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Chapter Text

“Thank you again!” the toyshop’s owner exclaimed. “Everyone loves your toys!”

The young woman smiled. Every child in the Witches’ Realm already had at least one of her toys. They didn't need more, but she couldn’t stop fabricating them. That was the reason why she started coming to this small human town, bringing her toys for this old man to sell them.

He continued placing the toys on the shelves for display, as he praised them, but the young woman's smile slowly began to disappear. This man, so friendly and nice… would he act the same, if he knew what she was? Would he be thanking her, and smiling like this, if he knew she was a witch?

Something must have shown in her face, because the man suddenly frowned. “Hey, you alright?”

“Yes, yes of course,” she quickly answered. Would he be just as concerned about her, if he knew?

“I understand,” he sighed. "We are all so worried. This used to be such a peaceful town.”

“What… what are you talking about?”

“Haven’t you heard? About the disappearances?” the man said, and the witch shook her head, her eyes on his. “Three people in the last month. The Mayor even decided to contact the Academy.”

“Th-the Academy?!” the witch stuttered.

“Yeah, the town’s Council is certain that there’s something supernatural going on. Maybe a kishin or even... witches,” the man couldn't supress a shiver as he said the word. He looked at the young woman again and immediately noticed the growing horror in her expression. “But, you don't have to be afraid. Lord Death will protect us, he’ll send someone to stop whatever is causing this. They might be already here!”

The young witch had to suppress a hysterical sound. Hearing about the Academy always made her skin crawl, and her blood boiled whenever she heard that name. She didn’t hate humans, but she despised the way so many of them adored that monster. They worshipped that abomination, just as much as they loathed witches…

These were bad news. Maybe the other witches were right, and coming here had been a terrible idea. She and her friend, another witch younger than her, could be in danger, they had to abandon this town, as soon as possible...

The bell in the door rang, and the witch immediately turned around, hoping to find her friend, but she realized it was only a little child.

“Welcome to everyone's favorite toyshop!” the man immediately smiled. “Feel free to pick whatever you like!”

“Thank you,” the boy said politely. He couldn’t be more than six years old. Even though the anger and the fear had made their way into her spirit again, the witch couldn’t help but smile, a warming sensation surging in her heart when she saw that the boy immediately went to see her handmade toys, ignoring the many other, colorful playthings in display.

“I’ll be back in a minute,” the toyshop owner told the young woman. Then, he added with a hushed voice:

“Don’t let him steal anything.”

The owner disappeared in the back and the young witch approached the little client. Through the ample window panes, she saw a red haired man, waiting for him outside, while talking through a cellphone. His entirely black clothing was a stark contrast with the snowy street.

But there was no sign of her friend, yet.

The witch tried to calm herself. She hoped her friend would finish selling her pies and cookies soon enough. Then, they would leave... and never come back.

It was a pity, she truly liked this small town. She sighed, looking at the shop around her, then at her toys, and finally, at the little kid. His hair was weird, most of it was black, but some locks were adorned with white marks. The boy’s eyes were fixed in a small wooden car, but he was keeping his hands back, maybe strictly educated not to cause accidents with fragile things. The witch smiled, her toys were anything but fragile. Besides, she was sure he wouldn’t break it; for some reason, she felt certain he would hold it on his hands with so much care and so gently…

“You can touch it if you want,” she said, taking the small wooden car to give it to him. “Here, take a better look.”

The child looked into her eyes and she noticed his were a bright yellow. She had never seen eyes like those, and for a moment, she felt as if he was staring into her soul. It lasted less than an second, because his gaze then focused on the toy. His fingers grazed hers as he took it, and she realized they were so cold. It was only then that she noticed that the boy was wearing quite light clothing, just a thin white shirt and black trousers, despite the freezing temperatures outside.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked him, with a concerned frown.

The boy shook his head, as he examined the toy closely, first one side and then the other. The witch saw the pallor in his skin and considered it could simply be that he was used to feel cold. She looked through the panes and saw the man outside, still talking on his phone. Of course, he wore a thick jacket, warm gloves and a long scarf. The witch narrowed her eyes and set her jaw, but her expression softened again when she looked back at the kid.

“I’ve got hot chocolate, would you like some?”

The child hesitated for a moment, but then he nodded and accompanied the young witch to the counter. She grasped her bag to take out her flask, one charmed to be twice as effective, and poured some of the drink in a small cup. 

“Here, try some cookies," she said, taking a little box out from the bag too, and opening it for him. "A friend of mine bakes them!”

Right after saying that, she looked through the windows again, hoping to find her friend, but she still wasn’t there. She would certainly scold the younger witch the moment she decided to reappear! The witch suddenly noticed that the boy had only taken one of the small cookies. “You can take more if you want.”

He accepted, immediately taking more. The witch frowned as she saw the way the child swallowed the whole cup of the hot drink in one gulp and then started devouring the cookies.

“Had… had you eaten anything today?” she asked him.

The child shook his head. But then, he seemed to notice her horrified expression. “I... I don’t eat much,” he stated, as an explanation.

Outside, the man laughed loudly, still on his phone. The witch decided she was definitely going to hex that guy.

“You want more cookies?" she asked the child, searching in her bag for another box. "Guess these are as good as your mom’s!”

“I don’t have a mom,” the boy said flatly, as if merely stating a fact. “It's just me and father.”

The young witch felt frozen in shock and embarrasment. She opened her mouth, but she was unable to emit a sound. She wanted to apologise, to say she was sorry and try to change the subject. But before she could say a thing, the child spoke again, staring at the toy in his little hand.

“You made this!”

“Yes..” she frowned. “How… how did you know that?”

He cradled the toy carefully with both hands, as if it was a small treasure, something immensely valuable.

“You’ve put your soul in these.”

The witch's mouth fell open. Maybe the previous sensation that this kid could look at her soul had been quite accurate, after all...

“You… you can see souls?”

The child nodded, as if it was the most natural thing. “I see you here. Your mark, like a signature,” he explained, pointing at the toy.

The witch blinked. He really could see souls? Was that the reason why his eyes looked like that? She knew very well that there were humans with the ability to perceive spirits, those blessed by the Reaper with his very gaze, according to the old legends. The whole point of the Soul Protect spell was to be safe from them, after all. But, she had never in her life met someone who could do that. Maybe because they were so often recruited by their enemy, to hunt people like her…

Would this child grow and join the Academy one day? Would he be led to believe he was so fortunate to be gifted, to be chosen? Only to be sent to kill and die by that monster?

Slowly, hesitating, she crouched, resting over one knee to place herself in the same level as the child. “Would you please tell me…" she whispered, her voice unable to hide a waver, "what does it look like? My soul?”

The boy lifted his gaze from the toy to look at her. She knew the Soul Protect would hide the fact that she was a witch. But that was only a part of who she was. For what she understood, people like him would still be able to see so much more than that. The spell only made the soul seem of a different "color", whatever that meant. Not that she was certain of any of that, she had only heard vague rumours of how the ability known as soul perception worked.

The child's skin had felt cold, but his eyes weren't. As he gazed into her, the witch could only think about how they were the exact color of sweet honey, of collected pollen and golden sunlight. But before he could answer her question, the door opened widely, letting a cold wind blow inside the small shop. The red haired man was standing in the threshold.

“Sorry!” he exclaimed. “Kid, time to go!”

The witch set her jaw, feeling almost personally insulted. The child had to have a name, but the man didn’t seem to care about that. Nor about anything else, for that matter. He simply turned around and let the door sling closed, didn’t even wait for the boy. This man called himself a father?

The kid ran to the shelf and returned the little car to its place.

“No, wait!” the young witch exclaimed, taking the little car to place it again in his cold hands. “Take it, it’s yours.”

“But… I don’t have any money.”

“Don’t worry about that,” she said softly.

Maybe I made it for you…

“Thank you,” the child said, and for the first time, she saw a tiny smile on his face. “I promise, I will pay you.”

Through the panes of the windows, the young witch saw the boy catch up with the man. She knew that the humans had all kind of stories about witches kidnapping little children. They didn't know the witches' versions, those about kids being rescued. She closed her fists, if only she wasn't at such risk right now, if only the Academy wasn't that close...

But when wasn't a witch at risk? 

Chapter Text

Red bricks with wooden columns formed the facade of the small hotel, and a faint golden light shone through the ornamented window panes. Not so long ago, that had been just an old house, almost abandoned, until its owner decided to turn it into an inn. It would never be a five star hotel, but some reparations were enough to rescue the structure from its decaying state, and bring out its antique, rustic style. The clients were often travelers who needed a place to rest on their way to larger cities, always thankful of finding the cozy place, the open wooden doors that promised warm food, and shelter from the elements

From a bench in the small park, in front of the hotel, two witches watched attentively.

“Are you sure they'll come here?” the younger witch asked.

“The toymaker said they didn’t seem to be from around here,” her friend answered. “And this is the only hotel in town.”

“I know, but… what if they already left?”

The older witch, a tall, red haired woman, crossed her arms. They had waited in front of the hotel for hours, and she had seen no sign of the man, nor of his child. The witch closed her eyes and sighed, maybe this was for the best, what she had planned was way too risky. But, even after reasoning that, she couldn’t bring herself to get up and leave…

The sound of two voices she could recognize made the witch open her eyes.

“It’s them!” she said, trying not to raise her voice too much, taking the younger witch by the arm as she stood up.

“Rory, wait,” the younger witch told her, and hushed her voice.  “We are taking him… but then what?”

”I... I don’t know, Emma!” the red haired gritted her teeth as she pointed at the pair entering the inn. “Just look at that! It’s almost midnight, it’s freezing out here, and the kid’s been only wearing that!"

Emma bit her lip. At first, she had thought that her friend was exaggerating, but now, after seeing with her own eyes the pair’s arrival to the hotel, she wouldn’t disagree. It was surprising the child hadn’t frozen, already! Despite the fact that she herself was wearing her long green dress and a wool cape, she was trembling with cold, and even though her favorite knit hat covered her head, snowflakes kept accumulating in her long, dark curls.

“I’m.. I'm sorry, Emma,” her friend sighed. “It’s too dangerous, and I shouldn’t drag you into this.”

“No, I’ll help you,” the younger witch smiled. “Of course I will.”

Her friend just smiled and hugged her. The sight of the red haired man exiting the hotel caught their attention.

“Look! Now he’s left the child in there, all alone! While he goes… while he goes who knows where!” Rory said with anger, as the two witches saw the man leave the hotel without the kid. “Come on, it’s our chance!”

There was a monster! It looked like Spirit’s tie. People were screaming, but before the creature could eat their souls, the small wooden car ran over the monster and killed it. Humans were safe now. The little car was happy, but it was tired, so it turned around and went back home…

The kid yawned. He was quite sleepy, but he wouldn’t get into bed yet, not until Spirit returned. They would call his father together through the room’s mirror, and inform him about the success of their mission. Maybe Spirit would let him give the report, just like last time. The kid would tell his dad about tonight, how he had used his improving soul perception to search through the entire town and its surroundings, quickly finding the red soul of the kishin hiding in the forest. Then, it had been easy for the experienced Scythe to defeat it; the man even let the kid deliver the killing blow, another red soul for his still small, but steadily growing collection. His father would be so proud of him…

There was a knock on the door.

The child lifted his face and frowned. Through the wooden walls, he saw two blue souls outside, and recognized that one of them was the woman from the toyshop. He got up with a jump and sprinted towards the door.

His father had taught him that monsters were dangerous, those with red and purple souls could harm him, but the kid wasn’t afraid of the blue souls, the human beings. He had learned to be careful not to hurt them, rather than the other way around; it was his duty to ensure the humans’ safety, protect their souls, and their bodies if he could, as they were not as strong as he was. To be aware and in control of his own strength had been an early lesson for the child.

With curiosity, but without fear, the child opened the door to see the red haired woman he had met before, as well as another, younger face.

“Hey,” she said. “Remember me? We met earlier…”

The child nodded, and he focused on her soul. There was something vibrating there, some kind of rush, of desperation. Maybe she needed help?

“I never told you my name, but I’m Rory,” sha said with a smile that didn’t show the feelings he could see. “This is my friend Emma, she made those cookies you liked so much.”

“Hello,” Emma said. “What is your name?”

The child didn’t answer. No one had to know his name, no one could hear who he was. It was a secret, the most important. He blinked, perceiving the growing fear within their spirits. Was there another danger, something he hadn’t seen before?

“Why are you here?” the kid asked them, a hint of worry in his voice.

“Listen…” Rory said, as she sat on her knees to be at his level, “you don’t have to be hungry, or cold.”

“I am not,” he stated simply.

“We want to help you,” she insisted.

The child frowned, puzzled. He didn’t understand, but whatever they meant, they didn’t seem to be lying.

“Listen, we don’t have much time. You need to come with us!”

“Why?”

“We’ll explain you. I promise we will, but we need to go now!”

The woman extended a hand towards him. The child could see her soul irradiating some kind of fear, a shapeless anger... and a true intent to help him, to keep him safe. From what, exactly? He could not comprehend, what was happening?

This town was safe, now.

The sight he perceived compelled him to believe her, and he trusted his senses. Besides, he had no reason to fear, did he? They were human, after all…

He took her hand. Rory almost thought he would not accept it, and she wondered how could he accept a stranger so quickly, but then, she considered it had been weird that he had opened the door in the first place. Maybe his father never even advised him on how to protect himself against people with bad intentions…

It was such luck, she had found him first!

“Come, this way!” she said, leading him into the dark hallway, where both witches dropped the soul protection.

Rory noticed the change, the child’s mouth opening, his eyes widening and his face becoming even paler, if that was possible. She hated the fact that she had to tighten the grip on his hand to pull him through the opening portal into the Witches’ Realm, before he could even scream.

As soon as they crossed the magic doorway, the child cried out, and Rory let him squirm out of her grip. He ran back but only found thin air as the portal immediately dissapeared behind them. He looked back at the pair of young women, his limbs trembling and fear on his eyes.

“Witches!” he cried in dread. “You’re witches!”

Rory knew this was going to happen. Any child would be so scared of being taken by a witch, and this had to be only worse for him, his ability letting him know that, in this place, hundreds of them surrounded him. Still, no matter how mentally prepared she thought she was, she felt her heart constrict in pain when she saw the terror in the child’s big, golden eyes.

The kid turned around, frantic and confused, looking at his new surroundings. The night sky above was a shade of purple, around him were many houses, each of them a different size and color. Beyond the irregular roofs, he could see the dark shadows of tall trees.

Witches had him. He was in their Realm now.

His father had talked to him about the witches, the things they did to humans, and the kind of ideas they could get if they ever placed their hands on him, a little reaper. What could he do, should he attack? He had never confronted a witch before, only kishins, and all of them already weakened or injured beforehand by one of his mentors. He had never even vanquished a kishin on his own. The sole idea of confronting a witch terrified him, not to mention two, or hundreds of them…

He retreated slowly, and he flinched when his back abruptly found a stone wall.

“Please, don’t be afraid,” the witch said.

The boy tried to search for escape routes, but his eyes refused to lose the witches from sight from more than a second. Maybe if he ran quick enough, he could leave them behind…

“Please, I told you I would explain,” the red-haired witch said. She advanced hesitatingly and he took some steps to the side, his back scraping against the wall, as he tried to prevent the witch from closing more the space between them.

“We know you might have heard many ugly stories about us,” interjected the younger witch, with a soft, almost timid voice. “But not all... most of us aren’t like that, I can tell you. We're not out to harm humans.” 

The child blinked in sudden realization. They thought he was a human child, didn’t they?

“We won’t hurt you,” the red-haired witch spoke again, while he narrowed his eyes, focusing on her soul…and finally let her approach him.

At least, it seemed that she was telling the truth.

Chapter Text

“YOU’VE LOST LORD DEATH’S SON?!”

“Please, don’t scream it...”

“Spirit, honestly-” the woman in the other side of the line sighed.

“I’ve searched everywhere! He wouldn’t just leave his room! What… what if somebody took him?!” the man cried in panic. “I don’t know what to do! Please, I need your help!”

“Just stay where you are, Spirit. I'll just find someone who can take care of Maka, and I’ll be on my way.”

“Thank you, thank you!” Spirit sobbed. “Lord Death would kill me, no, a lifetime of torture awaits me if-!“

“Calm down, Spirit! Listen, nobody even knows about the kid’s existence,” his wife replied, and the man could hear in her voice the growing smirk. “If someone did kidnap him, well… they’ll be getting a nasty surprise very soon.”

In her small house in the Witches’ Realm, Rory carried in her arms a large bundle of clothing, and that made it difficult for her to knock on the door of the small room. The different materials and fabrics were as colorful as they were warm, and she hoped the kid would like them. The dawning day was cold, more than the night had been, but at least, not as much as in the snowy town.

“Can I come in?” she asked with a loud voice, but there was no answer. For a moment, she feared the child had escaped during the night. It was worrying, because there was no way the kid could leave this realm anyway, and with enough bad luck, one of the worst witches could find him. She pushed the door open, maybe a bit too harshly, and exhaled in relief when she saw him sitting on the edge of his bed.

“Did you sleep well?” she asked, softening her voice. The boy kept quiet, and she noticed the dark bags under his eyes, proving he hadn’t closed his eyelids in the whole night. She thought at first he had already made the bed, but maybe he didn’t even open it last night. She felt a pang of guilt, and looked away, around, realizing that the furniture in the small alcove seemed a bit different than before. “You rearranged your room…”

She hoped that was a good sign, that it could mean that he was beginning to get comfortable, but she still felt preoccupied. There was that fear ever present in his eyes, and the fact that he had been completely silent since the night before, after accepting walking to her house. Not to mention he wouldn’t tell her his name. The witch tried to think it would certainly take some time, of course he was still shocked, but soon, he would learn just how nice it was to be warm and to have something to eat. She placed the bundle on the bed and took a knit sweater.

“Here, try this!” she offered, and the child cooperated immediately. She felt an incipient hope, but it died the moment she concluded his reaction wasn’t because of a building trust, but of fear. She tried to be gentle as she approached him to place a scarf around his neck and a knit cap on his head. The witch realized that they were too large for him, just like the sweater, but she reasoned it was for the best. They would keep him warmer.

“All right! You’re ready,” she said and patted his back. The child extended his arms and looked at the long sleeves that covered his hands entirely. “All these clothes are for you, as well as everything you can see in this room. Is there anything else you need?”

The child looked around. “Yes.”

“What is it?” the witch smiled, happy to see he was finally responding.

“A mirror.”

She almost laughed. “You want to see yourself? You look very good, believe me!” Rory said. “Maybe these don’t fit in size; but the colors bring out your eyes.”

“Where can I find a mirror?” the kid asked with a frown.

Rory bit her lip. From all the supplies he could ask for, he had to request the very object she could not give him. “I’m sorry, but there are no mirrors in this whole Realm,” she answered.

“Why not?” he questioned.

“Mirrors are… something dangerous for us,” she said, her expression becoming serious at the reminder of their enemy, his ability to spy them through the glass... “But don’t worry, I can make a simple spell to project your reflection. Trust me, it’s better than a mirror, we witches use it all the time!”

The boy shook his head vigorously and stayed very quiet again, avoiding her eyes. The witch sighed. Of course he would be so scared of magic, humans believed magic was pure evil and only capable of destruction...

The kid found that in the Witches’ Realm, there weren’t two homes that looked the same. The night before, the houses had seemed so terrifying and disordered; and even though they didn’t seem as bad today, their shapes were still so disconcerting and whimsical: a window here, some stairs there and the door over there, the sight saturated by colors and contrasts. He kept his head down, trying not to look around, as he walked on the stone street with the witch. Instead, he focused on examining one of the ends of the knit scarf that encircled his neck, observing that regular, ordered sequence of knots, the only possible relief his eyes could have in this place. He wanted to go home, he wanted his dad…

The child discovered an old mark in the scarf. Someone made this, long ago, as a gift. They wanted a loved one to be comfortable and warm. He could perceive the intent as clearly as his fingers could feel the softness of the yarn. Who knit this? Were they a witch, too?

“Here,” Rory said, and the child realized they had arrived to a small bakery. As they entered, a pleasant warmth and the smell of bread and cinnamon welcomed them. All around, there was every kind of pie and bread. “This is Emma’s bakery. You can choose whatever you want, and if you have a favorite pie, she will prepare it especially for you!”

The kid said nothing, his flat expression managing to hide his confusion. His father had told him so much about the purple souls, their sinister intentions and their most cruel actions. He always said they couldn’t create, only destroy. But, ever since he arrived here, he had seen many creations, in the witches house and its furniture, the cozy clothes, every single bread in this small bakery. Maybe his father didn’t know?

He pretended to be looking at the different pies, while focusing in expanding his perception. Just as his father described, there was definitely something chaotic and even destructive within every soul around him. He was close enough to the red haired witch to perceive there was an aimless, shapeless rage within her… but he had seen all of that before, within the blue souls.

The child was certain the two witches had told the truth when they said they wouldn’t hurt him. But they didn’t know who nor what he truly was; they thought he was just a human kid. They better kept believing that, he concluded, as he realized he would be as safe as his secret was. For now, the best option would be to not to use his special abilities at all; not until he had an opportunity to escape. There were no mirrors in this Realm, but witches would come in and out of here all the time, visiting human towns, like the one where they found him. He only needed the witches to take him out, and he would search for a mirror. Then, he would return home, traveling through its glass.

“Spirit… we need to tell Lord Death,” the blonde woman told her husband.

The man was looking down, hiding his face between his hands. He nodded, without lifting his head. Spirit could only agree with her, after she searched for the child in the entire town, then in the surroundings, then in the wide territory her powerful perception could reach, without finding a trace of the little soul.

The number in the mirror made their reflection distort into ripples of light, and soon, they saw the skull mask of the Lord of Death. Spirit stood in front of him and, with hesitating words, unable to hide entirely his shivering, he described that after vanquishing the monster, there had been another disappearance. His son.

“We had already defeated the kishin,” Spirit said, keeping his gaze down, not daring look up at the god. “We… we believed it was safe!”

The Lord of Death was completely silent. He knew his son was strong and resistant, but he was still so tiny. If anything, that had been his mistake, sending the little one to hunts before he was ready. The kid had been in other simple missions before, things that he and the Death Scythe could take care of without more trouble, but, what if there was something more dangerous in that small town? It was not uncommon to find a kishin controlled by a witch, and his son wouldn’t be able to detect one who used Soul Protect.

What if the kishin was just a distraction?

He abruptly noticed his prolonging silence was having an effect in the Scythe, the man’s frame shivering and his skin pale as a sheet.

“Spirit-”

“I’m so sorry, sir! Please, please don’t kill me,” the man begged. “I will find him, I swear!”

Lord Death tilted his masked face. “I know you will, Spirit.”

Even though the voice had sounded calm, the Weapon gulped. Maybe it was his overactive imagination, but he perceived a hint of menace in the tone. Lord Death continued:

“I’ll task all of those who know about his existence with prioritizing his search. You need to understand that this will require absolute discretion, his true identity is the most important secret now.”

“Yes, yes sir!” Spirit nodded.

“You two will stay in the town for now,” the god’s voice was eerie as he instructed, deeper than his usual. “Try to gather as much information as you can. There could be something more powerful in there… maybe a witch,” he said, and the couple didn’t miss the barely concealed hatred as he said that word. “Consider all possibilities, still…”

“Understood, sir,” the blonde nodded.

“Spirit,” he said, and the man immediately lifted his face, his blue eyes fixing in the enigmatic light beyond the empty sockets of the skull mask. “I know you’ll bring him home. You have no choice.”

With that, the transmission was over. The image disappeared and the mirror reflected the interior of the hotel room again.

“What are we going to do?!” Spirit cried.

“Try to remember, are you sure no one was following you?” his wife asked for the hundredth time.  

“Of course I am! We were careful!”

“Clearly not enough,” his wife sighed, and the man took his hands to his hair. “Anyone who could have seen him in action? Anyone he could have talked to?”

The desperation was making it very hard for the man to put some order in the events from the night before. He paced around the room with apprehension.

“I remember, I remember that-”

A yelp interrupted his sentence when he slipped upon a little toy car, forgotten on the room’s floor. When his face met the rug, the man could only think that, since the night before, he had had the worst of lucks.

The woman picked up the toy, and began to play with the wheels as she meditated. After a minute, she stopped abruptly and looked back at her husband, waving the little car.

“Where did you get this?”

Chapter Text

“Where’s the kid?”

“He was asleep,” Rory answered, as she walked by Emma’s side in the forest that morning, helping her friend pick all kind of magical roots and herbs, quickly filling her basket.

It was the third day since they brought the kid. When dawn came, she had glimpsed into his room. As soon as she saw the boy, snuggled among the warm blankets, she realized it truly was the first time she was seeing him sleep. He had been so scared before, but while sleeping he seemed so peaceful, there even was a little smile on his face. Maybe the spell she secretly placed to make the blankets extra cozy helped with that. In that moment, she decided she wouldn’t wake him up, it was too early and too cold, besides, the kid needed to rest…

“Has he said his name?” Emma suddenly asked.

“Not yet,” Rory sighed. They followed in silence the pathway back into the town, until the red-haired witch spoke again:

“At least he’s sleeping, now. He wouldn’t close an eye at first, but he isn’t as scared now…”

She became very quiet as they looked around, realizing that the town seemed deserted. The only pair of open shops were quickly closing, their owners hurrying to leave. Rory left Emma behind, running to catch up with one of them.

“Wait, please! Where’s everyone?” she asked the greengrocer. “Where are you going?”

The old witch’s eyes were wide open and her voice shivered with some kind of dread. “Don't you know? Queen Maba will make a very important announcement!”

Apprehension gripped Rory’s heart as she and her friend followed them, and soon found the entire town reunited in front of the palace. Everyone was there, from the youngest to the oldest, all of their neighbors and friends. The noise of the frantic words, the yelling and even crying, all around them, was almost too much…

Queen Maba exited the palace and the multitude grew silent.

“Is it true?” someone asked in a loud voice, the question followed by growing unease among the crowd.

“What? What are they talking about, Rory?” Emma asked her friend in a quiet voice.

“Shhh! The queen is about to speak,” she replied.

Maba took a deep breath and spoke to the crowd:

“According to our investigations during the last year… we’ve got the evidence to say it is true,” the queen paused for a minute, steeling herself to continue. “There is another reaper.”

Rory gasped, as exclamations and cries started to grow everywhere around her. Horror made her heart accelerate and her breaths fell short. She closed her eyes for a moment, hoping this was just a bad dream, wanting to believe that she would open her eyes and wake up, that everything was fine, that the day wasn’t even this cold, and no one was screaming. But the cries and the voices ringing in her ears were just too real.

As if having one immortal, almighty enemy wasn’t bad enough… But the most disturbing part of it all, were the next words by the queen:

“Apparently, this one looks like a child.”

Rory’s carpentry shop was right next to her house, only a red brick wall and an old wooden door separating them. Emma sat close to the small chimney, the burning fire keeping both friends warm. Even though it was almost midday, black clouds had darkened the day and it was even colder than during the morning.

“Maba said that this one isn’t confined to that city,” Rory uttered, running her fingers through her red locks. “He’s free to go anywhere, he could come here! We’re in danger, all of us!”

Emma only looked down. Rory closed her fists, the anger, hatred and fear were filling her heart, as her mind dwelled again in the knowledge that their enemy had disguised his monstrous progeny as a little kid. Everyone trusted a child, everyone would be willing to help them, open their doors for them. Hell, she herself knew that better than anyone, now. Only Lord Death’s cunning mind would ideate such a cruel trap, designed to take advantage of the victim’s naivety and trust.

“How is that even possible?” the red haired witch wondered, “I mean, how did he reproduce?”

Emma was about to say something, but before she could speak, she noticed the small figure watching them from behind the wooden door. The child abruptly realized that the witch had discovered him, and instinctively retreated into the penumbra.

Rory noticed him as well, and felt a pang of worry. How much did he hear?

“Hey kid,” she called him, wishing again that she knew his name.

“What’s happening?” the child asked with a faint, shaky voice, hesitating before taking a pair of doubtful steps into the workshop.

“It’s nothing to worry about,” Rory assured him, immediately.

“But you said… there is danger?”

“It’s not a big deal,” the witch smiled, but her expression was forced. She noticed the kid’s pupils dilating, something she now recognized as a tell-tale sign that he was using his ability to perceive souls. How much could he really see? Enough to know that she was lying?

Rory sighed and crouched in front of him to be at his level, decided to tell him the truth.

“Listen, we… we witches have an enemy. You might have heard of Lord Death,” she said, and the child flinched when she pronounced that name. Rory bit her lip, she knew many human children idolized that abomination, but maybe this little boy was reasonable enough to feel a very healthy fear. “Turns out he isn’t the only one of his kind. There is another now. His son.”

Emma noticed the way the child shivered, as he heard Rory’s words.

“We had one advantage, and it was that he cannot leave his city. But his… little son can,” the red haired continued, gritting her teeth. Her expression darkened, as she closed her fists and looked away, her gaze fixing on the burning fire in the chimney. “That creature is the offspring of darkness itself. And now it could be anywhere, stalking us from the shadows, itching to snatch our souls, wreck our minds and-”

“Rory,” Emma interrupted her.

“What?” Rory looked at her friend, and she motioned her head towards the kid. She looked back at him and realized that he looked terrified. His big, golden eyes were wide open and his face seemed paler than usual, almost like that night, when they brought him to this place...

“Hey, there’s no need to be afraid,” Rory exclaimed, regretting her previous, scary words. She placed her hands on his shoulders and felt his trembling. “Listen, if that monster decides to show his ugly face, we’ll kill him in the spot! Right, Emma?”

Emma noticed the words only made the child look as if he was about to cry.

“Rory, I think that’s not helping,” the younger witch mumbled, as she approached the kid. Emma tried to make her already sweet voice sound even gentler as she spoke to him. “Nothing bad will happen to you. We are safe here, the Witch Queen defends us.” The kid failed to supress a sob at those words, and Emma decided it would be better to distract him. “Rory said you lost your toy, but I’m sure she’s got more…” she turned to her friend, “…somewhere in here, right?”

“Yes...yes, for sure!” the other witch replied. She got up and walked to a corner to pick up some wooden toys, shaped like little trains and animals. From her hands, Emma took a pair of wooden ponies, and turned back to the kid.

“Do you like these?” the younger witch asked. The child stared at the toys through teary eyes and nodded. “Come on, play with me.”

Rory heard her friend’s soft voice, saw the kid wipe his eyes with his sweater’s long sleeves... but it was as if the red-haired wasn’t even there, her mind wandering somewhere far away. Thinking about their ruthless enemies, that macabre cult and the eldritch being they adored, one who accused witches of his own cruelty. She was sure that he only protected human beings because they worshiped him, but she was certain that, deep inside, they were terrified of him.

Just like this kid was...

Chapter Text

That night, six years ago, he entered his mirror.

He drifted, floating weightless in the black infinity, the space behind the reflections. Distant lights surrounded him, like stars, each of them one of the innumerable mirrors in existence. This place connected all of them.

Here, in the extension beyond the glass, he could expand his being without limitations, his true form released, the one that made humans cower in dread…

Not that he would blame them. They instinctively feared the darkness that served and obeyed him. Behind his mask, the very light of his essence could drive people insane if they stared at it for too long. His razor-edged talons could tear at a soul, just as the sharpest of scalpels would cut open live tissue. That night, he had used those very claws to excise, with painfully slow precision, a small fragment of his own soul; the same way he had done eight hundred years ago. His now separate fragment, the luminous nebula that had been a part of him, drifted away from him into the empty space, with the risk of ending up disintegrating into the void.

Desert sand spilled from his long fingers, glimmering against the darkness, surrounding and enveloping the shapeless fragment. Soul of gold and golden sand, coalescing into a sphere that irradiated heat and light, just like a little star.

The surface cooled into a bubble of glass, the essence within still boiling, bright gold, malleable under the power of the creator’s imagination, just like whenever he changed his own form. He had planned since long that he would model his son after a human being. However, unlike before, his son’s existence would begin just as theirs would, as a small and underdeveloped being.

Long ago, he had taught humans how to craft glass and mirrors. Now, his creation would reflect them.

He cradled the glass sphere close to himself, as he imagined the new form. He pictured the entirety of the new body, not only the face and the skin, but also the beating heart and all of the bones, each vein and artery, the running blood within... everything, down to the smallest of cells. He hadn’t slept in ages, but tonight, the exhaustion he felt in his soul was too much, and he drifted into a deep slumber. In his dream, he kept in imagining…

A cry, and then the breaking glass. Skeletal hands carefully reached for a crying baby and held him close, cooing the sweetest words of an arcane language. After the birth, both the older reaper and his newborn would be at their most vulnerable, the father still recovering and the smaller soul stabilizing. They would stay together for a while, within the mirror, in the space beyond every reflection, the safest place where they could be. No one besides them could come into this place, nothing in existence could follow them here…

In the dark, the father caressed his son’s head tenderly, removing shards of glass lodged among black hair. There, he noticed three small white spots, the beginning of the lines that would only grow. The little one opened his eyes slowly and looked at his father for the first time, bright irises the same color of molten glass.

Emma would definitely agree that the Witches Realm looked gorgeous when covered in snow, but it wasn’t like she enjoyed days like these. If she could, she would stay home all winter, sleeping warm and cozy, waiting for spring to return. She was sure that being this sensitive to the cold was part of being a beetle witch.

She knocked on Rory’s door, and as soon as she opened, Emma hurried to get inside to her friend’s warm home. But just as Emma crossed the threshold, her eyes widened in surprise and she almost took a step back.

There had clearly been some changes in the house, and now it felt strange. The table was now in the exact center of the room. As for the rest of the furniture, now there were two of each piece, each chair, each cupboard or chest of drawers, had another one on the other side, in the same spot. It was the same for every adornment, from the flower pots on the floor to the hanging frames that adorned the walls.

“This place looks... different,” Emma gasped.

“The kid’s been rearranging the house,” Rory explained, looking around at her home with a wide smile, not noticing that Emma wasn’t returning it. The younger witch couldn’t deny that there was something about this particular, symmetrical order that was getting into her nerves since the moment she entered the house, but she couldn’t explain why. “He’s been so scared and tense since we talked,” Rory continued, as she walked to the table, “but it seems that reordering stuff comforts him when he’s nervous. So does drawing.”

Emma understood, she had been so worried as well. Rory seemed quite calm, despite the new threat, and Emma thought that maybe focusing on the kid’s well-being was helping her friend cope. The younger witch observed the sheets of paper over the wooden table and she frowned. Most kids his age would draw themselves, or their houses, or maybe little animals. But all she could see there, were some kind of geometric designs, completely abstract and perfectly symmetrical. The young witch felt a shiver, as she looked closer upon them.

“These are… these are really-”

“Amazing, right?” Rory completed. “You know what everyone says, that humans can’t learn magic? I disagree! Maybe it won’t be as easy for him as it is for us, but I just know he’d have a natural talent for magic calculation and geometries!”

Her friend kept talking with enthusiasm, but Emma wasn’t listening, not anymore, her eyes still fixed in the draws of those enigmatic shapes. They were so intricate, that it was almost impossible to believe a child had made them. A thought suddenly struck Emma, and she understood the reason why the new arrangement within the house was so unnerving. It was provoking a strange illusion, it looked just like the double image produced by a mirror. As if one of those nightmarish objects had materialized right there, within her friend’s home.

A quite large mirror, looming over them. Its presence almost invisible, only revealed by the perfect reflection. Emma closed her eyes for a moment, and thought that it was so curious that the same thing that was so deeply disquieting for her, could be comforting for the kid…

“So what do you think?” Rory asked her.

“Sorry, about what?”

“What could I use to help him ease his anxiety? I’m telling you, I’ve tried all kind of soothing herbs and teas, but it’s as if they have no effect on him!”

Emma reflected, trying to focus on the matter at hand and to forget her previous musings. “Maybe we should ask someone with more experience?”

“Is she a doctor?” the child asked nervously, as they walked on the snow.

“No, she is a… scientist,” Emma explained and she looked at the kid. He could barely move, wearing the multiple layers of clothing Rory had placed on him. She had covered him with many sweaters, as well as various scarves and at least three caps, so only his bright yellow eyes were visible. Emma almost thought that had been too much, but she discarded the idea immediately. It was so awful to be cold.

They arrived to a large, white house, in the outskirts of town. Rory knocked on the metallic door, and a blue haired woman promptly opened it.

“I thought you’d be here way earlier!” she grunted. “I’m very busy, so this better be quick!”

She turned around, her dress waving, white as seafoam. Emma sighed as they followed Nina into her laboratory. She never liked the jellyfish witch, but maybe this was for the best. Nina was an expert in so many topics, but she was into really weird stuff, too. Emma walked keeping her gaze down, trying not to look around at the tall, metallic cabinets and bookcases, filled with texts on spatial magic and portals, taxonomy of all kind of supernatural creatures, as well as dozens of tomes on medicinal herbs and potions. Among the books were all kind of metallic instruments and jars of glass, preserving things the younger witch didn’t want to know about.

“He’s been so nervous since we talked about that,” Rory was explaining Nina with a quiet tone. “He insists that he wants to go out, but I tell him that’s especially dangerous now!”

“For what I’ve heard, you simply took him, didn’t you?” Nina replied loudly, without looking at Rory. “Maybe he doesn’t even want to be with you, have you considered that?”

“What? That’s not… you don’t know what you’re talking about!” Rory hissed through gritted teeth, still hushing her voice, “Nina, I saved him! You don’t know it, he was-“

“What’s his name?” Nina interrupted her, as she took out a notebook and placed it on a metallic table.

“He’s… he has not told us,” Rory admitted.

“Was he previously sick?”

“I… I don’t know”

“Any allergies?” the blue haired witch asked as she scrapped on her notebook.

“…No?” Rory hesitated. “Not that we know.”

Nina lifted her gaze, raising an eyebrow.

“Anything that you do know?”

Rory bit her lip and looked away.

“You know what? Forget it. I’ll need to examine him,” Nina declared, “it would really help if you take at least half of those clothes away,” she added, as she turned around towards her desk. “Human children are so full of germs,” she mumbled as she took out a pair of disposable gloves from a drawer and adjusted them on her hands, while Rory helped the child climb a high metallic table and reluctantly started to remove his scarves and caps.

The blue haired witch turned around and her cold expression changed completely the moment she saw the kid again, now that nothing covered his head. An amazed curiosity appeared in Nina's face, something Emma didn’t like at all. This was a child, not one of her crazy experiments!

Rory didn’t notice Nina’s change, but she felt the way the boy clutched her arm while the blue haired witch approached him, as if in a trance, fascination in her blue eyes. Nina’s gloved hand reached for the boy and touched his soft hair, grazing those strange white lines. The witch took some strands of hair among her fingers and abruptly pulled them. The child flinched, more in surprise than in pain.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!” Rory yelled.

“I’ll need these…” Nina mumbled to herself, narrowing her eyes at the hairs in her hand. Her gaze then drifted to the child’s face and examined him closely. The boy held Rory’s arm more strongly and hid his face in her knit sweater.

“Nina, we need to calm his nerves, not to make it worse,” Emma interjected.

“Where did you find this... kid?” Nina said, ignoring the younger witch statement.

A very bad feeling was surging within Rory. “That’s… that’s none of your business!” she replied, struggling to contain a growing anger. “Are you going to help him, or not?”

The blue haired witch said nothing as she turned around. When the kid heard the steps walking away, he peeped to see what was happening. He immediately tried to hide again when he saw Nina returning, a large syringe in her hands.

“Now, what’s that for?” Rory asked.

The jellyfish witch said nothing as she pulled the child’s arm, making him yelp. She expertly tied an elastic band above his elbow…

“Nina, wait…” Rory said, but she ignored her. The kid whined in distress and Rory made her choice. “NINA STOP!” she yelled, and pushed the other witch away from the child, making her stumble and fall over the floor.

“What the hell is your problem?!” Nina demanded in rage.

“WHAT’S YOURS?!” Rory shouted. “This is definitely not helping him!”

Nina looked at Rory with a cold expression, as the kid jumped down from the metallic table and hid behind her. “Fine. Seems that it isn’t even what I thought, anyway.” The child peeped from behind the red haired witch’s tall frame, but hid again when Nina glared at him. “Not even close. Now get out of my lab.”

Rory didn’t need to hear that twice. She lifted the child in her arms and stomped out of that place, followed closely by her younger friend.

Chapter Text

A rope was restraining the witch against the trunk of a tree, and her long, thin limbs were shivering. The day was cloudy, and the forest all around was completely covered by the falling snow, making it difficult for her to distinguish where the sky ended and where the earth began. But what she could see very clearly, were the faces of the pair in front of her, the duo that had caught her.

She knew who they were. She knew it the moment she saw the tall, red haired man shapeshift into a Scythe...

The Albarns. These two were infamous among the witches. It was said that the man was Lord Death’s personal Weapon, and probably the strongest of his kind. The woman who wielded him might as well be the most powerful among those possessing the ability known as soul perception, her skill only surpassed by the Reaper himself.

“Someone you might know began to visit a town, very close to here,” the blonde woman said. She was making the Scythe spin in her hands, and a smile appeared in her face as she noticed the witch’s trembling. “And then, people started to go missing.”

The witch’s mind was a whirlwind, the panic not allowing her to think straight. “I swear it, I don’t know what you’re talking about!” she whined.

“Any idea about who could have made this?” the woman said, pulling a little wooden car from the pocket of her long, black coat.

The witch recognized the handiwork immediately, and she hoped it wouldn’t show in her face. “Anyone could have made that!” she exclaimed.

The woman’s expression hardened. The witch then considered that maybe she shouldn’t try to lie, rumors said this woman could perceive even the slightest intent to hide the truth.

“Someone told us very interesting things about the person who made these. And something tells me you know who it is,” the blonde said in a chilling voice, confirming the witch fears.

“Please…” the witch uttered, her voice ridden with terror. “She… she’s a woodpecker witch. I don’t know her name, I swear it!”

“What happened to the people she took?” the woman questioned.

“The people… she took?”

“Those who disappeared,” the blonde said, grabbing her by her clothes. “Tell us everything you know!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” the witch cried. “She… I saw her with a kid, but-”

The Scythe immediately escaped from the woman’s hand, taking human shape in a flash of lightning.

“A kid?!” the red haired man exclaimed, anguish in his voice and desperation in his blue eyes. “Is he okay? Is he hurt?”

“I don’t know,” the witch replied.

“Where are they?!” the man questioned.

“Are they in your Realm?” the blonde woman asked, at the same time.

“I don’t know!” the witch cried.

“We need you to tell us!” the man insisted, holding both of her shoulders. The witch flinched at his contact, but even then, she could tell he was more desperate than intending to hurt her. “Where is he? Please…”

His face wore a pained, terrified expression. More than threatening her, the man seemed to be begging her.

“Maba almighty,” the witch gasped. “He’s yours, isn’t he?”

The witch could barely see the man’s eyes widen at her words before his wife pushed him to the side. “That’s none of your bussiness!” the woman growled through gritted teeth. If she was as worried as her husband, her stern expression didn’t show it. Both of them turned around, the woman pulling the man some steps further, as if to talk to him in secret.

They were whispering, and even though the witch could not understand the words, she perceived the anguish in the man’s voice, the dryness in the woman’s, their dialogue quickly devolving into a hushed discussion. The witch understood this was her only chance.

A quick, mumbled spell made the knots restraining her loosen, and before the pair could turn their faces towards her again, she jumped away, changing shapes in a blink and landing on the snow on four hoofs. She heard the running steps and the angry yelling behind her, but there was no way they could catch up with her animal form’s speed. The deer witch ran through the white trees and the falling snow, as fast as she could, the furious screaming soon becoming a faint, distant sound.

She had to tell Queen Maba.

The sun had already set and the night falling outside was cold, but within Rory’s home, it was warm, thanks to the small fire burning in the chimney. That, and the candles on the table, provided a faint illumination within the otherwise dark house, as Rory and the kid shared dinner.

“So, what color is it?” the witch asked him.

“It’s a deep purple, close to red,” the child replied, looking at her intently. “Looks like an onion…”

“An onion?! You’re comparing my soul to an onion?!” she said in fake anger, tousling the child’s hair, making him giggle.

She abruptly realized this was the first time she was seeing him laugh. She was happy that things had only gotten better during the couple of days after visiting Nina, the child had been more at ease. He was sleeping more, and, even though he still asked about visiting to the world outside this realm, he wasn’t as desperate about it as he was before.

It all made her feel so hopeful. She was so thankful to Emma, for bringing food for him: rice with vegetables; cooked mushrooms, handpicked in the forest; warm, sweet milk with a touch of cinnamon. Still, she was a bit worried because the boy didn't seem to be gaining weight, nor color, no matter how much they cooked for him; he looked just as pale and fragile as in the day they met. Rory wanted to think it would be only a matter of time, who knows for how long he had been suffering hunger.

“What else can you see?” she asked the boy, as he nibbled at a piece of sunflower seed bread. He looked back at her, narrowing his eyes, as if looking at a puzzling cube or a math problem.

“You prefer to act rather than wait,” he explained. “You get angry very quickly.”

“Come on!” Rory laughed. “Anyone who’s known me for more than one day could tell that-“

“You would like the world to be simpler…”

The smile in Rory’s face slowly faded, her expression changing into a frown. For a moment, she felt as if she was conversing not with a child, but with someone older, much older. She knew this was no ordinary kid, given his strange ability, but there was definitely something more to him, something she still could not decipher, an enigma she didn’t even know how to name. She made the question before she could realize what she was doing:

“What is your name?”

The boy avoided her gaze, his face slowly changing into a sad expression. She immediately regretted asking and tried to say something, anything, to alleviate the growing tension.

“Come on, you can see my onion-soul, but I don’t even know your name? You think that’s fair?” Rory said with a smile, but then she realized the kid wasn’t returning it. “I’m sorry... It’s just that, I'd really like to call you by your name.”

The child closed his eyes and shook his head in a way that reminded Rory of the first couple of days he had spent in her house. The young witch sighed; everyone knew that having someone’s name could give a magic user power over them. The little one must have learned that at some point, and it pained her to see that he was still too fearful of her to share that information…

"If you don’t want to tell me your name, it’s okay,” she said softly, trying to find the best words. “I just want you to know, that I would never use that, nor anything else, to hurt you."

The child was looking down, but he lifted his head the slightest bit, just enough to find her gaze.

“You wouldn't, no matter who I am?" he asked with a wavering voice, those big eyes the color of honey. "You promise?"

Rory felt taken aback by his words, or maybe at the way his voice seemed to break at the end. She placed her hands on his shoulders tenderly and wished that he could see she was telling the truth.

"I promise I won’t." 

The child seemed to be about to say something, but then he contained himself. Rory couldn’t deny she felt disappointed, but she didn’t want to push him. She wished he would soon understand she truly meant him no harm, on the contrary. She was decided to protect him, from that man who hadn’t cared a bit about him, from witches like Nina, and from those even nastier than her. Hell, if it were for this child, Rory would be ready to face Lord Death himself, and even that monstrous hatchling of his-

Three loud knocks in her home's door startled them. The child immediately looked towards the door, pupils dilating and his whole posture tensing.

“Why don’t you go to your room?” Rory said. “I’ll be with you in a second.”

The boy nodded, jumped from his chair and disappeared into the dark hallway as Rory walked to her front door. When she opened it, she gasped at the sight of the Witch Judge, and behind her, a pair of masked guards, armed with spears.

“Rory Daiku” the Judge spoke. “We’ve heard that you brought a human child recently.”

“Yes… There is no law against that, is there?”

The Judge, a tall fox witch with long black hair, kept her face stern. “Answer this truthfully,” she required. “How much you know about him?”

Rory looked at the masked faces of the guards, and then back to the Judge. “What’s going on?”

The fox witch sighed. “Apparently, that boy is the son of a very high ranked member from the Academy.”

“What?” Rory’s eyes widened. “Who could that be?”

“We believe his father is Spirit Albarn, the Head Death Scythe,” the Witch Judge explained, pulling out a low quality picture and showing it to Rory. There, she could distinguish the image of a red haired man. She gasped, he was definitely the man she had seen through the panes. The one in black, the one who laughed while the little kid suffered hunger and cold. Rory felt her blood boil; what else could she expect from someone from that place? Those people didn't protect their own children, sending them to danger since young ages...

Of course, the man wouldn’t want to get too attached, would he?

Rory knew she should have used an even worse spell against him.

"So, what if he is the son of an enemy?” she said with a firm voice. “That doesn’t mean he will become our enemy, too!”

Things were quickly clicking. Of course the kid would be so scared that she would turn against him, if she knew who he was, being the son of a known witch killer. Of course he would be terrified of witches, who knows what kind of things his father told him about them…

“It’s not that simple,” the fox witch spoke, her voice stern. “According to our collected data, this kid might have an especially powerful form of the ability known as soul perception,” she continued, avoiding mentioning that their Intel believed the Albarn’s child to be a girl. “The Academy is decided to recover him; they might get him back at some point, and he’s already had the chance to learn too much about us.”

Rory felt a shiver run down her spine. “Why are you really here?”

The Judge’s voice was clear and firm. “We are taking him with us.”

“What? Hell no!” the red haired witch exclaimed, standing firmly over the threshold, but the guards simply pushed her to the side to enter her home. She looked at the Judge pleadingly. “Wait, please, what are you going to do with him?”

“The queen hasn’t decided yet,” the Witch Judge uttered. “But there are many who consider that we shouldn’t let someone with such a dangerous ability live.”

Rory felt her heart sink. “No… no, wait!” she cried as the Judge walked through the dark hallway, heading for the child’s room. “Please don’t do this!” She begged as she tried to follow the fox witch, but the two guards stopped her immediately.

“You have no say in this!” one of them said, pushing her back with the shaft of a wooden spear. “Your recklessness has endangered us all.” 

Rory felt a turmoil in her mind, and the sight of the Witch Judge coming out of the room, pulling the little kid by the arm, only made it grow. The kid tripped, almost falling over the wooden floor, but the witch holding him only pulled harder.

“Hey, hey stop!” Rory yelled, taking a step towards them. One of the guards grabbed her to restrain her. “Don’t touch me!” she growled and punched the guard in the face. Immediately, the other guard grasped her by the clothes and pinned her against the wall.

The child immediately stopped and refused to continue walking, but the fox witch only yanked him by his little arm, making him yelp.

“Hey, watch out! You’re hurting him!” Rory yelled, trying to squirm from the guards grip, but then the guard she had hit before retaliated by punching her in the gut. She doubled over as the air left her lungs.

“Rory!” the child called her.

The shadows around them sprang to life.

Chapter Text

Darkness and screams. A gush of cold wind that blew the candles and almost extinguished the fire on the chimney. Shadows like smoke, shifting and growing.

Rory couldn’t move, frozen in her spot, even after she felt the two guards let go off her. She heard the crack of a wooden spear, snapped in half in the air before it could reach the child. Then a piercing cry, maybe her own, as she saw the dark forces clutching the guards, throwing them both against the walls in opposing directions.

The Witch Judge stared at the child, her eyes wide in horror.

“You… It’s you!” she cried, just an instant before the darkness got her as well, shadows like claws catching her and making her crash against the wooden floor.

The scene, that seemed as if taken out from one of Rory’s nightmares, was over in seconds, just as abruptly as it began. The fire in the chimney quickly recovered, and the young witch could contemplate her surroundings. Her gaze drifted from the three immobile bodies on floor, to the kid, no… the creature, standing breathless, unscathed.

Dread spilled in her voice as she spoke:

“Who… who are you?”

The child didn’t answer, panting as he recovered some air. Whatever the hell he had just done had been visibly quite taxing for him. His dilated pupils stared at Rory, and she felt her knees tremble and her heartbeats accelerate, knowing that she couldn’t hide a thing from this being, that he was capable of gazing at everything in her soul.

“Please, please, you said-” he uttered, with a faint, shaky voice.

“WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!” the witch’s cry tore her throat.

The child said nothing, his honey gold eyes still on her. Just some minutes before, his desolate expression would have made Rory’s heart break. Maybe it still did.

He closed his eyes for some seconds, and when he finally looked back at her, his irises were glowing dimly. She already knew who he was, what he was, there was no denying it, but she needed to hear-

“My name is Death.”

The witch felt the heartbeats in her throat and her legs shivering as she took a pair of steps back. There was chaos in her spirit…

The son of Death.

It all made sense now: back in that place where she found him, he was not suffering, of course he wouldn’t care if the air was freezing, he belonged to the darkness and the cold. This creature had been free, at home amidst the snow. He never even needed the warm clothes, nor any of the food she gave him…

Completely mute, Rory continued retreating until she tripped over the body of one of the guards and fell backwards with a loud thud.

“You… you killed them,” she gasped.

“They aren't dead! I swear it,” he assured her, as she tried to crawl away on her back. “I'd know if they were.”

The witch yelped in horror the moment she realized the child was walking towards her. She noticed a piece of the broken spear within her reach and promptly took it. 

“Don’t get any closer!” she threatened, raising the weapon in trembling hands and pointing the sharp end at his direction. “Monster…”

He stopped in his tracks and tears brimmed on his eyes. "But, you said… you promised-"

"I didn’t promise a thing!" she blurted out. "Not to you!" 

The child looked as if she had just slapped him. Rory fought back tears as she tried to think this was not the same kid she’d decided to protect, she wanted to believe that her words were the truth. She had not made any promises to Death’s spawn, but to someone else, someone very different: a small, human boy who had been so hungry and so cold, one who had this creature's eyes and voice; a defenseless, fragile kid who loved her toys, feared witches and needed her help…

That kid never existed.

“You deceived me,” she uttered, her breaths falling short.

“No…” he shook his head, keeping his eyes on hers. “No, please…”

Her pupils widened in horror when she saw him take another step closer. With a scream, she threw the broken spear at him, missing miserably. The child’s gaze followed the weapon’s arc, before returning to the witch, and she tried not to feel something within her constrict at the sight of his betrayed expression. She had to steel herself, she just had to keep in mind who and what he truly was; it wasn’t difficult, she only needed to look at the three bodies on the floor. He said they weren’t dead, but why on earth should she believe him. She knew better now, he was a reaper, a deceitful, deadly creature... 

Still… this was nothing at all like how she would have pictured her enemy. She knew about the disguise, the childlike appearance, but still, she would’ve imagined an audacious, fierce creature, devious and astute, ready to attack as soon as he had the chance. And there had been chances. Hell, she had slept next to his room. 

Rory struggled to recover her breath as she stood up carefully, her back against the wall for support. She wouldn’t take her eyes from him, wary of any attempt to approach her again, or escape, but he wasn’t moving. He only stood there, glassy eyed and uncertain, looking for all the world like a confused, scared kid. She felt a lump in her throat and gritted her teeth, because no matter how much she wanted to deny it, within her was surging the impulse to just embrace that tiny child and tell him that everything was going to be okay. She felt she wanted to kill him, if only for doing this to her. She wanted to help him. She wanted him dead. She wanted to scream…

The kid’s father had taught him how to confront a witch. He had to move quickly, attack before they could realize what was happening. Like the lightning, his strike had to be sudden and powerful. Witches only needed some seconds to cast a spell, the kid had to make sure they wouldn’t have the time. He learned to fear them since he was smaller, listening about their cruelty, their worst actions against humans and the kind of things they had tried against his father in the past.

Every time, his father told him that he should never trust a witch.

Tonight, he fought against their kind for the first time. The kid knew that there was no way he could defend himself without revealing his true nature in the spot, but he could no let these witches take him, nor could he let them harm Rory, either. She would realize who he was, but she would not hurt him, she had promised it, she said that it wouldn’t matter, that she would never…

He had made a mistake. He had trusted a witch.

And now, that witch was staring at him in horror, as if he was something completely unknown, as if they hadn’t shared those moments from before. He could see the chaotic turmoil within her soul, the shapeless anger and the hatred, the painful doubts and the fear. No sound crossed her lips now but her soul was screaming. The kid feel terrified, so small and defenseless, the moment he noticed a menacing red aura irradiating from her soul and enveloping her. He was lost, his secret was out and with his energies completely drained, he was too exhausted to defend himself again. One second later, she was moving and he yelped, closing his eyes and trying to protect his head with his arms. But instead of running against him, the witch ran away from there, escaping into the night through the open door.

Emma walked out from her kitchen, carrying with both hands a wooden tray. She smiled at the smell of the warm bread, the jar of marmalade and the steaming cup of minty tea, enhanced with a spell for a profound, repairing sleep. She had originally developed that herbal preparation and magic words for the little kid, after Nina didn't help them, but then, his sleeping improved on its own. Emma understood, he didn’t need a magical hypnotic, he only needed to feel safe. Maybe, after that day in Nina's lab, he finally understood they truly meant him no harm, and that they wouldn’t let anyone hurt him.

The young witch wondered how she would feel if she were in his place. Far away from everything she knew, surrounded by people from whom she had only heard horror stories, not knowing whether to trust in their words. The most similar scenario she could imagine, was that of being taken by the Academy, held as their prisoner in their terrifying city. The witch felt a shiver at the thought; no matter how well they would treat her, she’d still feel so alone and so scared.  

Without a doubt he had felt the same way. Besides, he was just a little kid-

The sudden, loud banging in her door made her flinch and drop the tray to the floor, porcelain and glass breaking into pieces. She sprinted to her door and as soon as she opened it, Rory got in, almost stumbling over her rushed steps.

“Rory!” Emma called, but her friend didn’t respond, frantically closing the door behind her. “Whats wrong?”

The red haired witch only ran to the windows and secured them, then pulled the curtains closed.

“Rory! Rory, please!” Emma begged. “What happened?!”

Rory was gasping, breathless, but otherwise completely silent. Emma noticed the trembling in her limbs, the red and scratches in her hands and wrists.

“Rory, what happened? Where is the kid?”

Without looking at her friend, Rory finally spoke:

“The kid…” she uttered, one hundred emotions crossing her face in a second. “That kid.”

“Did something happen to him?!” Emma asked in anguish.

“Emma, he… he is…”

“He is what?!”

Rory’s gaze finally found her friend’s concerned eyes. “He is Death’s son.”

“What?!” Emma’s mouth dropped and she covered it with her hand. “No… no, that’s impossible!” she gasped.

Rory’s gaze drifted away again and Emma felt her surroundings becoming unreal and her knees wobbling, as she tried to process what her friend had just told her. The child was peculiar, strange in his own way, but… a reaper?

Emma felt her heart accelerate. Thinking about it, it all fitted, like pieces of a mysterious puzzle that revealed an unnerving, totally unexpected full image. He actually never seemed to be suffering in the cold. She remembered his mirrored draws. That ability to perceive souls…

“Rory… Rory, where is he now?” Emma asked her, with a shivering voice.

“I don’t know.”

“Does Maba know?”

“I don’t know!” Rory cried, taking her hands to her hair, desperate fingers running among red locks.

Emma saw again the scratches in her friend’s hands and her stomach dropped. “He hurt you!”

Rory glanced at the marks, as if noticing them for the first time. “No…” she uttered. “It was so fast... the Judge and some guards came for him… I tried to stop them, they were pushing me back. He attacked them…”

Emma’s confusion only grew at each word that followed in her friend’s foggy narration. She wouldn’t doubt what the kid was, not when it explained so many things. But almost as astonishing as that, was that he had cared about her friend, in a way. She couldn’t stop thinking that the creature was still so young and small. Rory had said, only some days before, that such monster was only disguised as a kid. But Emma remembered his first day in her bakery, watching all around at the pies and cakes; then playing together in Rory’s workshop with wooden toys, she thought of how scared he had been back then; also, of how he had hid from Nina behind Rory, in that creepy lab…

He was Death, her friend said he revealed it himself. But could he also be a kid?

“Rory… do you think that-”

“I don’t know what to think!” Rory blurted out, letting her head down

Emma placed a comforting hand in her friend’s shoulder, as Rory sobbed in silence for some minutes. The younger witch could only keep on thinking that some of the kid’s previous reactions acquired a completely new sense now. His fear when he realized they knew about his existence, his sleepless nights, the initial nervousness. She felt her heart constrict at the thought that maybe he was as scared of them as they could be of him.

Emma closed her eyes. Maybe they weren't that different. Just like the witches, that creature was born in a world where he would have sworn enemies, just for being what he was.

And all this time, her friend thought she was struggling to earn a human child’s trust. But what if she earned a reaper’s?

“Rory, if they get him, when they get him...” Emma mumbled. “We promised him he’d be safe, that we wouldn’t let anyone-”

“He’s his son!” Rory exclaimed, her eyes wide and her voice bitter. “He’ll grow up to be the same! We can’t do anything for him.”

“Maybe he’ll be different,” Emma said, hopeful.

“He’s our enemy.”

“He knew what we were, and in the end, he trusted in us... what if things can change?”

“We can’t know that,” Rory replied with a sob. “His existence puts us all in danger, and that’s the only fact,” Rory replied, but her voice wavered in the end.

“Maybe it doesn’t have to be that way,” Emma insisted

“There’s nothing we can do!”

Emma looked down. Her home was in penumbra, barely illuminated by the light of the different sized candles over the table. Maybe it was Emma's imagination, but she could hear distant voices and running steps on the streets. After some minutes of silence, the sounds grew louder and clearer.

“I never imagined this,” Rory said in tears, “I thought he was just a kid, that he needed help…”

Emma gazed at the windows and immediately distinguished the silhouettes against the light curtains, a group of guards moving. She could recognize the brightness of torches and the shades of spears.

“He is a kid, and he needs help now,” Emma whispered.

"Even if you're right," Rory looked at her friend, her face constricting in pain. “What could we even do?”

Emma smiled softly. “More than you believe.”

Chapter Text

Spirit Albarn listened in silence as his wife shared the new information they could gather, her voice strong and firm. From the other side of the mirror, the Lord of Death towered over them.

The red haired man wouldn’t lift his gaze. A part of his mind thought about how, more than once, he had heard some people wonder if the god was so merciless in his hunts of the corrupted devourers of souls, not because he cared about humanity, but to assert his dominion over the spiritual realms. Just the way others would claim that he despised witches, not because they harmed people, but because magic defied the order he imposed.

Spirit wouldn’t doubt there could be other motives, probably beyond human understanding, but he was certain that wouldn’t change things for him. He was grateful and devoted to this being, who, for whatever reasons, had decided to protect humans, to teach them how to fight and protect themselves, and took care of the souls of their departed. He had felt so honored to be his Weapon, and more recently, to be entrusted with his little son...

The man looked down with guilt, unable to bear to look at him.

“We are certain of it now,” his wife ended the brief report. “It was a witch.”

The Lord of Death remained silent and immobile after hearing the words. Even though the mask betrayed no emotions, Spirit could easily imagine what was within his mind and soul. He knew quite well how the god felt about witches. As his Weapon, Spirit had been able to sense his feelings whenever he was in his hands. The man had experienced his mad rage every time he learned about another witch wreaking havoc, he had shared his sadness and frustration at the knowledge of yet another life ending before it’s time, all because of a witch’s insatiable desire for chaos and destruction. Through their link, Spirit had felt the undeniable glee within his soul, the rare occasions he got to snatch a purple soul himself.

Spirit was certain he wasn’t exaggerating when he considered he was the mortal who knew this being the most. He was his most trusted weapon, after all…

Or at least, had been.

“Sir… I’m so sorry,” Spirit said. The dark entity turned his face towards the man. Even though there were no eyes in those empty sockets, Spirit could feel his gaze on him. It sent a shiver down his spine. He knew very well that this cloaked figure, unnerving as it could be, was just a puppet. Since the first time he wielded Spirit, the Weapon had gazed beyond that appearance, through their resonance. The man had been overwhelmed by the immensity of his power, he had been blinded by the golden brightness of his soul. He had even glimpsed his true shape, all darkness, and mirrors, infinity and confusion, and those eerie rings of white light...

Such sight would make most retreat in fear. But to Spirit, it had brought a strange reassurance. That it didn’t matter how scary the old witches, the howling ghosts or the evil monsters could be: there was something even more terrifying on humanity's side.

“Spirit…” the deep, reverberant voice brought the man out of his musings, and he looked up at the Lord of Death. Maybe it was the man’s imagination, but the echoing voice, that same that had sounded so menacing before, felt now closer to desperation. Closer to fear. “Please, bring him home.”

The man closed his fists and nodded firmly. "I promise I will."

It was difficult to see clearly in the forest, among the shadows and the dense vegetation. Rory stumbled over roots more than once, and low branches pulled at their clothes and hair. The turmoil of thoughts in her head were making it difficult for her to focus on the way, and she could barely distinguish Emma’s silhouette, advancing just some steps ahead from her. The younger witch was taking sharp turns here and there, and even though Rory knew the forest almost as well as her friend, she had no idea where they were going.

“Emma, even if we find him…” she gasped, “what are we going to do with him?”

Emma remained quiet. Rory rushed her steps, stopping only when a rustle of leaves behind her made her turn around; but all she could see were the dark trees. Her gaze went further in the distance, to the small, faraway dots of light, the torches of the armed groups that were searching in the areas closer to their town. Rory was certain that the little creature wouldn’t have stayed anywhere close to that place, but, even if the Queen’s army believed the same, they would search there first. The soldiers would prioritize ensuring that their people were not in any immediate danger. For them, the witches’ safety was first.

The red haired witch closed her fists.

“Emma, you know what we have to do!” she blurted out, but her voice was nowhere as firm as she’d wanted it to be. “If we don’t, the pain he causes will be on us...”

Again, there was no reply, so Rory raised her voice:

“Would you make the same mistake your parents made?!”

Only that made Emma stop in her tracks, completely frozen in her spot, and Rory immediately regretted bringing that up. It was still too painful for her friend to remember her parent’s fate. One sealed the moment they decided to open their door to a pair of kids…

Rory bit her lip and quickly sprinted the short distance between them.

“Emma, I’m… I’m so sorry” she tried to apologize, anguish seeping into her voice. Her mind tried not to think about how the little creature was just like that pair of kids from the Academy. Hell, he had to be the worst of them all, a true child of Death-

“Rory,” Emma mumbled, keeping her voice barely above a whisper. “He’s following us.”

The red haired witch felt her heart skip a beat at her friend’s words. She began to turn around to see behind them, but Emma held her arm.

“Don’t look back… Let’s go.”

Rory could feel the adrenaline rushing again, her legs wobbling and a part of her wishing only to grab Emma and run. But she knew that, even if they ran, they could not escape now, he had already seen their souls. He would just find them again.

She suddenly felt trapped. She was no expert in spatial magic, but she understood that their realm was a finite space, isolated from the world outside, but without limits. Whoever walked away from the center, would never find the borders. Even when going in a perfectly straight line, the travelers would find themselves walking back towards its center at some point, no matter which way they chose. It was simply not possible to leave this place without a magical portal.

He was the one trapped. He could not escape…

“Here,” Emma said suddenly, pulling her friend out from her thoughts.

Rory blinked, as she looked at the place they had reached. In front of them was their Realm’s largest lake.

“Emma, why here?” she questioned, “why this place..?”

Her friend was already a couple steps ahead, soon walking over a small dock, her feet making the wood creak. Rory followed, and together they reached the end of the dock. Blocks of ice floated on the shoreline, soon the whole lake would freeze. A cool wind made Rory shiver and she moved closer to her friend.

The calm waters extended vastly, mirroring the clear night sky, full of stars. She could barely distinguish the dark trees on the far shore of the lake, her gaze taking in the immensity both above and below her, the countless, twinkling dots of light, suspended in the infinite night. A thought struck her, and she suddenly wondered if this was somehow similar to what the soul perception revealed, the world that kid would see: each life all around, each soul like a twinkling, shining star...

Emma turned around slowly, facing the direction from which they had arrived. But this time, Rory hesitated, feeling suddenly unable to turn around.

Would she have acted the same, if she had known what he was? Would she have smiled at him, cared about him, if she had known?

The harmless, mistreated human child she imagined never existed. But maybe the vicious, abominable monster she feared didn’t exist, either. Only earlier today, she was so certain that, if it were for that little kid, she would be ready to face anything without fear… even Death’s monstrous offspring. Maybe that was exactly what she would have to do, only not in the way she would have imagined.

Rory steeled herself and turned around.

Emma could barely distinguish the silhouette among the dark trees, but she soon noticed the pair of golden eyes that glowed dimly. She tried to keep the fear at bay, as the dark silhouette slowly advanced to the edge of the forest. For a second, she thought she could see the shadows growing, reaching towards them, but she calmed herself, it had to be just the breeze moving the branches. The child stepped out from the trees and the witches could see his shape more clearly.

“There you are,” Rory addressed him, trying and failing to hide the shivering in her voice.

His light steps made no sound as he walked, not even when he reached the old wood from the dock. He abruptly stopped, keeping a safe distance between himself and the witches, and he looked back and forth between the pair. Seeing their souls, Emma realized. His eyes would shortly drift around, gazing at the natural symmetry of the place. She noticed that his wary expression didn’t change, but she’d swear she saw his posture relax a bit.

The younger witch took a few slow, soothing breaths, trying to remind herself that this was just a kid, the same kid she had met before, and she took a couple steps towards him. He wasn’t showing any intent to attack, nor to run away, even though she continued approaching. Emma could barely hear her friend calling her, she vaguely felt Rory holding her arm to pull her back, as she got close enough to touch the kid if she extended her hand.  

Emma squinted her eyes as she observed the combination of colors in his hair, the streaks of white cutting through the deepest black, his frame so delicate, his weightless feet. She took in his bright eyes, his skin so pale and cold. The witch wondered if he had been made of falling snow, or of a winter breeze, or of the night above. She knew she could not expect an answer; still, she couldn’t help but make the question:

“How did he create you?”

He only stared at her with his strange, eerie yellow eyes. Emma felt the fears return, thinking that he was something so essentially different from her. Maybe the hope of understanding she was harboring was but a fantasy, maybe words would not be enough to truly communicate with this being… and she struggled to focus on the present, and not in the past.

The younger witch noticed that Rory took a pair of hesitant steps to get closer to him.

“What… what will happen when you grow up?” the red haired witch questioned, trying to keep her voice steady. “We’ll have two reapers hunting us?”

The child looked at her and said nothing, his face inexpressive.

“There can’t be two of you…” Emma stated. “Not for too long, correct?”

Rory frowned at Emma's words, as the child's gaze immediately returned to the younger witch, but his expression remained cold and unreadable. Rory followed Emma, as she slowly crouched to be at the kid’s level and her fingers reached for his face tenderly. The kid flinched at the contact, but then, she spoke with her sweetest voice:

“You must've been so afraid.”

His mask of seriousness finally shattered. His eyes became glassy and his cheeks reddened.

“I wanna go home…” he said with a faint, shaky voice.

“You miss your dad?” Rory asked. There was barely concealed anger in her voice as she mentioned his father. Still, the little one closed his eyes and nodded, reminded of the comfort and safety of his dad’s loving embrace. When he opened his eyes again, Rory was frowning at him. “You really are a kid, aren’t you?”

Emma saw the way Rory closed her eyes and got up to pace around the dock, debating with herself.

They had no answers from him, no promises, no guarantees…

Rory finally sighed, and she sat on her knees by Emma’s side, in front of the kid. “You don’t belong here,” she said, and she took her hands to his shoulders, just like she had done only a couple of hours before. “We will take you home.”

Chapter Text

Spirit Albarn woke up from an agitated sleep. He inhaled sharply, his bare chest rising. He couldn’t remember his dream clearly, but there was snow. The man shivered with cold and extended his arm over the white sheets, but only found an empty space by his side. He blinked, his eyes adapting to the darkness of the small inn’s cold room. He found his wife standing in front of the open window, gazing outside, at the small town in that new moon night. Freezing wind and snowflakes were blowing into their room.

“Hey…” he called her. “Is something wrong?”

The woman turned around slowly.

“I can sense him,” she said, her expression stern. “And two witches.”

The moment they had crossed the portal, the witches had noticed that the weather in the small town was much colder than that of their Realm. Old lamps illuminated the silent, empty stone streets, of the place Rory believed she would never be visiting again. She looked around at the small, colonial houses, built of bricks and wood, the snow on their gabled roofs. The whole town was sleeping, and would stay that way for a while, as it was barely a couple hours past midnight.

The child didn’t seem to mind the freezing air, running ahead from the pair of witches, among the falling snow. He would stop on his tracks every few seconds, turning around slightly, as if to check if the two women were still walking behind him. Then, he would jump forward again, sprinting with renewed energy.

Rory had concluded that it was best to return him to the same place from where they took him. It would’ve been too dangerous for them to get anywhere near to the place he called home. Besides, he had explained to them that he could get home on his own; he only needed a mirror. The witch couldn’t take from her mind those words, as they were a disturbing reminder of an undeniable fact:

He was what his father was.

Rory got closer to Emma and asked her in a hushed voice. “What did you mean, back there, when you said that there can’t be two of them?”

“I read something about this, before,” the younger witch replied, as she hugged herself, trying to keep the warmth. “Two of them can’t exist at the same time… not for too long.”

Rory looked at her friend skeptically. “What are you talking about?”

Emma tried to remember the strange idea she had found in an old book, written by some ancient sorcerer. “Those pages explained that he… that he changes. That this ‘Lord Death’ isn’t the same as before.”

Rory narrowed her eyes. “How could that be possible?”

“He is… not immortal,” Emma said, trying to find the best words to describe a process she had barely understood. “He exists for a definite period, and then… creates another, in a repeating, eternal cycle.”

“And you believed that?” Rory huffed with laughter, but her smile disappeared when she saw that her friend kept her serious expression.

“I think that’s what’s happening right now,” Emma said.

The red-haired bit her lip and looked at the kid in the distance. He had reached a small playground and was observing with curiosity the swings and the slide. Rory realized that they had arrived to a large park, and she recognized it immediately. To her mind came the memory of waiting in this place for hours in the cold, hoping for his arrival at the small inn. It felt as if it had been so long ago.

“So… when you said that things can change..?” Rory asked Emma, her voice barely above a whisper.

“A brand new beginning,” the younger witch replied. “A chance to start over.”

Rory didn’t notice the moment when they both had stopped walking. She looked back ahead, but couldn’t find the kid. In the distance, the playground now seemed completely deserted, there was only the darkness and the snow, the tall trees agitating in the cold wind.

“Emma, do you really think-?”

“It’s not as if I'll ever forget what happened to our friends and families, you know?” Emma said quietly, trying to keep her voice from breaking. “After all, there are reasons why we all want a better, safer world. Where the monsters don’t exist…”

For a moment, the red haired could only think about the many brave witches who had lost their lives trying to destroy Lord Death... Maybe if she hadn’t known the kid, maybe if she hadn’t cared about him, she could have seen this as a completely different, unique opportunity. To have their terrible enemy’s young offspring at their mercy. Finally, a chance to take down the biggest threat to their existence…

To extinguish his legacy, once and for all.

“But he’s not a monster, and neither are we,” Emma mumbled.

Her sweet voice took Rory out from her thoughts and she looked at her friend in silence. She closed her eyes and sighed, certain that the other witches wouldn’t share such vision.

“Emma. You should go back…”

“What? Why?” the younger witch asked.

“Please, go back. Return to the Witches Realm.”

“But, Rory-”

“I’m the one who decided to take him there, Emma!” Rory uttered quickly. “I defended him from them, they’ll know I helped him escape… and they’ll never forgive that,” she continued, trying to keep a growing anguish from her voice. “Don’t you understand? I’m a traitor now, I can’t return home. But you still can!”

“No, Rory, wait…”

“Tell them that you didn’t know!” Rory continued, now failing to keep her voice steady. “Or better, tell them that you were trying to stop me!”

“Rory, wait!” Emma said as she held her friend’s arms. “We’ll think of something, all right? We’ll think of something… and we’ll return home, together,” she said, and she embraced her friend. “I’m not leaving you behind.”

Rory closed her eyes and rested her head on friend’s shoulder. Emma held her closer, and despite everything, Rory felt peace in her arms. Her breaths and her heartbeats slowly began to calm. When she opened her eyes again, she was facing the direction they came from. Her eyes immediately widened and a shiver ran through her spine.

“Emma… Emma, look.”

Not too far behind them, among the falling snow, they could see a woman approaching. She was carrying an enormous, dark scythe in her hands, and just like her blonde hair, her long black coat agitated in the wind, reminiscent of shifting shadows.

Chapter Text

Her stance was firm and determined, her steps on the snow light, but unstoppable. Confronting a witch was frightening, even for a seasoned killer as herself, but nothing in the way she advanced would allow any opponent to suspect her true feelings.

Despite the cold wind blowing in her face, beads of sweat were forming in her brow. One miscalculation could become her demise. A moment of hesitation… and she could die. Everyone in the Academy knew it: even after collecting ninety-nine souls, the hundredth was the most dangerous challenge. One from which countless students wouldn’t come out victorious. For a moment, everything the blonde woman could think about, were the many brave friends who had lost their lives trying to put an end to the scourge of witches.

Anger and pain surged within her soul at the memory of their faces, so many of them barely in their teens, just as she had been at the time. The meister adjusted her grip on her Weapon and felt the soothing contact with her husband's soul. Their minds redirected to better moments, their old team's triumphs, the ugly surprises they had given to unsuspecting enemies. The dozens of monsters, hungry for souls, who ended up becoming food for their supposed prey. The horror in the witches' faces, when they realized, just a bit too late, that the seemingly harmless children could defend themselves.

Still, she could feel the heartbeats in her throat, so she controlled her breathing and narrowed her green eyes, focusing in the scene ahead. The two witches hadn’t noticed her yet, but she’d become more visible the moment she abandoned the safety of the shadows. Witches’ magical affinities varied considerably, and she had no idea what these two could do, so the element of surprise would be crucial. She had to strike before they could react.

Students from the Academy were encouraged to exploit every possible advantage in their fights. Since long before turning Spirit into a Death Scythe, the young blonde had learned to turn fear into power, the adrenaline rush sharpening her senses, numbing the pain, making her run faster and hit harder. The fear for others reminded her of everything she fought for, all the people that would be safer, her little daughter, and the boy they had promised to save. She thought of her god, the ruler of natural cycles and cosmic equilibrium, the familiar yet so mysterious entity, one who had always believed in her, even when she didn't feel like believing in herself. She could remember his advices, spoken with that soft voice he would reserve for the children, merry and way gentler than the thunderous roar that terrified his enemies.

“So what if you're small? Let them underestimate you, their mistake will be fatal. You can do it… remember, it's they who should be afraid of you.”

The cheerful tone could never completely hide the ominous darkness that existed within him. But she had always known her god was one of balance, both caring protector and ruthless destroyer, terrible and serene, as capable of giving as of taking… and she was completely devoted to him.

She believed in him, and he believed in her.

Her eyes suddenly locked with those of the witches and she clenched her teeth.

Time to run for it.

The meister suddenly raised the weapon and ran towards them.

“No…” Rory yelped. “NO!”

She tried to push Emma behind her as the woman quickly closed the distance between them. Emma screamed when the woman swung the blade against her friend, the red-haired barely able to pull back in order to evade the sharp edge. With a snarl, the meister advanced, spinning the weapon, and this time, she managed to reach the witch, striking her in the head with the shaft. As Rory fell to the ground, unconscious, the woman then swung the pole back to hit Emma. The witch felt the stunning impact and stumbled backwards, but she managed to remain on her feet, despite the blackness that clouded her vision for some seconds. She had no time to recover, as she immediately had to jump backwards, the blade cutting through the air and piercing the spot where she had just been standing.

Emma raised her hand, but before she could begin a spell, the woman packed a punch in her gut, the air escaping her lungs. As the breathless witch could barely keep standing, the woman spun gracefully and kicked her to the ground.

On her back, over the snow, Emma looked up at the night sky, full of stars. The meister raised the blade. “Soul resonance,” she spoke, her voice low and dangerous. “Witch Hunter.”

Emma saw the blades’ form shifting and glowing, lightning enveloping its form as it grew in size, transforming into an iridescent crescent.

From the ground, Rory opened her eyes. “NO!" she begged, as she tried and failed to get up, "PLEASE, NO!”

Emma screamed, the moment she saw the blade begin its descent.

“NO..!” Rory cried.

Dark shadows caught the Weapon, pulling it from the meister’s hands as they pushed her body backwards, making the woman fall and roll over the snow, away from Emma. Mouth agape, Rory turned her head and saw the son of Death amidst the falling snow, his yellow eyes glowing.

“Kid!” the blonde meister exclaimed. “Why, what are you..?” she stuttered, surprise in her voice, incredulity in her face.

“Please, no!” the child cried, as he sprinted towards them. His shadows released the scythe and, in a blur of light, the Weapon shapeshifted into a red-haired man.

“Kido!” he asked in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“Please, don’t hurt them!” the child’s voice trembled.

For the first time in what she felt had been ages, the meister found herself doubting in the middle of a fight. She stared at the kid with wide eyes, confusion in her brain. It didn’t last long, because then, her face settled in the hardest determination.

“They must’ve placed one of their wicked spells on you,” she uttered. “But don’t worry…” her arm extended and in a flash of lightning, Spirit took his place in her hand again. “It’ll break very soon.”

There couldn’t be any other explanation. It had to be magic.

Witches and their magic were evil. Chaos and destruction were their very nature. They knew no balance, and they couldn’t abide to any semblance of rightness or rule. They even saw the very laws of reality as something to be bent and broken. Magic users craved power, and for them, everything in existence was to be subdued and manipulated, in order to accomplish their own nefarious purposes. Even the very forces of nature.

Just what the kid was.

She had to act fast, who knew how deeply the magic had penetrated the child’s mind. If they had him under their control, what would he be capable of doing?

Spirit connected his soul with his wife’s in a harmonious resonance, the way they had done so many times before, and in a fluid motion, she jumped high, Witch Hunter flaring and descending over Emma again. Rory screamed in denial and the small child moved in a fraction of second, running to place himself above the younger witch, right under the falling blade. For an awful instant, Emma imagined the forceful impact would completely shatter the little kid to pieces.

Glass, she vaguely thought. Not snow, not wind, nor night… He’s made of glass.

She closed her eyes and cried out. But the crash and the pain never came. The witch opened her eyes slowly, and saw that the kid had firmly caught the falling Weapon, pressing his palms against both sides of the glowing blade.

“Kid, please!” the meister cried. “Why are you doing this?”

“They’re my friends!” he replied, his voice shaking, golden eyes staring at the meister pleadingly. “They really are, please!”

The woman couldn’t suppress a huff of bitter laughter, wondering what kind of spell they had used to make the small child believe that. As if witches would befriend their kind’s worst enemy. “You don’t understand right now, Kid,” she spoke, trying to keep a surging desperation at bay, “but we have to do this!”

“NO!” he whined loudly, the struggle to hold the Weapon visibly straining him. “No no no…”

The blade slipped from his hands. The child yelped, barely catching it on time to save Emma, but the sharp tip had gotten dangerously close to the witch’s terrified face. He leaned with all his weight, trying to push the weapon away, but he was unable to move it one inch. His soul called the darkness, but the voice was too faint. All he could do now, was to resist with all of his might, enduring the heavy pressure with all of his stubbornness. The meister felt a pang of guilt as she watched his efforts, but it would all end soon. She would free him from these vile witches’ magic control, and the child wouldn’t believe what he had been doing in that very moment. Slowly but firmly, the blonde continued pushing the Weapon downwards. The little one closed his eyes and cried out. He was far stronger than he seemed, but the combined power of the couple’s resonance was quickly becoming too much for his already exhausted energies.

Emma just needed him to resist some seconds more. She steeled herself, extended a hand and recited a spell.

In a flash of light, the Weapon shapeshifted back into his human form, as both he and his meister found themselves suddenly fainting, falling heavily over the snow. The child lost his balance at the abrupt change, and with nothing in his hands, he stumbled forwards with a surprised whimper, but Emma’s arms caught his fall. He blinked at the sight of the Weapon-meister duo, both unconscious on the ground, fear and concern etching on his face.

“Don’t worry! They’re okay,” Emma explained immediately, looking at his worried expression. “That’s just a spell I developed for a profound, repairing sleep.”

“Emma!” Rory cried in relief, launching herself to embrace her friend. It had been so close, but it was over now. She tried to blink back tears as her eyes found the boy. “Thank you… thank you, kid.”

Just a few hours ago, Rory wouldn’t have believed she and Emma would be using their magic to carry a pair of Academy assets to a safe place. These two had almost killed her best friend, but still, it seemed that the little kid really cared about the couple, so Rory wouldn’t let them freeze to death in the falling snow. No matter how much the pair deserved it.

Emma entered the inn’s room first, and carefully placed the floating blonde on the bed, white sheets moving to cover her frame. Rory came next, and simply dropped the red-haired man on the room’s floor. She could notice the spell she had placed on him days before had already faded, and she felt tempted to place a new, even worse hex, but finally decided against it, moving to focus in their original purpose.

The child stood in front of the mirror. He touched the glass with closed eyes, tiny fingers caressing the smooth surface. Rory wasn’t used to see mirrors, and it suddenly struck her how truly strange those objects were. It was like a window to another room, that was the same as this one, but entirely different at the same time. A glimpse into a world that was the exact opposite of this… A glance at another version of herself, one who existed within an unknown, inverted form of their reality.

Maybe this isn’t the only version that exists. Maybe I’m not the only me…

It could have been those thoughts, the exhaustion, the closeness to a mirror or maybe all at once, but a sudden, confusing vertigo began to invade her, and she looked away from the reflecting glass. Next to her, Emma seemed even more affected by the object’s presence, shifting nervously in her place. The child spared a glance at them, no doubt perceiving their unease.

He approached them and took their hands in his.

The witches felt the coldness of his skin, but the sensation didn’t limit to the contact. A gelid feeling invaded them both, strange, but not uncomfortable. Emma never liked the cold, but this didn’t feel at all like the freezing chill that tortured the bones. It was rather like the cool rain refreshing a hot day, a glass of iced water quenching the thirst, or submerging into a dark lake at the end of a long, summer day…

Was this his soul touching theirs?

The sensation filled them completely, soothing their minds and bodies…

“I was born within a mirror.”

Emma blinked, knowing they both had heard the child’s voice very clearly, but he never moved his lips. It was as if he had whispered to them from within their own minds. The boy released their hands and the sensation began to fade.

“What… what was that?” Rory mumbled.

“A mirror? That’s how he created you?” Emma asked with curiosity. “But how? I mean, what are you…made of?”

Just like before, the child didn’t answer any of their questions. Emma imagined he had already revealed too much, and only watched in silence as he returned to the room’s mirror to place his little hand on the glass. Sparks of light and shadows cracked at his fingertips, and the surface began to emit a soft glow. The room’s image began to distort and disappear, soon to reveal the kid’s home. The younger witch had been certain that such place would be quiet and desolate, vast and empty. And it certainly was, only not in the way she had imagined. She had been expecting somewhere dark and cold, but what she saw appear in the other side of the mirror was bright landscape, an infinity of golden sand glowing under an intense blue sky.

“You live in the desert,” Emma mumbled, staring at the visibly warm place. “Of course, your city is in the desert…”

He only smiled at her, tilting his sweet face. His finger poked at the surface of the glass and it rippled like water. Before he could enter, Rory approached him and crouched down by his side. Hesitatingly, she took a hand to his face, cupping it softly. The little one closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.

“You won’t forget us, right?” she asked him, her voice breaking. “You’ll remember us.”

The child nodded, opening big eyes that glowed dimly, golden like molten glass, like hot sand and twilight. Before she could react, he pulled away, taking a step forward and simply walking into the mirror, crossing through the glass as if he was just entering another room. The kid ran a couple of meters, but then stopped abruptly. He turned around and waved goodbye.

“Goodbye,” Rory mumbled, and saw him smile before running away, his little feet agitating the sand.

It was then when the red-haired witch noticed something new. She squinted her eyes; in the distance, she could distinguish a shapeless shadow. It was moving, its blackness a stark contrast with the bright daylight. It became bigger, as if rising, and the child ran even faster towards it, crying with joy. The little one reached the towering, shadowy figure, and Rory had to suppress a scream, taking a hand to her mouth and retreating a couple of steps. A skull mask had appeared and she understood just what she was seeing.

Far in the distance, the kid closed his eyes and smiled softly, as the darkness surrounded him, stroked his face gently and held him close in a loving embrace.

He is safe now. He is home.

His yellow eyes opened again and fixed on the witches. His father followed his gaze and found them. Even in the distance, Rory could distinguish something, a spot of light, a single star shining beyond the empty sockets of the mask. She knew very well that such being could gaze straight into her very soul, see all of her anger, the depths of her hatred and the lifelong fear… and maybe, all of the hope as well. It couldn’t have lasted for more than a couple of seconds because, the next moment, Rory found herself gazing at her own pupils in the mirror.

Chapter Text

“Madness of Order,” Nina read from one of her oldest tomes. “A Madness Wavelength originated from the Great Old One of Death… An intense madness, so strong that it eclipses all emotions and suppresses willpower, leaving only mechanical cycles…”

The Witch Judge, raised an eyebrow, considering Nina’s statements for a moment. In the center of the auditorium, surrounded by a multitude of witches, Emma stood next to Rory, supporting her friend in her trial. If Rory hadn’t been so desperate, to think that Nina, of all people, would be defending her... would have made her laugh. At first, she had been sure that asking the blue haired witch for help was a terrible idea, but the scientist did seem to be making some progress.

“Suppress the victim’s will,” the Witch Judge reflected slowly, incredulity in her voice. “They can do that?”

Rory bit her lip, and tried to force herself not to tremble. Nina herself had told them beforehand that she doubted the veracity of the old text, and its claims about such power. They didn’t know what the kid was really capable of, but fortunately, neither did anyone else. So, Nina suggested using everything they didn’t know to their advantage.

After all, considering how little knowledge the witches had about the kid, almost anything about him could be true.

“It should’ve been so easy for him to inflict madness in her weak mind,” Nina stated dramatically. “Our poor, unfortunate sister is not to blame!” Nina’s arms gestured towards Rory. “She was nothing but a toy in his hands!”

If Rory weren’t so terrified in that moment, she’d be rolling her eyes at Nina’s exaggerated antics. Around them, the reunited witches stared at her, with varying degrees of fear and pity in their expressions. Emma tried not to look at those faces, listening as Nina continued the planned speech. None of the two friends enjoyed to be selling the idea that Rory had been merely used by the abominable little monster, in his devious strategy for him to enter and explore their realm. But they knew very well what the punishment for treason was…

Hopefully, this would work.

Nina finished speaking and the Judge turned towards the accused witch. Her fox eyes pierced the red haired woman. “Is any of this true?” she asked, with a frightening voice.

In that moment, Rory didn’t need to lie. “I... I didn’t know what I was doing,” she stated. “I just knew… that I had to help him. Protect him.”

The Judge and the Queen shared pointed looks, as the multitude around them maintained a tense silence.

“This threat might be even worse than we originally thought,” the Judge finally said. “But we’ll occupy of that later. Now it’s time we deliberate.”

“Everything can change?”

“Yes.”

“We can change, too?”

That night, after hearing the question, the father nodded silently and took the child in his arms. The little one’s golden eyes gleamed in the dark, fixed on the bright, distant light beyond the empty sockets of his skull mask. A star that, just like those above them that night, would not shine forever. 

“We are changing. Remember what I told you, about the cycles?” he said to his son. “Mine will end, and yours will begin…”

The child listened in silence, his fingers playing with a small, wooden car, making the wheels spin. The father knew the kid had a natural intelligence to comprehend processes and cycles, geometries and patterns, ends and new beginnings. The child understood what they represented. The elder held the little one close in a tight hug. Their lives would be immensely long, but the time they could share together would be so short.

“You’re so brave," the father said. "You’re learning and growing so much, so fast. And even when I’m not with you anymore, I’ll always be so proud of you.”

The kid relaxed and his soul was shining with contentment as he yawned. He closed his eyes and huddled to sleep, under the stars, safe and cozy in his father's arms.

"I love you," the father whispered. "Always remember, I love you.”

Emma truly believed things could change. Maybe not tonight, maybe not tomorrow, but someday, things would be different…

Right now, witches were still too afraid, and Emma would not blame them. After the day of Queen Maba’s announcement about a second reaper, she herself had had the most terrifying nightmares. She still didn’t know which had been worse, when she was a witch in a reaper’s clutches, or when she was a beetle in a child’s hands. Emma smiled to herself…. to think that playing with the kid had been so relaxing after a bad night!

Back there, in the trial, she would’ve liked to tell the truth, for everyone to listen. But maybe if they had done that, they wouldn’t be walking home that night, together, her oldest friend so relieved and finally free. For all that Emma was hopeful, she didn’t want to be naïve. If they had spoken about what they truly experienced, about how the kid wasn’t so different from any other, and that it had been their choice to let him go… all they would’ve gotten would’ve been the ultimate punishment.

How ironic could that be? To have survived meeting Death’s son himself, only to be condemned and executed by their own people?

She sighed as Rory opened her home’s door and both entered, followed closely by Nina. Emma had no doubt that what they did to save her friend had been for the best; still, she couldn’t stop thinking about that meister from the Academy. That woman’s words, and those Nina had said today in the trial, demonstrated that the only way both their people and those from the Academy could imagine witches and a reaper caring about each other, was if one had been completely manipulated by the other.

“So, Nina,” Rory’s voice interrupted Emma’s thoughts. “Now you’ll finally tell us what you wanted in exchange of this?”

Emma hadn’t forgotten about that. Of course, this was never supposed to be for free. Nina’s smile grew wide, but it didn’t seem friendly at all. In fact, there was something quite unnerving about it.

“Tell me everything!” Nina exclaimed, pulling out her notebook. “All you learned about him!”

The two other witches looked at each other, before looking back at Nina.

“Is that… all you want?” Rory frowned.

“Apple pie is his favorite,” Emma quickly answered. “He likes to put stuff in a symmetrical order. I think eight is his favorite number…”

The enthusiasm in Nina’s face slowly faded, giving place to a deadpan expression. “What?”

“And he likes cowboys, too,” Emma added.

“He also enjoys drawing,” Rory mentioned.

Nina closed her eyes and exhaled, trying not to lose her patience. “I was more interested… in something a bit more useful, you know? Like… any possible weaknesses?”

“He’s ticklish,” Emma remembered suddenly.

Rory turned to her friend in confusion. “Just when did you discover that?” she mumbled.

Nina watched, in growing disappointment, as the other two witches continued chatting about the most useless, meaningless details. She pinched between her eyebrows and spoke with a hushed voice, more to herself than to the pair in front of her. “I still can’t believe I had him… right there, on my lab’s table.” The blue haired witch’s expression darkened. “You know what? Forget it!” She closed her notebook and stomped out of that place.

“Nina, wait!” Emma called, and ran outside right behind her.

Rory watched them leave. The night outside was cold, but inside her home, it was warm. Still, it felt a bit lonely now. She felt tired, but didn’t want to sleep, not yet.

She went to her workshop, pulled out a box with unfinished toys, grasped her tools and began to work.