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Hunter felt sick to his stomach, ready to throw up with every movement. He had his duties to fulfil, work to do, but every action he took was making him feel closer to allowing himself to cry. It was unacceptable. But even more unacceptable was what was making him feel this way.
Was thinking supposed to bring so much confusion?
There was this thing, this knowledge that wild magic is simply bad. He knew that. Belos himself told him so repeatedly. He internalised that for himself through so much! All the research he did, all the knowledge he acquired was showing him clearly: wild magic leads to disaster.
So why was he dreaming about it? Where did the daydreams come from? The desire? The knowledge that it's within his reach?
With every task done he was grateful for his mask. His face must have been so twisted, he could not bear the idea of anyone seeing it that way.
Finally - a screech. The hour was done, his shift over, if one can say that The Golden Guard was ever off-duty.
Moving felt like rust was trying to eat through the machine of his body, stale movement barely hidden under his cloak. He traveled the hallways trying to breathe normally. His room was close. It was close. Only one more moment and he will… will what? Maybe scream. It seemed like as good of an idea as any other.
He took a turn passing some bored guards. A moment later he heard one of them whisper: "Doesn't the Golden Guard seem a little… dimmer?"
The other guard giggled and Hunter with shock realized his heart could drop even lower. They know, they know, they know drummed through his head, and he used the last remaining strength he had not to run.
But then he was in a different part of the castle, the secret passage took him right where he needed to be. Behind the closed doors. Safely in his room. As safe as he could ever be.
The chirping, the bird, where did it come from? Where was Rascal? Oh, right next to his head. Oh, when did Hunter get on his knees? Oh, breathing was hard and it was a somewhat surprising realisation. He wanted to say hello Rascal to his palisman but the only thing that squeezed through his tightened throat was a quiet “Hi…”
And then he sat on the floor and did not weep.
He got out of his uniform, throwing it somewhere to the side. It was only as perfect as the person wearing it and he was not perfect at all. All day long he could think only about how the wild magic could have improved the research. There were ways to implement it and he saw them clearly, yet it was not only forbidden through the law - it was also strictly forbidden by his uncle directly to Hunter. His uncle was the law and his uncle was the only family he had, the only after the wild magic took the rest of them.
With Rascal to his chest Hunter’s breath was getting steadier. Still feeling heavy he thought about praying. He knew others did that, not many thought, and never really included him in the process. Apparently it helped, to call to some higher power, if it even existed. He remembered a tale his uncle told him long ago, how their family used to have their own god, different from the gods creatures around here worshipped. But then Belos saw what gods cannot see, went through what gods cannot help with, and since then he never prayed again. He lost his faith, he said, because it was useless in the face of great power that strict rules can provide.
But after all, Hunter couldn’t help himself. He could not pray his feelings away.
“Wild magic cannot be…” he murmured to himself standing up. He couldn’t bring himself to finish the thought out loud. It cannot be that bad.
On his desk he found some loose paper and a pen. He drew a line. He drew a circle. His hand was shaking and the shapes were off. He bit his lip feeling that the need to cry was back again. He wasn’t as calmed as he thought he was.
Rascal chirped pointing at a new sheet of paper. Try again his movements were saying. And so Hunter did so. Another circle, another line. He created what he thought he saw Luz draw. Simple enough. Just tap it and a light should appear. It should.
He tore the paper in half, pushing Rascal away. What was he thinking?! Well, he clearly wasn’t thinking at all! If Belos found out… If ANYONE found out… He would be done. It all would be over. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t just sit in his room, in the middle of the palace, so close, so close to the heart of it all, to a place that was so rigid, so structured, so perfectly clean…
He snapped a bandana from under his pillow. Took his staff, put Rascal on his shoulder, opened the window and jumped. He couldn’t bear to be in that place a second longer. He went to the forest in hopes that it would kill any ideas he had and not make him try them even harder.