaned loudly as Willow turned against it. The moment she was able to creak open the hatch, the musty smells of the ill-used Boiler Room room filled her nose. Before her were an abundance of clanking metals and hissing furnaces that, when matched with the bubbling of water and steam, made for a symphony of walleyed sound. Passing numerous densely packed shelves along the way, Willow felt overwhelming anxiety settle into her conscience, despite the comfort of brass harmonies. She briskly passed the first couple of minor valves until eventually, she came upon a substantially larger one with the words “Main Line” imprinted on its frontal pipe. She positioned herself under it, and stood up on her toes, reaching up as far as she could. Gripping the cold steel, Willow turned the large valve to the right until the scraping noise of tightened metal was too much for her to handle. The pipes around her moaned and creaked as the pressure within them settled.

If he had run to the primary lab and gotten there before she had closed the valve, that meant her father was now trapped in there. Why had he been so insistent on it? What exactly was she supposed to do now? 

What in Titan’s name was he thinking? 

The sound of creaking metal from above only fed her paranoia, as if the world around her was attempting to match the agony she felt inside. She felt a chill run down her spine, and by then, she’d had enough. Rushing out of the Boiler Room and in the direction her father had gone, Willow let muscle memory take her to the entrance of the secondary experimental room. 

A reinforced metal door had been battered and bent by an insurmountable amount of blunt force. Beyond the door, screams, followed by gunfire, echoed from the interior. 

Gunfire.

What was happening? 

Was this an attack? Who would attack a Botanist’s Laboratory? 

What was happening? 

She wiped a stream of tears from the left side of her face and felt her legs start to go numb.

Where was her father?

Willow pushed forward into the once-barricaded room, and before her was utter chaos. She stifled a cough and felt bile start to rise in her throat. This room that she had grown up in, a room once chock-full of everything a young botanist could ask for, from testing compounds to a library of guidebooks, had been reduced to rubble. And worse, still, were the bodies splayed over the tiled floor. 

The bodies. 

Various bloody, riddled-with-bullets, or slashed-to-pieces bodies of various scientists that she had come to know throughout the course of her life were strewn about the lab. None of them had been armed, this was a Botanist Research Center, not a weapon manufacturer or research development workshop. Half the people here didn’t even have augmentations, and only half of those that did, actually had something that could be considered anything close to a weapon. Everyone here had been killed with no way to defend themselves.

She felt sick, only one eye dripping tears while the other still felt cold and foreign, like it was stabbing into her skull. In any other circumstance, she would have run from this horrid building, and she would have lived a life where this would stay as nothing more than a distant nightmare. 

Today, though, Willow stayed.

Today, she had to find her father.

She had to know if he was still alive.

Willow tried to head through the minor office and into the primary lab but ducked behind the offices’ small desk when she heard voices drift through the entryway. From beneath her hiding place, she found a pile of crumpled papers. Furtively, she leafed through the pages until she saw her father’s signature at the bottom. 

Even in such dire circumstances, Willow couldn't help but smile at his penmanship- both of her dads were infamously known as the sloppiest writers in The Emperor’s City. She brushed her fingertips over the ink fondly and clutched the papers to her chest. From her hiding nook, Willow could hear the sound of footsteps drawing closer and closer. She held her breath and brought her knees to her chest in an effort to make herself as small as humanly possible.

From what she could tell, nobody had noticed her yet. The voices from the second room echoed through the cracked door frame.

“...Copy. Alpha Team, this is Command. Requesting status update, over?” A radio sounded off from within the room, and a slight chuckle could be heard as a deep-voiced person answered the call.

“Command, this is Wrath. Targets dealt with, package secured. Returning to the homefront. Over.”

“Affirmative, Wrath. Be advised, Bravo Team has reported difficulty attaining their target. Divert the remainder of your squadron to assist, how copy, over?” Radio static buzzed through the corridors for a few moments before the same deep voice—Wrath, Willow assumed—answered the dispatch.

“Clear copy, Command. I’ll send the package back with a minimal team. Requesting rules of engagement pertaining to Bravo Team’s target, over.” 

“Leave nothing in your wake. Out.” The radio static continued for a few moments before it went silent. Wrath shoved the device into his pocket.

If it was ever possible to hear a grin as opposed to seeing it, Willow would swear that she just had. The deep voice barked orders at the others in the room, and the girl poked her head around the edge of the doorframe in hopes of seeing the armed guards make their way out. They didn’t, at first. It looked to her like they were collecting things from her father’s lab; not the plants, oddly enough, but the papers and manilla file folders strewn about the room. She rubbed her hand across her father’s signature once again before tucking the files under her shirt.

Hidden away in her cranny under the desk, Willow let out a shuddering breath as she heard the footsteps of the armed guards recede. Even after the soldiers were long gone, she couldn’t bring herself to leave.

“Dammit, Morton...” 

Eda mumbled quietly, slipping into an alley, cradling her arm to her chest as her eyes darted around, squeezing herself behind a large container as King struggled to fit in behind her. She swore under her breath as her arm pressed against said container, trying to hold still despite the metal digging into her side. 

Practically every other avenue of escape had been cut off. Running wasn’t an option, and giving up, after all of this, wasn’t either. All she could think to do now was hide. 

That was her only chance. 

The sound of steel-tipped boots hitting the cobblestones echoed through the alleyway as Eda pressed herself further into the shadows. With one hand pushing King behind her cloak, she held her breath and grit her teeth as two of the Emperor’s Soldiers walked through the alley, the sunset casting steep shadows as they started to poke around the debris. They were barely a few meters away from Eda as they walked, making her bite down against her own teeth more and more, as she tried to stay as still as she could so they wouldn’t spot her. 

If Eda believed in the Titan, she would have been praying to him. Instead, she just tried to slow the pace of her heartbeat.

They stopped, and for a brief second, Eda thought she had been caught. Instead, though, the two snapped to attention, and a large figure stalked down through the narrow passage, their own heavier footsteps echoing throughout the alleyway, and stopping just in front of them. 

“Any sign of her?” The gravelly voice of Wrath, one of the Captains of the Emperor's Guard, made the hair on Eda’s neck rise. She recognized his voice. 

“No sir,” The two guards chorused. A hint of nervousness was present in their voices. 

For just a second, there was a moment of silence—which was then shattered by Wrath’s hand slamming into the brick wall beside him. 

“Where in the Emperor’s name did she go, then!?” he bellowed at his subordinates. “Do you have any idea how important the information she has is? Find her, you fools!”

Eda slowly backed away, moving into whatever few shadows she wasn’t already enveloped in as King followed close behind her. The small homunculus stuck close to her legs as they squeezed through the alley, rounding the corner and breaking into a run. The sounds of Wrath yelling at his subordinates echoed through the alley behind them.

Rumors existed about the poor, sorry state of the lower levels of the city. Horror stories about the muck and machinery that occupied every square inch of the place, the run down and ill-maintained buildings, and how the people down there seemed more like drones than people themselves. Like something out of the worst dystopian images from the higher levels. 

None of them were false, Eda learned, as she wandered about the place. 

As the industrial sector of the empire, the lower levels were characterized by the overwhelming noise, soot, and machinery that wasn’t even properly covered—the gears were fully exposed, and turned in front of the eyes of those around them. Rust covered them all, and heat humidified the air around the woman. The creaking was constant, a discordant choir. Like the bones of a long-dead corpse were grinding against one another. The kind of place only the desperate would reside in. 

A perfect place for renegades to hide.

The tall buildings of these lowest levels—Bonesborough—cast long shadows over them. As they spotted a run-down building, Eda darted through a hole in the boards and entered into what looked like a partially collapsed room. Throwing the hood off of her head she sat down and leaned against the rubble with a relieved sigh. 

Even down here, there were areas that people seemed to avoid like the plague. Old sections that were run down, abandoned because they had been bought out or a piece of machinery had malfunctioned and were on the brink of collapse. Why this particular building was avoided, Eda didn’t know, but she wasn't going to complain. 

She didn’t want to be anywhere near anyone right now. 

Or ever again, preferably. 

A mechanical clicking noise came from her arm as she rested it across her lap. Pulling back her cloak to reveal her augmentation, she clicked her tongue at the sight before her.

A gear hitched, clicking as it scraped against the bent metal in her arm, stopping it from functioning—the absolute last thing that she needed. She quickly checked her arm over, extending it as the canister vented both steam and heat. She wiggled her fingers to see if they still worked, and a frown appeared on her face as her pinkie refused to move, the gear trapped by the warped metal. Deep scrapes ran down the side of her arm, with some of the metal peeling back to reveal the delicate gears beneath. The rushed escape from the capital had dented it badly. 

Dammit. 

“Did you break already, human?” King stepped into her vision, the small homunculus looking at her curiously. He stood only two feet tall and was covered by dark fur that made him harder to make out against the night and the shadows. His face was half obscured by a bone helmet, only his glowing yellow eyes visible, with two long horns jutting out from the back. He moved over and poked at her arm, Eda waving him off as she grumbled to herself. 

“I am not broken,” Eda grumbled, taking a broken piece of pipe and trying to wedge it under the bent metal in her arm. If she could bend it back to normal, then that would save a ton of trouble later on…

...But that didn’t happen. She growled at it as the metal refused to work with her, tossing the pipe away as she glowered at King, the small creature laughing at her. 

Eda rolled her eyes, pulling her cloak tighter around her, “Laugh it up fuzzball,” She snorted—after all of what had happened today, it was difficult to not find at least a little feeling of exhilaration shooting through her. 

They had managed to escape—something that Eda had thought was impossible. She didn’t know if it was down to luck, or if she was just that good, but they were free, and they were alive. For now, at least. 

It was hard not to laugh. Though it didn’t last long. 

 “...This is our new home for the time being.” 

King’s laughter halted, taking a look around the ruined building. The roof had long collapsed, half-rotted wooden boards and concrete slabs forming an improvised shelter in the corner of the room. The metal around the place was rusted orange and grey, oxygen and water turning it into a fraction of its former self in terms of both quality, and aesthetic value. The rest was bare, the noises from the street barely muffled by the thin wooden wall. And the air was humid to boot, thanks to all the broken machinery leaking steam everywhere. No ventilation system ever looked like it had been installed here anyway—not that that was a surprise.

It wasn’t much, but it would keep them hidden, and safe, at least. 

It was something. 

“This shall suffice.” King huffed, crawling under a corner of Eda’s cloak and pulling the material up around his shoulders. “For now.” 

“For now,” Eda repeated, her lips quirking up into a smile. She leaned her head back, staring up at the steel beams that reached toward the sky. Thick clouds of smog rolled over her head, signs of what had to be the nearby coal industries. Eda’s smile disappeared, looking down as she pulled out a thick manila folder, tapping it as her lips pressed together tightly.  

All of this, for a folder. It made her want to be angry. If she was or not… That was still something she wasn’t sure about. 

“Titan damn it all,” She muttered, shaking her head slightly, “Why did you have to be so damn noble, Park?” She let the file fall into her lap, putting her head in her hand as she rubbed her eyes. A wave of exhaustion crashed over her as she let her elbow rest on her leg, her eyes heavy as she slipped off into sleep. 

Tomorrow, she thought as her eyes closed, tomorrow, we’ll figure out what to do. 

Eda didn’t really sleep much anymore. When she did fall asleep, the smallest thing would be able to wake her up, and when she woke, she never really felt like she was rested. A night of restful sleep was nothing but a distant memory to her at this point. She would rest, but she wouldn’t ever be rested. Not really. 

So when the drops of water, falling from the build-up of condensation on the ceiling above her, hit her forehead, her eyes jolted open and she shot up, looking around for the source. When another drop fell and hit her head again, she looked up, saw the leaking roof, and let her head thump back against the pile of rubble—the closest thing that she had to a pillow. 

“Great,” She mumbled, pushing herself up as her joints creaked. Her prosthetic arm hung uselessly by her side, and her knees wobbled, feeling just as useless from the woman's perspective. “King.” Her voice was hoarse, swallowing past the dryness in her throat. No response. “King!” She said, louder, poking the creature with her foot to wake him up

A grunt, and then a small yawn greeted her, as King slowly began to stir awake. He turned and looked towards the mess of a Human. He gave her a tired look. 

“Still alive then, Eda?” He said, the softness and tiredness of his voice betraying the harsh question. Eda chuckled as she pulled her cloak tighter around her. Not because she was cold, but because it was the closest thing to comfort that she owned. 

Even after all this time. 

“I never thought I would grow used to this place,” Eda snorted, looking around the ruined house that had remained their hideaway for the past three weeks. 

“Yeah, well, I’m not.” King retorted, growling at the rain as he stepped closer to Eda.

Three weeks. 

Three entire weeks of hiding from the authorities, of hiding away from anyone who could even be remotely connected to the authorities, and away from people in general. Three weeks since she’d had a half-decent meal, or slept on even a tenth-decent bed. She’d stuck to the shadows, hidden away from the sight of anyone who might be able to spot her. The topside of the city taught her plenty about what to expect from others, especially those who had homes and property. 

And that was among people who had practically everything that they could ask for. What the locals down here, in this sort of squalor and poverty would do to her? She didn’t intend to find out. 

If she could help it. 

Scavenging for food wasn’t easy. And it felt like it was getting harder the hungrier she got.

Eda tried to smile, her lips barely turning upwards before her expression turned into a grimace, her stomach loudly growling. She hadn’t eaten in the last two days, and even then, she hadn’t eaten well. “Well… I guess it’s time to see what we can find. ” She sighed, already sensing a busy day ahead of her. Pulling herself through the hole in the building, her arm scraped against the wall as she tripped through the opening.

For the first week after her escape from the Empire, she couldn’t go out into the street without seeing patrols of guards around every corner. Gradually, the patrols died down and Eda slowly tried to find supplies to fix her arm and to keep herself fed. Of course, she still had to be careful, but by this point, it was more a risk taken out of necessity. The alternative would be to starve to death. 

She passed through the alleyway, nodding to King as she peered out into the main street. King scampered on the edge of the crowd as Eda strolled out, pulling her hood over her head as she scanned the people around her. A three-man patrol of the Emperor’s Guard was approaching from the other end of the wide street. Eda turned off quickly into the next alley, King scrambling over to her just before the guards passed.

“Too close,” Eda sighed, King nodding and passing her up a piece of bread that she started to gnaw on. She was barely able to get down a few bites as she felt no response from her stomach, which hadn’t been an uncommon occurrence over the past couple of days. As she walked back to the hideout, a small part of her mind tried to make sense of her ailments; her inability to keep down food, constant dizziness, and increased coughing being the most prominent of them. Something was wrong with her, and she needed to figure out what it was.

As they approached the hideout, she hesitated. The sound of humming came from inside as she cautiously poked her head in. A young girl stood there, wearing an oversized jacket that hung off of her shoulders and a worn red beanie pulled down around her ears. 

“Who is that?” King whispered, Eda shushing him as she slowly stepped into the abandoned house. 

“Hey, kid, what are you doing here?” The girl whirled around at Eda’s words, walking over as her attention was immediately pulled to Eda’s prosthetic arm, her eyes shining in curiosity. 

“Whoa!” The girl peered closely at Eda’s arm, pulling back the cloak as she picked it up, Eda twisting as she blinked at the stranger in confusion. “What model is that? Is your arm broken? What’s your name?” She fired off several questions in rapid succession as Eda stumbled over her words. 

“Cool it, kiddo,” Eda stepped back. “What are you doing here in the first place?” 

“Oh right,” the girl smiled, sticking her hand out, “I’m Luz Noceda!” King poked his head out from behind Eda cautiously, Luz gasping as she saw the small homunculus, running over and scooping him up into a hug. “Who is this little cutie pie!” she squeezed him against her chest as King wiggled, reaching his arms out toward Eda. 

“Not me!” he cried, “Human, save me!” Eda laughed, doubling over before her head started to spin, causing her to drop unceremoniously to the ground. She let out a surprised grunt of pain as Luz ran over to her, taking a waterskin from her bag, and offering it to Eda as she looked her over.

“Oh gosh, I totally forgot about that!” She propped Eda up against the wall, a sheepish grin on her face. “I’ve seen you out near the shops a lot this week and you looked worse for wear, and so I told my mom that I was gonna find out if you needed help.” She rattled off, Eda blinking as she tried to follow the girls rapid words. 

“Heh,” She laughed, taking a large swig of water as she realized how dry her throat was. “I heard none of that, kid.” She took in the sight of Luz, the kid’s eyes full of worry as she rubbed the hem of her jacket in her fingers. Her mind immediately jumped to thoughts of a trap; was this girl hired by Lilith, or was she looking to cash in on the bounty? She laughed inwardly.

Well, there wasn't much else she could do anyway. 

“Yeah kid,” she waved her hand, “whatever you wanna do, alright?” Luz must have continued to talk while Eda was lost in her own mind as she bolted off, Eda letting the waterskin fall into her lap.

Time must have passed because she heard the rapid pounding of footsteps, idly noting that there were more than just one set. As she felt her heart plummet, she looked up defiantly to meet her fate. She was slightly surprised when her eyes met with a warm pair of brown eyes, similar, yet different from Luz’s. Warmer, almost, but they conveyed a lot more exhaustion at the same time. 

After seeing Luz trying to peer over the woman’s shoulder, and noting how similar they looked, Eda figured the woman must be Luz’s mom. She wore her hair up in a loose bun, and she had on a pair of worn, scratched glasses.

“Sweetheart, could you go ahead and get some soup on the stove back home?” The woman turned to Luz, who gave an enthusiastic nod before running off. After taking a moment to watch Luz leave, she turned back to Eda. 

Eda felt an arm wrap around her shoulder as she struggled to get up before collapsing again. She felt herself move as she was suddenly lifted by a strong pair of arms, blinking in confusion. 

“How can we trust you?” King narrowed his eyes in suspicion, “You could be working for the Emperor for all we know.” Eda let her head fall back, looking up at the woman. 

The woman paused for a moment, raising an eyebrow at the tiny creature. “The Empire is looking for you?” 

King blinked like he just realized what he had done. Eda groaned. “Fantastic subtlety, King.” 

A small laugh followed. “I hold no love for the Empire.” The woman said, her eyes narrowing. “But in her state,” she looked down at Eda, the woman limp in her arms as her eyes swam in and out of focus, “do you really have a choice?” 

King huffed, lowering his head with a small shake. “Fine.” He pointed a small claw at her, “But I am keeping an eye on you, human.” 

“My name is Camila,” King grumbled as Eda patted Camila on the shoulder.

“He does that for everyone,” Eda leaned in as if to tell a secret, not lowering her voice at all, “He thinks it makes him look tough, but he’s a big softie.” 

“Well excuse me for trying to keep you from getting shipped off to the Emperor.” King rolled his eyes, crossing his paws in front of him. 

“King, you shouldn’t worry,” Eda slurred out, her voice wavering, “You know Belos doesn’t hire just anyone. I mean look at Wrath.” She giggled to herself. She heard King grumble to himself as she felt her eyes grow heavy, all of the stress that her body had felt for the past three weeks catching up to her at once. 

“Rest,” Camila turned back to her, “You’re safe now, Eda.” 

Eda tried to slur out a question, feeling the vibration from the woman’s laughter. Her body relaxed, letting her eyes close as she gave way to unconsciousness.

Alt-Text: A brown, ceramic pot sits in the foreground. White streaks are shown at the bottom, showing the viewer that the pot has aged with time. Etched into the front of the pot is one word, "Evergreen", with pointed lettering implying that they were written by hand. In the pot, there is a bed of soil that holds a small plant. It's a young tree with three small branches, two of the three leaves on its stalk are green, and the last one (that sits at the top of the image) is brown. Attached to the rightmost branch is a strand of spider silk, on which hangs a small coal-spider.

A SPECIAL MESSAGE FROM OUR AUTHORS:

Hey all, Regalkasherai here as a representative of The Good Witch Society Discord Server. I hope you all enjoyed our first iteration of the Project: Evergreen series. This is a multimedia project dedicated to The Owl House, showcasing creative talents from writers from every nook and cranny of this INCREDIBLE fandom. On that token, here's a little word from some of our authors:

DesmondKane: I'm a fanfiction writer and huge supporter of everyone involved in this awesome project. When they aren’t suffering through school or writing fanfiction they watch She Ra and The Owl House. Simultaneously.
They are also the authors of “Look at you, Strawberry Blight,” and “The Wrong Blight.” As well, they now have the jazz rendition of Creep stick inside their heads for reasons that will hopefully become apparent soon!

QuirkQuartz: Alright, funs over - I’m here - ‘Ello! I’m QuirkQuartz- I’m known for Valeween, a joint project between me and GWS member JuliaCorvia Guitar Strings and Flower Petals, and apparently being the funniest person in the Good Witches Society for reasons COMPLETELY beyond me but anyway - I’m not actually a huge fan of AU’s or the Beta versions of the ToH cast, but I enjoy being in the society and this idea so much I decided to make an exception and now I’m here as opposed to being a productive member of society or finishing my own work - And also because I have no self-control. I do hope you enjoy this work - Because I enjoy working with some of the best people I think the ToH fandom has to offer and would love to see everyone here accredited for that effort!
Fun fact about me - Alden's number suggests that the workers of the world, Unite - And anyone who understands what that means either now uncritically adores or violently hates me. Have fun with that one!

JuliaCorvia: Hello readers! Welcome to the start of this fantastic project! yet another in my ever-growing pile of works... hooray! thank you all for reading and I hope you enjoyed it. If you want feel free to check out my other long work, Replace My Name (Maybe With Yours) - a good old found family fic heavily featuring Lumity (and Camileda what can I say) Special headcanons of the week for this fic! Eda has to work a lot on her pride, as she feels everything she does is untouchable and deserving of greatness. the other is that Luz is non-binary, that she uses she/they pronouns. Luz always made sense to me as enby, so when I write them I think of that. Thanks again for reading and see you in two weeks.

Quetzalcoatl: I'm here with your otter fact of the chapter: A group of resting otters is called a raft. Otters love to rest in groups. Researchers have seen concentrations of over 1,000 otters floating together. To keep from drifting away from each other, sea otters will wrap themselves up in seaweed, forming something that resembles a raft.

Chapter Text

Chink -

The muscles in Luz’s shoulders burned as the pickaxe seemed to uselessly bounce off of the unyielding stone in front of her. A small sliver of coal broke off from the rock overhang, and Luz’s face fell at how little she was able to chip off. 

Rolling her shoulders, she took a deep breath as her nose wrinkled from the harsh smell of the blasting powder and coal dust. She coughed as the sharp smell filled her nostrils, pawing at her nose and trying to wipe it away with little success. If anything, she felt like she had made it worse. 

Chink -

Pulling her jacket tighter around her body, Luz brushed some dust and dirt off the heavily patched-up sleeves. Her beanie fell over one eye as she tried to shake off the dust, and Luz grumbled as she took some time to adjust it. She pulled the beanie tighter around her ears before reaching down to heft her pickaxe again. 

Chink -

The handle was worn, the pattern of the wood grain barely visible. The metal head was dented in places. Where the metal met wood, there was a small flourish of gears stamped onto its surface, framing the mess of rivets that seemed to keep the tool together. Luz smiled—Eda’s small artistic flare made her mother’s tools stand out against the others, which were scattered about the twists and tunnels of the mines. 

“First day?” 

A scratchy voice made her turn, an older woman sitting in an alcove hewn into the rock face. Her puffy blonde hair stood out against the charcoal-stained overalls she wore. Her eyes were kind as they looked towards Luz, holding out a water skin towards the girl with a warm smile. 

Luz nodded, taking the water skin and quickly gulped down the water inside. It was cool, refreshing, and cleared her throat from the dust. Once she finished, she let out a small gasp. 

“Thanks.” She handed the skin back, smiling gratefully. “Er, yeah- pretty obvious, huh?” She asked, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. 

The woman gave a small, dry chuckle, a side effect of dust in her own throat. She took a swig of her waterskin before answering Luz. “I’ve been working in these mines for a few years now, and I’ve seen many come and go. And kid, I know those aren’t your tools. You don’t see a pattern like that just anywhere in the mines,” She pondered for a moment before continuing, “Y’know, the only person I’ve seen with tools like those is Camila Noceda.”

Luz winced, mildly embarrassed. “I—uh—forgot about that.” The woman gave a hearty laugh, slapping her hand on her thigh as a small whistling came from behind her. A small brightly colored bird hopped out from behind her shoulder, fluttering over to her hand. The bird perched on her fingers, bright blue feathers with pink and purple splashes of color on the wings. 

She smiled ruefully, giving a small whistle as the bird preened. “Sorry there, girl.” She turned back to Luz, noticing that the girl was staring at the bird with excitement. In these bleak, stuffy mines, it was rare for the girl to see something so colorful—so alive. “This is Girda.” the woman stood up, holding out her other hand. “And I’m Laurie.” 

“I’m Luz. Luz Noceda.” She eagerly shook Laurie’s hand, a grin on her face.

The heavy stomping of boots that echoed from further down the tunnel made the two of them turn, rapidly picking up their tools and starting to swing away at the stone. Just as they started, one of the supervisors leisurely strolled by, flanked on either side by soldiers from the Emperor’s guard. 

Luz’s hands stung as she gripped the pickaxe harder, and a small wave of panic rolled over her as the supervisor drew nearer. He was an intimidating figure, often towering over most of the miners and even the guards. And from what little she knew of him, he had no sense of humor, much to her chagrin. She grit her teeth and steeled her nerves, so she could focus on doing her mother’s job, hoping that he wouldn’t notice the change in staff. 

Normally, the supervisors didn’t much care who exactly did the work—so long as it got done. But, if they saw something out of place—for example, someone who wasn’t supposed to be there finishing someone else’s work—then that would be the perfect excuse to withhold their wages. The supervisors were always looking for excuses to pocket some extra cash.

She lifted the pickaxe once more to deal another blow to the rock face in front of her. A hard swing sent vibrations running down her arm, her hands reflexively opening and fumbling over the tool. She scurried to grab hold of it, and caught the pickaxe right before it hit the floor. One of the guards turned to look at her, and putting her head down so she could continue to swing, Luz winced as she felt fresh blisters on her skin. As the guards moved past, the one who had stopped to look at Luz stood still for a moment. 

For the life of her, Luz could have sworn that the guard could hear her heart hammering away at her ribs, seeing the silent figure tilting their head slightly in her peripheral vision. For a moment, she expected a hand to land on her shoulder, and a demand for an answer to be yelled at her.

It didn’t happen though—their mind seemingly made up, the guard turned on their heels, and their cape ruffled slightly as they fell back into line with the rest of the guards, moving around the bend as they continued to stalk the tunnels. After a few seconds, they were gone, just as quickly as they had appeared. 

A sigh of relief escaped her. “That was… Way too close.” Luz muttered as she dropped her pickaxe out of exhaustion. She flexed her hands, her palms red from the pressure of gripping the rough wood. A splinter had dug itself under her skin, and she used her teeth to try to pull the thing out. 

“Your mother doesn’t have a clue about all of this, then?” Laurie stopped her work for a moment, wiping her forehead with her arm. She leaned on her own tools and looked towards Luz. The young woman tried to stay cool under her gaze. 

“O- Of course she does,” Luz laughed nervously. 

The older woman raised one eyebrow in suspicion. 

Luz sighed, and her shoulder slumped, “Okay fine, no she doesn’t. But, she has a cold and refuses to rest, so I thought I would go in for her today. They clearly don’t give a damn.” A note of bitterness entered her voice, her eyes narrowing as she looked in the direction that the guards had marched. Her gaze drifted back to Laurie, who grimaced as she leaned heavily against the wall. 

“Just as long as it’s another body,” Laurie grumbled. Luz had heard her mother talk about the mines like that sometimes, and there seemed to be something of a universal understanding between everyone who worked there. The people who ran this place really didn’t care about any of their workers. They were bodies there to do a job and nothing else. 

Today’s experiences made that crystal clear.

Laurie winced as she gingerly put weight onto her right leg. Luz’s eyes flickered down at what appeared to be a rudimentary prosthetic foot, crudely shaped metal attached to a rusted hinge. 

“Woah, is your leg… Uh...“ Luz stumbled over her words, not wanting to come off as rude. “That’s- uh- a cool-looking foot you’ve got there.”

Laurie raised an eyebrow, giving her an incredulous look. “You think so? Well, bless your heart. This ol’ thing rusts something awful when it rains, and I’m thinking it cracked last week. I haven’t been able to scrape up the money to get it checked out since my husband lost his job.” She paused for a moment. “Been meaning to ask Camila, you think that the Owl Lady could give it a once over?”

“She’s the greatest prosthetic expert in Bonesborough, I just know she’d be happy to check it out,” Luz said, thinking fondly of the woman’s over-inflated ego. 

The sound of footsteps echoed back from the tunnel, spurring them into action. Hefting her pickaxe, Laurie smiled at Luz. “Heh, with the way you talk about her, I’ll bet she is. Thanks again, kid.” 

She started to swing her pickaxe as the footfalls neared. Luz returned Laurie’s smile and gripped her tool. The pain of her blisters make the girl grimace, and her sore arms strained against the impact of her swings. 

“Just a few more hours,” She mumbled to herself, the clamor of tools hitting stone ringing in her ears. 

The wind whistled as it ran through the buildings of Bonesborough, the towering steel girders straining to hold up the flimsy structures barnacled onto them. The ramshackle wooden buildings affixed to the scaffolding swayed in the wind as soot swirled lazily above the streets. Luz gripped onto the wire rail of the bridge, her gait adjusted to the swaying winds. She nodded and smiled to the people she passed, all the while adjusting the sack of tools on her back with a small grimace. Her hands were sore, torn in places that made it difficult to keep the rough canvas from aggravating her blisters. 

Alongside the wind, the sounds of metal canisters clanking against one another drew Luz’s hand down to her belt. She tried her best to muffle the sound as soon as she caught sight of the Emperors’ soldiers, their distinctive beaked helmets clean against the backdrop of steam and soot. Luz tensed her shoulders at the sight of the guards and gripped the canisters. She was already cutting it close on time, and didn’t want to have to explain her whereabouts to the guards.

She kept her eyes on the sentries as she passed, letting the tension release from her shoulders as she crossed the bridge. The network of platforms and walkways cleared as Luz took an offshoot, climbing up a narrow walkway that snaked up one of the large steel structures. 

Bonesborough’s skyline became visible as she climbed, the sun piercing through the haze of steam that hung above the city, dancing across the rusted architecture. Luz paused, smiling to herself softly as she leaned against the rough steel, taking a sketchbook that also hung from her belt and quickly filling in one of the pages. She tapped her foot on the metal as she sketched the scenery in front of her. 

While she drew, her fingers traced the well-worn binding of her notebook, and a smile quirked at her lips. Her mom had sewn it together with loose paper from Eda’s sketchbooks, handing it over to her with a wink as Eda searched her small workshop for the missing materials. Luz traced one of the arcs of the skyline with her hand, slightly smudging the ink as she hummed out a small tune to herself. 

A drop of water splashing across the page snapped her out of her drawing, startling the girl, and reminding her of where she needed to be. She hurriedly snapped her sketchbook shut, and took off up the rest of the stairs, taking two at a time, and when the need arose, ducking under a few steel supports as she made her way into the main structure of the building. She slowed down, catching her breath for a moment as she stretched her back; the tools dug rather uncomfortably into her side. Nevertheless, Luz shook herself out and slowly started to move through the narrow passageways before arriving upon a plain, wooden wall. 

“Hooty,” Luz rapped on the door, tapping her foot impatiently before sighing to herself. She ran her hands down the side of the wall, wincing as she pressed against her blisters. She found a small seam, digging her fingernails into it as she pulled.

A panel popped out of the wall, clattering onto the ground, Luz letting out a small groan of frustration, noticing the pressure gauge which ticked rhythmically at zero. She grumbled to herself, reaching into the mess of gears, fishing out the empty canister as she tried to screw in a replacement. She felt around for the pressure valve, letting out a triumphant cry upon connecting everything together and opening the intake.

The sound of a sharp hiss of steam etched a wry grin to Luz’s face as she stepped back, clutching the empty canister in her hands. She hefted the panel back onto the wall, giving it a thump, knocking it back into place.

“Hoot hoot!” Two eyes opened on the wall, revealing a small disk fashioned to look like an owl’s face. 

“Hey, Hooty,” Luz let out a sigh as she tossed the canister from the side of the building, clicking her tongue at the waste, “Eda forget to check the pressure again?” 

“Oooooh, so that’s why everything went black! Hoot! Well, you know her, al-ways forgetting things.” Hooty’s face rotated in the doorway, spinning around a few times as Luz’s lips quirked up in a smile.

“I’ll talk to her, Hooty,” Luz promised, shifting in front of the wall, “So, er, can you let me in now?” 

“Sheesh, nobody ever wants to talk to Hooty.” The sound of gears clicking from inside the wall made Luz’s shoulders fall with relief, the door sliding open in front of her.

She let out a tired sigh, smiling wearily as she stepped into the house. The doorway opened up into a living area—a large patched couch in the center and a stand on one side where a small owl looking mechanical creature perched on an outstretched metal bar. 

Luz clicked her tongue as she went over to Owlbert, checking the back of the construct. Her face fell again as she saw only empty canisters. She swiftly replaced them and flipped a small switch on Owlbert’s back, a hiss of steam escaping from under the owl’s wings as he let out a soft coo. 

“Hey there, Owlbert, did Eda forget about you, too?” Luz held up the small owl-like machine, letting him hop onto her fingertips as he cooed contentedly. His yellow pupils shrunk as he gave a loud hoot and took off from her hand.

 Following his flight, Luz turned around as Owlbert flew behind her—only to see her mother standing in the doorway to the rest of the house. Owlbert set down on her shoulder as the older woman narrowed her eyes at Luz, looking between her and the large, canvas bag at her feet. 

“Er… Hey, mami.” Luz tried to give a small smile and a half-wave as Camila lifted one eyebrow. “How was your day?” Luz scratched at her cheek awkwardly as she scuffed her foot on the ground. 

“Luz.” Camila’s voice was stern and left Luz chuckling nervously. “You went to the mines today, didn’t you?”

Before Luz could respond, though, Camila coughed into her hand. Quickly it evolved into a series of loud, throaty wheezes that refused to calm down. The girl rushed over to help her mother over to the couch. 

“You’re still sick, mamá,” Once Camila was sitting down, Luz quickly ran to the sink to get her some water, and called back behind her, “Someone has to do your job, or they’ll hold your wages again. I don’t want you to push yourself while you’re not at your best. I know you’re working hard enough just to take care of us here.” 

She returned and passed her mother the glass of water. Camila downed it within just a few seconds and put the near-empty glass on the nearby table. She let out a sigh, rubbing the bridge of her nose. 

“Mija, it’s just a cold,” Camila looked away slightly, “It doesn’t mean that you should go in for me. You missed your lessons with Eda, and she needed you here to run for a few parts.” 

The lessons could wait, as far as Luz was concerned. “But-” 

“I’m fine, Luz. You don’t need to start taking my job when you have plenty to do here.” 

Camila reached out, taking Luz’s hand. She winced—blisters and cuts from her day in the mine still left her hands raw. The touches, gentle as they were, still stung. Camila drew her hands back, and her face fell into a sad smile. 

“Come here.” She patted the space next to her, and Luz plopped down onto the couch. Camila took out her hanker-chief, splashing what was left of the water from the glass onto it, and gently turned over Luz’s hands. She tried to keep her voice from wavering as she saw the fresh blisters, gently wiping at them with the damp cloth. 

It caused Luz to hiss slightly, but the cold water helped to null the pain, just a little. She managed to smile, just slightly. “Thanks, mom.”

“Kid, that you?” 

From elsewhere in the house, Eda’s voice made her presence known. The sounds of metal tools clattering, and quite possibly something else breaking followed almost instantly afterward. Camila smiled fondly as she rolled her eyes. 

“You missed her lesson, remember? She was worried about you, cariño.” Camila whispered to Luz, as Eda stuck her head around the corner. 

Eda’s grayed hair was up in a messy bun, a wrench barely holding it in place. A bandoleer was slung over her shoulder, each pocket stuffed full of tools and loose parts. One of her eyes was comically magnified, a glass piece in front of her face. She flipped it up as she walked around the corner, and Owlbert flew over from Camila’s shoulder to land on Eda’s head. 

“Oh! Hey, buddy, there you are.” She reached up and patted Owlbert’s head, “I didn’t see you around today. Or you for that matter.” She turned to Luz, looking at Camila cleaning the blisters on Luz’s hands and the streaks of soot on Luz’s face. It quickly made her realize why she hadn’t seen her all day. “Oh.” 

“Er… Eda, you forgot to check Hooty’s pressure again.” Luz tried to change the topic, leaving Eda to blink in confusion. She thought for a moment, then groaned as she put her head in her hand. 

“It’s okay—I forget about me too sometimes! Hooty Hoot! ” A muffled voice came from the wall. 

To that, Eda shifted, and a tense atmosphere filled the room as Luz tried to look away from Camila. She had a feeling that she’d just made the situation worse. 

“Er… H—Hey kiddo,” Quickly, Eda reached into one of the pockets on her bandoleer, and tossed Luz a few spare coins. They landed on her lap, her hands still too sore to catch anything “I need some parts for tomorrow’s repairs, I’ll be fixing the rest of Viney’s leg.” When Luz didn’t respond, mostly out of confusion, Eda continued. “You know Viney from around the borough, right? She’s got a bent knee plate after taking a nasty fall, I hear she was trying to fix the wiring at her parents' place.” Eda waved a list in her hand, “If you make it before they close, I’ll let you keep the change.” 

To that, Luz’s face lit up, “I’m on it!” She hopped off of the couch, hesitating slightly before she gave Camila a quick hug. 

She grabbed the list from Eda’s hand, and her eyes scanned over what she was looking for—spare metal, nails, wires, and a particular type of grease if it was available. None of that would be too hard to find, she thought to herself, quickly making her way towards the door. 

“Thanks, mom!” She called behind her, closing the door as she left.  

 Unknowingly, she had left Eda blinking in surprise as she felt her mouth stretch up in a grin. She looked up to see Camila smiling at her, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes.

“Ah—I, I promise I didn’t tell her to-” Eda stumbled over her words, her grin fixed on her face despite the awkwardness that caused her to trip over her own tongue. Camila gave a soft laugh, and Eda felt her heart skip. 

She cursed herself for her sappiness before she felt her chest hitch again—now, she wasn’t sure if it was the moment, or if something was wrong. She shook her head and reached up to clutch at the fabric of her shirt over her chest. 

Damn heart. 

Her mood fell as she thought about her health. It had been getting harder for her to keep herself going. She flexed her hand, opening and closing it as she heard some of the rusted gears grind against each other—How much longer would she be able to go on without parts from the Empire? She glanced up at Camila, the woman giving her a worried look. 

“What’s wrong, corazón?” Camila walked over and gently reached for her hand, taking it in her own. 

Eda attempted to smile reassuringly, her lips only twitching slightly upwards in response. Worry washed over Camila’s eyes as her hands gripped Eda’s tightly. 

“It’s fine.” Eda managed to get out, looping one arm around Camila’s shoulder. “Just... Stress from the repairs. We had a rough one today.” Eda felt her stomach turn as she lied to Camila, trying not to meet the shorter woman’s eyes. 

Camila put her head against Eda’s chest, her breath slowing as she relaxed into the taller woman’s grip. A smile unconsciously made its way onto her face as the beating of Eda’s heart drummed away in her ear. The sound calmed anxiety that had been building up for a long time now and felt a wave of peace wash over her. The two stood wrapped in each other’s arms, Camila about to open her mouth when she noticed a strange sound. 

Underneath the beating of Eda’s heart was a small clicking noise, almost a second out of sync with the steady beating of her heart. She clutched Eda’s shirt, pulling herself closer to the woman as she tried to hear the noise, a sudden double click from it accompanying a wince from Eda. Camila scrambled back, looking at Eda as the other woman rubbed her chest with a pained smile. 

“Querida,” Camila’s voice was weak, barely able to cross the short distance between the two of them. “What…” The words caught in her throat, triggering another round of coughs as she felt her lungs struggle for air. She stumbled forward, Eda immediately catching her and looping the woman under her shoulders as she struggled to hold her upright. 

A grinding noise came from Eda’s arm and her eyes flared in alarm, her prosthetic falling limp as her other arm strained to keep Camila upright, the two of them tumbling to the ground as Eda pulled Camila into a protective embrace. She winced as she fell hard against the wall. Her prosthetic gnawed at her skin as the weight of two people pressed into it. 

The two of them sat there and caught their breath for a moment before Eda shifted, groaning in pain as Camila propped herself up onto her knees. Her hand shakily reached for Eda’s shoulder. “May I?” She asked hesitantly as concern welled in her eyes. 

Eda nodded silently, eyes downcast.

Camila gently pulled Eda’s shirt back from her shoulder. She winced as she saw the raw skin, and shifted her weight as she laid a hand on Eda’s shoulder. Her fingers gently ran over the scars where metal met flesh, and she looked to Eda again for approval. The woman nodded, and Camila ran her thumb down the connecting seam. The cold metal pressed hard into the skin, she could tell that much from Eda’s sporadic winces of pain. Her gaze softened, gently leaning down to press a kiss where skin met steel. 

She’s so strong—Camila thought with a gentle smile on her face, feeling the difference between the prosthetic and her skin. She thought back to when Luz first brought Eda into their lives, a guarded woman with a life full of secrets. Now, she was teaching Luz mechanics and helping to keep their small family together. And it took a long, long time, but she would help those within their community, too, when the cost to go into the Empire for repairs was too great. She was crafty, and known among the borough for her skilled prosthetic works—a service so essential to so many people, that it was impossible to imagine how they’d have gotten by without it.

That had to be her biggest achievement yet. The one Camila was the proudest of her for. 

Her eyes started to water, trying to keep the tears held back as she rested her head against Eda’s shoulder. 

When Eda turned around to lock eyes with her, she smiled.  The other woman’s eyes were pained, tired, and eventually cast down to the floor. That’s when Camila felt her resolve shatter. 

Tears leaked out of the corner of her eyes as she crumbled into Eda’s side. The other woman instinctively curled protectively around her, and Camila let out a shuddering breath as she tried to hold it back, failing to speak around the lump in her throat. She felt Eda’s thumb try to wipe away the tear tracks, but inadvertently left a small stain of grease along her cheek. Camila didn’t mind though, instead leaning into the contact as she slowly opened her eyes. 

“When I was a child,” She started, her voice raw as Eda patiently looked at her. “My mother and father would leave early to work in the mines.” She gazed off wistfully, a sad smile on her face. “They would leave these little snacks with notes, and my father would draw little pictures on them. My mom would make up stories to go along with the pictures, about the two of them fighting off monsters in the mines.” Her breath hitched as she smiled. “That was why they would come home tired and with sores on their hands, busy fighting monsters in the mines. I wanted to be just like them someday.” The two of them laughed softly, Eda gently taking Camila’s hands. 

She turned them over, revealing the hard calluses, rough and weathered. Eda ran her thumb gently over the rough blisters, stopping when she felt wetness, Camila’s tears falling from her eyes and rolling off of her chin. 

“... My hands look like theirs now.” She said, a shuddering sob turning into a cough as she rested her head on Eda’s shoulder, Eda gently patting her back. 

“You don’t ha-” Eda started, Camila’s finger coming up to rest gently on her lips. Camila smiled up at her, shaking her head slightly. Eda took her hand in hers, moving it from her face and giving a solemn nod.

“One day, my father came home and started coughing, and my mother followed soon after.” Camila’s eyes were vacant, a blank expression on her face. “They… They didn’t last long after that. They stuck it through for a year after the coughing started, but once it started, there was nothing we could do…” She trailed off, Eda gripping her tighter as dread pooled in her stomach.

“... Black lung,” Eda whispered, Camila swallowing before she nodded. Eda felt her stomach turn, and her heart iced over. Her mouth went dry as she tried to form words. “Wh- When? How long?” 

“The coughing started a few months ago. I thought it might’ve just been the chill, but even after we fixed the leaks it didn’t stop.” 

As run down as the buildings around here got, maintenance was constantly an issue. Back then, the heating had blown out. Eda had managed to fix it, and for a while, that was what Camila thought the cause of her cough was. 

It was easier than actually facing this. 

Camila smiled sadly, “It’s getting harder to work each shift.” The lump rose in her throat again, and she needed to take a few seconds before continuing. “... It might just be you and Luz soon.” 

The expression on Eda’s face made Camila’s heart sink. Titan knew she didn’t want to be saying this, that she wished none of it was true—but Eda deserved to know. 

She needed to be prepared. 

“... At least now, I know that my daughter will be in good hands.” She let out a sad chuckle. Her eyes were shut, trying to keep the tears in. 

“No. No, no, no, there—there has to be a way to fix this.” Eda’s leg bounced anxiously as she tried to run through her options. Her voice was quiet. Fear flooded her mind. This couldn’t be happening. Black Lung was preventable- it should have been easy to save her- this couldn’t be real. 

Camila wasn’t supposed to… 

“There has to... There has to be some way- some way we can get something to breathe for you! Or- or just no more going into the mines—I can…” 

“Mi búho,” Camila took Eda’s hands. How in the world she was being this strong about this, Eda didn’t have a clue. “You can’t leave the house without the emperor’s guard arresting you on sight.” She took Eda’s metal hand in hers, gently patting it, “And, querida, don’t think I haven’t noticed that your arm’s been having trouble.” Eda looked away, Camila gently turning her head back to look at her. 

“I-” Eda pressed her cheek into Camila’s hand. She wanted to be able to shoulder this. She wished that she could. That was what Camila was asking her to be ready to do. To be able to. To be strong for Luz. 

But she couldn’t. 

“... That’s not all.” She finally said, the words tarnished her mouth as they spilled out. They felt like poison.

Camila bit her lip anxiously, waiting for Eda to continue. Eda sighed, fighting the urge to run away as she started to speak, her eyes shut tightly. 

“... I told you that I had a sister, right?” she asked, not waiting for an answer before she forged ahead. “We went to school together, always were inseparable. Eda and Lily, ready to take on the world together.” She gave a short laugh, shaking her head. “We did too, we were the best alchemists out there. Until I got hurt, that is.” 

Taking her hand, Eda placed Camila’s hand on her chest, the steady thump of her heart pounding against her hand. 

“You heard it, didn’t you?” 

Camila gave a hesitant nod in response. 

“There was an accident in the lab I was working at, I got hurt bad, and the only way that we were able to keep my heart going was to force it.” 

Eda opened her eyes, meeting Camila’s soft gaze as she let out a breath she didn’t even know she was holding. 

“I’m breaking down, Cami.” She hung her head, “I don’t have the parts or the tools to replace anything.” She felt Camila’s hands cup her face, tears leaking from her eyes. “I can’t help myself, and now I can’t help you. I thought that I could make things easier here for you and Luz, that I could be selfish and let myself” 

Her voice broke, pulling Camila tightly against her as they sat in silence, leaning up against the hard walls. 

“...I thought I would make it easier for the two of you when I was gone.” Eda’s voice was soft, her monotone defeated as she hung her head, Camila idly rubbing her hand as the two of them sat in silence.

The two of them sat still as the shadows of the room lengthened, a heavy silence falling over both of them. Camila gently played with strands of Eda’s hair, the taller woman feeling her eyes grow heavy. 

“Eda?” Camila asked, her voice scratchy, “What do we do now?” 

Eda bit her lip, staring vacantly at the room in front of her. Her mind flashed with images; memories of her and Lily excitedly presenting their new data, their new miracle that would change the world. 

It could work, couldn’t it?

She shook herself out of her thoughts, leaning her head against Camila’s as her mind raced, trying to figure out what to do. There was a window in her line of sight, and she looked out of it through tear-filled eyes, beyond the mines that made up their borough and let her eyes fall upon a cover of pine trees on the horizon. Their needles swayed in the wind, bright green despite the cold chill of winter in the air. 

Evergreen Trees—she thought. Their life sustains.

“... I don’t know Cami,” Eda muttered, her mind flashing to the folder that had gotten her here, trying to rationalize going back to it after all this time. 

In her sorry state, she didn’t even know if she could. 

"I don't know."

Alt-Text: Two women envelop eachother in a warm embrace, a maroon background sitting behind them. One of the women, Edalyn Clawthorne, reaches out her prosthetic arm to hug the other tightly. The arm is comprised of gold bearings, and several golden gears, though appears broken at the seam closest to her forearm. Eda's hair tied back in a ponytail and smeared with residue, presumably from tinkering day in and day out, and her golden eyes are glossed over in tears. The woman she hugs, Camila Noceda, wears her hair in a loose bun and has on a dirtied blue miner's uniform. She has glasses that sit on the bridge of her nose, and tears streaming down her coal-stained cheeks. Both women hug each other tightly, the tone of the image is somber.

The young girl stumbled over a loose patch of brambles, grumbling to herself as she kicked at the weaving labyrinth of branches at her feet. Her brain was pounding against her skull—probably from spending a night at the Banshee’s tavern—and caused her to nearly trip several times over. She staggered to her feet after a particularly rough fall, all the while cursing the fact that she was forced to camp out here.

In the middle of blasted nowhere. 

She stomped through the undergrowth, and even with her brain fogged over as it was, she was still able to notice the pattern of noises in the forest. Her ears twitched as she heard the snap of a twig in the bushes, whirling around and reaching over her shoulder as she watched a small rabbit hop out of the foliage. She let her arm relax, dropping down to her side as a sudden wave of dizziness overtook her. She leaned up against a tree for support, rubbing the bridge of her nose between her fingers. 

Two titan forsaken weeks in this forest and I’m already going insane—she groaned, letting out a sigh as she ran her hand through her green mane of hair. 

“Not that I’ve been counting, mind you.” She grumbled to the small creature in front of her, the rabbit staring back at her in silence. Somehow, it was unafraid of the imposing figure looming over it. The rabbit’s nose twitched, tilting its head in confusion. 

Amity silently berated herself for expecting an answer. This was pointless, and she was losing daylight. 

And at this point, quite possibly her mind. 

Brown, yellow, and muddy foliage covered the earth in this ancient forest. Many of the roots were twisted into large knots, so Amity took extra care to not lose her footing. The last thing she needed was to sustain injuries in the darkened wood. Besides, the further into the forest she went, the more the trees clumped together. 

Peering through the darkened woodland ahead, the trees were so tightly packed together and thick with leaves that only scattered beams of orange light made it through. Even at the height of the day, the forest was so dark that it could be mistaken for the middle of the night—those beams of light being the only reason to think that the sun was, in fact, up. They seemed to dance across the forest floor. Her eyes strained with effort as she scanned the trees ahead for a path that would take her to the campsite. 

Her tent was nestled within a small group of trees. A little space beside the clearing spared just enough room for a mismatched circle of rocks with still-warm coals, the closest she could get to a firepit. The overgrowth and extending branches surrounding the small area were enough of a barrier to conceal the raggedy pitch from view, though they certainly wouldn’t hide the light of a fire. 

Upon reaching her little camp she had set up in the forest, her eyes swept across the area, taking note of how messy she’d left it. At the time, she was too distracted to care, but now, Amity grimaced—I just need to clear this up quickly, and then I can sit down, relax, and finally be free of this splitting headache—and proceeded to rummage around the campsite. 

After a few minutes of tidying up the clearing and dragging the most important items into her tent, a small pile of letters in the corner came into her view and bitterly reminded the girl of her current situation. 

Lilith was keeping in touch with her through clandestine letters only signed, “The Raven Lady.” That way, it was less likely for anyone who might have happened upon her campsite to get any ideas about who might be there. The letters didn’t even mention Amity by name either and contained coded messages that only she could decipher.

Amity moved over to the corner and picked the first letter on top of the pile, frowning as she reopened it and read its contents. The words elicited a bitter memory, and she thought back to that fateful day with her former mentor. 

And it was hard to know if she’d made the right choice or should have put a stop to this all then and there. 

“I don’t belong here?” Amity spat out, stomping out of her small, makeshift tent and pointing a finger at her former mentor. “I don’t belong at Blight Manor, I don’t belong in Empire City, and I certainly don’t belong in Bonesborough-”

“Amity,” Lilith stated, in that oh-so-calm way that Amity despised. “I know that none of this has been ideal -” 

“That’s putting it damned lightly.” 

 “—But I promise you, if you’ll just let me explain-” 

“So now you want to explain?!” What little of Amity’s patience had remained from when Lilith had arrived here snapped. “It’s a bit late for that, don’t you think?!”

Thankfully, for the first time since she arrived, Lilith stopped talking. Which was good, because Amity wasn’t sure how much more of her voice she was willing to tolerate.

“You know what, why not? I’ve got a whole list of questions that need answering—why don’t we go down the list! Why don’t you explain why my own father threatened to kill me, why my family hasn’t wanted anything to do with me for years ! All because of my stupid siblings and their stupid pranks, right? And you come here—what—five years, after the months I spent trying to contact you after being disowned ?” 

Her blood was boiling—In five years of fending for herself on the streets of Bonesborough, she had been both subject to, and had done plenty of things that pissed her off. But Titan, she had never been so enraged. Her blood literally felt hot.  

Where Lillith found the nerve to so much as set a foot in front of her—After all of this time?—Amity had no idea. Seething with rage, she continued, “Your first words to me are, get this, telling me how I don't belong in my own tent?  The closest thing to a home I've had since you let my parents abandon me?”

A bitter laugh escaped her. The entire situation was so absurd and spoke so much to how the relationship between her and her former mentor really was, it had provoked the first thing to an actual laugh from her in years. 

“I’d have wanted a little more than that sorry excuse for a first impression! Like, maybe, oh, I don’t know—A damn apology!”

Lilith stepped back. “That’s… Fair…”

For a few seconds, they just looked at one another in silence. No apology came, not that Amity had actually expected one. 

She took a step forward and lunged at the woman. 

“Where do I belong then, Lilith? Or is it Lilly? Or Doctor Clawthorne ?” Amity sneered, grabbing Lilith by the collar of her black lab coat. “If it’s so damn important, then-”

“Amity, listen to me! I truly am sorry for everything that happened but had I done anything to help you directly, I would have been killed, and you would have been discovered by your parents. Whenever you tripped a wire on an Oracle-Cam, who do you think destroyed the footage? What about when you were followed by Abomination Homunculi? I’ll have you know that I stopped them myself. It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was the best I could do… Given the circumstances.”

Amity stood there, glaring at her former mentor. She hated her. Hated her for abandoning her, for letting her family do what they did. 

Her rifle was inside. She could easily…

Not worth it—She thought, hating herself for thinking logically right now—A high ranking scientist like her is bound to get noticed if she goes missing. 

Still, she couldn’t say the thought wasn't tempting.

“Lilith,” Amity said slowly, but with plenty of bite to her words. “If you have seen footage of me, then you know how I’ve survived.”

“Yes,” Lilith stated, nodding. “And I don’t judge you for it.”

“Oh, lovely,” Amity said sardonically. She let go of Lilith's collar and pushed her to the moss-covered floor. “The woman who weaponized me at the ripe age of seven doesn’t judge me for doing exactly what she taught me to do. How absolutely wonderful.”

“Amity, I need you.”

Amity looked at Lilith incredulously.

“You couldn’t afford me,” she spat out. Literally, on Lilith’s shoes. 

Turning away from her former mentor, Amity began to rummage through her small tent. She was reaching for her rifle.

“I can pay any price you ask.”

“Not interested in whatever money you have to offer.”

“I can fix your hand.”

“If I can flip you off, that’s all I need.” 

“I can get your parents to rethink their decision. To take you back.”

Amity froze. Only for a second, but for a full and honest second, she closed her eyes and genuinely thought about it. She took a breath and exhaled. Tears came to her eyes as her heart swelled with hope. Lilith just had to have offered that, hadn’t she? 

“... Just because it doesn’t make sense to shoot you right now-”

In one swift motion, she ripped her rifle out of the tent and aimed it directly at Lilith, leaving her former mentor staring down its barrel.

“—Does not mean I don’t have a very short fuse. Do not lie to me,” She growled through gritted teeth, her voice thick with emotion. Her finger fell onto the trigger. All it would take was a twitch, and this nightmare would be over. “I swear to the Titan, don’t you dare lie to me -” 

“Amity,” Lilith stated, stepping forward, undeterred. The barrel of Amity’s rifle was just an inch from her forehead. She was confident. “I know this sounds too good to be true-”

The rifle clicked as Amity primed her weapon. Lilith didn’t so much as flinch.

“—But I promise you, I can help you go back to where you belong.”

Tears threatened to fall again. She hadn’t cried this much in Titan knew how long.

And she wasn’t even crying yet.

“With my recommendation, I can sway your family into letting you back into the fold. They will love you again. Don’t you want that?”

Amity stood still, trying to blink away the tears. She wanted to hate her parents. Wanted to feel as enraged at the thought of their acceptance as she was at the idea of Lilith lying about it. 

But no matter what she did, no matter what she thought, everything came back to her parents.

To pleasing them. 

To making them happy.

To being their perfect daughter.  

“You wouldn’t have to kill anyone,” Lilith stated. “All I need is for you to infiltrate and protect something for me. Then, I promise, I will personally oversee your return to the Blight household.”

Amity continued to stand still for a long, long time, Lilith’s face directly in her scope. Then, in a frighteningly calm voice, she spoke.

“What’s the job?”

A SPECIAL MESSAGE FROM OUR AUTHORS:

Hey all, regalkasherai here as a representative of The Good Witch Society Discord Server. I hope you all enjoyed our most recent iteration of the Project: Evergreen series. This is a multimedia project dedicated to The Owl House, showcasing creative talents from writers from every nook and cranny of this INCREDIBLE fandom. On that token, here's a little word from some of our authors:

Smoking_Gear: Hey guys! My name is Smoking_Gear and I'm the project's resident Steampunk expert. I'm currently working on my own Steampunk AU called "Luck Of The Sky'' and my personal duty in both stories is to ensure the continuity of the Steampunk-iness of the Universe. A couple things of note for this chapter, we mention "Oracle Cameras'' and "Abominations." As there is no magic in this world, these might not be exactly what you're thinking they are. The "Oracle Cameras'' are basically photo cameras hidden in crevices that are triggered by a pressure plate. The images aren't revealed until the film for the camera is processed, so it's not the security camera I'm sure you were picturing ;). Next, the Abominations are Homunculus x Steampunk Cyborg creatures. We'll probably go into those later so I don't spoil too much now but see? All steampunk, no magic. Gotta keep our world plot-hole free right? *finger guns*

JuliaCorvia: Hello again!!! It is wonderful to be back, and with one of my favorite scenes in the first arc, what can I say I love writing Camileda. Headcanon for this week! The song that Luz was humming as she drew is the Evergreen version of sea shanties because I used to teach those as a historian and they are c a t c h y. Camila teaches Luz and Eda and now they will never forget. Eda also one hundred percent made Hooty in an insomnia and sleep deprived haze and regrets not listening to Camila to get some sleep to this day. Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed it (if tears were shed then... oop my bad).

QuirkQuartz: As of the completion of editing, Kai said to me, specifically “Amity reminds me of you.” Aside from the fact we’re both perpetually infuriated and on the verge of homicidal rages against all who wronged us, I couldn’t possibly imagine why this may or may not be. Everyone seems to be doing like, chapter-ly facts,(?) so I guess I’ll do political theory for mine since I’m a massive politics guru? ‘Anarchism is not the world without government, but rather, a world in which that government is anti hierarchical, and all unjust hierarchies are crushed within it.’ There you go, have fun with that one. Oh and also I’m responsible for like, half the angst in this fic so YOU’RE WELCOME HAVE FUN : D

NatC7: Hey everyone! This is such an exciting project and while I'm glad to be a part of it, I'm also very excited to be sharing it with you all. I hope you enjoy our hard work and like I always say, thanks for reading! (Also shameless plug: I'm currently working on a beta lumity au Sky Full of Stars if anyone wants to check that out).

Quetzalcoatl: Hey, I’m here with your otter fact of the chapter: Sea otters have the thickest fur of any animal. Their fur contains between 600,000 to 1,000,000 hair follicles per square inch. Unlike most other marine mammals, otters lack a blubber layer. Instead they depend on their dense, water-resistant fur to provide insulation. To keep warm, sea otters spend a large portion of their days grooming and conditioning their fur. This traps air and heat next to their skin

Majestics_Art: Hiya!! Im majestic, I am a traditional and digital artist who is currently going over steampunk au brain rot. You can find my majestic (hehe get it..cause my name....yeh ok I’ll stop) art on instagram @ majestics_art!!! I post a ton of Owl House plus my ocs that I will never shut up about. Anyways, thank you so much for reading this amazing fic by our fantastic writers!!! Stay tuned for the next chapter and more of my art in the future :3

Chapter Text

WARNING: THIS CHAPTER DEPICTS PARENTAL ABUSE - It still fits suitably within the teen rating, there is nothing graphic, but if it’s a touchy subject for you, be careful reading through the italic sections.

Snap. Whir. 

The fingertips of Amity’s augmented left hand slid against each other to create the two noises. Sitting in her silent, unlit dressing room, Amity was in the perfect place to attempt, for the thousandth, possibly millionth, time in her life, what she’d wanted to do for so very long. 

But nothing happened.

Just as nothing had happened when she’d tried this the last thousand, maybe a million, times before.

Amity groaned with frustration, and slumped back onto her makeup desk, leaning her head on said hand. She wasn’t even entirely certain why she had made the effort in the first place—she knew for a fact it wouldn’t work, and even if she had she been successful, doing this would have been an incredibly stupid idea, next to all the flammable cloth and material she was surrounded by. 

But it hadn’t been successful, so it was a moot point, either way. She just rested her chin inside her palm and sighed. She looked at the mirror that hung at her desk, and at her own reflection. Her own fed-up, tired eyes looked back at her and seemed to ask her the same question. 

Why in the Titan’s name couldn’t this stupid thing produce fire?

She knew why, of course, but rhetorical questions gave Amity a brief moment of distraction before the answer washed over—

The light suddenly flicked on. 

“Here she is, Captain.” A surprisingly cheerful voice called from behind her.

Amity twisted around to spot two figures standing in her doorway. Amity hadn’t even heard the door open, she’d been so lost in thought. A familiar voice echoed in her mind— It’s a fool’s errand letting your guard down like that, dearest —and she stiffened. 

The girl on the left—the one who had spoken, Amity guessed—was a darker-skinned young woman. Her silver eyes matched her hair, which was done up in a large ponytail, held in place by a red band. She wore a red sequin dress that sparkled almost as much as her smile, though Amity wondered how it was possible for anyone to be as enthusiastic and happy as she seemed.

Outside of that, one particular note that Amity’s professionally-trained observant eyes made were her ears—modified to a point, just like her own were. If that were the case, then that meant that whoever she was, she was from the city. Ears modified in such a way were a sort of cultural statement for those in the Empire. How she had ended up here, and what her story was, Amity pondered for a brief moment. 

And then she realized that she didn’t actually care.

To the right of the frame stood another woman with her pink hair done in a large bun, her face perfectly framed by a pair of sharp-looking strands. She wore a yellow suit—a garish, ugly thing, the sort of thing you only wear to tell people either I have no fashion sense or I know this is terrible and I will kill anyone for mentioning it. 

Alongside her more average features, though, was her tinged pink skin and mist colored mechanical eye in the middle of her forehead, one that looked so realistic and organic that Amity would only have been able to guess it was an augment because— well—humans didn’t exactly have third eyes in their foreheads. 

In Amity’s mind, that was an unbelievably stupid augmentation to have—It made her the opposite of inconspicuous. No one would forget seeing her on the streets with a third eye lodged into her forehead. Put her in front of the Emperor's Guards, and they’d be able to identify her with ease. 

But this wasn’t the City. Somehow, Amity had a feeling that the point was to be recognizable. And she certainly was.

Boscha.

“Hello there,” the three-eyed woman said, a grin across her face that looked more like a piranha baring its fangs for a meal as opposed to a sign of human affection. “Names Boscha. Boss of this little Banshee Club.”

And the notorious underground syndicate of the same name —Amity thought.

“But you can call me Captain if you’d like.” Boscha winked her right and top eye simultaneously. Amity tried to not show any emotion on her face, though confusion about a number of things at this point was something she was definitely feeling.

“I won’t be doing that,” was all Amity stated, as cold and deadpanned as possible. 

Her thoughts were invaded once more, now a low and booming voice— Never show emotion. Never show weakness. Play your cards close to your chest, and you’ll make it out alive. You’re a Blight, act like it.

The piranha grin didn’t seem to falter, though. 

“Boscha it is, then.” Walking over, she held out a hand. “So, you must be Amity. Skara told me all~ about you when she showed me your audition for the club. Perfect range, perfect voice, perfect…” Boscha’s third eye made it incredibly difficult to hide the fact she was clearly looking Amity over. From her dark six-inch heels to her thin, strapless magenta dress that she knew would sparkle in the spotlight, to her golden eyes, to her mane of wild green hair, Boscha seemed to appreciate what she saw. “Well…” 

“So,” Amity cut in sharply, not particularly interested in whatever game Boscha was playing. “You two have everything set up for tonight’s show?”

Boscha’s face dropped, if only for a moment, into a bitter scowl. 

“Yes, we do,” She said, trying to hide her anger at being interrupted by a new ‘employee’. “Skara here’s gonna play the diddy on piano, and you get to walk around, look pretty, and sing it.” 

 Though she made an effort to make it as subtle as possible, Amity couldn’t help but roll her eyes. 

“Wonderful.”

Boscha nodded. “Better be. I’m not paying you top dollar on your first night just ‘cause I thought you were cute.”

Amity couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at that. So she’s rather… Forward, I see.

But of course, she knew the actual reason she was being paid ‘top dollar.’ She just knew Boscha couldn’t say it now. Not with patrons nearby. 

“I’ve played this song a hundred times,” Skara bragged, waving a hand in front of her. “I could do it in my sleep. And I heard you sing. So, no pressure.”

“Right. So, we’re ready then?”

“Woah there, ya eager starlet.” Boscha held her hand up. That grin of hers returned. “We still have a bit. Fifteen minutes. The other gals will take care of the rest. You just sit back and wait here. Look over the music one more time, maybe slide on your jacket, if ya can, ok?”

Amity shrugged. “Yeah, sure. I can handle that.”

“Great, great, can’t wait.” Boscha and Skara turned back to the door. “Oh,” Boscha noted. “Just so you know, you’ll have about 15 minutes after the opening act to get ready for the big show.” Winking with both eyes again, Boscha left, Skara following behind her with a small wave back towards Amity.

Alone again, Amity grabbed the gaudy blue coat with an oversized boa around its seams. Sitting back in her chair, putting her feet on the makeup counter, she continued her business from before.

It would be nice to have the option to roast her new ‘boss’ into charcoal, if and when the need arose. 

Snap. Whir. Snap.

Amity stood behind the curtains, microphone in her magenta-gloved right hand. To her left, she could see Skara fiddling with her instrument. It looked like a grand piano at first glance, but it had rows upon rows upon far skinnier keys. It took Amity a second to realize that it must have been one of the instruments she’d seen when she went to operas with her family growing up. 

It was a single piano built to replicate an entire orchestra, even woodwinds. It was impressive, and no doubt more expensive than anything else in this old Tavern. She had to wonder where Boscha had gotten the funds for such an investment.

More accurately, she wondered who Boscha had screwed over to manage to afford it.

“Demons, demonettes, and all in-between!” 

Boscha’s voice called out from the opposite side of the curtain to the whoops and cheers of the crowd. It was a diverse lot, from what Amity had been able to spot. People with augmentations, people without. People with modified ears, people without. She could probably split the crowd between the haves and have-nots if she wanted, but there didn’t seem to be any sort of division between them here, at least not that there would be out in the rest of the Empire.

“Tonight, The Banshee Club is proud to present the latest addition to our entertainment. She’s a green-haired heartbreaker with a voice to make Belos himself weep tears of joy. Oh, and do remember our entertainment is allowed to shoot anyone who gets a little too perverse during the show, so please try and contain yourselves!” The audience chuckled at that one, as did Amity. 

I’m glad she’s actually not joking about that one —Amity thought. ‘Course if Boscha was consistent, I’d shoot her myself.

“Put your hands, augments, and claws together for the one, the only, Little Miss Perfect! ”

Amity furrowed her brow— I definitely did not agree to that name —she thought with a grimace.

But the curtain rose, the lights dimmed, a spotlight shone, and Amity put on a pretend smile as the audience clapped and cheered for her. There was a short round of cheers, claps, and the occasional whistle from the people who liked testing Boscha’s claims.

Taking a deep breath, she waited for Skara to play and hoped that the girl wouldn’t fumble over the notes. Amity watched as Skara’s fingers danced over the keys. It was smooth. Elegant. She almost got lost in the notes as her music filled the air, but she waited for her cue as Skara flashed a bright smile. 

Then, Amity began to sing.

When you were here before,

Couldn’t look you in the eye.

The crowd stared at Amity in amazement. Her voice was soft and sweet, with a note of sensual playfulness incorporated to add a bit of charm. Yet, there was something beneath the voice that was apparent to everyone watching; a darker, sinister note, backed up by the haunting music that made them all wait with bated breath for the other shoe to drop.

You look like a devil

With a fire in your eye.

Amity, thankfully, had been trained out of any stage fright she could have had as a child. Even with all these eyes on her, she continued with barely any fear or hesitation, letting the song carry on as she rubbed her soft boa in a way she thought would play well with her audience—I’ll give them innocence —she thought with a glint of mischief in her eyes— then I’ll give them hell.

You float like a feather

In a beautiful world.

I wish I were special. 

You’re so very special…

Already, she knew the audience was practically at her mercy. All eyes, organic and augmented, gazed at her silently, as if she were a prophet in the midst of speaking for the divine. 

And so, with a small smirk, she shrugged off her jacket, grabbed it before it hit the ground, and flung it into the crowd.

But I’m a creep~

I’m a weirdo!

They went off like a bomb as Amity dazzled them, full dress and all. They once again whooped and cheered and clapped as she, without missing a beat or turning her back to the audience, sauntered over to Skara’s piano and, with a small hop, sat on top of it before laying on her side. The spotlight followed her like a stalker with every step.

What the hell am I doing here?

“ Willow doesn’t belong here,” Amity’s father stated firmly. “She’s beneath you. Why we even permitted you to spend time with her in the first place…”

Amity was young enough that she still needed help tying her shoes, but here she was. Curled up into a small, crying ball on her bed, arms wrapped protectively around herself squeezing her sides as hard as she could. 

One felt like skin and bone.

But the other felt completely different. Foreign. Like metal and wires. Like steel. Cold as ice.

“B-but I want to see Willow,” she sobbed out. “Pl-please… It hurts...”

“Perfect children don’t cry, dearest,” she heard her mother say, tone oozing false affection and motherly love.

“But it… It hurts,” Amity whispered, her newly augmented hand squeezing tighter than ever before. “A-and I just-”

“Nonsense,” her father practically spat, making Amity shut her eyes and turn away. He didn’t even raise his voice. Somehow, that made it worse. “Willow cannot help you. Your newly perfected hand will be the first step in a grand, beautiful design. It may hurt for now, but in time you will recognize the triviality of such pain, and you will understand your greater role in the Empire.”

Amity opened an eye, terrified, as she looked up at the people who had made her. The people who made her hurt.

She couldn’t remember what they’d looked like, outside of scant details, like her mother's green hair and her father's unsettling stare. As the years passed, Amity was only able to remember their outlines; her father's sharp features, her mother’s curved visage, they were now living shadows etched into her memories. She never let herself remember anything else when she thought about her past. 

The outlines alone were enough to make her stomach drop in a sick combination of terror and guilt.

“Now, get up.” Her father barked as if talking to a disruptive scientist under his watch. “Your new tutor will be here to assist you in learning your augment shortly, and I expect you to not make an embarrassment of us with your pitiful display.”

A part of Amity wanted to scream and run away. To escape her parents’ cruel gazes, to find Willow, to flee, and never come back. 

But that would be pitiful, wouldn’t it? 

The part that won out was the part of her that knew she wouldn’t make it, knew that she wouldn’t be able to survive on her own. So, pushing herself off of the floor, Amity nodded at her father, eyes downcast. She couldn’t bring herself to look at him.

“And don’t forget to smile, dearest,” her mother smiled, still oozing the false love that Amity had learned to recognize, but now with a splash of authority that made it clear she had no interest in arguing. “Good children smile when they meet new adults.”

Amity nodded, still downcast, but lifted the corners of her lips upwards.

“Hm. It will do.” Her mother muttered. “For now, anyway.”

Almost as if on cue, a knock reverberated about the room. All occupants looked to the only door. 

“Ah.” Her father muttered. “Right on time.” He opened the door, and out stepped a tall, pale, slender woman, with raven black hair, ice-blue eyes, and a black lab coat. “Amity, this is Lilith Clawthorne, or Dr. Clawthorne to you. She’s the nice scientist who gave you your augment. Say Thank you, child.”

“T-thank you,” Amity whispered, trying, and failing, to look up at her new mentor. “It’s nice to m-meet you.”

“Apologies for her demeanor. She’s still young, still learning.”

Lilith merely nodded. “I believe I can handle it from here. Thank you, Dr. Blight.” She waved a hand, gesturing for the two to head off. 

Amity could spot her mother bristling at the blatant disregard for the chain of authority. Regardless, perhaps in testament to the skill and respect that the woman commanded even from her father, both of Amity’s parents left, closing the door and leaving Amity alone with Lilith. 

As she did with nearly every adult in her life, Amity kept her face downcast, unable to look the older woman in the eye. She prepared to flinch, prepared to be scolded, prepared for-

“Excuse me, Amity,” she asked politely. “Would you please show me your hand?”

She froze. She’d been expecting anything but that. An order, perhaps a demand. But to be actually asked, as if she had a say in the decision? It was new to her.

Shaking, Amity held a metallic hand up to the woman. “I- It hurts.”

“I know dear, I know,” Lilith stated, kneeling to the child's level as she examined her palm. “I told those two you were too young, that a forced augmentation would be too painful. That-” She stopped and looked Amity in the eye. She smiled nonchalantly, the first time Amity had ever seen any adults outside of Willow’s dads do such a thing. “I cannot make it stop hurting now. I can acquire some painkillers in time, though they won’t completely get rid of the discomfort- I can assure you, it will fade soon.”

Amity sniffed. “T-thank you, Doctor — ”

The woman waved a hand. “You may call me Lilith if you would prefer.”

Amity’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. Adults hadn’t ever let Amity call them by their first name, before. This? This was a first, and for a moment, Amity didn’t know how to respond.

“Thank you, L-Lilith.”

She nodded. “Please, sit on the bed with me. I would like to show you something with your augment. Something… Er, ‘cool,’ I believe you kids say? Is that correct?”

Though it was through welled up tears and pain, Amity managed to giggle. Lilith was surprisingly nice to her, for an adult. Jumping onto the side of her bed, her legs dangling over the side, Amity held out her hand as Lilith sat next to her.

“Now,” Lilith began, rubbing a finger over her steel palm, “Your hand has something very special about it.” She tapped a small, magenta light in the center of it, “It can shoot fire,” she proclaimed in a hushed, excited tone.

Amity’s mouth gaped in amazement. “Really?” She whispered back.

Lilith nodded. “Sure. And it’s so easy to do. Why it’s a snap,” she joked, snapping her own fingers and winking at Amity. “Give it a try!”

For just a second, Amity hesitated and then nodded. 

SNAP. CLICK!

From her palm erupted a small, magenta flame, dancing in place as Amity gasped, disbelieving, at the sight of her own hand doing such a thing. She couldn’t believe it — even the pain in her arm was forgotten, replaced with a sense of awed wonder at the flickering vision before her.

“Woah.” She whispered.

“Woah indeed,” Lilith said with a smile. Then, blowing gently onto the fire, she watched as it disappeared. “Now, let’s see if you can do that again.

Amity nodded, eager to please.

Amity laid back on the piano, one leg bent to jut her dress up as she smirked, looking up to continue her performance.

I don’t care if it hurts.

I wanna have control.

She turned to face the audience, drinking in the eager, begging looks on their faces— Maybe I could have actually made it as an entertainer. But I chose what I chose, and there’s no going back.

I want a perfect body.  

“Ya’ already have one!” A disgusting, nasally voice called from the crowd. 

Thankfully, Skara, without missing a beat, was able to draw a small pistol and shoot inches next to their head, shutting them up. It actually provoked a few members of the audience to laugh, and the other ones who had been testing the limits of the establishment, unsurprisingly, simmered down.

I want a perfect soul.

I want you to notice

When I’m not around.

So very special

I wish I was special...

Lurching off the piano, Amity strolled up to the tongue of the stage and held her microphone up to her mouth, and sang out her next lines.

But I’m a creep~

I’m a weirdo!

What the hell am I doing here?

“You — ” Her father shouted, “ you do NOT belong here.”

An eleven-year-old Amity stood in the middle of her father's laboratory and stared at her trembling, sparking augment. Its fingers were curling backward, her thumb was twisting in unnatural ways, and the light in the palm's center was blood red. “Bu-but you can fix it, right?” she asked, teary-eyed. “I know I messed up, but — ”

“It’s useless!” He roared, slamming a fist into a wall. 

The young girl flinched — In all her life, she had seen her father mad — enraged even — possibly hundreds of times. He would yell and he would roar, none of that was anything new. 

But he would always maintain a certain level of composure. And he would never, under any circumstances, strike at anything. To do so was undignified. Was unworthy of a Blight. 

Furious didn’t even begin to do it justice — This was vehement rage.

“I should have known you would have done something stupid like this… But still, shoving your augment into a vat of Abomination Oil? You worthless little — ”

“It was one of Ed and Em’s pranks, father, I swear! Maybe with some cleaning — ”

“It can’t just be CLEANED, you brat.” It was clear that her father was becoming more and more enraged with every passing second. “It’s fully integrated with your body and nervous system, perfectly formatting itself to merge itself into your arm. To be equal to, no — BETTER — than a real hand.” 

He spun to his daughter. 

Even if she only tried to envision their silhouettes, she could never forget the cold rage in his golden eyes.  

“But I gave you one simple instruction; do NOT get anything ANYTHING inside of it! It breaks down the device, causing its complicated system of gears and wires to snap and break and falter and…” 

He turned away from his daughter, and towards his table. He remained still for a chilling moment before he slammed his fists into it. 

“We gave you ONE instruction! Lilith gave you ONE instruction! And after all these years I thought you could handle it.” His breathing was heavy, his body was tense. “I suppose I was wrong, however…”

“We can fix it,” Amity rushed out. “See, father?” Despite her fingers looking and feeling as if they were beyond her control, the young girl was able to put her fingertips together. If she could just prove that the augmentation wasn’t totally broken — that it wasn’t beyond repair — then maybe, just maybe, she could salvage this.

If she could just ignite one small flame, everything would go back to the way it was.

She prayed to the Titan that this would work.

Snap. CRACK —

Suddenly, her whole arm was engulfed in the sharpest pain she had ever felt in her entire life. In a split second, she realized how unfathomably stupid a mistake she had just made.

The augmented hand was covered in Abomination Oil, and that wasn’t just adhesive — it was flammable. 

Combustible. 

And in her desperate attempt to prove that she wasn’t worthless, she completely forgot.

She screamed, clutching her augment. It felt as if a boiler explosion had just gone off inside of her hand, sending violent shockwaves throughout her body and bringing her to her knees. For a few seconds, the flames ate into the metal and the nerve systems, but as the oil burned, the flames died out, leaving Amity a shivering wreck, with a metallic hand that burned to the touch, grafted into her flesh. 

The pain, the shock, the burning, and the abject horror at what she had just done left her unable to speak for a few seconds. She could feel eyes glaring at her. She forced herself to say… Something. 

Anything. 

“I-I’m so, so sorry,” She looked down, trying to avoid her father's eyes. Her voice shook and shivered. “I’m sorry. I— I’m sorry….”

She heard his footsteps. Saw the tips of his shoes. She still didn’t look up.

“Amity.” He began. “I will give you five minutes to run.”

She looked up, confusion and fear etched onto her face. 

“You can’t be repaired,” he began, “and being as you are, you’re useless to us. Nothing but an embarrassment. If word of this imperfection were to spread, we would have to terminate you.”

Amity stumbled to her feet. “But — ”

“But, you are my daughter,” he exclaimed, raising an authoritative hand. “And so I will offer you a chance to escape. We will still have to search for you, call in a missing child maybe, but — ”

“I-I’ll tell people,” Amity stuttered out, her mind reeling from horrifying things her father was saying. “Make sure everyone in the city knows what you’re doing.”

“The delusional ravings of a sad young runaway,” he said, waving a hand. “At best, they would simply send you back to us, where we can offer a quick termination. At worst, they would send you to a Junior Conformatorium, into the psych ward, where you would have your head ripped open and thrown about.”

Amity stepped back, mortified. “Willow! I can — ”

“She’s gone, Amity,” He stated. “And even if she wasn’t, it’s been years since you two were on any decent terms. You’ll be lucky if she recognizes you, much less takes you back.”

Amity wanted to scream and cry and beg and plead. 

‘I’ll be good.’ 

‘Maybe Lilith can help.’ 

‘Please don’t do this…’

But she didn’t. She couldn’t. All she could do now was just stare at her father, the man she had aimed to please all these years, and… And wish she could hate him. 

But she couldn’t.

“You’re a monster,” she cried. Not with conviction or drive like in all the stories she read as a child, but with pain, and with sorrow. 

“And you, Amity, are no longer a Blight. You don’t belong here.”

For a moment, she thought a termination would be a blessing.

“Now, run away, before I change my mind.”

Amity took one last moment to look at her father.

And then ran.

She's running out the door

She's running out

She run, run, run, run,

Run…

Amity began to belt her lines, throwing her head back as she held the last syllable for a good fifteen seconds. The audience seemed to go ballistic, ecstatic. How much of it was Amity’s appearance and how much of it was her singing, she wasn’t certain. But she had to admit, something about driving so many people wild gave her a cheap thrill. Then, in a softer, seductive tone, she cooed.

Whatever makes you happy

Whatever you want

You're so very special

I wish I was special

She was coming up to the finish, the grand finale of the song, and she knew it was her time to make it a damn good end. Giving it her full power, she practically roared the final lines.

But I’m a creep~

I’m a weirdo!

What the hell am I doing here?

Alt-Text: Skara, a young woman with long, silver hair tied back into a ponytail, plays a large black piano with a content smile on her face. Her fingers are pressed onto the keys, and the music is opened to the fourth page of the song. She is wearing a shimmering red-sequin dress, with black stiletto heels, and is sitting in a black piano bench. Amity, a young lady with green highlights in her brown hair that cascades down her shoulders, is draped over the piano with a microphone held to her face. She wears a pink dress and black heels. A spotlight is held over both of them as Amity sings: "I don't belong here".

“What’s the job?” 

Amity didn’t lower her rifle, nor did she take her hands away from the trigger. If for a single moment she thought that Lilith was screwing with her, she was going to take her out right then and there. 

But she couldn’t ignore this sort of possibility. She would listen, at least, and then she would decide. 

“There’s a syndicate, one I don’t believe you’ve worked with. The Banshees.” 

Worked for, no. Heard of it, though, yes. Amity nodded, very slightly. 

“They’re run by a woman named Boscha. She’s young, inherited the group and the club it uses as a front from her mother, though I assure you, Boscha is a cruel and calculated leader. But she’s also arrogant and in desperate need of help. She wants to raid an old factory for supplies she can sell on the Night Market.”

“And what do you want from me?” Amity asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“There’s… Something in the area I don’t want her to find. If you infiltrate the Banshees, you can make sure she and her goons don’t get too close.”

“And for that, you come to me?” There was very clearly something Lilith wasn’t telling her, and Amity wasn’t in the mood to be screwed around with. “Why not just call a few guards to guard… Whatever it is you want to protect? Your little friend Steve could probably take her and her gang out single-handedly if he’s half as good as I heard you-”

“ First of all — ” Lilith snapped, showing the first signs of real emotion— flushed embarrassment— since Amity pointed her gun at her crosshairs, “you were never meant to hear that.” 

Though it was hidden behind the scope of her rifle, Amity allowed herself a small smirk— It felt empowering to see Lilith squirm, if only for a brief moment. It reminded her she still had some control in this situation. 

Taking a moment to collect herself, Lilith continued. “And secondly, let’s just say that, in the Emperor's grand political system, The Banshee’s and their ilk serve a special purpose.”

Amity wanted to snort at that comment, but she just kept her eyes on Lilith. “So let me get this straight—You want me to make sure a high-school-aged mafiosa—that for some reason the Emperor doesn’t want to be splattered all over the walls—never comes across this super ultra secret ‘thing’ that you don’t want to be found. Something so important that you won’t even send guards to take care of the dirty work for you. And in return, you’ll get me back in the good graces of my mommy and daddy and give my ass the fairytale ending I’ve always secretly dreamed of, huh?”

“That’s… That’s one way of putting it.”

The assassin pretended to think it over. It really would have been easier if she had just shot her right then and there. 

“Fine.” She declared, throwing the rifle over her shoulder. “Shake on it.”

Lilith reached out her left hand. Amity held out her prosthetic. The older woman looked to the mangled form of steel in confusion, but Amity was unmoving. It was clear that she had no intention of switching.

“Well, well, well,” Boscha said as Amity and Skara walked into the storage room behind the tavern. “Look at the lady of the evening. Amity Blight, everyone, a round of applause.” 

Three people, a dark-skinned woman in thick glasses, another with light green hair, and a man with an oddly oak-like face, surrounded the two and clapped as their boss ordered. 

“You flatter me,” Amity deadpanned, walking straight past them.

She looked over at Skara and the rest of the room, who was now wearing the standard Banshee uniform: a thick, brown jacket with brown armguards equipped with black gloves, complete with a mechanical face mask that covered the lower portion of their face. Amity’s rifle had been brought out by someone else and left against a dumpster. She picked it up, briefly inspected it, primed it, then slung it over her shoulder, adjusting it so that when the need arose, she could grab hold of it quickly, and be ready to shoot at the drop of a hat. 

Boscha shrugged, deciding to keep pressing. “Ya really got 'em going. It’s been a minute since Skara’s pulled out that ol’ pistol.” She laughed, actually sounding amused. “But you’re with us now, we won’t let em’ touch you. Don’t you worry your pretty little head.” She said, smirking. 

She was flirting again.

There was a certain glint in all three of her eyes as she sauntered Amity’s way, “Yanno, I wish I had a girl like you on my Rugby team when I was captain. Maybe I could have shown you a few moves.”

Apparently, she didn’t get the message the first time. And somehow, Amity had a feeling that she wasn’t going to get the message for a long time. 

Alright then.

She let the tips of her lips raise in amusement, taking a single step towards Boscha. “Boss, I can assure you, if I had been on your Rugby team...” 

Amity took Boscha by her hand and spun her to the opposite side, dipping the three-eyed woman as low as she could possibly go. Boscha even seemed to be blushing— So, this flirting was just bravado. Interesting —as Amity leaned forward and whispered into her rounded ear.

“... You wouldn’t have been captain.” 

The rest of the group chuckled as Amity flung Boscha back onto her feet, much to her boss’s obvious annoyance. Although, it was hard to tell whether it was because she was actually flustered, or that she wasn’t used to being spoken to like this. 

“Whatever,” She hissed, turning to address the rest of her gang. Any and all snickering ceased immediately. “Everyone know the plan? Get in, grab all the old science junk we can, and get out.” The group nodded, their masks clanking as they moved back and forth. “Good. Now, grab your equipment. Let’s get going, we’re burning daylight.” 

Amity looked up at the shining moon and stars — Clearly.  

Boscha’s gang made their way towards a set of nearby swinging doors, which creaked as they opened. Amity took a few steps in that direction before Boscha stepped in front of her. 

“You know your job, right?” Her voice was a lot more serious than before. `“I meant it when I said I didn’t hire you ‘cause you’re pretty. I hired you ‘cause you’re supposed to be a professional.”

“I’m providing ranged support,” Amity stated plainly, echoing her mission briefing like she had a hundred times before. “You’re raiding an abandoned augmentation production factory, and my job is to occupy the old apartment complex on the opposite street, provide recon, and cover.” She allowed her eyebrows to burrow into a slight glare. “I know what I’m doing.” 

“You'd better,” Boscha said, curtly. “I don’t feel like getting shot by some shambling freak outta’ Bonesborough.” 

“If you get shot, it’ll be because I want you to get shot.” 

Boscha seemed to recognize the double entendre. 

To Amity’s surprise, though, the gang leader just smirked again. Almost like she was impressed.

“Good. Come on.” 

She pointed to the large swinging doors that led outside, where six large rings leaned against the nearby wall, where temporary pipes connected the steam tanks found within the rings to a feed line from the Tavern. 

Monocycles — Amity realized as she took in the strange vehicles' appearances. 

The others had already made a beeline for their preferred Monocycle, leaving Amity with the last, and obviously unused, one found at the very edge of the wall. As she approached, she noticed that there was a name carved into the vehicle's main piston housing.

‘The Purple Otter’ — Amity mused to herself — That’s strangely cute for the job ahead of us.

She hopped onto the seat of the Monocycle and engaged the stabilizing gears as the doors, once more, swung open. "Alright, ladies and losers. Lets go!" 

With a snap of their fingers, the other gang members opened their throttles and began to ride out towards the Empire City's skyline, a crescent moon shining down from above.

Snap. Whir.

Amity sighed. Sometimes, she had to wonder why she even bothered trying with this thing. Did she seriously expect the hunk of metal to just magically start working again? 

She took a quick look down the alleyway, and just like the last twenty times she had done it, there was absolutely nothing there. Another sigh and another attempt at producing a flame with her hand left her once again, achieving nothing. 

Three weeks ago, this entire mission had been a lot more glamorous—or at the very least, more interesting. When she wasn’t performing for whatever patrons were showing up at the bar, or wasn’t providing sniper support for whatever raid on whatever abandoned building Boscha was leading, she was more or less left to her own devices. Or getting put on guard duty. 

Like she was right now. 

Frankly, she was bored beyond all belief, and that irritated her. What infuriated her, though, was the amount of time she was wasting by just standing here. 

And that was exactly what this was. A waste of time. Nobody, at least within the last few weeks, had tried breaking into the club, sneaking in without paying, or doing whatever the hell it was that Boscha thought was going to happen. 

Still though, she hadn’t needed to shoot anyone in the time that she’d been there. That was pleasant, at the very least. Not that she wasn’t still quite capable and willing to open fire upon anyone in her range within a moment’s notice, of course. Boscha could definitely use a reminder of that —she thought to herself with a grimace. In the time that passed, the gang leader had certainly edged on the air of dismissive and objectifying, and it felt unbearably patronizing. 

If that three-eyed excuse for a boss tries getting close to me again, I’ll use her for target practice. Even still, she admitted to herself that the lack of blood on her hands was a nice change of pace. 

That had been her experience during her time throughout the last couple of weeks. They would raid, Amity would watch over them in case anyone posed a danger, the Banshees would take anything of value, and they would return to the club. Things would be sold on the black market, pawned off, or traded with patrons. Throughout it all, Amity hadn’t needed to so much as to aim her rifle at another human, thankfully. Either the rest of this city was as abandoned as it looked, or people had gotten the message to stay out of the way whenever the Banshees arrived. 

Luckily, the gang hadn’t targeted any of the sites Lilith had told Amity to keep them away from. She had sent whatever reports that she could to Lilith, and her old mentor would leave instructions at her tent in the forest. So far, it was just more of the same, keeping up with the status quo. Wasting whatever free time she had in this damned alleyway. 

Snap. Whir.

There were plenty of things about this entire job that Amity didn’t like. She didn’t like the people around her—Boscha in particular was as lecherous as any of the patrons of her bar. Amity was far from the only person that she came onto, and somehow, that just pissed her off even more. She wasn’t fond of this sort of guard duty, and while she could handle a crowd, she had particularly strong feelings against the people who tried to get closer to her than their seat in the bar. 

Aside from her occasional performances, she wasn’t being paid for this. She was being offered a favor. Lilith didn’t offer favors. And for her to come to Amity, to risk getting caught by the Empire? Just to keep something hidden from a syndicate like this? 

Obviously, Lilith had gotten her involved in something that was a lot larger than she would admit. That was what Amity didn’t like. Whatever this was, Lilith was willing to go back to her parents and convince them to take their disappointment of a daughter back for it. She was willing to hire an assassin for it. She was willing to come to her for it. 

At the end of the day, so long as Lilith held up her end of the bargain, Amity would do whatever she needed to do. Even still, the thought that she was being used as a pawn in some sort of larger scheme made her blood boil. She wasn’t going to be a disposable cog for Lilith’s game, whatever it was. And if Lilith was lying to her… 

Clang! Crash — Bang!

Amity’s eyes shot open, and she stood upright suddenly. The sound of metal clattering against the stone ground reverberated throughout the alleyway. Amity’s hand reached for her rifle, just in case she needed it. She walked down the alley until she came up to the corner where the sound had come from. 

“Come on… Come on, there’s gotta be something here…” 

There was a girl— wearing a beanie, a patchy jacket, and with her hands covered by gloves—shifting through piles of scrap metal left to rust. They were just a scavenger. Nothing special. 

Still, Amity’s job was to remove them. 

“Hey.” 

The girl looked up at Amity. Amity’s augmented hand let go of the rifle, there was no need to shoot this girl. A broken, augmented hand, would be more than enough. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” She asked, flatly, snapping her mechanical fingers. 

Snap. Whir.

A SPECIAL MESSAGE FROM OUR AUTHORS:

Hey all, regalkasherai here as a representative of The Good Witch Society Discord Server. I hope you all enjoyed our most recent iteration of the Project: Evergreen series. This is a multimedia project dedicated to The Owl House, showcasing creative talents from writers from every nook and cranny of this INCREDIBLE fandom. On that token, here's a little word from some of our authors:

Quetzalcoatl: Hey, I’m here with your otter fact of the chapter: An otter pup’s fur is so dense that it can’t dive underwater until it gets its adult fur. This comes in handy when mothers leave their pups safely floating on the water’s surface while they forage for food.

Smoking_Gear: "Hey everyone! Your resident Steampunk expert is back again! Not too much to note for this chapter that needs to be explained asides, of course, the Monocycle! The inspiration for this comes from the movie Steamboy. If you're interested, here is the scene from the movie featuring the Monocycle (start it at about the minute mark). Also, fun steampunk fact, in the story Amity's monocycle is named "The Purple Otter." This name is found engraved on the piston housing for the cycle, which is common practice for most steam engines. The whole Engine itself would be named something, but specifically, the piston housing would have the name of the engine. Anyway, that's my fun fact so keep an eye out for more Steampunk knowledge and if you want more steampunk universes, check out my fic "Luck Of The Sky!"

QuirkQuartz: Okay I’m starting to see what Kai was talking about the last chapter when they said that Amity was similar to me - Hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, I had a good time editing it! Be sure to thank DesmondKane for his work on this in particular and for putting up with my shit! Politics of the Day: Communism is an ideology that advocates a moneyless, classless, stateless society. That is literally all it is. Also fuck the USSR : D

Chapter Text

Luz tossed aside another rusted gear, sighing as she saw that underneath it, there were only smaller, somehow even rustier gears and sheets of thinly-cut metal. It wasn’t like she had expected much better, but after going through — what —sixteen piles of garbage, she had hoped to find at least something that Eda could use. 

At this point, she would take anything remotely resembling the bits and bobs that Eda wanted, or miscellaneous scraps that could at least vaguely fill the same purpose. That would be her diamond in the rough, a handful of rubble that would be her ticket out of this trash heap, and a step closer to giving Eda the help she needed. 

But, no. Nothing. 

She stood upright, and—mostly just to vent some frustration—kicked the pile of smaller gears and scattered them across the cobbled streets of the narrow alleyway. Another sigh escaped her as she looked over at the discarded bits of metal, and she carried on to try to find a stall in the market that carried Eda’s wares or another pile of scrap left to clog up the streets in the outskirts of the empire. 

She coughed wryly, feeling the dryness of her throat grate against itself, and reached for the waterskin strapped to her backpack. She took a short, conservative swig of it. Just enough to quench her thirst. An exhale escaped her as she did, and she felt herself hoping to the Titan that she wasn’t coming down with what her mother had. 

A grimace filled her face. I can’t afford to get sick now, they need me —she berated herself for her weakness. After the years of labor her mother had gone through, that Eda had gone through, she wanted to do all she could to keep their family together.

No matter how much those mines sapped the life right out of her. 

It had been weeks since her mother first caught this sickness, whatever it was. A part of Luz knew that it wasn’t going to just go away, no matter how much the older woman insisted that she only needed some time to rest. What Luz did know was that time spent resting was time lost in the mines, and the supervisors wouldn’t take kindly to the idea of lost profits. Despite this, Camila was reluctant to let Luz go work in the mines in her place. It was almost as if she had forgotten that there were still all manner of things that needed to be paid for. 

That was how Luz could tell that whatever her mother had gotten, it had come from the mines. That was the only way this all made sense. 

It was only getting worse. She was only getting sicker. 

But they still needed money. It wasn’t like they would be looked after by the company while her mother was ill. They still expected a body, and all of them still needed to eat. And Eda couldn’t work because of the whole ‘wanted-for-reasons-she-never-bothered-to-tell-us’ thing. So that only left Luz. 

All of that resulted in an undercurrent of tension within the Clawthorne-Noceda household. Luz continued to work in the mines in spite of her mother's protests. Eda focused more on taking care of Camila and less on her repair shop, although she still tinkered around with whatever scrap metal Luz occasionally stumbled upon. But she looked like she was getting more and more exhausted with time, too. Albeit in a less obvious, but still evident way. 

Forgetting to change the canisters for Hooty and Owlbert.

Leaving plates of food half-eaten on her workbench.

The sound of hammers ringing through the night as Eda worked around the clock, wrapped up in whatever project her mind took her to. 

It was becoming rarer that Eda asked Luz to run errands for her. When she did ask, often she’d send Luz to random sections of the outer city to pick up parts for her projects. Sometimes she’d be asked to pick up deliveries from Eda’s old contacts, and other times, like this one, these jobs sent her to scavenge from odd locations across Bonesborough: abandoned parking lots, mines, rock quarries, small hole-in-the-wall shops—or even literal holes in the wall that she fished objects out of. 

This time, however, it sent her to a part of the city that she had never been to before, on the run-down outskirts of the Empire City. She’d heard rumors of a gang running around this part of town, but that was about all she had heard. There weren’t any of the usual tells; Bonesborough was a rather large area, gangs weren’t uncommon, and when they were around, it was usually fairly obvious. Here though? She hadn't seen so much as a stray mark of graffiti on any of the weathered brickwork. 

If these rumors about this gang are true, this has got to be the least gang-like gang I’ve ever met. 

With any luck, maybe the supposed gang here wouldn’t mind her just… Taking a few things? Maybe they wouldn’t spot her while she was here at all? Or better yet, maybe the rumor of a gang in this particular neighborhood was just that, a rumor.

Either way, Luz proceeded with caution.

Going into an alleyway, Luz came across two large dumpsters sitting against the wall of what looked like a tavern. There appeared to be what remained of an old monocycle, propped up against one of the dumpsters, loose pieces scattered across the floor around it. Around it, other remnants of machinery, all left to rust. 

Bingo.

She walked over and removed her backpack, opening it up so she could put some of the monocycle’s rusted parts inside. What looked like a pressure gauge had fallen off, lying on the ground and free for the taking. Luz picked it up to examine it and then sighed dejectedly. It was the wrong model. Just my luck —she frowned as she tossed it aside, turning to inspect the driving pistons before the gauge had even hit the ground. Seeing a gearbox still intact, she knelt down and tugged at it, trying to get it free. It was released with a metallic clatter. 

It wasn’t the whole thing. Parts of it had been removed by someone else. It probably wasn't even enough for what Eda needed. At least it was something —Luz supposed. She chucked that into her backpack before standing back up. She needed to move the remnants of the monocycle before she could continue taking it apart. Moving a metallic panel out of the way, she reached for another array of piping in hopes of finding anything else worth salvaging.

“Come on… Come on, there’s gotta be something here…”

“Hey.” 

Luz froze, looking up to see a girl in dark clothing frowning down at her. Her hair was long and wild and green, a rifle slung over her shoulder with a steady hand hovering over it. The sight of her gun made Luz freeze.

After getting no response from Luz after a few seconds, the girl raised her hand and snapped her metallic fingers. “What do you think you’re doing?” The girl asked, her voice devoid of emotion. Almost robotic. 

Snap. Whir.

Standing back up, Luz considered whether or not the rusted remains of the monocycle’s handlebar that she had cast aside moments before would make for a good weapon. She didn’t know who this girl was, only that she had a gun and a fancy hand. 

And could probably shoot her in an instant if she wanted to.

Her mind quickly jumped to the advice Eda had given her when it came to getting into places and situations she wasn’t supposed to be in. Act confident. Like you belong there. No one will think you’re being suspicious if you’re acting like everyone else. 

“I could ask you the same thing,” Luz said evenly, with an air of young naive—and obviously fake—confidence about her. “What brings you here, yourself?” 

The girl’s golden eyes narrowed as she stretched out her augmented hand, aiming a metallic palm at Luz’s face. The fingers bent slightly as Luz suddenly realized that the girl’s hand might also double as a weapon. 

… And that’s the fifth time Eda’s advice has come back to haunt me. 

“You need to leave.” The girl spoke again, and Luz met her eyes. There was a fire behind her gaze that told Luz that she wasn’t playing around. 

For a moment, Luz considered arguing, or insisting that she wasn’t causing anyone any harm. Right next to her was a treasure trove of equipment that could be just what Eda needed. 

The other girl’s glare, her hand, and her gun all reminded Luz that she was in a position of weakness here. She wasn’t any good to her family if she got shot here. 

“Fine,” she said after a moment of silent thought. She figured it was best to not push her luck. At least she had already gotten some scrap metal in her backpack. Luz reached for the leather knapsack that sat about a foot away from her. The girl kept the hand aimed at Luz, watching her suspiciously. “I’m just getting my bag…” 

The girl nodded and watched Luz closely as she scrambled to reach for her carry-on. In her haste, she fumbled with the bag as its contents—pistons, gears, and all—spilled out onto the cobbled floor. The girl just stared at her, a mild look of annoyance etched onto her face. There was a brief moment where Luz fully expected a bullet to the head, but as fate had it, that moment never came. She hurriedly reached for her bag and started picking up some of the scrap metal. 

“Don’t bother.” The armed woman said, plainly. “I said you need to leave.” 

Luz felt her knuckles whiten, but knew not to press her luck here. Her face grimaced, but she stood up. “Alright, I’m going.” 

As she walked out of the alleyway, Luz could feel the girl’s eyes burning a hole on the back of her skull, watching to see if she dared make so much as a move in the wrong direction. If a gun weren’t involved, she might have tried something.

But it made more sense to come back later if she could. When no one was around. 

As they emerged from the alleyway, and before either of them could say a word, someone crossed their path. 

“I see you found something, Amity.”

Blinking several times because she was absolutely convinced her eyes were playing tricks on her, Luz outright stared at the three-eyed girl that just arrived. It had to be an augment, right? There was no way in the Titan’s name that it wasn’t, though she had to admit that it looked incredibly lifelike. It even blinked like a regular eye, and Luz hadn’t ever felt more uncomfortable by eyes in her entire life.  

Pink hair accompanied them as well, brightly colored, and standing out just as much as the third eye. They stood out like… There wasn’t an analogy that would properly convey just how much this person stood out.

Then, all three eyes flickered over to Luz, causing the girl to freeze in her place. The triclops sneered. Like she was disgusted by the mere sight of her. The same way the supervisors at the mines would look down upon everyone who worked there. “What’s scum like you doing over here in my corner of town? You got a death wish?” 

That insult drew Luz out of her stupor, and she bristled at the girl’s words. “Who’re you calling scum, three-eyes?” 

The girl’s expression twisted into something foul. Luz felt a push from behind her. She glanced back at the masked girl behind her, who was giving her a look that said ‘Leave, now.’  

Luz grumbled but knew she should get out of harm’s way. She had found some of what she had come here for and she wasn’t going to get anything else, not without a fight, or coming back after dark. She shot the triclops a glare and finally stalked off, the other two watching her go. 

A few seconds of absolute silence passed between Amity and Boscha as they watched the scavenger leave. Even after she was out of sight, there were a few seconds of pure silence. 

“Take out the trash, will you?” Boscha finally said to Amity, gesturing to the retreating girl. Her voice was almost entirely level. “We can’t have her talking about us.”

“I thought you hired a singer, not a garbage-collector.” 

“I hired an assassin, and I want my money’s worth.” 

Amity frowned at Boscha, wondering if she was just upset about being called ‘three-eyes.’ “Is that really necessary? She doesn’t even know who we are—” 

“ You work for me. Not the other way around. I’m in charge here, so when I give you an order, you follow it.” Boscha took a step closer to Amity. There were only a few inches separating them from each other. “Take. Out. The trash,” She repeated. Firmly. “Now.” 

Boscha’s silver eyes stared unblinkingly at Amity, and she knew there was no budging. “Fine,” Amity relented. She headed towards a ladder that led up to the nearby roof, adjusting her rifle on her shoulder as she stepped up and started to climb. So much for a bloodless job.

As much as she considered Boscha to be an overbearing, lecherous scumbag of a boss who could use a few bullet holes through her thick skull to deflate that massive ego of hers, she was, unfortunately, still currently her boss. This meant that despite whatever her feelings on the matter were, she had little choice in the end but to raise her rifle and pull the trigger. 

Orders were orders, after all.

No hard feelings —Amity thought grimly, peering down the scope. The distant figure suddenly appeared much closer through her crosshairs, as clearly as though she were standing right next to them. Just part of the job. Just a bit of bad luck on your part. That's all.

But is it really? A small, rebellious voice in her head spoke. It was the one that spoke loudest when Boscha was around. Or Lilith. Or anyone trying to boss her around, really. It's not like she found out anything she wasn't supposed to. 

It doesn't matter \, came the firm thought, crosshairs hovering between the retreating girl's back and head. Her finger tightened slightly over the trigger, Amity letting out a deep breath as she began to take careful aim. 

I've killed people over less. It's what I'm paid to do.

… But you're not being paid this time —it reminded her, and Amity internally grimaced. That much was true, at least. She wasn't being paid to kill someone; hell, she'd been bored out of her skull from the lack of action. All Amity was supposed to do was keep Boscha and her goons away from whatever the hell Lilith found so damn important. 

Hell, even that wasn't something she was being paid for! Yet here she was, about to shoot some random girl on the street just because Boscha was going on some paranoid ego-driven power trip. 

Amity's finger loosened slightly on the trigger as she considered this, resentment towards the three-eyed woman flaring up before she ruthlessly forced it back down and pressed her finger back down on the trigger.

No, she was a professional and despite the lengthy list of less-than-admirable qualities she could ascribe to Boscha, it didn't change that she had to at least pretend she gave a shit about her authority. Amity could not afford to risk the chance she'd finally been given, to be acknowledged and welcomed back by her parents and return to where she rightfully belonged. Whatever she needed to do, she would do it.

That was the most important lesson she'd learned, the thing that had kept her alive all these years.

At the same time, however—Amity's brow furrowed at the hesitation that kept creeping up, wondering when the hell she had suddenly developed a conscience. Had she really gone that soft already, just because she hadn't had an actual reason to get blood on her hands these past few weeks? 

Sure, it had been nice not to have to murder someone just to get by for a little while longer, even if the Banshees, the Banshee's patrons, and especially their boss made her trigger finger a little twitchy. But that changed nothing about the things she had already done. It didn't suddenly wipe clean the blood that stained her soul or bring back the lives she had ruthlessly snuffed out without a second thought. It changed nothing about the fact that Amity was such a failure she'd had to resort to such a way of living.

That her parents had cast her out for being such a disappointment.

That failing to listen and do just one simple, stupid little thing is what had started all of this.

No, nothing about her had been changed. And nothing would change unless she pulled through and finished this job, Lilith's schemes be damned. That meant making sure she didn't monumentally screw up and ruin the best chance— the one chance —she’d ever gotten to get back into her parents' good graces and prove she could be more than a disappointment. That she was more than failing to do one simple thing. 

Right now, that simple thing was shooting a girl who'd had the misfortune of stepping into the wrong alley at the wrong time. 

Just as Amity had finally cleared away the last of her hesitation, her eye narrowing as she peered through the scope, carefully lining the crosshairs against the back of the girl's head, her finger tightening against the trigger and about to seal her fate... The universe played one more wild card.

That card was a little boy, maybe about five or six years of age, that came running up to the other girl. As she crouched down to talk to him, through her scope Amity could see from the redness of the boy's eyes and the wet streaks running down his face that he had been crying. And through her scope, she could see the way the girl's face softened, could tell from this distance without needing to hear her speak that she was trying to soothe and comfort him.

Amity found herself watching the scene unfold, her finger trembling against the trigger as she unconsciously held her breath. They didn't look related, maybe the boy was lost? But the girl still reached out a comforting hand, placing it gently on the boy's shoulder and saying something that he responded to with a small, timid nod.

She watched as the girl smiled at the little boy, and even thRough his tears, he smiled back.

She watched as the girl held her arms open and the boy practically leaped into the hug, wrapping his short arms around her as she hugged him back.

As Amity watched the girl stand, carrying the boy in her arms, gently rubbing his back and saying presumably comforting words, she found that maybe she did have something of a conscience left, after all. Or at the very least, the sight of someone acting so very, very different from herself made her hesitate long enough that the girl was long gone by the time she'd regained control of herself.

During that moment of hesitation, Amity had wondered, had considered, and imagined something she had thought about before, once upon a time. What it would have been like, to have been shown even a modicum of kindness growing up on these streets. Or even, she had dared to think before casting that thought aside, if her parents had shown her that sort of kindness before casting her out. Would things have turned out differently for her?

Would she have?

It was amidst those thoughts that Amity had finally come to a conclusion. Yes, she'd do what she needed to do, just like always. But not if she had to sacrifice what little kindness this wretched city had left in it. The last thing Amity wanted was for more kids to turn out like her, and if doing such a small little thing kept that from happening, well.

It would be worth it.

First, however, she had to do one other small little thing.

Lifting her finger off the trigger, Amity tsk ed in feigned annoyance, pulling away from the scope and lowering her rifle. She could feel all three of Boscha's eyes boring into her and answered the unspoken question, "Some kid showed up, got right next to her and in the line of fire. There was no way to take the shot without taking the chance I might hit him."

Even as she prepared herself to deal with Boscha, Amity's thoughts turned to the girl she'd spared. Congrats, you got lucky. This time anyway. You better hope we never meet again, or I might not be able to be so merciful next time.

“No, I’m not letting you go into the mines again.” Camila stood in front of Luz, staring her down as she blocked the front door. She could tell that her mom was trying her hardest to look strong, but the act wasn’t exactly convincing. She had to lean against a wall just to stand up. “I am perfectly fine to go out and work, and I won’t have you doing it for me.” 

Luz clutched harder to the canvas work-bag slung over her shoulder, the rope digging into the still sore blisters on her hands from her shift two days ago. “You haven’t stopped coughing since last night, mom. You’re still sick, mama, I’m not letting you go back out and get worse.” 

The coughing had kept Luz up half the night, leaning against the wall as she tried to sleep through the noise, finding herself unable to stop worrying long enough to get any rest.

“That isn’t your job.” Camila wheezed, gritting her teeth as she tried to hold back the wave of coughs that she could feel trying to fight their way out of her lungs. A dry cough caught in her throat as she braced herself against the door frame. She balled up her fist and covered her mouth to try and prevent more coughs from escaping. “You’re only sixteen, cariño! You aren’t supposed to be working in the mines at your age.” 

“But you were—” 

“But you aren’t me \, Mija.” Camila’s eyes softened, taking a step and gently reaching forward, looking at Luz as she hovered her hand above her daughter's shoulder. Luz nodded, Camila, putting her hand down and pulling Luz into a small hug, holding onto her tightly. She drew away, both of her hands on Luz's shoulders, “You are so strong, my little light. But this is not your job.” 

She put one hand over her daughter’s. Luz gripped harder to the canvas work-bag, wincing in pain as the blisters tore into her callouses.

“You are my daughter, and that means that I am going to protect you. Which means,” Camila said, pressing a kiss onto Luz’s forehead, “that you need to let me work, no matter how brave and sweet it is that you want to do it for me.” 

Luz’s grip started to loosen, looking off to the side as she tried to come up with something to say. “I—” She started, but stopped herself. 

What could she even say here? Camila wasn’t budging, and nothing she said seemed to be working. But she was sick, still so sick \, and spending any more time in the mines than she had to would just make it worse. And maybe her mother was right, it wasn’t supposed to be her job. And maybe she would get sick too if she went back to the mines.

But what choice did they have? 

She could work, her mother could barely even stand up!

As she began to argue, a deep cough escaped Camila, her shoulders lurching forward. Camila grit her teeth even harder as her nose scrunched, trying to hold it back. She doubled over, and Luz quickly caught her as she kept her propped-up on her shoulder. 

“Mom!” Camila held one finger up as she coughed, telling her daughter to just give her a moment, and holding her other hand up to her mouth. Luz’s face paled as she saw the faintest hint of red on her mother’s fist. That… 

That was blood. 

“Wh—Mom!” Luz felt her heart run cold at the sight of it. 

“You have to tell her, Cami.” Eda’s scratchy voice interrupted the two, both of them turning to see her standing in the doorway. There were bags under her eyes, dark circles that suggested that Eda had not slept in a day or two. Her hair was streaked with grime and oil, strands of grey hair sticking up at strange angles. She set a large object down on the floor with a loud thump, wincing as she rolled her shoulder.

Luz let go of Camila, making sure that she could lean up against the couch. “Eda…” Luz’s voice was confused, shaky, still lost after seeing Camila cough like that; her eyes were drawn to Eda’s arm as she noticed something... 

Wrong. 

“... What did you do to your arm?” 

Eda looked down, lifting her arm as it creaked loudly. The large piston that powered her prosthetic was completely gone, replaced by a series of small pumps that ran up her arm, creating a scrappy, mismatched look of non-complementary machinery, as bursts of steam came out sporadically. The normal metal plating on her arm was torn in places, some of the reinforced plates torn aside, to reveal the wires and delicate gears beneath. Her fingers jerked sporadically, clearly out of her control, and Luz swore that she caught sight of a few stray sparks coming from it.

“Ah.” Eda attempted a smile—though it never quite reached her eyes—as she put the hand behind her back, scratching the back of her neck with her non-prosthetic hand, trying to act like she hadn’t even noticed the issues in her arm. “It’s really nothing, kiddo.” 

She looked up, meeting Camila’s gaze. Her eyes softened, a sad smile on her face as she walked forward. She took Camila’s hand, rubbing the back of her hand with her thumb as she spoke. 

“Please, love. You need to tell her the truth.” Camila turned her head away at Eda’s words, Eda noticing the tears gathering at the corner of her eyes. 

“Eda.” There was almost no fight left to Camila’s voice. “I can’t. You know that—”

“No. I don’t, Cami.” Eda moved her hand up to Camila’s cheek, wiping away the start of a tear with her thumb as Camila pushed into the warmth and pressure. “I know it is hard, and I don’t want to either...” 

A laugh followed. She let out a laugh, although it was almost a cough with how sore her voice was. Low, rigid, and dehydrated from hours presumably spent hunched over her working bench. 

“...But I found it, Cami.” Her eyes shone, a wildfire in them as Camila snapped her eyes up to meet hers. 

“You did?” The words were breathless and whispered, almost reverent. Eda nodded, Camila wrapping her into a tight hug, lifting her off the ground slightly. “You did it, Corazon!” Camila spun Eda around, both of them giggling. Camila set her down, her breath slightly rattled as Eda leaned on her shoulder, Camila huddling into her side. 

“Found what?” Luz asked, the worried expression on her face still present, tinged with confusion. “What did you find? Why is it so important?” Her voice grew strangled for a moment as she tried to hold back a lump in her throat. “Wh—why are you bleeding? Why did you tear apart your arm?” She pointed at Camila and Eda in turn. “What's going on?!” 

The two shared a glance. Camila looked back at Luz, who was anxiously bouncing back and forth between both feet as she tried to figure out what was going on. 

“Mija.” Camila walked over, taking Luz’s hand as she sighed. “I…” she looked at Eda, looking for some sort of support as Eda gave her a small nod. Camila pulled in a shaky breath. “Luz...” She squeezed her hand. “...You were right. It’s not just a cold, or some… Mild sickness. It’s black lung.” She looked down, unable to meet Luz’s gaze. 

“...What?” When Luz could finally bring herself to respond, it ended up as little more than a whisper. The world seemed to fade out from under her feet, and she felt herself growing nauseous. 

Black Lung. Everyone grew up hearing horror stories of the disease that had no cure. A cough that kept getting worse and worse, not stopping until every last corner of the lungs was filled with blackened coal and debris. 

The end result left the infected six feet under and inside of a casket. Invariably. 

“I—I tried to keep you safe from this,” Camila carried on. Her words grabbed Luz’s attention, bringing her back into reality. “I didn’t want you to worry about me, I wanted you to have a normal childhood, to grow up and... Maybe have a chance to get out of this place.” Camila gave a sad chuckle, and her shoulders slumped. “... But that can’t happen, now.” 

“You weren’t wrong for hoping.” Eda put one hand on both of their shoulders, pulling them both in for a hug. “You taught me that Cami.” 

“But…” Luz stammered out slowly. This can’t happen. This… can’t be happening —her mouth felt dry. She turned her eyes downcast, shaking as she looked up at her mentor. “Eda… You—you can fix it, can’t you?” Her eyes glistened with tears that threatened to break free at any moment. “You… I know you said you had something. What is it?” 

Eda nodded, reaching behind her back as she pulled out a small folder, something so slim that only a few pieces of paper could be stored in it. There was no lettering on the folder, no naming or indication of what could be on the pages inside. The only thing that wasn’t a single, solid, dull yellow color was a small red stain in one corner. 

Luz peered closely at it. “What... Is this?”

“This is all that I could find on an Empire project that... Could help.” This was her only option, there was nothing else that she could do. No technology could save Camila, could protect Luz. Sometime during the pounding of her hammer on steel, she had decided that she was left with no choice. “This,” She said slowly, “Is Project Evergreen.” 

The words hung in the air for a moment, a heavy, important quality to them. Project Evergreen. It sounded so… Refined. Official. So unlike the flighty, scatterbrained tinkerer who had made her home with Luz and Camila those years ago.

“This,” She took a brief pause and met Luz’s concerned gaze, “is a secret project developed by the heads of our Empire. Its goal was to give us the ability to heal any disease, sustain any kind of life, with the power of alchemy.” Eda breezed past the explanation. Normally she’d get into the nitty-gritty of the science and mechanics, but there were far, far too many specifics to cover in the short time that they all had. “It took…. A lot to get my hands on these files.”

She felt herself slipping back into that moment. Alarms. Frantic running. Huddling under the broken and abandoned house. Pulling out that damned file folder, shielding it from the pouring rain. Risking her life for the sole purpose of keeping it out of the wrong hands. 

“It was a huge thing. The Empire apparently put a lot of time and money into this, but the project just... Mysteriously vanished one night. My…” She paused for a few seconds. “... I had to get in contact with a lot of people from…” 

Another pause. 

“... Before I met you all.” She saw the looks that Luz and Camila gave her. She never talked about the time before they found her. Quickly, she carried on. “My connections could barely get their hands on these documents. They’re all we have. A few papers, rumors... And a name.” 

A special emphasis had been put on that final word. A name. That was the link. 

This isn’t a whole lot, but it’s something we can work with. 

“Wh—what name? Who’s name?” Luz said breathlessly, staring at the folder. A thousand thoughts were already sparking throughout her head. I can’t just let her die. If there’s any chance, I’ll take it. I’ll do anything, no matter the cost —Luz reached for that spark of hope, held it tightly. Her mom was always there for her, always trying to help people, and this was her chance to finally return the favor. 

This family is all that we have.

“No.” Camila’s hands gripped Luz’s shoulders, her eyes narrowing. She could already tell what her daughter was thinking. There wasn’t even a sliver of a chance that she’d let her daughter get dragged into whatever trouble Eda had gotten herself into before they’d met. “No, you are not going.” She rapidly looked at Eda, her eyes pleading for something, anything, that could stop Luz from putting her life in danger. “Eda. Tell her that she isn’t allowed to go.”

The inventor looked away, turning the file slowly over in her hands. “...We don’t have another choice, Cami.”

“No, no.” Camila’s voice was frantic, coughing slightly as she tried to hold onto Luz. “I can’t just let—”

“Cami, we are dying.” 

Eda’s words made Camila flinch, Luz whipping her head up to look at Eda. “You are sick, and it's only going to get worse. And I…” Eda trailed off, “... I can’t go outside without the guards taking me in, and even if I could, my prosthetics are falling apart. What... Other options do we have?” 

Silence hung over the three of them. Camila hung her head as she tried to come up with… Something to say, some way that she could keep Luz from danger. She couldn’t lose her daughter, not Luz, she was the whole reason that Camila kept going most of the time. First Eda, now the possibility of Luz going out into the empire? She knew that something from there haunted Eda. The inventor often woke up in the middle of the night, clutching at the bed as she tried to escape from whatever nightmares plagued her. 

She couldn’t let Luz go there. Into that world. 

Into whatever lurked in the shadows of Eda’s past. 

Even if it meant—

“ Mami.” She turned to see Luz looking at her. “I have to do this. You and Eda have done so much for me.”

“... It’s supposed to be my job,” Camila muttered, trying to think of something that could rationalize Luz not going. “Luz, you -”

“We’re family. We take care of each other, right?” Luz smiled, “You taught me that much.”

“...There isn’t anything that I can say or do that’ll stop you, is there?” Camila asked, her head hung, knowing that there wasn’t anything that would stop Luz at this point. 

A small pang of guilt did hit Luz. She didn’t want to upset her mother or make her worried. Shaking her head, she forged on. There really was no other choice. “... Not really, no.”

And that was that. 

Eda cleared her throat and gestured to the object on the ground, covered by a white sheet to protect it from the dust and water vapor. “I—uh, I made something to help.” 

Luz blinked, and peered at the object with interest. Camila wiped her eyes as she gave a small chuckle, gesturing for Eda to go ahead. 

“ Behold !” Eda ripped the canvas off of the object, revealing a huge, shiny, metallic object.

A chainsaw.  

Briefly, the weight of the prior conversation was left behind, and Luz’s eyes lit up in joy as Camila looked up at Eda worriedly, her eyebrows creasing as her expression grew somber. 

The chainsaw was large. A piston mounted to the side, its metal clearly reinforced and shining. There was an intricately carved picture of an owl’s face on the side of the weapon, nestled in between a few slots for canisters and a small hand crank. The handle was over-sized, allowing Luz to wrap both hands around it for ease of movement. The whole thing gleamed and shined, and Luz felt excitement coarse through her. 

“I figure that it is going to be a bit dangerous to go out there all alone, so I made you this.” Eda bowed low, shooting a wink at Luz. “I call her, The Shrieking Talon !” The woman proclaimed proudly. 

Luz ran over, her hands hovering right above the weapon, almost as if she was scared to take it. She bit her lip as she looked up at Eda, the inventor giving her a nod as she hefted the chainsaw in her hands. Camila hovered by her, a nervous expression on her face. 

“I’m gonna call her Daisy,” Luz said, nearly bouncing in place with joy, examining every angle of the weapon. 

“What,” Eda blinked in surprise, sputtering, “Y—You can’t call her Daisy, she is a weapon of pride ! Made by the Owl Lady herself!” Eda sighed as she ran a hand down her face, leaving long grease smears in the wake of her fingers. “Okay how about Owl’s Talon?” She tried to compromise. 

“Mmm, still Daisy.” Luz seemed to wave off the name, more concerned with inspecting the crank mechanism. 

“Winged Razor-Blade? Buzzkill? Owlbert 3.0?” Eda threw out rapid-fire suggestions, hoping one would stick. 

Luz turned to Eda with a questioning look, “Wait, what happened to Owlbert 2.0?” 

Eda scuffed her feet as she looked off to the side, meeting the gaze of Owlbert on his perch before she laughed nervously. “We uh, don’t talk about Owlbert 2.0” Camila snorted, the corner of Eda’s mouth quirking up. “Come on kid, you gotta have something better than Daisy.” 

“Hmm…” Luz considered the chainsaw in front of her, the gleaming metal and the almost familiar piston reminding her of… her mentor. She gently put the chainsaw down, turning to face the older woman.“Eda, did you use parts of your own arm to make this?” Eda scuffed her feet, her face tilted up in a false pensiveness. 

Camila walked over, peering over Luz’s shoulder as she looked at the chainsaw. Luz was right, those were pieces from Eda’s arm. She looked up, Eda shifting from foot to foot to avoid both of their glares. “Where was I supposed to go for parts in the middle of the night?” Eda said, Camila shaking her head as she grumbled to herself. “But enough of that.” Eda waved off the questions.“Alongside this, I am sending you with something else.” She whistled, and Owlbert flew over to land on Luz’s shoulder. “Owlbert can go with you, and you can use him to contact us here.” 

Owlbert gave a hoot, settling down on Luz’s shoulder with a rattle of metallic feathers. “You ready for an adventure, buddy?” Luz patted Owlbert gently on the head, holding the newly christened Daisy with the other. She turned to Camila and Eda. To her mothers. 

Her family. 

“I am going to make sure that I fix this, I will find help, I promise.” She said solemnly, Eda giving a chuckle as Camila’s lips twitched in a smile. 

“In that case...” Eda pulled Camila into her side, trying to give a comforting hug as she held out the folder to Luz. 

This was it, the only option that she had left. If her secrets were revealed… then so be it. Camila and Luz were worth it. 

“... You’re looking for a Dr. Park.”

To say that Boscha was infuriated would be an understatement.

Amity swore that she could see steam filtering out from the other girl's ears as she angrily tapped her foot, arms folded across her chest, as though it would drive home that little bit more just how angry she was. But Amity wasn't phased.

She'd seen enough of Boscha at this point to know the girl was all bark and no bite.

“You wanna try explaining that again, real slow? If you can’t give me one good reason as to why you let that Bonesborough trash get away, I’ll have Skara use you as target practice.”

Truthfully, Amity didn't. She'd already given her reason, even if it wasn't the full explanation. Anything aside from what she'd already stated was her own mental mess to sort out and was no business of Boscha’s. She knew what her ‘boss’ really wanted, though. 

She was expecting Amity to change her answer. To catch her in a lie, and give her an opening to potentially cut all ties right now. And it was tempting, Amity wouldn’t lie but she couldn't abandon the whole reason she was even doing this to begin with. Not yet.

“I already told you, Boss” she spoke with the sort of practiced calm that reminded her far too much of her mother, “some kid wandered up to her, got in the way. If I had fired, there was just as good a chance I would've hit him, instead.”

“I thought you boasted about never having missed a shot. All bravado on your part, huh?” Boscha sneered back, desperately reaching to try and hold onto any sort of advantage she thought she had in this argument.

“That kid was too close to her. Even I couldn't be certain she'd be the one I’d hit.” Amity's eyes slowly narrowed into a glare. “Besides, I think you're missing the bigger problem we would've had if I did shoot.”

Boscha raised an eyebrow at this. “And that would be...?”

“Let's say I did hit her.” Amity began, her words slow and deliberate enough to catch the attention of everyone in the room. Just enough to make sure that Boscha was listening, “Even in spite of the kid's presence. Best case scenario—do you know what happens next?”

She paused, almost as if she actually expected an answer. When none came, she carried on. 

“That kid starts crying more than he already was because he just watched someone get murdered right before his eyes. The scene he'd make would surely draw the attention of some of the Empire's forces, and who do you think they'd suspect?”

Amity nodded her head towards the tavern to punctuate her point. The close proximity of where the girl's body would have been laying to the building would've been an open invitation for the law and Amity knew by now that Boscha likely couldn't have them turning her establishment upside-down. The Banshees would be history, and she knew it.

“I don’t know exactly why or how the Empire hasn’t just thrown everyone in here against the wall yet. You’re not exactly the most subtle gangster I’ve ever met.” Amity carried on. “But do you actually think that whatever it is that’s keeping you alive is going to matter if I start popping kids left and right? The best-case scenario there is the Empire, the worst case is the people in this dump deciding they’ve had enough of your shit and coming here themselves.” 

A growl escaped Boscha's throat. She clearly didn't approve of her authority being challenged like this, especially not by the newest member of her little gang. 

Facts were facts, though, and not even she could argue against how close her wounded pride had come to bringing all of this down around her. Amity held firm beneath the withering gaze, knowing she'd won this little chess game between them.

“... Fine,” Boscha finally scoffed, turning her attention to the rest of the group. “We've got more important business to worry about, anyway.”

Amity couldn't resist smirking beneath her mask once Boscha's eyes were no longer trained on her. She knew the Banshee leader was trying to save face by changing the topic, and she'd take the small victory to keep her going as she tuned in to the impromptu planning session.

Boscha shot her one final glance, one that told her she should take her next few steps very carefully. Don’t get overconfident, Amity reminded herself. Overconfidence makes you underestimate your opponent. Always assume you’re working from a disadvantage. 

“ So, Cat and Amelia say they've found an old lab not too far away from our club,” Boscha stated as she paced back and forth, at least acting like the leader she was supposed to be. “Someplace called Thuja Labs.”

“Well, one of our contacts tipped us off, anyway. We just went to check it out, the place looks like it's been abandoned for ages,” Cat elaborated. “From what we could tell, super old and run down, but it's a pretty big lab. And it doesn’t seem like it’s on any of the official documents, either. It’s completely off the records. ”

“So it was probably something that the Empire kept secret,” Amelia added. 

“Which means there's bound to be something worthwhile in there we can take and pawn off,” Boscha grinned.

While the other Banshees began eagerly speculating on what they might uncover, Amity had completely checked out of the conversation, a million other thoughts clashing in her head all of a sudden. It didn't sound like they were talking about raiding one of the places Lilith had told Amity to keep the gang away from, even if the fact that they said it was an old lab sounded along the lines of what little information she'd been given. That alone made it sound like this would be just like all the rest of their jobs and maybe she just needed to be a little more on her guard than normal.

That, and she was going to need to get Lilith to give up more information at this point. She was all but stumbling in the dark here. She couldn’t do her job if ‘Keep them away from old labs in the center of the city’ wasn’t enough to work with. How the hell did Lilith expect her to even do her job if she didn’t have more to work with than that?

The name Boscha had thrown out, however, was digging into her brain, and for the life of her, Amity couldn't figure out why.

Thuja Labs certainly didn't sound like a name that fit in with a lot of the other sites she was familiar with within the Empire, though the fact that it had apparently been abandoned for years probably helped with that. But even so, that name seemed to trigger something deep in her subconscious, almost like a line had been cast and hooked onto memories she'd long since buried because they had lost any meaning to her. She couldn't quite grasp why that name was ringing so many bells in her head, but it created enough static that she didn't even register she was speaking until the words were already leaving her mouth.

“Maybe we should be careful.”

Once she had managed to get her head cleared enough, she realized that all eyes were on her now, especially Boscha's. The Captain looked quite annoyed at the interruption and Amity seemingly raining on their parade.

“And why should we, Amity? It's just another abandoned heap, and I would hope you'd remember your—”

“I'm just thinking,” Amity cut her off, only irritating the three-eyed woman even further, “that if this lab is as big as Cat claims, then there might be a reason to keep our guard up. Surely it's attracted others trying to loot it, or maybe there's some old security system that might still be intact.”

“And what makes you think—”

“It’s a lab the Empire wanted kept secret. We have no idea what might be in there.” 

That seemed to get the others quietly talking with one another out of concern that Amity might be onto something. Boscha, however, simply strutted over and got right in the sniper's face, lips curling into that confident grin Amity wanted so badly to punch.

“What makes you think anything in there would even still work ?” 

“What makes you so sure it wouldn't? ” 

“... M—Maybe we should consider it.”

Both girls ripped their attention away from one another and onto Amelia, who shrank a little beneath their gaze. Still, she had opened her mouth and was going to see this through. “When Cat and I found the place, it seemed to be all on its own. There's no other building or anything Amity could use to cover us or keep a good watch to alert us of anything.”

That seemed to get the gears turning in Boscha's head, the look on her face clearly showing dissatisfaction with this little bit of information that had been withheld from her at first. It didn't seem to bother her for long, though, because she simply turned and headed toward her monocycle.

“We'll figure out how Little Miss Perfect over here can help us once we get there and I've gotten a look at this dump myself.”

That seemed to be the end of the discussion as Boscha began to start her monocycle up, everyone else shared glances, and headed to theirs as well, to begin moving towards where this lab sat.

Even then though, the drive was not helping Amity get a grip on her thoughts as she continued to ponder exactly what the gang was walking into.

Thuja Labs... why does that sound so familiar?

Alt-Text: Three people stand underneath the comically-levitating chainsaw, from left to right is Camila, Eda, and Beta Luz. Camila has her hand on her temple in bemusement and is wearing blue scrubs with her red-handled glasses. She has her brown hair tied up in a bun over her head, and a text box above her says the following: “Ay Dios Mio.” Next to her, Eda stands proudly with a golden, steam-powered prosthetic hand on her hip that extends all the way up to her shoulder. A Black sash connects it to the rest of her body, and she sports a maroon tunic and mischievous sparkle in her eyes. With a golden tooth, grey hair tied back into a bun, and hand triumphantly pointed in the air, she presents her invention: a chainsaw shown at the top of the image. Eda says the following: “Behold, The Shrieking Talon,” in red bubble letters, and the shrieking talon inscribed in a black, whimsical font. At the center, we see a steam-powered chainsaw equipped with golden pistons, a dial, a crank, and several other components that add to its steampunk-iness. The background of the image highlights this item by using multicolored attention-grabbers, triangle shapes in purple, yellow, and light blue. To Eda’s right is Beta Luz, who points excitedly at the chainsaw in question. She wears a red beanie with a brown leather tunic and red-tinted goggles over her grey scarf. Long brown bangs extend on both sides of her face. She says: “So, Daisy!” In reference to the chainsaw.

A MESSAGE FROM OUR AUTHORS:

Hey all, regalkasherai here as a representative of The Good Witch Society Discord Server. I hope you all enjoyed our most recent iteration of the Project: Evergreen series. This is a multimedia project dedicated to The Owl House, showcasing creative talents from writers from every nook and cranny of this INCREDIBLE fandom. On that token, here's a little word from some of our authors:

Smoking_Gear: Hey all you fans! It's the resident Steampunk expert! Nothing big to explain today. When Luz is looking for parts of the Monocycle I did my best to make things as realistic as possible but you know, a steam-powered Monocycle has never ACTUALLY been made so I had to guess. Now for the new segment Gear's Steampunk Facts, did you know that the Empire State Building's designers briefly considered adding a Mooring Mast to the top? This would have allowed Airships to Dock at the top of the (at the time) world's tallest building! Unfortunately, this never came to fruition, and due to what was necessary to keep airships from flying away while not in flight was too complex to attach to the top of a skyscraper. Keep an eye out for more of my Steampunk Facts and if you want more Steampunk stuff right now, LOTS has been updated to chapter 9 and chapter 10 is about halfway done!

JuliaCorvia: Hello again wonderful readers! This is Julia, thanks for reading our fic! I had a lot of fun with this chapter, Camila and Eda being great parents to Luz is something I adore writing. It took a long time for Eda to get settled in, but when she did, she started making random things to try to make Camila's life easier. Of course, there were mess-ups along the way, like Owlbert 2.0 may his name never be spoken. I hope you all enjoyed it, and if you did, take a look at my other fic Replace my Name (maybe with yours.) Thanks for reading and see you all in two weeks.

QuirkQuartz: I am a sleepy anglo. Edits were slow on this chapter and that be on me - Sorry y'all. I've been working at Uni stuff, but I enjoy helping tie this all together, so I hope y'all had fun with this chapter. Guitar Strings between me and Julia is making progress, and Chapter 2 will be up soon -  QQ's Politics - Socialism is an economic structure in which workers own their workplaces, and where you no longer make things to make a profit but to use them. That's it. I have no idea how people struggle with this.

ChaoticMasterpiece: Never expected I'd be doing one of these for this project, but here I am. I'm ChaoticMasterpiece, the official cartographer for this project. Yes, cartographer, as in, I made a little map of this fic's version of the world to give a sense of where everything sits, and hopefully you guys will get to see that soon enough. As of this chapter I've also been recruited for writing duty, having been told by the rest of the Good Witch Society that I am apparently one of the fluffiest writers in the server as well as an expert on characterization. I don't know about any of that myself, but I do my best. If you'd like to judge these claims for yourself, as of this point in time I've finished a little Christmas fic called All I Want For Hexmas Is You as well as a pair of oneshots the server inspired me to write called Berry Breakfast Battle and Abominably Adorable if you'd like to check those out. I will definitely be back to write more for this project soon, as well as some big plans I've got for my own projects to keep an eye out for. Thank you for listening to me ramble on, and please have a Chaotic day.

dotH4CK3R: Hiya folks! You've probably never heard of me, I'm just a humble artist and writer who was invited to be part of this awesome project because apparently, they think I do words good. Go figure. Anyways, I hope to continue contributing more to this project and am just as eager as the rest of you to see how it grows! Spoiler alert, y'all are in for a fun ride. If you are at all interested in my personal works, I currently have a charming little one-shot called She Loves Me, the first chapter of a four-part story titled A Fox's Treasure, as well as my main ongoing fic Two Souls, One Heart, a crossover AU with the setting of the anime Demon Slayer (don't worry, you don't need to have seen the anime to keep up)! I've also got other projects planned out, and you can keep an eye on my artistic endeavors over on Twitter and Instagram too! Speaking of which, don't think writing words is all I want to do for this project, so stay tuned cuties~

Chapter Text

A generous person might call The Treasure Shack a lively little bar with a great deal of personality.

But Amity was raised by the rich, and so she’d been taught to avoid being so generous. Instead, she thought of it for what it was. A disgustingly rambunctious hole-in-the-wall, filled to the brim with scum and criminals.

As Amity sat right at the edge of her corner booth, she glanced around once more to be absolutely certain her perception wasn’t playing tricks on her. But, sure enough, it wasn’t. Even by the standards that she had been living by since being driven out of her home, this place was a trash-heap among trash-heaps. Some people openly clad in gang symbols, others in ugly tattoos, and a handful still with inhuman augments, were scattered all throughout the bar. Some of the patrons here were so augmented that Amity had to question whether or not they were even human anymore. 

She looked about the tavern, quickly discerning that the gang of Banshee members that she had come along with had been taking part in a rather... Tantalizing side hustle. One particularly noticeable lady had horns almost bigger than her head, and Skara seemed to be flirting with her, though only for the sake of getting at the woman’s wallet. At the other end of the pub, Amelia chatted with a person who had augmented themselves to have multiple eyes scattered across their body, though Amity wasn’t sure what Amelia’s plan was there. And may have been dark, but Amity could have sworn that she had seen at least one person who had so many augmentations, their entire face resembled an eye more than anything else. That had been… Unsettling.

It was like an assembly of the biggest freaks that the entire Empire had to offer.

No wonder Boscha likes it here , Amity thought to herself. It’s the only place her third eye looks normal by comparison .

“So.” The aforementioned gang leader whistled, a smirk crossing her lips as she leaned against her seat like she was right at home. “Whatcha think? Cozy, right?”

Amity watched as the bartender smashed a small man’s face into his glass, shattering it to pieces and grabbing a fistful of hair, dragging his face across its entire length before tossing him to the floor where he laid, limp. It was done with such alarming proficiency that all Amity could think about was how common an occurrence this had to have been. 

And naturally, not a single person batted an eye at the man that laid on the floor. They certainly weren’t on their feet trying to help him, either. 

“I prefer the term ‘disgusting,’” Amity deadpanned, plainly. This wasn’t anything she wasn’t used to. “Though I’ll admit, it certainly makes the Banshees look less criminal by comparison.”

Boscha snorted. “Used to come here with the girls just to piss off my mom. Now, though, I mostly come here for more... Special occasions.” 

Amity’s eyes narrowed. “So, what’s so special about tonight, then? Finally decided to settle down, have a family, give up your life of crime?”

Boscha shook her head. “Afraid I’m too attached to the job. I find myself getting too many...” A notable pause followed. “... Interesting employees.” 

That now recognizable devilish grin across Boscha’s lips implied that ‘interesting’ wasn’t exactly the word she wanted to use for Amity, but the green-haired girl simply ignored it. That was pretty much all that Amity could do in situations like this.

She knew for a fact that she couldn’t trust Boscha. And there were a thousand reasons for that, one of which being that she never trusted anyone anyway. Trust in this line of work almost always leads to a knife in the back. 

Her being the boss of an underground crime syndicate didn’t help with that any, but it was something more. For all of her perverse flirting with anything on two legs, the ridiculous outfits, and almost mocking nicknames, Amity knew Boscha could be cruel when she wanted to be. When the situation called for it. 

Or even just for the sake of feeling a power trip. She knew that the anger at Amity not going trigger-happy on the hostile trespassers — or, more accurately, the Bonesborough forager and little kid in the alleyway — was still there. Boscha wasn’t the kind of person to just let things go. Amity had met plenty of people like Boscha, enough to know that wasn’t how her mind worked. Before they came here, she had been pretty obviously furious at Amity not following her orders, her authority being challenged, and her being undermined and back-talked to. 

So having her seem almost… Friendly right now put Amity more on edge than she would be if Boscha had decided to hold a gun directly in front of her face.

“So, what’s so special about tonight, then?” She asked again, sounding disinterred. Although honestly, she would admit to being curious — Amity had thought that they were headed straight for these abandoned labs, but instead, they had ended up… Here . For reasons completely beyond her.

“Well, we get to do some window-shopping for one,” Boscha chided, and then laughed to herself. “Probably gonna find ourselves some good material to sell on the Night Market. Might even get to buy this place, branch out the Banshee bar, make it a brand, turn this into a new hiding spot.”

“And we’re getting drunk… Before that?”

Boscha shook her head. “Nah, no getting drunk before a big mission. I’m not that unprofessional.” She looked up as a humanoid homunculus with demon-like claws carried a tray with two shots to the table, placing one in front of Boscha, and the other in front of Amity. “But I was hoping you’d take this one. As initiation into our little… Group.” The way she spoke clearly implied that ‘hoping’ actually meant ‘demanding’. 

Amity eyed her drink suspiciously. It was a dark brown sludge that smelt of death and rancid piss. And to top it all off…

“...The eyeball’s just for decoration, right?” Amity asked.

“Flavor,” Boscha deadpanned.

There was a few seconds of silence, before Amity blinked, and felt outright overcome with abject disgust. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” 

What sounded like maybe the very first genuine laugh Amity ever heard from Boscha followed as she flung her head upwards. The outburst lasted maybe seven seconds, before she lowered her head, and said levelly, “So many things, you have no idea.” 

Amity sighed and grasped the shot glass. She grimaced —at least if it’s poisoned, I won’t have to worry about Boscha hitting on me anymore .

Taking a deep, shaking breath, Amity closed her eyes and downed the entire drink.

And two seconds later she was choking it back up.

“Wha —What the hell was that!? ” She sputtered, gripping onto the bar as if her life depended on it. 

“Oh by the Titan! You actually drank it?! ” Boscha howled with laughter again, pounding the bar with her fist. 

“Emperor’s forsaken fucking mercy, it tastes like raw sewage water!” 

“Wouldn’t ya know, that’s because it is sewage water,” Boscha cackled, gasping for breath. “And an eyeball! Not sure where that came from, though.”

“I swear to the Titan’s soul, I’m going to fucking kill you!”

“No, you’re not.” Boscha grinned. “Everyone says that after their initiation, and somehow I’m still alive.”She slid across the booth and wrapped an arm around Amity’s shoulder, placing her hand a surprisingly respectful way away from somewhere the assassin would have decided to smack her boss for being anywhere near. “But hey, ‘least you’re officially a Banshee, now.” 

Her smile seemed a little too wide, a little too bare, and a little too sharp, to be genuine.

Amity stared at Boscha for a moment, into her cold, unfeeling eyes and wide grin. The golden-eyed girl felt a twinge of something in her stomach, something she hadn’t felt since she’d given up on the idea of ever returning to her parents' good graces.

Fear .

“...Thanks,” Amity muttered as she pushed Boscha’s arm off of her, and got onto her now wobbly feet, “but I think I need some fresh air.”

All three of Boscha’s eyes blinked. Then, she snorted. “Sure thing, little miss prissy,” she muttered. “Fresh air? In the city? Yeah, right…”

As she stepped over the patron who would have had a lovely story to tell about their new scar if it hadn’t split their face in two, Amity walked out into the alleyway. She let out a deep sigh, looking around the dirty little hiding spot for anyone standing around. 

Thankfully, there were only two; a pair of distracted young men, one blonde and a silver hair by the looks of it, kissing each other, the blonde pinned against the back wall. For half a second, Amity just blinked, waiting to see if they were going to notice her. Instead, they just seemed to get more… Aggressive. 

“ Alright , fun times over,” Amity quickly hissed at them. “Go find somewhere else to make out.”

The two boys stopped. The blonde hid his face sheepishly, while the one with silver hair spun toward her. 

“Uh, hey,” He slurred out, straightening himself up. “What, uh, gives you the right to tell us what to do?”

There was no confidence in what he was saying. No real vigor and no real intent — Amity could recognize all of that solely based on his wavering voice and submissive posture. People who were drunk and tried to get confrontational didn’t talk the way he was talking. It was rehearsed. Practiced.

Unfortunately for him, though, Amity could not have physically been in less of a mood to deal with… Whatever this was.

“I’m not here to make you look tough in front of your boyfriend, pal,” Amity growled. Her augmented hand whirred and clattered as she made the fingers rigid. “I said leave .”

That gave him the hint. Realizing that he was, in fact, not at all prepared for a situation like this, the one with silver hair fumbled to grab his partner's hand, dragging him away from the woman who looked about ready to snap him in two. 

“Uh, n-nice meeting you ma’am,” The blonde hiccuped as they turned the corner 

And suddenly, Amity was left alone with her thoughts.

Stupid, stupid young love. 

She slumped against where the two boys had once been. Her legs gave up after just a few seconds, and she slid down to the ground. She pulled her knees up to her chest, trying to take a deep breath of the city air. For the second time in less than a minute, Amity gagged.

Boscha was right. Fresh air in this city? Maybe next she could ask for a clean glass of water. Those seemed to be in short supply, too. Her stomach churned as she remembered that… ‘Drink.’ 

Was that the entire reason they had stopped here to begin with? Just for Boscha to screw with her like that? 

For the Titan’s sake, how does anyone survive around here? 

This had to be rock bottom. Surely it wasn’t possible to get lower than this .

Her mind wandered to what Boscha had said about becoming a Banshee. She knew it was a stupid thing to be worked up about. A stupid thing to let get to her. And yet…

First time in my whole life I’m told people actually want me, accept me. And it’s a lie told by a gang leader who would probably kill me as soon as try to get with me.

And even then, it felt… 

Amity sighed. She knew she looked vulnerable. Weak. Pathetic. Stupid. 

Imperfect . 

But she didn’t care. She just wrapped her arms around her knees and placed her head against them.

No one’s looking. Who’s going to see it if I take a second to feel sorry for myself?

For maybe the first time in years, she actually wanted to just sit there and... Cry .

“Is there something wrong?” A familiar voice cooed above her.

Her first instinct was to reach for her rifle, but when she remembered that she had left it with her monocycle, she instead clenched her augmented fist and reached for the knife she kept at her belt with her organic hand. She looked around the alleyway to see where the voice was coming from. There didn’t appear to be a single person with her, and yet she’d just heard a voice, clear as crystal.

  Lilith .

Amity couldn’t see her, couldn’t find her at all. But she knew she was there, somewhere in that dark alley. Getting onto her feet, she felt her anger flare up again to overtake her grief. She may have her issues, but she wasn’t delusional.

She hoped.  

“Where are you?” She hissed. Her grip on the pocket-knife tightened. “I’m not playing games with you!”

And then, from seemingly out of nowhere, a bird landed on the back of her hand that held the knife. 

Amity blinked. 

The bird blinked back.

It might have been a completely normal sight, at one point in time, to see birds flying about Empire City. But now, most of them were long extinct, killed by pollution and hunting and other human mass industrialization. The rest were far, far, far away from anything that even resembled the Empire. Only a scant few remained anywhere nearby, and even then, they were relegated to the upper levels of the city. 

Seeing this bird here meant only one of two things. Either A, that this was a genetically engineered bird created for someone with too much money on their hands. Or B, this wasn’t a bird at all.

“Hello,” the bird stated.

Option B it was — the last time she’d checked, Birds didn’t speak. 

“Lilith,” Amity stated dryly. “I see you decided to take up gene splicing. So, what’s it like, being a...What even is that, a pigeon?”

“Raven, ” the bird Amity had now decided to continue calling a pigeon stated. “And this is not gene splicing. It’s a messenger bot I designed like this. I felt that coming in person would seem… Suspicious.”

But me looking insane while talking to an animal that's supposed to be extinct is completely and utterly fine.

“What do you want, Lilith?” She growled. “How did you even find me here? There’s no way…” She paused for a moment, then rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Right. Oracle Cameras.” She muttered, remembering the security system her mother's company had installed across the city.

“The Banshee’s aren’t always the most… Subtle gang in the city,” Lilith noted. The mechanical raven twitched its head to look directly at the assassin. “ Speaking of which, I needed to speak with you about their latest plan. This Thuja lab, it’s— ”

“Let me guess.” Amity cut in. “In spite of the fact it’s not one of the sites you told me to keep them away from, it’s actually one that you need me to make sure the Banshees don’t break into and steal whatever super-secret, valuable item you don’t want them finding.” 

There was a slight pause. “ How did you find this out? ” Lilith’s voice was slow and wavered slightly. 

“I didn’t find anything out.” Amity flatly said. “I’m just used to you screwing me around at this point. It was old back then, and it’s gotten real old again, real quick.” The raven jittered slightly again, and Amity liked to imagine that it somehow translated to Lilith being at least a bit flustered at the thought of being so predictable. “Unfortunately, I can’t exactly stop them now. I mean, unless you brought some bombs I could-”

“ I’m afraid I left those with my other raven ,” Lilith stated dryly. If she had been thrown off, it hadn’t lasted long. “ And anyway, I don’t require you to kill them. Far from it .” The bot ruffled some of its unsettlingly lifelike feathers, and from out of them dropped a small pin. Amity tentatively picked it up. A small, but gleaming emerald pin. 

On the bronze trinket was a hand-engraved symbol, one she had never seen before. It was a small symbol of a potted plant, and on its leaf tips was an even smaller spider on a thin strand of web. Somehow, it felt significant, though she couldn't pinpoint exactly why.

“ There’s a large set of doors with that symbol on it ,” Lilith explained. “ Simply make sure they do not enter. It should be locked, bolted a few hundred times over, but just in case… ” The tiny bot looked up at Amity, black eyes staring intently at her. “ Remember, if you accomplish this, I can promise you that you will never have to kill again .”

Amity’s mind wandered yet again, if only for a moment. This time, to thoughts of a life off the streets. A life away from assassination. A life with parents. 

She wondered what it would be like to feel at home. She’d been away from all of it so long, that the idea of the comforts that came with life on the upper layers felt foreign to her now. The clean kept streets would feel empty and lifeless. It felt like she would be re-entering a new world altogether again. 

Perhaps her parents would care this time. 

Love her. 

Help her. 

Maybe this time around she wouldn’t be a nuisance. Maybe her siblings would treat her with respect instead of as a punching bag. But she wondered if, in the end, she would be a stranger to them more than anything else. It wasn’t like she was the same person she was back then. 

This was all that she had, but she couldn’t help but wonder if she would even belong there, either. 

Her mind wandered to the two boys, kissing, falling deeper in love in this very spot.

Maybe she could find someone to have that with…

Just… Something to look forward to after all this was done . 

… But there was something that was nagging at her in the back of her mind. A piece of this whole puzzle that she couldn’t wrap her head around.

“...What exactly am I guarding here?” Amity questioned, her eyes narrowing. “What exactly is so special, so important, that you think my parents would accept me back into their lives for helping them with? That you’re willing to go to all this trouble?”

The bird bristled and didn’t make a sound. “Amity, I’m not sure I can-”

“Can what?” Amity asked, her teeth grinding against each other. She was somewhat tempted to grab the thing by the neck and throttle it. “Lilith, I don’t normally care why my clients want me. I’m a tool to be used for whatever I’m paid to be used for — but I’ve never had a client ask me to guard some precious cargo in a science lab or tell me they’d get me good with my parents to do it, and I’ve not had one of the Emperor’s allies ask anything of me. So, after all these years, for once in my life, I do care, and would like to know what I’m doing, and what the hell I’m being dragged into.”

The bird simply stood atop Amity’s hand, cocking its head to the side in thought. Amity waited for a moment before shooing it off of her and onto the ground while grabbing hold of the door handle to re-enter the bar. 

“Fine then. Keep your damn secrets and stay the hell away from-”

“It was a project!”

Amity froze. Turning her head back and downwards, she narrowed her eyes.

“Go on.”

“It was a top-secret project, commissioned from the Emperor themself. Me a—and an assortment of colleagues, we were meant to find a way at creating human regeneration.”

“Really,” Amity asked. “And?”

“And it went poorly. Some of my colleagues weren’t… Enthusiastic about the end results and who it was for, and so the project was terminated.”

“Along with the other scientists?”

She may not have been in front of Amity, but she remembered the old scientist well enough to imagine the cold silence, the slight shuffling of feet, and her inability to look Amity in the eye when she knew she couldn’t hide her guilt.

“Yes. Some of them.”

“So to reiterate — I’m making sure that a bunch of teenage gangsters doesn’t get into a secret room in a lab that you didn’t tell me I needed to keep them away from for reasons that are completely beyond me, and I’m guarding a secret project that the Emperor wanted complete, which resulted in a bunch of scientists getting killed because of some sort of internal politics.”

“... Essentially.” 

“And you didn’t think you mentioned any of this to me because?...” 

“Because you’re an assassin, and because I trained you. Because you know how this game works. You never tell someone more than you need to.” 

“And you need me for this because if you told anyone else what you’re doing, you’d be joining the rest of your buddies in whatever unmarked pit they got buried in.” 

Lilith's silence was answer enough. The truth was, Amity really was the only option she had at the end of all of this. 

That was leverage. Lilith was right—never give up more than you need to. The fact she had given this up meant that Lilith needed her. 

“Alright.” Amity nodded. “Cool.” She rubbed a thumb over Lilith’s pin. At least she knew more about what she was dealing with here. “So, just keep them out of this room and I’ll be good?”

The raven nodded. “Most everything outside of it was just standard scientific equipment and boring memorabilia. But that room can not be breached.”

Amity pocketed the pin. “Gotcha. And after this, I’ll hopefully find a boss who won’t constantly hit on me.”

And can’t kill me in one shot.  

“One more thing, before I leave,” Lilith said. “You never did answer my question. Is there anything on your mind? Anything at all?”

Her eye twitched, and Amity glared daggers at the bird.

“Let me make one thing very clear,” She said, calmly, but with a clear eviction of danger in her voice. “You and I are not friends. You abandoned me as much as anyone else did. You can pretend that didn’t happen, but I’m not playing along. Whatever weird mother-daughter relationship we may have had is done . When this is over, I don’t want to hear from you, or see you, ever again. Just get me my parents and stay the hell away from me.” 

She stood over the small bird, towering over it while the small machine hopped back. And in the back of Amity’s mind, she imagined the woman who raised her, spied on her, never reached out to her, laying on the ground, shuffling into the back wall. 

And it felt good to be so powerful, if only for a moment. 

In reality, the machine only hopped back a few paces. Then it stopped and nodded.

“Understood, then. Ours is a business relationship.”

“And nothing more.” Amity hissed.

The bird blinked again, then looked up to the sky. “I shall leave you alone now. But if I may give you some advice first — ” 

“No. But you’re gonna do it whether I want you to or not.” 

“ — You know the game, Amity. You cannot be alone forever. An assassin strikes alone, but when they only have themselves to rely on, they leave their back exposed.”

And with that, the bird stretched its wings and flew away.

Once again, leaving Amity alone to think. Pondering on that lesson that Lilith had first taught her back when she was ten. 

Though not for long.

“Yo, girl, there you are.” She heard. Turning, she spotted Skara, pocketing what appeared to be the wallet of the woman she’d been schmoozing up to. “Boscha says it’s time to head out. You ready?”

Glancing back in the direction the bird had flown off in, Amity saw it had already escaped her sight. Wherever it was now, it was lost in the haze and smog that made up the rest of the Empire. 

Though Amity could still feel that it was looking at her from wherever it was. 

She nodded.

“Yeah. I’m ready.”

She spun on her heels and walked out into The Treasure Shack’s parking lot, ready for all of this to be over.

To finally return where she belonged.

“... And make sure that you get plenty of sleep, and don’t forget to eat at least two meals a day. We put in enough food in your bag, and you should have enough money to last you a few nights in a hotel if you really need to.” 

Camila adjusted Luz’s jacket, a pained smile on her face as her eyes lingered on the myriad of small patches. On the long patch of rough green canvas strapped onto Luz’s shoulder, the one from the tumble that she had taken a few years back. Only her daughter would fall headfirst into a ditch trying to catch a stray cat that wandered too far out near construction. The faint lines from where the jacket was sewn back together, over and over again. 

She won’t last a day in the Empire —Camila grimaced and shook her head of the horrid thoughts that plagued her.

The small, off-green pieces of history that were scattered across the jacket reminded her that Luz was still learning, still growing. She was too young to be giving her life away, and too young to experience the hatred that people of the city held for people like them. She brushed off a piece of imaginary dirt from her daughter’s shoulders, wanting desperately to pull her daughter into a hug and never let go. 

She was going to stand out like a sore thumb in the Empire. But Luz wasn’t going to be dissuaded. And at this point, she was the most physically fit out of all of them. They couldn’t stop her from going even if they physically tried to. 

“I packed some extra canisters for Owlbert.” Eda leaned over Camila to ruffle Luz’s hair, dislodging her beanie as Luz grumbled fondly, trying to readjust it but only managing to make her hair stick up randomly. “Check-in whenever you can.” 

“Check in every day, mija.” Camila couldn’t resist pulling Luz in and placing a kiss on her forehead. “And please be careful out there. The Empire is…” She trailed off, looking up at Eda as the tall woman ran a hand through her hair and let out a sigh. 

“It’s everything that Bonesborough isn’t.” Eda chuckled, “And that means the good and the bad. People aren’t as willing to help out there. It’s a lot more of a dog-eat-dog world on the inside of the walls” 

“So... What’s the good?” Luz asked, eyebrows raised.

Eda blinked, and actually, for a solid two seconds, tried to think of something that was actually defensible about the inside. “... Depends how fond you are of compact architecture?”

That didn’t do a thing to reassure Camila about what her daughter was walking into. 

“Just keep your wits about you, and don’t get caught.” 

“And if I do get caught, I don’t know you.” Luz shot back, a hesitant smile on her face as Eda chuckled wryly, looking back towards Camila, who rolled her eyes at the notion. 

“Yeah kid, don’t think my name will do you any favors.” 

A heavy silence fell over them, the three of them standing in the doorway to the house. The sun rising above the smog made them all turn towards the warmth. Camila wrapped an arm around Luz’s shoulder as the three of them watched in silence. 

King meandered out of the house, butting his head against Luz’s leg as he joined the small family. He’d been insistent on not being involved in this beforehand because it was ‘mushy’, but sentiment had caught up to him, it seemed. Luz did her best to pat him on the head, while still being held by her mother. 

Despite the sun serving as a reminder that there was a quest, a timeline hanging over all their heads, no one really wanted to move away. 

“... I need to go,” Luz whispered, the silence of the morning allowing everyone to hear her. She made no attempt to move as Camila squeezed her shoulder, her arm falling away. Luz turned, facing her two mothers, standing in the doorway of their house. Eda slowly wrapped one arm around Camila, pulling her into an embrace as Camila leaned into it, grateful for the comfort. 

Shrugging her shoulder, Luz adjusted the bag. She felt the weight of supplies that her mom had packed for her, staying up through the night to fit as many travel bundles in as possible and making prepared meals. The weight of the chainsaw on her back was another strange feeling, the weapon heavy with meaning. Her mother’s bag and jacket, her mentor's arm fashioned into a weapon. She carried parts of home with her. 

And when it came to the money she had been given, tucked away in one of the many pockets of her jacket, she tried really hard not to think about what exact percentage of their entire household wealth she was carrying with her. 

“Here.” King interrupted her thoughts, reaching up and offering Luz a small pin. It was a collection of gears and wires, held together by whatever being had blessed the catwalks of Bonesborough. It could resemble an owl in flight if one knew that the maker came from a family that was obsessed with the birds, and had a spark of creative vision. King was never the sentimental type, but Luz knew that the little trinket he bestowed upon her just now held all of the love that he could offer.

It was perfect. 

“Thanks, King.” Luz pinned it to her beanie, kneeling down to rub the top of King’s head, the smooth familiar feeling of bone making her smile. “You look after them, okay?” She gestured towards the door, King nodding solemnly. 

“I will.” King turned, only the years of time that Luz had spent with him allowing her to see the stiffness in his stride. The normally closed-off homunculus had a soft side, too many nights of watching him pull a blanket over a passed-out Eda had shown Luz that. “You be careful.” He muttered. 

Luz nodded once as she stood back up, not missing the slight waver to King’s voice.

Something about all of this made it feel a bit too real , all of a sudden. She’d never left Bonesborough in her life. She knew this place so well she could navigate it with her eyes closed. She knew basically everyone here. And now, she was headed into the Empire—a place that had been so, so, so far out of reach of her for her entire life. 

Into a place she couldn’t even begin to imagine. A city that she’d only ever heard stories of, and seen in silhouettes in the distance, too far to make out any lone detail. 

A place beyond her comprehension.

...There was a small part of her that wanted to bolt down the stairs, that wanted to race towards the sunrise and not look back, not have to do…. This. To just get away, before she had a moment to build any second thoughts. Her mom had been looking after her for her whole life, there was never a day that Luz could remember her not being there; whether it was to patch up a hole in her clothes, tell her stories, or encourage her to never give up and to help everyone that she could. 

And Eda. Eda, who crashed into their lives almost literally, who had become a permanent fixture within weeks, and who taught Luz everything she knew about mechanical and about the world outside Bonesborough. She was just as much of a mother to her as Camila. 

She had to remind herself that she was doing this for their sake. That unless she did this, there would be no way to help them at all. That it would just be a ticking clock until… 

...That didn’t make it any easier, though.

“...Mom…”

“...It’s time, isn’t it?” Camila asked, her voice heavy. 

 As she let out a long shaky breath to try and calm her nerves, Luz nodded. 

“... Please be careful Mija, and…” Camila trailed off, taking as rough a breath in as her daughter had done, and tried to collect herself. 

Thoughts ran through her head— What am I supposed to say in this situation? Be safe? There would be enough trials along the way for her Luz, and there was no way that Camila could force the world to be safe enough for her; though if she could, she would. 

“...Come home.” 

“I will,” Luz assured her, her voice certain. 

“You’ll be needing this, too.” Eda offered a scrap of paper, Luz taking it, a small set of directions, and a hastily scribbled map in the margins on it. “I dug pretty deep to get that, and it’s not much, but, it’s a start.” Eda’s arms hovered over Luz’s shoulders, the confident mechanic’s hands wavering slightly, unsure of what to do. 

“Thanks, mom.” Luz made the choice for her, stepping forward to envelop Eda in a hug, holding on tightly as she felt Eda hesitantly hug her back. Camila joined, the three of them clinging tightly to each other. Warmth and pressure around her leg made Luz smile as King joined in as well. 

This warmth. The feeling of her family around her, all of them clinging tightly to each other as they wethered whatever came their way, as they cared for each other, shared meals and laughter over an old scratched table. This is what Luz was doing everything for. She clung to that, the cold morning air not chilling her as much when they all separated. 

Luz gave a small wave, a flash of a grin, and spun on her heels. Tears welled at the corner of her eyes as she marched resolutely down the ramp towards the streets of the city.

 She would fix this, she would fix all of this, and then they could continue being a family together. 

Trying to resist the urge to turn, to wave to her moms one more time, she clenched harder on the rough strap of her duffle bag. 

One foot in front of the other— she thought, pulling out the scrap of paper and focusing on it. Whoever this Dr. Park was, Luz was going to literally drag the answers out of them if need be. 

This was the only way to help her family. She wasn’t going to let anything get in the way. 

Camila watched as Luz left, standing still even as Luz passed out of sight, fighting the urge to run after her, Black Lung be damned. The warmth around her shoulders prevented her from doing so, looking up to see Eda doing much the same thing that she was, staring out into the distance with a half-nostalgic, half-equally terrified look on her face. 

“She will be okay,” Camila said, not entirely certain who she was reassuring. 

“I know.” Eda cracked one of her lips up in a smile, leaning down to press a kiss on top of Camila’s head. “Your girl is just as strong as you are, my love” 

A slow, content smile spread over Camila’s face. Turning slightly she faced Eda, rubbing one hand in hers as she pressed a gentle kiss on the back of her hand. Eda had spent hours teaching Luz, and for the past years had done everything to keep them both safe. 

“You mean our girl is just as strong as we are.” She said, watching as Eda flushed, the corners of her mouth ticking up sporadically into a wide smile. 

“Yeah. Our girl is tough, I’m more worried for whatever poor sap tries to get in her way.” The two of them chuckled, the slow laughter seeming wrong in such a somber moment. 

“Come on,” Camila looped their arms together, resting her head on Eda’s shoulder and adjusting even further into her side, “Let’s get inside, I’ll make us some soup to eat and we can see what we can do from here.” 

“Oh no, not with your health.” Eda pointed a thumb at herself proudly, “I will cook you food this time around.” 

Camila snorted in laughter, the sound making Eda smile widely. “The last time you tried to make soup, it tasted like motor oil.” 

“In my defense, I did tell you not to store soup cans in my workstation.”

“We can make it together.” Camila smiled, stepping into the house as she let her hand trail down Eda’s arm until she loosely held onto Eda’s hand. There was something in her voice, some deep love that Eda struggled to place, the double meaning of her words as clear as day. 

“Together.” Eda smiled, grasping onto Camila’s hand as she stepped back inside her home. 

Together, we can do this —she thought, casting hope towards Luz. 

“Go get 'em, kiddo.” 

The familiarity of Bonesborough unfurled around her as she walked. The rusted metal and uncovered gears and machinery whirring along each alleyway and corridors. Miles upon miles of suffocating coal mines, ramshackle buildings, ragged people. 

Home.

Home ebbed away as Luz walked, and eventually found herself heading outside of the Bonesborough city limit. Eventually, Luz slowed to feel the road give way to something harder under her boots. She didn't like a lot of things or people, but this — the quiet, dissonant thrum of a city — was something she could revere. Even if it was occupied by people like Three-Eyes.

Right. Don't drop your guard, Noceda.

Sure, like she could. Not after that fiasco.

Eda's directions were scribbled out hastily, but they were still readable. Luz held them up towards the sunlight as she walked, and soon enough Empire city loomed against the trace of comfortable scrawl.

The Empire City was a hulking mountain of steel and smoke, extending well above the cloudline and beyond, hundreds, if not thousands of miles into the sky. The walls expanded around the entire circumference of the behemoth of a city, expanding well into the distance and beyond the horizon, far beyond Luz’s sight.

Layer upon layer had been constructed, one on top of the other, as the city had expanded upwards. Thousands upon thousands of buildings and layers of steel extended and built the basis of the highrise—tall skyscrapers, watchtowers and cathedrals to the Titan, some even hanging over the edges of other buildings, and relying on support beams that were attached to other buildings, which again, required more support beams. Enormous shapes and sizes, buildings which Luz couldn’t begin to comprehend the purpose of scattered the outer layers of the Empire. Luz quickly realized that it was only the outer layer. Within the city, a thousand more layers would be present, repeating this process all over and over again.

Metal coated everything from the walls to the buildings. A dull grey iron covered it all as it rose into the sky. Light didn’t reflect upon it though. It was impervious to the rays of sun.

Like the city itself were the immortal armor of the Titan’s will.

“...Wh… oa…” 

A thrill went through Luz at the sight of it, and she wished, suddenly, that she could just sprint the rest of the way. But she placed one foot in front of the other and walked instead, watching everything turn to a thousand and one new shades of grey around her as she moved farther inward.

There weren’t any words that she could string together to explain just how immense this intricate, elaborate, centuries-old construction was, and how much of an insect she felt in comparison. Her whole life, she had been far, far, far, far, far away from this, never getting closer than the outskirts to the outskirts of this city. It had only ever been a vague shape in the distance to her. And now, she stood before it. 

For the first time, she really understood how… Immense the structure was. Even now, she couldn’t see the top. It seemed to curve above her. It just…

It didn’t end.

Alt-Text: The comic is composed of two separate panels. The image on top depicts the beta design of Luz Noceda at the leftmost side, the wind blowing through their long brown hair and sweeping the red beanie atop their head. Her hazel eyes are wide with astonishment, and her mouth gapes open in awe. The green jacket that her mother gave her for the journey peeks through from the bottom of the panel, and in the background, we can see the dreary, tan plains of Bonesborough. The sky creeps into dawn, blue and purple hues shining from behind. The image at the bottom depicts an absolutely massive overhang of buildings that reach up to the sky, skyscrapers upon buildings that go beyond what’s visible in the panel. They are grey, very dark, and each has a shape that gives an air of individuality. The background is once again, dusk turning to dawn and shaded with a soft blue and purple. In the foreground, we can see the arid lands of Bonesborough that stretch before Empire City, and Luz is fit to scale at about a tenth the size of one of the hundred buildings depicted.

Shaking her head as violently as she could, Luz forced herself to tear her eyes away from the gargantuan city and focus on what was in front of her. She navigated the early paths with caution. It was surprisingly easy to make her gradual way through the winding alleyways, to follow the rickety signs to each checkpoint that Eda had laid out. And as she walked, the excitement gave way to something else.

The environment around her was a combination of dirty bricks, of soot-streaked concrete, and yet more metal, rusted and twisted from the heat and strain of daily life. The noise was a constant, a staple of life in this inner-city. Be it from conversation, speakers on every other street, or the hissing and creaking from all of its pipelines and gearboxes scattered throughout its streets. But the environment, as eclectic as it was, also seemed more than just the sum of its machinery.

It was real . 

Real people, splayed out on that soot-streaked concrete and rusted metal, just biding their time in their various areas until something else came along to push them out. The poverse stumbled along the path, clearly lost, but with no direction to follow.

Something cold made its way up her spine and settled in the back of her mind. Richer though it was, compared to Bonesborough, there were things about this place that just felt… Cold. Things that Luz immediately recognized, but couldn’t put a word onto. 

The path continued on upwards, the terrain becoming steeper and steeper as the ruggedness of the area faded away. It should have been relieving to finally emerge from that poverty-stricken area. Somehow, though, seeing the people here go about their lives, lightened by the weight of their wealth, made everything seem so much worse.

But. Eda had told her to be careful, and to be discreet. She couldn't do that if she was busy watching all these rich people exist in their little bubble.

Still, Luz was hungry. And there was a stall just nearby, on the main street—more polished than the broken-down food stands she'd seen in the outer circles of the city, but almost as cheap. Luz brushed her fingers over the spare change in her pocket, pulled her beanie down, and slunk out of the side street to approach the person at the counter.

"What do you want?" he asked, not glancing at her. His fingers were occupied with a small, cube-like puzzle. Luz tried not to get distracted watching him shift the pieces together.

"Can I get, um, a fried orb?" Luz asked, looking around furtively. Across the street, people were staring.

"Of course," the owner said. Then he looked up from his puzzle and stopped. Narrowed his eyes as he glanced her up and down. "Wait. We don't serve outer city folk."

Luz blinked. “Wait, what?” 

“You heard me.” The stall keeper's voice was firm. 

"I'm not from-"

"I see your clothes," he sneers, gesturing to his own starch-ironed garb, "And I don't trust 'em. Thought you could pull a fast one? What are you even doing here?"

“I don’t even know what you’re—I just want something to eat.” 

“If I wanted rats clambering around my stall, I’d throw the food on the floor.” 

Feeling the heat rise to her face, Luz for a moment forgot about where she was, and the people around her that were staring at her. She felt herself get ready to snap. Instead, though, the man rose to his feet, revealing himself to be far taller than she had first suspected. He grabbed ahold of the nearest lump of raw, uncut, and bloody meat, and used the nearest paring-knife he had to slice straight through it. The utensil hit the wood of the stall below with a loud thud.

His implication was abundantly clear. 

"Run along, kid."

Luz didn't have to be told twice. She glared, then backed away as fast as she could, receding into the winding maze of sidestreets. She still caught snatches of the main streets, but the city, colorful and rich, seemed to fade to a dull sepia

Eda had been right—Luz wasn’t sure why exactly she had let herself forget, even for the briefest of moments. This place was more dog-eat-dog than Bonesborough ever was. Even in spite of all its supposed riches. 

It wasn't right that people who had everything at their fingertips should be so hesitant to share. 

One person couldn't change that, though. 

And it didn't matter right now. She just had to get out of here; find a way to fix her mother. So she cut through sprawling alleyways, vaulted brick walls, and rarely ever stopped moving. The sun was still in the center of the sky, cutting between the crisscrosses of wires, but it wouldn't be for long. She had to find this place soon. If this place was unsettling during the day, she didn't want to imagine its nights.

As she made her way through strings of narrow alleyways throughout the cobbled path, Luz noticed that considerably fewer people came through this area. The once-bustling streets that she traversed were now only scattered with passersby every so often, and the numbers only dwindled from there. After a short while, not a single city-dweller passed her on the road, not from her way or the opposite direction. A thousand blockades, sealed-off areas, built over corridors and alleyways and buildings cut the areas she traversed off from the rest of the Empire, left abandoned and forgotten. It was a slight comfort to know that if night did fall, at least she wasn’t in an active part of town. 

Though her feet felt heavier now, she followed the directions. One foot in front of the other. Just had to get to the Lab, and then —then they would be safe. 

Her worn-down shoes, and the warm scrap of paper in her palms, took her to a break in the urban sprawl. For once, it wasn't the gleam of the Upper City or the soot of the Lower — just a green tangle of vines, roots, leaves, and branches that Luz took a second to look at. Flora like this was far from commonplace in Bonesborough. In the Empire itself, she hadn’t ever imagined that the jungle of scrap metal and loose gears would give way to… An actual, real-life overgrowth. 

Where had this come from? How did it sustain itself in an environment like this? What was it doing here, segmented off away from anyone who might have otherwise been able to stumble upon it? 

From what she'd heard, forests were supposed to be noisy. This one was far from it.

The canopy seemed to lay down a heavy layer of rare silence that would have been reassuring had it not been so… Unsettling . The feeling of dread in her gut weighed her down, which wasn’t helped by the vagueness of the directions from that point on.

It had said: Get to the woods. You’ll find a way through. Luz wasn’t sure how she was supposed to do that , exactly. 

She could try, though. So she did, soldiering straight on through, pushing tendrils and leaves out of her way as she went. A few of the branches managed to get a clean cut on her, but they never drew blood, thankfully. 

Then she stumbled right across it. Eda had known what she was doing. On the forest floor: a streak of beaten-down dirt, marred by footprints. 

Luz grinned tiredly. Thank the Titan .

The forest remained silent and peaceful as she followed the path. Eventually, she came to a break. Light spilled through, and Luz squinted through it, seeing a tall structure made of polished steel, with a dome of glass that jutted out from the apparent ceiling. Covered in vines and dirt, it seemed to act as the roof. On the wall, next to the door, a rusted sign had been carved into the structure— Thuja Labs.

The laboratory wasn't quite what Luz had been expecting. When she thought of a lab, it would be a tall, pristine building, walls lined with metal sheets to guard their secrets while wide windows sat up high to allow light into space within. Or maybe a little less grandiose, like a squat, unassuming bunker tightly sealed against intrusion with thick metal doors that could withstand even dynamite.

What she had not expected to find was a decrepit, abandoned-looking ruin, stretches of ivy vines crawling over its walls. It looked almost as though the forest sought to claim it, thick tree roots breaking through what remained of a once-pristine cobblestone street beneath a thick layer of detritus. As she drew nearer to the entryway, Luz could see what looked like an ivy-shaped crest beneath the layers of dust and grime that had accumulated over the years.

Before her the great metal doors leading into the lab sat half-open; peering through the gap, Luz could only see a stretch of tarnished steel-lined walls smeared with patches of rust and a cracked, dirty porcelain floor littered with debris in an unorganized mess. Whatever was further in lay hidden by shadow, the lights lining the walls dead and lifeless. 

Luz frowned; was someone really supposed to be living here? 

Then again, she had met Eda in a ruined home that had been in a worse state of disrepair; perhaps this ‘Dr. Park’ person was trying to lie low, much like Eda had been.

Coming to a decision, Luz held up a hand and Owlbert complied, hopping off her shoulder and onto her palm. She held the small mechanical owl in front of her as she spoke, his yellow eyes peering at her attentively.

"Okay buddy, I need you to wait out here for me. If I'm not back after eight hours, go back home and let Mom and Eda know I made it to the lab, but I might be in some trouble. Stay safe, stay hidden, and if you spot any trouble coming-- especially the Emperor's Guard--find me and let me know. Got all that?"

With an affirmative hoot, Owlbert gave her a tiny nod before taking off, winging away into the trees. Satisfied that he would be fine, Luz turned back to the half-open doors of the lab, a swell of determination washing over her as she cautiously slipped through the open doorway. She paused, waiting a moment, straining her ears to catch any hint of sound, her eyes peering into the darkness around her. 

When nothing happened, she took a few more cautious steps.

That was when the great metal doors behind her suddenly shifted, groaning and creaking before slamming shut, plunging the area into darkness. The echo of the metal shutting reverberated for a few seconds. After which, Luz felt her heart rate skyrocket to previously unknown levels. And then, suddenly, the lights flickered on. Unevenly bathing the area in a dull, yellow glow. From what Luz could tell, not all the lights were functional, but it was something at least.

Yeah, now I'll be able to see whatever comes out to kill me —Luz thought sardonically as she considered whether or not to bring Daisy to bear, just in case. She decided against it for now; it was probably better not to give the impression she was a violent hooligan. The last thing Luz needed was to start off on the wrong foot and convince the doctor that she was here to rob the place or something before even meeting them.

So Luz continued, on edge as she explored the empty halls of Thuja Lab. Her footsteps rang loudly in her ears, the only sound to echo in the halls, motes of dust leaping into the air with every step. The shadowed ceiling seemed to hang low over her head, the unevenness of the lights' dim glow only serving to make the lab feel more like a crypt, adding to the unsettling, claustrophobic atmosphere. 

… Maybe this really is just a security system. I mean, it doesn’t make sense to do that and then just let me carry on wandering about the place, right? 

Maybe I am supposed to find this Dr. Park here, is that what they want me to do? 

But what if they don’t want me here...

A hand positioned itself so that at a moment's notice, Daisy could be whipped out. 

Just in case.

The first set of doors she found seemed to be for an old elevator. While the call lock engaged, the hiss of steam echoing through the shaft indicating that the call had gone through and the elevator was at least somewhat functioning, the doors remained shut. They refused to budge even despite her efforts to then pry them open. If it was in disrepair or unpowered, she figured she could at least climb the shaft, but it looked like that wasn't an option either. Eventually, she gave up, deciding it would be better to find a stairway or some other way to search the other floors, and continued on her way.

It was as she turned away that she heard the elevator doors rattling open, gears screeching and grinding as though it had been some time since they'd last been used. Slowly, cautiously, Luz looked back to see light spilling out of the elevator as though inviting her in. 

Definitely not a security system, then.  

Maybe it is an invitation, after all.

She could either ignore it and try to make her own way through the lab, or go in and see where she was led. Either way had its share of dangers, but Luz was forced to admit that as much as she'd rather be safe than sorry, time wasn't necessarily on her side. Her mom and Eda needed whatever help this alleged ‘Dr. Park’ could offer, and if this was the doctor themselves showing her the way that would save her a lot of wasted time. She didn’t know the layout, and Titan only knew what else was lurking around this place. 

Besides, she wasn't helpless or anything. She had Daisy, and Owlbert could get help if it came down to that. Hopefully, it wouldn't, but one of the most useful pieces of advice Eda had given her was to always be prepared for anything that could happen. 

Somewhat hesitantly, Luz stepped through the elevator doors. She had barely crossed the threshold before the doors sealed shut behind her, the spring lock obviously weaker than it had been in its heyday. As Luz examined the release mechanism, squinting at the faded list of floor numbers plastered next to the doors, and wondering which one she needed to go to, a ding resounded throughout the small chamber. 

Looking up, Luz saw a floor indicator had lit up above the door. Soon after, the sound of whirring gears and the hissing of steam could be heard and the elevator began to move. Apparently, the decision was being made for her.

Frowning, all Luz could do was wait and watch the indicator move from floor to floor, progressively bringing her further into the lab. Her anxiety and impatience began to battle with each other as she shifted from foot to foot before settling on leaning back against the wall, foot tapping a steady rhythm in time with the sound of the elevator's mechanisms. She closed her eyes and focused on those sounds, her anxiety steadily melting away as it soothed her.

She was reminded of home, of the faint mechanical ambiance as she spent her days with her mothers, of time spent helping Eda in her workshop until Camila came home or called them up for dinner.

Thinking of home reminded her once more of everything she could lose.

Hopefully the files Eda gave her would be enough to convince Dr. Park to help.

Finally, the elevator slowed to a stop, the doors opening with one last ding , the indicator helpfully showing that she had been taken as far as the elevator could go. Taking a breath to steady her nerves, Luz stepped out of the elevator and gasped.

This floor was a far cry from the dilapidated state of the one she had come from. It was brightly lit, but instead of fixtures attached to the walls, light was emanating from panels installed in the ceiling that rendered everything as clear as day. 

The walls were instead covered in lengths of vines of all sorts, judging by the array of flowers and leaves. A thick layer of earth covered the floor, and a simple glance had instantly told her why.

A tapestry of green met her eyes, interspersed with a wide variety of color — Purples set ablaze with hints of red, among bright yellows with flecks of ultramarine blue. Rows upon rows of flowers that bloomed with magnificent petals swept the floor with their low-hanging tendrils and even plants that possessed no petals at all. They were variants of thick or thin, of sturdy branches, and in some, with moving vines. It almost felt as though the stems themselves were alive. Bushes that seemed to be covered with berries, buds, or other such features were scattered about the flowers, some green, some red, some pink. Like a rainbow. 

Darker colors were present too, from all that she could see. There were browns and blacks, darker shades of maroon and navy — these colors interspersed throughout the bright plants, as though they were there specifically to make the bright plants look even brighter. Yet, they behaved differently, too. They covered and encircled the twigs and branches of larger tree-like plants that clung to the sides and the walls. 

Some of the plants stretched up from the ground and up to the ceiling, while others grew atop the ceiling, and hung down towards the ground in a vine-like manner, and would hang just in front of Luz harmlessly, though she had to move them aside with her hands before they hit her in the face. And this kept up on every surface. If the walls really were as damaged here as they were throughout the rest of the facility, the plants covered it all up.

Luz didn't think she could name even a tenth of the plants she could see. Most of them were totally unfamiliar to her, either bursting with colors she didn't know plants could have or twisting into unfamiliar, alien shapes, sometimes even both. 

Just like her mentor, Luz had quite the knack for all things mechanical. Organic, though? This was all incredibly new to her. She hadn’t even seen this much greenery before in one place in her life—she couldn’t even begin to imagine the process of cultivating all of these plants. 

Taking a couple, admittedly nervous, steps closer to it all, Luz realized the plants were all arranged into neat rows, with space between for people to walk through. The reason she hadn't noticed it before was likely because said plants had long since grown over and through these spaces. Despite this, she could see places that were considerably less overgrown, which meant Luz could somewhat pick out a path to follow. 

As she made her way through, taking care not to damage any of the hanging tendrils, Luz wondered why she had been brought to this floor specifically. With any luck, it was because Dr. Park was as interested in meeting her as she was in them, but Luz was careful to keep her hopes from getting too high. She still didn’t know what she was getting herself into.

Brushing aside a stretch of long-stemmed leaves, Luz found several clusters of bright red and yellow fruit hanging in front of her path. She looked around to see if there was another route around—she didn’t know what… Any of this stuff was. And she didn’t feel like messing with any of it, at least if she could avoid it. But there didn't seem to be any other way. 

Shrugging and letting out a small sigh, she reached out to move them out of her path. Her fingers finally touched the fruit. It felt like sandpaper. 

In exactly one second after that, the fruit began to shrivel into a withered husk, and seemed to burst—a mist of spores hit her in the face. She coughed, waving her hand to disperse the spores before realizing with horror that the rest of the fruit on the cluster was doing the exact same thing.

And now, she could feel it in her throat.

Panicking, she quickly clamped a hand to her face and held her breath, stepping back to try to avoid the growing spore cloud, but she was too late. It was already in her system. A growing numbness spread through her body, her limbs growing heavy and weak. 

She fought as hard as she could, but it was inevitable. She tried to resist, but eventually failed, and collapsed into the dirt. 

As the numbness spread, she saw a pair of black boots step onto the loam in front of her, and felt herself being turned over. She was rolled onto her back, and Luz saw, behind the goggles of a gas mask and twin tubes trailing off from a brass ventilator, a pair of bright green eyes, one augmented, staring back down at her.

"...Huh. That worked... Better than I thought it would." The person said dryly, voice muffled by their mask.

A MESSAGE FROM OUR AUTHORS:

Hey all, regalkasherai here as a representative of The Good Witch Society Discord Server. I hope you all enjoyed our most recent iteration of the Project: Evergreen series. This is a multimedia project dedicated to The Owl House, showcasing creative talents from writers from every nook and cranny of this INCREDIBLE fandom. On that token, here's a little word from some of our authors:

JuliaCorvia: Hello! this is Julia! super hype to get out another chapter and some more really sweet family interactions. Eda for sure cannot cook, and King and Camila have made a pact to keep her as far away from the kitchen as possible after she almost burnt down the owl house trying to make Luz's favorite food for a birthday party. Thanks for reading this collaborative story work of ours! Feel free to check out my other works, including Replace my Name (Maybe with Yours). Thanks for reading and hope you all enjoyed this latest edition of Project: Unraveled. 

QuirkQuartz: Christ this chapter took a ton of editing we are all very tired. We had to cut a ton of stuff from this chapter which will appear in the NEXT chapter but yeah, been really busy with this one. And basically everything else BUT ANYWAY - Updates from me include Guitar Strings having its second chapter released, and being swamped in Uni work - Hooray! Politics of the day - Marxism is a way to analyze history by seeing it as a conflict between the rulers and the non-rulers. 

dotH4CK3R: Heya, it's me again! As always this was fun to work on, though I should not have made myself suffer through watching Alien to figure out that "dangerous empty lab" feel; horror movies and I do not mesh well. Anyways! Check out everyone's personal works when you can, they're all amazing, and well I guess you can read mine too if you want, b-baka. Buckle in and prepare yourselves for the next chapter; you're in for quite a ride. Stay tuned, cuties!

A_Big_Tree - It’s Not Delivery, It’s Digiorno