Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

These days, the sight of the Emperor’s Coven was a bad sign. Whether it be imprisoning, indoctrinating, or generally incarcerating, Gus had learned to be on the lookout for their stark white capes and birdlike masks. Any sign of them usually meant that they were forcing witches to join covens, which would turn them into another puppet of Belos’, a curse that would surely bleed into their very souls. 

Ever since the Head Witch Graye tried tricking the Hexside students into getting sigils, the Coven Scouts seemed to get ever closer to the Looking Glass Graveyard. Gus clenched his fist around the earring the Illusion Head left behind. Though his emotional overload prevented the scouts from finding out the exact location, he had the sinking feeling they knew to search Forearm Forest because of him. Knowing that the Day of Unity was only days away, Gus and Mattholomule had been skipping class to check on the defenses every day. Plus, skipping class was a good opportunity for Mattholomule to practice illusions by sending a few out to take his notes for him. Though it was a shame they couldn’t utilize the new super secret note passing technique they developed. 

He knew his father was pretending not to notice how late Gus came home. Because of his role as an Emperor trusted reporter, they didn’t talk too much about the rebellion or the plans to defend the graveyard. If the emperor didn’t have eyes and ears on the Porter household, then Head Witch Graye definitely did. So they didn’t talk about a lot of things. They especially didn’t talk about the Oracle Coven sigil branded onto his father’s wrist. 

Gus would like to say that he’s grown from the nervous and insecure witch he was when he was younger. With the support of his new friends, he’s come farther than he ever would have dreamed. He was stronger and more confident than he ever was before. 

Or well, he feels more confident most of the time. 

Yet despite his new burst of confidence, he still hasn’t found the courage to confess to his mistake in letting the Head Witch into his mind. Now the Looking Glass Graveyard was in danger because of him. He hadn’t even told Mattholomule that their traps were getting set off more often because of him. If Belos got his hands on the Galderstones, then the fall of the Rebellion would be his fault. 

Gus let out a shaky breath, one that was a bit louder than he intended. 

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Mattholomule giving him a quizzical look. Before he could open his mouth, Gus rushed past towards their first line of defense, the falling boulder trap they designed. 

Gus put on his best practiced smile and spun around. 

“Alright, our surprise boulder trap worked!” Gus cried out. “Our traps are working!” 

Well, his joy wasn’t entirely fake. Ripped up fabric and shattered masks meant that their traps were working, and that the Galderstones might still be safe. Considering that there wasn’t an increase in coven scout power, it was safe to say that the Looking Glass Graveyard was still safe. Gus cheerfully plucked a bit of cloth that was jammed underneath a boulder. It was still smoking a bit from the everlasting fire potion Eda gave them. 

At least their traps were taking out a few coven scouts. Good, the fewer soldiers Belos had, the better. He would take out as many of them before the Day of Unity as possible. Maybe there’d be a straggler than he could bring to Willow for questioning. 

Mattholomule kicked aside a shattered mask, sending its pieces clattering somewhere into the brush. They would have to come back later to clean up the mess. But for now, their first priority was to reset the traps and return the forest to its more inconspicuous state. 

“Maybe these murder traps are working a bit too well. Are you sure we don’t have to clean up a body?” He paused and gestured over at the several large dried puddles of dark liquid. “Or a lot bodies?”

“Don’t worry, Matty, none of these traps are fatal. Plus, even if our traps did kill a Coven Scout, we would know by now,” Gus said. “You know that a witch’s bile sac explodes 6.66 hours after they die. No explosions of witch guts, no bodies.” 

“Right,” Mattholomule enchanted a boulder back into its perch high within the treeline, which revealed what looked suspiciously like an emperor’s coven mask ground into a fine powder. “These traps totally aren’t deadly.”  

They walked around in silence for a bit, resetting traps and checking to see how far the scouts got. Other than the falling boulder trap, the scouts had triggered the glyph mine field, dispelled the low self-esteem nightmare dream fog, dissipated the pretty people illusion wall, and drank most of the apple blood decoys which were actually memory erasing potions. The trail of the coven scouts stopped there, before the barbed wire net traps. That meant there were four more main traps that the scouts hadn’t found. 

“Geez, how did those guys get past all this in just a few days?” Mattholomule muttered, inspecting one of the apple blood decoy bottles. “It’s like they actually know where they’re going now. They didn’t even fall for the fake tunnel system.” 

In only a few days they were getting closer than ever. Surely the few seconds Head Witch Rayne gazed into his memories wasn’t enough time to figure out how to get past all the traps? Gus' hand went back to his pocket and clenched a fist around the earring. He barely noticed how the needle poked into his palm. 

This was all his fault. He was so stupid, Titan, he was so stupid for being confident. Driving Head Witch Graye away was just a fluke. He didn’t save the school, that was all Hunter, Willow, and Amity. They were the actual strong witches. 

He was still just the dumb and gullible kid. 

Suddenly it felt harder to breathe. His hands started twitching involuntarily. Blue light started encroaching upon his vision. Reality was slipping away. Something was pressing down on him, pushing him down, trying to kill. Was that actually Mattholomule there? Where was he? Who was he? Gus felt as if the ground were swallowing him up. 

Reality smashed into him when a hand landed on his shoulder. The blue faded from his vision, but his hands were still shaking and clammy. He took a few seconds to calm down and breathe. 

Mattholomule stood there before him, looking uncharacteristically concerned. His other hand was fiddling with his bangs. In the back of his head he noted that Mattholomule always played with his bangs when he was nervous. Thinking of his friend’s quirks calmed him a bit. The hand on his shoulder grounded him a little bit more. 

For now this was enough. 

“Are you okay?” Mattholomule patted his shoulder a bit and Gus counted the amount of times, which was six. “You totally zoned out there for a second.” 

“I’m fine,” Gus gently took Mattholomule’s hand off his shoulder. “I was just thinking up some other traps we could make in the meantime.” 

Mattholomule pouted a bit. He opened his mouth and pointed at Gus as if he wanted to say something. After a short pause,  he shoved his hands into his bag and stuffed something into Gus’ hands.

It was a metal tin. When Gus opened it he saw it was full of cookies, each carefully frosted to resemble a CD. 

“You always complain about how the human doesn’t let you eat her CDs, so I made you some you can actually eat. I was going to share them with you and the Keeper,” Mattholomule looked down and scuffed at the ground. “But, you really don’t seem okay so I’m giving these to you now.” 

Gus opened the box and picked out a cookie, which smelled buttery and amazing. It was decorated with silver glitter. Somehow Mattholomule even got them down to the approximate size of a human CD.  He wondered how long it took for Mattholomule to bake and decorate these cookies. 

The world finally slowed down completely. For at least these few moments, the impending doom of The Day of Unity didn’t exist. It was just Gus and Mattholomule and their tin of cookies to share. 

“If you’re going through something you don’t have to tell me,” Mattholomule said, “but my brother always shoved food in my mouth whenever I was panicking, he said something about how chewing on food forces your mind to slow down a bit. His therapist taught him that. Though that one time he shoved a lemon demon in my mouth but I made sure to bite him in the- Hey! Stop laughing!” 

Gus was laughing the hardest he had in awhile. 

He could imagine how Mattholomule’s panic would morph into fury in the blink of an eye. Knowing him, he probably expended all of his nervous energy into attacking his older brother and calmed down once he decided justice was served. Gus had only heard stories about Steve, but judging by how Mattholomule gushed about him, he was a kind and doting, if a bit teasing, older brother. It seemed in character for him to rile up his little brother like that for fun. 

“Thanks, Matty,” Gus wheezed, “for the cookies and for that hilarious story.” 

“Just eat the damn cookie, squirt.” Mattholomule huffed and looked away, “and just concentrate on chewing it, okay?” 

Gus closed his eyes and took a big bite out of the cookie, imagining that it was a delicious CD instead. It crunched pleasantly in his mouth, the perfect amount of crunch to his tastes. There was a slight metallic tinge to it from where the edges were burnt that was fitting with the silver frosting, but the sweet orange frosting made sure that it wasn’t too bitter. He imagined the music this CD must play and how it would taste, if it were Mattholomule’s pick, it would probably be some human emo band. Gus kept chewing on the cookie until it turned from crunchy to mush. If CDs were edible, he was sure it’d taste exactly like this. When he opened his eyes again, he felt the most relaxed he’d been since he met Head Witch Graye. 

Mattholomule was looking at him again, his arms were crossed and his eyes flitted around nervously. He scuffed at the ground with his feet. 

“Did you like them?” Mattholomule asked, tentative and unsure. 

“They were perfect, it’s like eating a real CD!” Gus gushed. “Here, you have some too.” 

“Uh, duh I’m having one,” Mattholomule snatched a cookie from the tin, “I made them.” 

They spent a few moments eating cookies in silence. Gus stood awkwardly holding the box with one hand and shoveling cookies into his mouth with the other while Mattholomule snatched a few away to save for the Keeper. Surrounded by empty jars of apple blood and remnants of defeated coven scouts. It even sounded like some of the wildlife was active again, judging by the rustling nearby. All the visits from the scouts had scared most of the creatures away. At least the wildlife of the isles got to maintain some sense of normalcy. 

“So,” Mattholomule started, “are you feeling better? What happened back there? You’ve been off ever since that Illusion Head bastard pulled his stupid little stunt.” 

Gus opened and closed his mouth uselessly. Some part of him wanted to tell Mattholomule everything. How he was and might still be the gullible fake prodigy, only there to serve as the stepping stone for others. Or about how much he genuinely hates himself every time he makes a stupid avoidable mistake. Most of all he wants to tell Mattholomule that he’s so scared that he’ll toss him inside like the failure that he is because he was the reason the Emperor’s Coven was closer to getting the Galderstones than ever before. 

As hard as he tried to say those words, he just couldn’t. 

Change was scary. It was easier to open up to Hunter because he couldn’t exactly avoid the topic, not when the world around him literally reflected his worst memories. It’s hard to open up to these things on his own. 

“It’s nothing,” Gus answered. 

Mattholomule narrowed his eyes and his ears flicked a bit, but didn’t say anything. With a huff he turned around and picked up one of the empty apple blood bottles and gestured for Gus to do the same. Gus stuffed the cookie tin into his bag and started working too. As Mattholomule checked the bottles over, he idly tapped on the glass, filling the air with a hollow tap tap tap instead of their usual chatter. Gus closed his eyes and concentrated on the chunky rhythm Mattholomule tapped out. Once all the bottles were neatly stacked away, Mattholomule finally faced Gus again.
“Come on, we can’t reset this trap anyway with the Owl Lady gone. Let’s go repair the graveyard a bit, okay?” he said. 

Gus nodded and followed along. 

The two navigated the traps they set up with expertise. Soon, they were greeted with the dense fog that always seemed to hang over the graveyard. As they went past the repaired gates, Gus brushed his hands against the stone, checking to make sure it was stable. 

They kept themselves busy for a bit in silence, working on the upkeep of the graveyard’s image. Though the silence still hung over them, they still worked side-by-side as they always did. Gus knew that the awkwardness was his fault, but he couldn’t find the courage to break out of it. 

Beside him, Mattholomule struggled with an illusion spell, the circle wavering a bit before fizzling out. 

“Ugh! Come on!” Mattholomule shouted as he tried a few other illusion spells, each one fizzling out like the first one. “How do you do this?”

“Here, watch me.” 

Gus leaned over and held his hand next to Mattholomule’s, drawing a spell circle of his own, which emitted a puff of smog. With a scrunched up scowl, Mattholomule tried the circle again. Though the circle didn’t fail this time, it didn’t exactly work either. Instead a heavy blast of air blasted out of it, causing the fog to momentarily dissipate. 

“Here, let’s try this, I do half the spell and you do the other, just so you can get the feel of it, okay?” Gus suggested. 

“Ugh, fine.” 

Gus slowly began one half of the circle and Mattholomule drew the other. One half blue and the other yellow. A consistent stream of thick fog sprouted from the circle. They kept their hands there for a few seconds, fingertips still touching, as they watched their spell join the rest of the fog that hung in the air around them. 

Even when the spell circle faded they both kept their hands there, their index fingers still touching. Gus nearly fell over when Mattholomule spoke.
“Hey, Gus, I-” 

Before he could say anything else, all the fog of the graveyard blew in towards them, temporarily obscuring their vision. When the fog settled back to its original stagnant state, they saw that they were no longer alone. 

Gus felt his stomach curl when he saw who their guest was. 

Head Witch Adrian Graye stepped dramatically out from between a curtain of fog. His glowing blue eyes cast a sinister shadow across his gentle smile.
“Sorry to interrupt your little bonding moment, but I believe we have a score to settle?”

Chapter Text

“Oh, it’s that dumb illusion bastard,” Mattholomule hissed. “Don’t you have something better to do than to bother us, loser? 

Graye’s perfect smile twitched a bit, but he kept his proud stance. A far cry from the man that had to be dragged back to the castle in a catatonic state. 

Gus moved his hand away from Mattholomule’s, reaching for the illusion earring in his pocket, clenching a protective fist around it. When Graye made eye contact with him, he flinched and stumbled backwards, falling onto the rocky terrain and felt sharp pebbles dig into his palms. He concentrated on that feeling, thoughts whirling rapidly in his head. 

“Now, now, no need for any of your illusion tricks,” he snapped his fingers, calling off the illusion that was hiding the coven scouts. “I’ve got you surrounded with an actually competent bunch of minions.” 

A few of the scoutss moved forward, arms outreached and ready to restrain them. Gus couldn’t move, thoughts racing too fast for his body to catch up. Options weighing upon options. Plan weighing upon plan. 

Luckily, he wasn’t alone. 

Mattholomule raised a few construction barriers and laughed when he heard the scouts slam into them. Then he reached out a hand to Gus, who unclenched his fist to take it. When Mattholomule helped him up, Gus gave the other boy’s hand a squeeze. He then slipped his other hand back into his pocket. Mattholomule’s eyebrows raised a fraction, but he didn’t comment on it. 

“I already beat you,” Gus shouted. “What else do you want?” 

“Beat me?” Graye scoffed. “That was a fluke caused by your childish emotional outburst. I assure you, this time, I’ll be the winner.” 

“You didn’t answer my question,” Gus said, voice dripping with venom. “What do you want?”

“Augustus, I thought you were smart, clever even.” Graye sneered. “I’m here for the Galderstones, to take you prisoner, and to take back that earring you stole from me.” 

Mattholomule looked at him questioningly. 

Gus had to think quickly. Luckily, the Illusion Head was an arrogant talker, maybe that would buy them some time for. . . something, anything. Even some information would be a boon, but the time it would buy to come up with a plan would be priceless. 

“If I were to hypothetically have your relic, how would it work?” Gus asked. “More specifically?” 

“Is it just questions, questions, and more questions with you?” Graye asked before adding, “It gives your magic that extra pizazz. Cast your spell and it’ll give you that extra.” 

Graye finished off that sentence with a hand flourish. Gus could understand why his scouts were always this disorganized if their leader was too full of himself to give an actual explanation.

“Stop talking in pretentious prick,” said Mattholomule. 

“Ugh, you’re really getting on my nerves. Do you act like this everyday? What’s even your name?” Graye rolled his eyes. “Actually don’t answer that, I don't care.” 

Mattholomule was near fuming, but calmed down a fraction when Gus gave his arm a few reassuring pats. When Gus gestured towards Graye, Mattholomule frowned deeply, but he still nodded in agreement. 

“Anway, about that earring, it’s really important to me,” Graye drawled, apparently unaware of the silent conversation the boys were having. “I don’t really need it, but it would be nice to have it back. I’ll just have the scouts search your belongings later for it.” 

He snapped his fingers and a few of the scouts knocked the construction barriers down. Without anything else in their way, the scouts captured them. While Mattholomule kept screaming and kicking, Gus compliently slumped over.

Head Witch Graye lounged on a director’s chair that a few coven scouts carried over, a smug smile on his face. He took a long sip from his mug as various coven scouts carried the stones out of the graveyard. 

“I knew the other day was a fluke, I was just surprised by your performance. I mean, how could I lose to a child who can’t even control his own emotions? Beginner’s luck!” 

When Gus didn’t reply, he continued. 

“I know that my magic is stronger than yours, I mean, I’m the Head Witch of the Illusion Coven, come on! So, I’ve decided to send a few of my scouts to tail you ever since. To see how you tick, how you work. And to see what your weaknesses are.” 

His eyes trailed over to where Mattholomule was. Then he stood up and motioned for his scouts to take away his director’s chair. He stood in front of Gus and gave his head a few patronizing pats. 

“Dreadful performance from you today, Augustus, but I really have to thank you. You lead me right to the Illusionist graveyard I’ve been looking for.” 

Mattholomule attempted to swing his body towards the Illusion Head, aiming his kicks as far as they would go. In reply, one of the coven scouts locked his legs down with vines. 

“I’m just as much to blame!” Mattholomule attempted at one last kick, which made the vines wrap even tighter around his legs. “Or really you’re to blame because you’re some freakish stalker.” 

“Oh no no, Augustus was a big help,” Graye crooned. “Or well, at least his memories were.” 

“No,” Gus whispered. 

This couldn’t come up now. Not when everything banked on Gus getting everything right. He couldn’t afford any distractions. Their window of opportunity was getting slimmer by the second. He couldn’t drag everyone down again. 

“What’s this old hoot even talking about? What does he mean?” Mattholomule asked. “Gus?” 

Gus looked away in shame. For the briefest of seconds, his vision flashed blue.

“Oh, so you haven’t told your rude little friend?” 

“Mattholomule I-” 

Gus glanced over at Mattholomule. He was expecting anger, frustration, or even fear. But all he saw in Mattholomule’s eyes was concern and what might have been sadness. 

Somehow that was the worst option of them all. 

Head Witch Graye circled around them, like a vulture descending upon its prey, ready to pick apart. His blue eyes sparkled in the darkness. Not even the eternal gloom of the graveyard could mask his inner light. Now that he thought he was winning, he shined brighter than any spotlight. 

He turned his gaze to Mattholomule again, lips curled and fangs bared. 

“The poor little guy joined the illusion track for you, didn’t he? You’re the mastermind of this duo, yet you couldn’t let him know how much danger he was in for even being around you. Don’t you believe in your friend?” Graye smiled down at him. “Oh well, the emperor will thank you for your work. Or rather, thank you for your mistakes.” 

At this point the scouts restraining Gus were barely holding onto him, it was as if they knew he wasn’t going to try to run. Despite trying to get himself under control, despite trying to count his breaths, Gus felt reality slip further and further away. At this point Gus could barely even hear what was happening anymore. Their words were garbled and warped, as if he were speaking to him through water. 

“Shut up, you hag!” Mattholomule spat before turning to Gus. “Let’s ju-” 

“Who are you calling a hag?” Graye grabbed Mattholomule by the hood, pulling him out of his restraints. He dragged the boy’s wrist towards himself, readying the sigil brand. “I’m growing tired of your voice. Now what coven sigil should I give to a weakling like you?” 

Mattholomule clawed furiously at the hand grabbing onto him. His boots dug into the rocky terrain and kicked up a storm of dirt. He even gave a few desperate snaps at Graye’s fingers, which was buying him seconds at most when Graye dodged the bites. 

“I just got into illusions,” hissed Mattholomule, “like Titan’s ass if you’re taking that away from me.” 

Despite his harsh words, Mattholomule couldn’t hide the panic in his eyes. 

Graye ignored him and nonchalantly cycled through a few covens, finally settling on Oracle. His lips curled up as he prepared the sigil. 

“Stop!” Gus shouted. “Get off of him!” 

His vision went completely blue. He felt the chilling sensations of his illusions crawling out of his body, it even felt like some of them were clawing their way out of his eyes. Illusions desperately burst from his body, overtaking their immediate settings. 

Somewhere faraway, Gus felt the coven scouts get knocked away. 

“Not this again!” groaned Graye. 

Running on autopilot, Gus ran in a direction, any direction. He might have heard Mattholomule shout at him, but at this point he wasn’t sure what was real and what wasn’t. So, he continued to run, leaving everyone behind like the coward and failure he was. 

The world around him kept shifting, he could have been running for seconds or for days, maybe even years. When he reached the illusion version of his room, he finally stopped. He tried to breathe, but no matter how hard he tried his mind wouldn’t slow down. The room before him shifted into a familiar looking clubroom, glitching in and out before settling on his bedroom. The calendar on the wall shifted back a few months, towards the beginning of the summer. On his desk was a strange human cube weapon and a human Oracle orb. 

He plopped down to the floor with tears stinging the corner of his eyes, ready to curl into a ball, but a metallic clank stopped him. When Gus looked down he saw that he dropped his bag to the floor, spilling its contents. The sound must have come from the tin of cookies Mattholomule gave him. As much as his mind screamed for him to ignore the cookies and make himself as small as possible, he reached out and took out a cookie.  

He closed his eyes and smelled the cookie. This one was a bit more burnt than the last one and the frosting smeared a bit from his careless handling. He took one last deep sniff, letting the smell waft over him. Then he took a bite, and another, and another. With each bite of the cookie, Gus took deep breaths in and out through his nose, counting his them like Willow taught him all those years ago. He also concentrated on the crunching of the cookie and imagined that Mattholomule and the Keeper were there to share them. 

When the cookie was gone, Gus saw that his vision cleared a bit. Through his left eye, he could see he was near the giant acid spider illusion trap. Which meant he wasn’t that far from where he began. 

Somewhere in the distance, he heard Mattholomule call out his name. Knowing that this could be a trick, Gus kept his guard up. He stood up cautiously and took one step forward. Before he could do anything else, someone immediately burst through an illusion wall and ran into him, sending them both crashing to the ground. 

“Gus!” Mattholomule gasped. “I’ve been looking for you.”

“And how do I know you’re the real Mattholomule and not some illusion fake?” Gus asked. 

Gus held the tin of cookies protectively in front of him, index finger tapping nervously on the metal. 

He glanced down at Mattholomule’s hands, then into his eyes, and finally took him in as a whole, looking for some kind of sign. 

The Mattholomule in front of him leaned forward and gave his forehead a few sharp jabs. Once he deemed Gus’ forehead properly poked, he finally answered out loud. 

“Would a fake know that you drank so much apple blood on your birthday that your sweat started to smell like apples?” Mattholomule asked, mischief sparkling in his eyes. “You smelled like it for two days.” 

Gus flushed a bit, but decided to let the jab slide. 

“That wasn’t the sign we agreed on,” Gus muttered, rubbing his head “aren’t you going to ask me if I’m the real Gus?” 

“I can already tell it’s you,” Mattholomule leaned over and pulled on Gus’ cheek. “That illusion guy is way too self-absorbed to notice and too snobby to add fresh cookie crumbs to your face, messy eater.”

Gus touched his mouth and blushed when he felt a new layer of cookie crumbles coating them. He furiously wiped them away with his sleeve. Mattholomule pulled his hand away and laughed at him. When Gus deemed himself presentable again, Mattholomule spoke up. 

“Anyway,” Mattholomule vaguely gestured towards his eye, “is the glowing eye thing normal for you?” 

Instinctively, Gus’ hand slapped over his glowing eye. Now he could only see the mass illusion, which was slowly shifting into a Hexside classroom again. 

“Sorry,” Gus muttered. 

“No, that’s not what I meant!” Mattholomule flustered. “I mean it in an are you okay way? I mean, in a nosy way too, but mostly making sure you’re okay way.” 

The concern and honesty took Gus aback a bit. 

“Sometimes when I get too stressed out, my magic just kinda goes ballistic,” Gus gestured at their surroundings. “Ugh, I’m so stupid, this is all my fault.” 

“Hey, Gus,” Mattholomule scooted over next to Gus and grabbed his hand, giving it a few squeezes. “That freak hasn’t won yet, because we’ve got a plan, a million of them. We’ve got way more tricks up our sleeves than he does. Let’s show them who's boss!” 

“Thanks, Matty,” Gus squeezed Mattholomule’s hand back. 

Mattholomule smiled and stood up to Gus to his feet. When he moved to let go of Gus’ hand, Gus instinctively pulled it back. The other boy looked shocked. Well, that wasn't surprising, even Gus was surprised at himself. 

“Gus?” asked Mattholomule, curious rather than displeased, much to Gus’ relief. 

“It’s just,” Gus felt his head pound sharply and suppressed a wince, “it just helps keep me centered, okay? Plus, Graye likes impersonating people, he can’t do that if he can’t separate us.” 

Mattholomule’s eyes lit up in understanding. 

“He does do that,” Mattholomule exclaimed, “and that’s why we had to-”

Gus slapped a hand against Mattholomule’s mouth. He used his left eye to scan their surroundings. No Coven Scouts in sight, but that didn't mean Graye wasn’t listening. As pompous as the older witch was, he learned all too well what it meant to approach Gus when his magic was spiraling out of control. If Gus were him, he’d be hiding and following as closely as possible, waiting for a gap in Gus’ illusion sphere. Or for information. 

“Sorry,” Gus said apologetically, “you never know who’s listening.” 

In reply, Mattholomule blew a raspberry into Gus’ palm, reminding him that it was still there. Gus quickly removed his hand. Mattholomule made a dramatic show of wiping his mouth on his sleeve. Titan, Gus forgot that he fell onto the dirty, rock covered ground that cut up his palms. His hands were probably all dirty and a bit bloody. 

“Fine, I get it, the illusion creeper uses tricks as nasty as his hair.” Mattholomule pondered for a moment and added, “I bet that’s how he got all this intel on the Galdorstones.” 

Gus felt his bile sac sink, literally, he could feel it pulsating uncomfortably against his stomach. This always happens whenever his anxiety gets the better of him. He tried to repress the urge to run off again. Well, at least he tried to suppress the urge to do it alone. 

“Let’s go!” Gus pulled Mattholomule forward, who stubbornly dug his feet into the ground and yanked him back.

“Uh, not like that you’re not.” 

“Like what?”

“Your hands are all bloody and beat up,” Mattholomule grabbed Gus’ other hand, scowling down at it, as if that would fix it, “you should get them healed before they get infected and die or something.” 

“It’s just a few scratches, I’ll live.” 

“If we’re going to beat donkey tail, we’re going to need you in top form,” Mattholomule pouted, as if Gus’ physical well-being was an issue that personally affects him. 

Gus couldn’t fathom why he’d look like that. 

“We don’t have any healing supplies,” Gus added. 

“Just shut up and let me take care of you!” Mattholomule’s pout got even poutier, if that was even a thing. “You don’t need that overpriced junk when you have my healing magic. Watch and learn.” 

Mattholomule took Gus’ left palm and drew a spell circle over it. The yellow glow drew Gus in like a beacon, enchanting him. He felt his hand grow warmer, as if there were a candle flickering inside of it. Gus internalized the fact that Mattholomule’s magic felt like fire, which was probably why he felt his face warm up too. The tiny scraps and cuts on his palm stitched themselves back together. All the while Mattholomule had one of the deepest scowls Gus had ever seen on his face and his teeth were bared, showing off his tiny tooth gap. It was the angriest healing magic Gus had ever seen. When his left palm was properly healed, Mattholomule switched the hand he was holding to heal Gus’ right palm, muttering about how Graye wouldn’t catch them slacking for even a second. Gus couldn’t take his eyes off Mattholomule for one second and he tried dedicating every detail of this experience into his memory, from how Mattholomule’s healing magic reminded him of a cozy fire to how he had slight eye bags. 

The illusion labyrinth around them faded out ever so slightly. 

“There we go, all better,” Mattholomule's chest swelled as he examined his work. 

Gus looked at his palm, opening and closing it. Every scratch was gone, his hands looked as they had this morning. 

“You’re amazing,” blurted Gus. 

Mattholomule squawked and blushed, all the arrogance flushed out of his body. Gus watched him cycle through what Gus internally called the Matty Nervous Habits. Starting with shifty eye movement, twitchy ears, and finally bang adjustment. Then he did the deep breath to regroup and resume grumpiness thing.  

“It was nothing,” Mattholomule muttered, “I just felt like learning it. I bet you could do it better.” 

“No,” Gus, “I couldn’t.” 

Mattholomule looked offended on Gus’ behalf, in fact, he looked furious. He bared his teeth a bit at Gus. 

“What is up with you?” Mattholomule glared at Gus, “you’re moping like you did with Bria.”

“I’m not moping,” Gus replied. 

“Is this what you call okay?” Mattholomule gestured to their illusion setting.

Gus turned away from him, refusing to answer.  

“I know I’m the biggest jerk on all of the Isles, but we’re a team here,” Mattholomule shouted. “You’re hiding something. Maybe if you tell me, I can actually help you. Or am I the problem?” 

“This is all my fault,” answered Gus. 

Mattholomule breathed out loudly through his nose. 

“You keep saying that, I hate it! What does that even mean?” 

Gus kept his back turned. 

“You’re the genius, the prodigy, the shining that everyone fawns over!” Mattholomule continued with his rant. “I get it, you're too good to tell me what's up. Just use your gigantic brain and get us out of here!” 

That struck a rare cord in Gus. He liked to call himself a cheerful and upbeat guy. Always peppy and unflappable. The shining optimist who can shake off anything, because “he knows what he’s about.” No matter how smart he was, people would look down on him as some kid. He was just a golden stepping stone on someone else’s stairway to success. 

What did Mattholomule know? 

Gus turned towards Mattholomule, both eyes flaring blue. If he scared Mattholomule off, all the better. Mattholomule didn’t know an ounce of what Gus’ world is really like. They’d both be better off apart. 

Though as mad as he was, some small part of him still wanted the other boy there, so  held tight onto Mattholomule’s hand. 

“Fawn?” Gus hissed, “over me? Those people fawning over me just see me as a tool. And I let them do that! Why? Because I’m just a gullible idiot.” 

The illusions around them pulsed, sending a shockwave outwards. Gus’ room phased away into a Hexside classroom.  

Even when Mattholomule had stolen the club from him, Gus wasn’t furious at him. Maybe annoyed, but he had been able to control himself. Plus, he couldn’t really lose control of his emotions when everything was his fault. Gus dealt with it the only way he knew how. He balled up all of those emotions into a tiny compartment deep inside of his mind. It worked for years.
And nobody bought that lie more than he did. 

Now he just wanted to scream and cry and wail. 

Titan, he only just turned thirteen. None of this was fair. 

He just wanted to go home.

Instead, Gus just stood there. Strong waves of magic coming from his body in waves. The ball containing years of pent up emotion unraveled rapidly. Illusion figures sprouted out from Gus, laughing, sneering, and clawing at him. They whispered all of his mistakes, fears, and hopeless aspirations into his ears. The world felt immaterial, as if he would slip through the ground and into nothingness. 

Mattholomule, ever the reckless fool, stood his ground. He had winced when he recognized the new setting, but other than that, he didn’t utter a sound, even as the illusions turned their attention onto him. His hold on Gus’ hand didn’t loosen in the slightest. If anything, he held on tighter. 

One of the illusions curled at their feet, glowing eyes staring emptily up at them. When it slithered away, illusions of Mattholomule's forgeries were scattered on the floor. Gus eyed them nervously. Usually he looked at them with fascination, curious about how they were made and the boy that crafted them. Now, looking at them made Gus sick to his stomach. At the head of his desk, in a place of absolute importance, they were a symbol of newfound beginnings and growth. Even when they were displayed in front of the H.A.S, they were a symbol of learning. 

But here, scattered on the floor, they were one of Gus’ biggest shames. The painted skull seemed to stare at him, laugh at him. Its laughter sounded familiar. 

His illusions danced around him to the beat of some unheard tune. They circled closer and closer in their dance, their mouths gaping open as if they wanted to swallow their master whole. As they approached, they melted in and out of each other. Their entire bodies were covered in giant eyes. 

Gus didn’t move, ready for whatever punishment his illusions deemed fit. 

Then, a hand shoved something into his mouth. 

It tasted of burnt edges, sweet frosting, and the human world. There was one more flavor he couldn’t identify. 

His body automatically started chewing. He concentrated on how they had the perfect amount of crunch. As he chewed, his more rebellious illusions phased back into the surroundings. The world around him became solid again. He remembered that there was another hand in his. 

The illusion field was still there, but the rogue illusions were gone. Illusion sunlight streamed into the room. His rule poster was still pasted onto the chalkboard. 

Mattholomule’s forgeries were placed neatly on the desk at the front of the classroom. 

“Gus,” Mattholomule’s face conveyed an emotion that Gus’ garbled mind couldn’t identify, “can we talk, please.” 

The unknown emotion etched itself deeper into Mattholomule's features, warping them. 

“Gus, please.”

Chapter Text

The real? Augustus watched from somewhere else as the body stood there with Mattholomule. 

The body was making blank eye contact with the boy. 

Unresponsive. 

Both of its eyes were glowing bright blue. 

Augustus? was relieved that the illusions weren’t running rampant anymore.

They had been properly absorbed back into the body. 

Something inside of him flickered.  

The boy screamed and shook at the body, he even started pinching its cheeks. 

He was repeating something over and over. 

His mouth was moving rapidly. 

The unknown emotion was still on his face. 

Then the boy started repeating a new set of words.  

His words won’t reach Augustus?Porter. 

He reminded himself that it was Mattholomule who was with him. 

Mattholomule was reaching a hand out to pick something off the ground, the other latched onto the body as if he was afraid it would float away. 

Maybe it would have.

Or maybe it would have stayed put, as if there were an invisible thread tying it down to Mattholomule. 

Mattholomule leaned over and reached the tin and pulled a handful of something out.

Something that was vaguely glittery, even in the foggy woods and smelt pleasantly like burnt sugar.

In fact, Augustus could still vaguely taste sugar and frosting in his mouth. 

He watched as Mattholomule took the handful of something and aimed for Augustus’ mouth, dramatically screaming. 

Gus is welcomed back into his body with what felt like five cookies all shoved into his mouth at once. He desperately took a deep breath in through his nose, accidentally inhaling a few cookie crumbs. He coughed and a spray of cookie and saliva flew into the air. His jaws couldn’t really move around all of the sugary confections. His ears are ringing and he isn’t exactly sure why. 

He blinked away the pain. That’s when he noticed that one of his eyes went back to normal again. 

One side showed the forest and the other showed the Hexside classroom. 

They showed Mattholomule who looked more concerned than he ever had before. There wasn’t even a dash of anger or annoyance on his face. If anything he looked panicked. 

Also, his face was covered in cookie crumb spit. 

Oh right, Gus was facing him when coughed. 

“Gus,” Mattholomule stared at Gus intently, apparently not noticing the cookie splatters, “are you okay?” 

Gus tried to answer and ended up coughing more crumbs onto Mattholomule’s face. One of the corners of his mouth twitched, but he just wiped his face off and patted Gus’ head awkwardly. He ushered Gus over to one of the desks so that he could sit down. Then he used a bit of scrap paper to draw a tiny ice glyph. Mattholomule gently dabbed the ice along Gus’ head. Gus leaned into the touch. While Gus was the baby of his friends and the pride of his father’s life, Gus never really got to be pampered or doted on. If his entire body weren’t hurting right now, he’d think he was dreaming. 

There were a few new things to consider. Mattholomule was getting quicker with his draw, he must have summoned two rocks to line up perfectly with the illusion chairs. Gus wondered when or how Mattholomule secretly learned the ice glyph. Mattholomule never seemed to take magic seriously, instead using it for quick and petty gains. Mattholomule was an opportunist. Or at least, that’s what Gus thought. 

Maybe there were some things he didn’t know about the other boy yet. 

“Sorry, if this is weird,” Mattholomule fiddled with a hoodie string. He used his sleeve to wipe up the excess moisture off Gus’ face. “you know, for shoving the rest of the cookies into your mouth. I just didn't know what to do and panicked.” 

Ah, so he was chewing on seven cookies. Normally he’d be fine with death by choking on cookies, but there were other matters at hand. He ignored Mattholomule's apology, choosing to delve into his thoughts instead. 

The illusion labyrinth would keep Graye wary of approaching them, giving Gus enough time to enact Back-Up Plan F-7 V2, which was catered towards dispatching the Illusion Head in particular. Now updated with some new information.   

As Gus channeled through his back-up plans, he chewed on the cookie mound in silence. He signaled Mattholomule for an apple blood which Gus used to break down the solid gobstopper of a cookie in his mouth. This time he didn’t have the luxury of savoring the taste, but he did pretend he ate a human disco ball when this was all over. 

A hand tapping his shoulder interrupted his thoughts.

“Hey Gus,” Mattholomule took a deep breath in through his nose and continued, “I’m sorry for before. I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

Gus finally swallowed the mega cookie ball, but even with his mouth free, words refused to come to him. They remained tangled in his throat, mangling his vocal cords. Some nasty emotion brewed inside of his stomach, he really didn't feel like tlaking to him. So he just looked at Mattholomule. 

“I don’t get why you’re so hard on yourself,” Mattholomule gripped Gus’ hand tightly. “You’re beating yourself over something and I want to help. Please, talk to me.” 

Gus blinked back at Mattholomule. 

“Do you want to talk?”

The mass in Gus’ throat tightened, entangling itself into his flesh. He shook his head no. He tried to ignored how Mattholomule deflated at that. 

“Do you mind if I talk?” Mattholomule asked. 

Sharp corners of what was unsaid pierced into him, physically preventing him from speaking, so he nodded. 

“You’re so nice and bright, you even befriended me after I was a huge jerk,” Mattholomule eyed the forgeries in the front of the classroom warily. “But sometimes I feel like you’re not really smiling. There’s more to you than just being a cheerful goody-goody? I can tell you're hiding something, I'm not stupid.”

Gus looked at Mattholomule, surprised. He thought his facade was perfect. There was no way Mattholomule of all people could have figured it out. 

The best lies were the ones laced with truth. Gus was cheerful by nature. Nobody should have looked deeper than that, especially someone as abrasive and self-centered as Mattholomule. Surely he didn’t have the emotional depth to sort through Gus' lies. 

“Look, I can’t offer you much, considering what a jerk I am.” Mattholomule looked Gus in the eyes, uncharacteristically earnest. “But no matter what bullshit you show me, I’ll accept it. Show me your worst!” 

“You’d hate me,” muttered Gus, and of course only the negative words are the ones that can come out. 

“There’s no way I’d hate you,” Mattholomule looked offended, “you’re the first witch to ever give me a chance. A reckless, useless, mean kid like me! You’ve seen me at my worst and accepted me. Trusted me.” 

Mattholomule eyes flickered towards the illusion forgeries. He pulled his hand away from Gus’. 

“Or at least, I thought you did.” 

“I do” Gus wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come out. 

He wanted to reach out for Mattholomule again. It wasn’t because he wouldn’t, surely not that. It was probably that his illusions were tying him down, preventing him. 

Gus Porter didn’t resent Mattholomule, not in any way or form.

That was the truth to Gus Porter. 

Gus’ throat tightened and he shivered slightly as an illusion slid out of him, laughing gleefully. The illusion jumped onto the desk between them. He crossed his legs and leaned forward, blocking Mattholomule off from Gus. His eyes were sparkling and he had his signature grin, one that meant mischief and trickery. Then he clasped his hands together, fluttered his eyelashes, and pursed out his lips with a practiced innocence. 

“Aw, boohoo! Aren’t we friends, Gus? Shouldn’t you tell me everything?” 

An illusion of Mattholomule, still in a new and pristine Hexside Construction Track uniform sneered at him. Every time the real Mattholomule tried to look at Gus, the illusion would block him off, as if it was protecting him. Or maybe trapping him. Gus wasn’t sure which one was better. 

“Come on, are you serious? Asking if Augustus trusts you?” the illusion Mattholomule scoffed. “What a dumb question. Nobody cares about Augustus. He’s just a gullible pawn for you to use.” 

“Shut up!” Mattholomule snapped. 

He moved to hit the illusion, but it dodged with an unnatural agility. 

“At first you saw Augustus as a naive fool, an easy target for you to manipulate,” the illusion resumed its former position gracefully, “but now you see him as your protector, admit it.” 

“I was wrong and I'm totally strong now,” Mattholomule replied, voice strained. “And he's my friend.” 

“Geez, but you couldn’t say that until now?” asked the illusion. “The poor guy will do anything for someone as long as they say a few kind words to him and maybe even flutter their eyelashes at him. You don’t even do that and he's still dancing on the palm of your hand like some stupid puppet.” 

“You don’t know anything you freak!” Mattholomule took another lunge at the illusion, which it dodged with ease. 

“Well, duh, of course I know. I mean, I did come from his subconscious,” said the illusion as it gave its own head a few taps. “You're the one who doesn't know anything. This is how he really sees you. He knows you’re a weakling who’d cling to anybody with power.” 

It stood up on the desk and opened its arms with a flourish. 

“But Augustus Porter is the real weakling because he’d rather live a lie than be alone!” 

And there it was. 

The truth of Augustus Porter.

“You said you wanted to see his worst and here it is!” the illusion cheerfully threw Mattholomule’s words back at him. “He looks down on you, but he still wants to keep you around. Isn’t that pathetic?” 

Mattholomule clenched his shaking fists. 

“Go on, say it, say that you don’t hate him,” the illusion said gently. 

Gus curled up into a ball. He didn’t have time for this, not when Graye was still lurking around the graveyard. Or maybe he should delve deeper into this. Hunter told them that the Day of Unity needed all of the Coven Heads. If he could cause another cathartic stasis, his own safety be damned, he could knock Belos down one loyalist. He just had to bank on the illusion driving Mattholomule away, hopefully far enough so that Gus could use Graye’s earrings to create a permanent effect on Graye and his scouts. 

He and Graye would go down together, their bones left to dissolve back into the Titan. 

Mattholomule probably left already. Gus was useless to him if he couldn’t stay strong for him, especially now that he can’t even be his cheerleader, much less his shield. 

“I said what I meant!” Mattholomule screamed. “Gus is my first friend and there’s no way I can ever hate him.”

Gus uncurled the slightest bit to see that Mattholomule was taking more swings at his illusion. 

He tried jumping onto the desk to join the illusion, apparently forgetting that it was an illusion desk and disappearing into it. A loud thud and a muffled squawk of pain meant that Mattholomule probably fell face first into the dirt. 

A second later, Mattholomule popped right back up, only his head peeking out from the desk. He glared and spat out a mouthful of dirt towards his illusion look-alike. 

Gus lifted his head and couldn’t help but to let out a little laugh. 

Mattholomule turned towards Gus and his features softened. 

“Look, I don’t know what’s happened to you before, but I don’t want anything from you anymore. Just being around you makes me all happy and stuff,” Mattholomule took a shaky breath in and continued. “I’m not good at being a friend, but I’m trying. Please, let me keep trying to be a better friend.” 

Mattholomule sniveled loudly and blinked heavily. 

“I didn’t know you had this much going on,” Mattholomule whispered. “I want to be there for you.” 

Gus felt his eyes prickle, the illusion next to him went silent and still.

Mattholomule roughly wiped at his eyes and nose with his sleeves. His eyes were red and watery. Despite that, he had a determined glint in his eye. 

“I’d do anything for you, man.” Mattholomule turned his gaze back towards the illusions and started drawing a spell circle “And the first thing I’m going to do is getting rid of this shitty illusion.” 

Mattholomule summoned a sword made of rock from the ground, he snapped it off and pointed it at the illusion. He held a pose for a second, as if he was imitating something he saw on a poster or a book cover. Then screeched and threw himself at the illusion. 

This time, it didn’t dodge when Mattholomule swung at it.

It didn’t even utter a sound as it burst back into pure magic. 

Mattholomule slammed onto the ground again a few feet away. The sword slid somewhere into the underbrush. He lifted his head to look back to check that the illusion was indeed gone. Once he seemed sure he’d gotten rid of it, he scrambled to get up and ran over to where Gus was sitting. Before he could even get a word out, Gus jumped out of his seat and ran towards Mattholomule. He met Mattholomule halfway and scooped him up into a hug. 

He spun the other boy around a bit, using his height and momentum to his advantage as Mattholomule latched onto Gus tightly.
Even when they stopped spinning, Gus didn’t let go. 

“Gus?” Mattholomule squeaked, “what are you doing? Is this good or bad?”
“It’s a hug. Humans do this with their friends,” Gus said, then he squeezed a bit harder, reveling in someone real. 

“Oh, uh” Mattholomule’s voice cracked, “is it better than high-fiving?” 

“Yeah,” Gus whispered, “much better.” 

“Dork,” Mattholomule whispered back. “So, uh, does this mean that you think of me as a friend too?” 

“Definitely,” Gus replied. “I always wanted to try swinging a friend around with a hug. I never get to swing Luz or Willow around, I can’t lift them up. Thanks for being short!” 

Mattholomule made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a growl, Gus would even feel it rumbling against him, but he didn’t move away from the embrace. 

The hug was warm and nice, especially against the chill that hung in the air. Gus had never felt happier that Luz introduced him to hugs. He liked how safe they made him feel. Sometimes when he hugged Willow and Luz, he would nuzzle into them, savoring their kindness. He even told his father about hugs and now they hugged all the time. Otherwise he would have lived his whole life without hugging his friends and family.

Without hugs he wouldn’t have been able to memorize how Willow smelt of flowers and gave the gentlest hugs, how Luz always jumped up and down with glee during group hugs, and how his father always patted him on the head after a hug. Now he leaned into Mattholomule, noting how his hair smelled like Tear-Fighting Key Lime Pie for kids. He had to remind himself to tease him for that later. 

The illusion Hexside classroom melted away and reverted back into Gus’ bedroom. 

It was just as Gus had left it this morning. Illusion carpet stuffed into the corner to be burned, Bad Girl Coven shirt hanging above his bed, and pictures of his beloved friends on the wall. The illusion forgeries were stuffed in an illusion box underneath the illusion bed that was labeled "Gus' Biggest Bile Stones" that Gus used to hide them in whenever Mattholomule came over. 

Mattholomule. Someone who actually wanted to be his friend. Someone who even fought against a warped illusion double for that chance. 

It dawned on him that any of his friends would do that for him in a heartbeat. 

That’s right. His friends would always be there for him. If they fell down he’d pick them back up, and they’d gladly do the same for him. Things wouldn’t ever be perfect between them, but that just meant they had to work harder for each other. 

“Uh, Gus,” Mattholomule’s voice was a bit muffled from how his face was buried in Gus’ shoulder. “Are hugs supposed to be this long?”

Gus blushed and let go, pretty much dropping a confused Mattholomule down. 

“Sorry, I just really needed a hug,” Gus muttered and rubbed his neck awkwardly, it was still warm where Mattholomule touched it. “They’re really comforting when I’m stressed out. Thanks for indulging me.”

“I’m glad to help,” Mattholomule preened a bit. “My brother always said I’m a huge comfort cause I’m-” 

He coughed awkwardly and brushed back the bangs that were sticking to his forehead. 

Gus smiled at the familiar habit. 

“Anyway, Gus,” Mattholomule asked. “What’s got you this beat up? I mean, you had two huge illusion mega explosions in like, 48 hours.” 

“A lot of things,” Gus admitted. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Mattholomule probed, voice unusually gentle. 

Gus hesitated by instinct. 

He spent his entire life suppressing negative emotions, pushing them down so that they don’t get out of control. Making sure that he can be the beacon of joy and clever intellect so that people would want to keep him around. 

And it worked, at least for a while. 

Years of emotion kept spilling out, only amplified by the looming pressure of The Day of Unity. Emotions kept spilling out of a leak that Gus couldn’t fix. Graye prying into his memories only seemed to strengthen the leak. Gus was scared that his magic would tear him apart from the inside if he kept this up any longer. 

Now he wanted someone to understand him. In many ways, he realized he didn’t really understand others either. Luz would probably say something like “others won’t open their hearts to you until you open yours first” from her flowery Azura books. 

Double open heart surgery aside, a more realistic way to say that would probably be that proper communication keeps a relationship strong. 

There were so many things he didn’t know about Mattholomule and things Mattholomule didn’t know about him. Some part of him thought the other boy only cared about his talent with illusions. Yet here he was, offering to be Gus’ support. Mattholomule still stayed by his side, even when Gus hit his lowest. 

If they just opened up their hearts, not literally, like humans seemed to think, their friendship could become stronger. 

He took Mattholomule’s hand back in his. 

“Yeah, let’s talk.” Gus said. “I could really use a friend right now.”

Chapter Text

No matter how much the magic of friendship helped bring witches back together, there was no way to avoid the awkwardness of opening up. Gus cursed the Board of Education for slashing the funding on the Friendship is Magic elective. He hadn’t gotten to the “Literally Sewing a Friendship Back Together” course. 

He really needed it right now.

Because right now, despite both of them declaring their friendship to each other (and a demented illusion of Mattholomule) and making a promise that they’d be more open with each other, they were still standing in awkward silence. 

Gus felt sweat drip down his face. Witch Puberty might have blessed him with height and a deeper voice, but it also amplified his nervous sweating. 

Out of the corner of his eye he could see Mattholomule anxiously pulling on his hoodie strings. From the way his head twitched ever so slightly, Gus would guess that he was frantically looking anywhere but at Gus. 

Titan, they were still holding hands. 

He hoped his hands were grossly sweaty. 

Well, there was a reason for that. Now that Gus wasn’t on the verge of a mental breakdown, Graye might take the chance to replace one of them. It was better to stay in physical contact with the witch he was sure was Mattholomule. The Head Witch probably figured out their tricks by now and was tracking them down as they stood here. 

“Hey, I-” Gus started. 

“I’m sorry!” Mattholomule blurted out. 

Gus scowled, “I was trying to apologize!”

“I got to it first,” Mattholomule pinched one of Gus’ cheeks with his free hand. “And I’ve got a lot more to apologize for than you do.” 

Gus pinched the hand that was pinching his cheek, earning a yelp from the other boy. 

“You literally just faced an illusion made from my subconscious that voiced the worst things I’ve thought about you,” Gus grumbled as he rubbed his sore cheek. “Isn’t that worse?” 

“Not if I deserved it.” 

Silence curled around them as heavily. 

Mattholomule sniveled loudly and continued. 

“I mean, there’s got to be a reason that you think those things about me,” Mattholomule muttered scathingly. “You don’t imagine someone saying those kinds of things without reason.” 

“It’s not you, it’s me,” Gus said quietly.  

Another loud snivel, “Oh, of course it is, that’s what they all say.” 

“No, I mean, literally,” Gus struggled to find the words, “like, it’s not you specifically that I was mad at.” 

“Not even a little?” 

“Well,” Gus hesitated before continuing, “I did end up saving you from the Detention Pit.” 

“You can be blunt, you know,” said Mattholomule with an unimpressed frown. 

“Luz was there for me so it wasn’t the emotional fallout wasn’t that bad,” Gus amended. “Though at that point in time I was a bit desensitized to the whole ‘ fake friend scams you because of your big gullible heart’ sort of thing.” 

“Desentized?” 

“Yes, it means-” 

“I know what it means, I was a star vocab student you know,” Mattholomule snapped, apparently feeling good enough to be his usual level of prickly. He caught himself and his demeanor softened by the slightest bit, “I just thought people liked you.” 

“They liked what I could do for them, never for me. I always hated that. I hated how it felt.” Gus said out loud, “I hated them.” 

Saying it out with his own physical voice was relieving, so he continued. 

“They would say a few nice things to me, and bam, I would do their homework, or help them out of detention, or whatever else they wanted.” Gus felt shame wash over him, “Some part of me knew that they were tricking me, but I kept lying to myself that they weren’t. Just so I could pretend it was all their fault, but really it was my fault.” 

“You know what, Gus?” Mattholomule replied, his sharp eyes staring intently at Gus.
“It was all their fault.” 

“Uh, haven’t you heard ‘fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me?” Gus asked, a bit aghast. “I know you don’t pay attention in class, but-” 

Mattholomule stood on his tip-toes to give Gus a noogie. 

“You’re a baby,” Mattholomule’s noogies transitioned into an affectionate ruffling, “you get to make these mistakes. You being a bit gullible doesn’t mean those jerks are allowed to walk all over you.” 

“Like you did?” Gus blurted out without thinking. 

Mattholomule looked shocked for a second, then his ears drooped down. 

“I mean,” Gus tried desperately to lift the mood, “I know you’ve been through a lot. You had a reason, kinda.” 

“Maybe,” grumbled Mattholomule, “but that's no excuse.” 

“But I forgave you. I told you that a while back too.” 

Mattholomule whipped his head around with a bug-eyed look. 

“You big liar! Your subconscious just projected a jackass version of me!” 

Well, that was technically true. 

“I mean, I was mad at you,” Gus admitted, “for implying that my life was easy, it’s not. I guess I kinda wanted to get back at you.” 

Gus smiled softly and he felt his shoulders relax a bit.

“We’re both thirteen, we’re both mean sometimes, but what matters the most is that we’re willing to change,” Gus said. “At least, that’s what Luz would say if she were here.”

Without a word, Mattholomule summoned two swords from the ground, each with their own intricate design. Each had different runes carved into them. He yanked the one closer to him out of the ground and waved it around above their heads. 

“That’s right!” Mattholomule smiled widely. He stood up and struck a pose, even with one hand still awkwardly in Gus’. “It’s a long way from rivals to champions of the Looking Glass Graveyard and to start with a dull-edged desire means certain failure!” 

Ah, now runes on the swords make sense. 

Gus yanked the other sword out of the ground. It swung around smoothly and its edges were surprisingly sharp for something made of mud. 

“You read BLADEMAGE ?” Gus asked. 

Mattholomule blushed deeply, squawked, dropped the sword. It bounced off his head and fell onto the ground with an unceremonial thud. Mattholomule’s face went so red Gus was sure it could even qualify as a human traffic light. 

“No!” Mattholomule frantically brushed his bangs out of his face like he always did when he was lying or nervous. 

Gus smiled mischievously, “Oh, then how did you quote chapter one from book one and make perfect replicas of the limited edition swords.” 

A quick hand snatched the sword out of his. Mattholomule was fuming so much that it looked as if he would burst into flame at any second. His nostrils flared and it sounded like he was going to start growling again. Gus couldn’t help but to laugh. 

“Stop laughing at me!” Mattholomule hissed, leaning into Gus, eyes glinting furiously. 

“I’m not laughing at you,” Gus said, while still laughing. “I’m a big fan too, how else would I know what you quoted and recognize the runes?” Gus made a show of inspecting the sword Mattholomule was trying to keep away from him. “And if I had to guess, that’s The Rival’s sword! Is that for me? He’s my favorite character.” 

“Stupid Faced Rival Boy?” huffed Mattholomule. “Of course he’s your favorite, you two are a lot alike.” 

“His humor? His brains?” Gus momentarily let go of Mattholomule’s hand to sling his arm around the other boy’s shoulder. He turned to wiggle his eyebrows and to throw in a wink. “Or his charming smile?” 

Mattholomule rolled his eyes and groaned, but he didn’t move to push Gus off, so Gus took that as a sign to continue. 

“And you remind me of The Boy,” Gus flicked one of Mattholomule’s ears, which flicked him right back. “The grumpiness, secretly longing for friendship, and did I mention the grumpiness?” 

“He’s not grumpy!” Mattholomule’s ears continued to flick irritably. “And even if he is grumpy, it’s because of his tragic backstory with the acid spitting snakes.” 

Though Mattholomule had a deep scowl on his face, Gus could see how the corner of his lips twitched up and how he actually looked excited for once.

“A fanboy, aren’t we?” Gus asked with a nudge. “Why don’t you talk about the things you like more?” 

“Bria bullied it out of me,” Mattholomule muttered offhandedly. 

Of course, Bria. If it weren’t for her they probably wouldn’t have become friends. 

On the other hand, if it weren’t for her Mattholomule would probably be a happier person. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Gus asked. 

“Well, I am in your chit-chat bubble,” grumbled Mattholomule. 

Gus’ heart swelled a bit that Mattholomule still remembered that. He put that feeling aside momentarily when Mattholomule started talking. 

“I was a big crybaby when I was younger. I ran to my brother whenever anything didn’t go my way.” He summoned a figure out of the ground. It was a bit too small to make out its features, but it had a relaxed and easygoing stance. “Then he got scouted by the Emperor's Coven and I was left to fend for myself.” 

A fine layer of dirt coiled up from the ground, it swarmed the figure, sticking to it and warping it. When it settled, the figure stood stiffly in its coven scout uniform. 

It looked lifeless compared to what it was before. 

“Bria was my neighbor, we were both small so the older kids messed with us, but Bria always protected me. She was like an older sister. We liked the same books, foods, and we both wanted to join the Emperor’s Coven.” 

He gently put aside the coven scout figure and summoned two small illusions. A boy and a girl. Their faces were both smiling, they looked a bit beat up, but they were happy.  

“I don’t remember when, but one day she changed when we were ten. She got hurt bad covering my ass. She snapped and told me that I was dragging her down and that I owed her.”

The figure of the girl warped and started phasing in-and-out. 

“She started treating me like her servant, like I was nothing. But I felt like I had to because I did owe her,” Mattholomule’s fists clenched. “She told me the only reason I was still weak was because I was too soft.” 

The illusion of the boy melted into the ground while the one of the girl grew more solid. 

“She said that if I wanted to get stronger, I needed someone to rip the weakness right out of me,” Mattholomule’s voice grew increasingly strained with every word. 

The illusion of the girl burst. 

In its place was a construction of Bria, with edges so sharp Gus was sure that they’d cut his palms if he picked it up. 

“This is really dumb but,” Mattholomule started sniveling again, he rubbed furiously at his eyes, “I cried when I let her rip up the copy of BLADEMAGE that Steve got me. He got it with his first paycheck. I kept it in perfect condition for years.” 

Tears welled in the corner of his eyes. 

“She said she would keep ripping it until I stopped crying, because that would make me stronger,” he croaked. “I didn’t stop crying until there were only five pages left. I felt so pathetic. Why didn’t I stop her?” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a puff of illusion magic curling by their feet. It slowly formed into someone familiar. 

It was a small smiling Gus with the HAS crown still perched perfectly on his head. 

“That’s when my mom and Steve got me enrolled in Hexside, and that’s where I saw you. You looked so happy and confident, even if you were super nerdy people talked to you with big smiles on their faces. I was jealous, so I tried to steal your club. I saw you as a threat. How did you, someone just as soft and weak as me make it so far?” 

Two construction hands burst out of the ground, forcibly popping the happy Gus illusion away. 

Gus never fathomed that Mattholomule saw him as a challenger, as someone to beat. 

Nobody seemed to think that. 

In some weird way, it made him happy. 

“It didn’t make me feel better,” Mattholomule said softly, “if anything I felt worse. You helped me out of the detention pit even though I did nothing but torment and lie to you.” His lip quivered a bit, “I was even a bit scared of you, because I owed you. I was scared that one day you’d pop out and demand something from me. It wasn’t until Bria betrayed you that I realized you really are that nice. I was pathetic.” 

Somehow all that made sense. He remembered how desperate and frantic Mattholomule looked when Gus challenged him and the unrelenting glee when he basked in how much he hurt Gus. 

Though none of that really compared to how exhausted he looked when he won the club. Later that day, when he was leaving with Willow and Luz, they brushed past Mattholomule standing in front of the school, alone. He remembered the vacant look Mattholomule had as he stared at the crown, his small shoulders hunched over. 

They didn’t say a word to each other then. 

“You know,” Gus broke the silence, “I was jealous of you too.”

“Me?” Mattholomule rasped. 

“Sure I skipped a few grades, but outside of illusions I felt useless,” Gus patted his friend soothingly on his back, like Willow did when he was upset. “You can do so many things. Construction, illusions, leading a club, and even healing. No matter how many times you got hurt, you kept trying. I always moped and whined, but you’re so strong.” 

Gus nudged the Bria construction with his foot, knocking it over.

“You never give up,” Gus added.

“That’s nothing,” Mattholomule muttered and he immediately kicked it to Titan knows where. “You’re the amazing one, a good guy to boot. I’m just the worst.” 

“No, you’re not,” Gus assured him and turned to grab Mattholomule by the shoulders. His heart pounded anxiously, knowing the door he was going to open. “I’m nasty sometimes too.”

Mattholomule’s eyes went bug-eyed again. 

“I’m actually really self-centered. I think I can carry everything on my own because I’m a prodigy, because I’m smart. I can’t accept it when I can solve a problem on my own.” Gus rambled. “Since I’m the genius and you’re you, I wanted to take care of everything myself. I thought I didn’t need you and that I could protect the graveyard alone.”

He took a deep breath and looked Mattholomule straight in the eyes.

“That’s why I didn’t tell you that Graye found the graveyard because of me.” 

Magic spread from underneath Gus’ feet, tearing apart the familiar sanctuary of his room. 

“I let him dig into my memories,” Gus’ temple started to throb violently. “He saw how to get here through my memories. I bet he was able to disarm the traps because he saw them.” 

Disembodied whispers swirled through the air around them. Shadowy hands ripped apart Gus’ bedroom, tossing the pieces into the air. Fragments of memory fell to the ground, fizzling away into puffs of smoke. Through each broken piece of memory, there was suffocating darkness.

“What if he gets the galderstones to Belos?” Gus’ voice cracked. “We promised the Keeper we’d protect the graveyard. We failed because of me.”

Gus looked up and saw that through every crack in his illusion, there were blue eyes staring down at him. 

His head was pounding, just like it did when Graye forcibly sorted through his memories. It felt like there was someone inside of his brain, tearing apart the inner circuits and rearranging them to suit their needs. 

“This is all my fault,” Gus whispered. 

The hands ripped apart more memories, leaving behind only the glowing blue eyes staring down on them. Their gazes shone down on Gus like a spotlight. Millions of unblinking gazes were fixed on him. 

“Look at me,” Gus said bitterly, “I can’t even last five minutes without having another breakdown. Of course Graye is going to win. I ruined any chance of us winning by not telling you. I see that now.” 

The dome of eyes descended, closing in on him. 

He saw some of his tears fall to the ground. 

When was the last time he really let himself cry? 

His mind automatically repressed the feeling. 

“I’m sorry,” Gus gripped Mattholomule’s shoulders tightly, desperately clinging to reality. “We don’t have time for me to be such a mess.” 

Gus felt Mattholomule shift and push into him. Suddenly there were arms around his waist. They were griply him tightly, so hard Gus vaguely thought his ribs might break. 

A hug. 

A hug from Mattholomule. 

“Look, I suck at feelings too,” Mattholomule said and he squeezed Gus even tighter, “but you get to be upset. Maybe if you were upset more, it’ll be easier for you.” He patted Gus’ head, it was a bit rough, but the gesture was comforting. “And I’ll be there for you, I’m a whole year older. Sometimes, you gotta let the big kids take care of things.” 

The arms around him squeezed even tighter.

“Plus, what kind of middle aged hag digs through the memories of a kid!” Mattholomule said. “If anything we should kick his ass double time for being a creep! He’s the fuck up, not you.” 

Gus sank deeper into the hug and memorized how Mattholomule still smelled like his Key Slime Pie shampoo and damp soil. 

They really were just kids. 

Then he started sobbing.  

He imagined his friends, their solid forms crumbling between his fingers like sand, lost forever to time when The Day of Unity came.   

Mattholomule kept patting his head. And he kept it up until all Gus could cry were dry heaves. 

When Gus looked up, he saw that Mattholomule’s eyes were a bit red too. He figured that explained why the top of his head was damp. 

But somehow he still managed to look smug. 

But somehow that was comforting to Gus. 

“My brother said that his shrink said that crying it out is the manly thing to do,” Mattholomule said. “And you said these hugs are comforting. So don’t go thinking I’ve gone soft!” 

Gus smiled, “Never.” 

Mattholomule huffed and let go of Gus, but not before giving him one last squeeze. 

“Plus,” Mattholomule added, “I guess I kinda needed that too. Hugs are better than high-fives.” 

Gus felt exhausted, yet relieved. His eyes were still tingling from how much he cried. 

It reminded him that he was only just turned thirteen. 

“Okay Gus,” Mattholomule’s eyes glimmered with mischief, “I’m going to need you to use a verbal spell with me.” 

“A verbal spell?” 

Most spells that were actually useful were cast through circles. 

Mattholomule hopped onto one of the rock chairs he made, making him about a foot taller than Gus. 

“Listen carefully, and repeat after me,” Mattholomule smiled widely. 

Gus prepared himself for whatever Mattholomule had to say. 

After all, Gus wouldn’t have made it this far without Mattholomule’s quick wits and cunning. And when Gus couldn’t lift his own mood, he found Mattholomule did it just as well, if not better. 

“Bria eats dung!” Mattholomule shouted. 

Gus looked up at Mattholomule, bewildered. Mattholomule offered a sneer in reply.

“Come on, Augustus,” Mattholomule tapped Gus on the nose, “too much of a goody two shoes for this? Or do you still have a stupid crush on Bria?”

Gus smiled at the challenge, he hopped onto the rock next to Mattholomule’s. 

“As if, I’m so over her,” Gus cupped his hands around his lips and shouted, “Bria stinks!” 

“We need to work on your insult game,” Mattholomule muttered. 

“Hey, I got the fire-power and you got the smack talk, that’s our strategy. It’s on page twenty-five of our Graveyard Defense book, right befor-.”

“Yeah, yeah, right and then on page twenty-six there’s your series of back-up plans, then on page eighty there’s the back-up plans to the back-up plans,” Mattholomule finished. 

“You can never be too prepared,” chirped Gus. 

“Whatever, nerd,” Mattholomule rolled his eyes good-naturedly. 

Mattholomule reached down to pick the swords they dropped on the ground earlier, he threw Gus’ to him. 

“Now, let’s go beat that slimeball and save the graveyard,” Mattholomule said, he struck a pose that Gus recognized from the Volume three specialty edition of BLADEMAGE. “Since I’m such a nice guy, I’ll let you decide how we insult Wrinkles.” 

Gus matched the pose to Mattholomule’s, grinning giddily. 

“Graye looks like the backside of a Slitherbeast on three!” 

Mattholomule’s face twitched a bit. He looked like he was trying to roll his eyes, scowl, and laugh all at the same time. 

Yet still, he joined Gus in his chant. 

“One!” 

“Two!” 

“Three!”

“Graye looks like the backside of a Slitherbeast!” 

With that cry, the oppressive darkness of the illusions melted away. 

They were back in the real world. 

Acid spitting spider trap and all. 

The illusion labyrinth was no more. 

“Huh” Mattholomule quipped, “I thought with all that shouting Slitherbeast ass would already be on our asses.” 

In response, a few of the bushes around them rustled. 

A lone witch stumbled out, his elegant hair and outfit dirtied and soiled. He cursed as he shook barbed wires off of his tail. 

Head Witch Graye cast a spell circle and pointed it at the two boys.

“You know,” Graye bared his fangs, “you two should really learn not to have a pity party that ends with childish shouting when someone is hunting you down. You’re making this a little too easy for me.” 

His eyes flared bright blue. 

“Your fake stones took out more than half of my scouts,” Graye hissed, taking another step closer.  His eyes flickered towards Gus. “I don’t think it was you that made those forgeries.” 

Graye turned to look at Mattholomule, who squeaked. But then, Mattholomule shifted, putting himself between Gus and Graye. 

“The details were impeccable, even I was fooled on first inspection,” Graye smiled at Mattholomule. “How did you manage to make such fine forgeries and infuse them with a sleeping spell?”

“Piss off,” Mattholomule spat. 

“Hmm, detestable brat. I heard all those insults you said. I am NOT wrinkly.” 

A few of Graye’s hairs fell loosely around his face that he quickly tried to brush back into place.

“You two may have tricks, but I have twice the amount you do,” Graye said. “Some of the magic you created here is amazing, I’m impressed.” 

The spell circle he aimed at the boys glowed blindingly bright.

“But I can’t just let you two go. Now, I think it’s best if you lead me to the real Looking Glass Graveyard.”

Chapter Text

“To think, two mere children could upstage me!” Graye hissed, a wild look to his eyes. 

Mattholomule used as much of his body as he could to block Graye away from Gus. He glared at the older witch, stance strong and unyielding. 

From where Graye was standing, he probably couldn’t see how Mattholomule’s hands shook ever so slightly. 

“Like it wasn’t easy,” Mattholomule sneered, “your head is so far up your ass even a grub could get one over you.” 

Graye cackled, a wheezing and breathy one. 

“You ruined my show,” Graye said. His eyes were trained on them, but they were unfocused. “You’ll pay for that.” 

With that, Graye cast his spell circle, sending some blast of light towards the two boys.

Gus stood there, paralyzed, he didn’t even try to dodge until Mattholomule grabbed his hand and pulled him away. As they crouched down, a construction wall curled over them protectively. 

“Now,” Graye mused, “what should I do to you two? Let me show you how terrifying a Coven Head can be!” 

When Mattholomule squeezed his hand, Gus remembered where he was. 

He didn’t have to do this fight alone. 

Mattholomule would always be his ally. 

Fighting Graye would be a challenge, his mastery of illusion could disorientate them. Though holding hands would normally be a liability in battle, it also meant that it would be harder for Graye to separate them. Gus knew that one of the Illusion Head’s favored tactics was impersonation, so under no circumstances could they let go of each other, not even for a second. 

Gus gripped the sword in his right hand and took in a deep breath, gathering his concentration. 

“Let’s give him a show he’ll never forget!” Gus said. 

Mattholomule shot him a look, “If you keep doing lame theater puns, I’m leaving you here.” 

“Just follow my lead,” Gus replied, readying his coolest pose. 

“This better not be lame, doofus,” Mattholomule sighed. 

The construction wall burst into pieces, revealing the location of the two boys. Instead of cowering, like Graye would have hoped, they were posed like the cover of the second BLADEMAGE book, when The Boy and The Rival teamed up for good. And yes, they were holding hands on the cover, so it all worked out just as well for their plan. 

Mattholomule swung his sword in an arc and pointed it at Graye. 

“By order of The Unbreakable Swordprecenticeship Oath,” he started. 

Gus threw his sword in the air, letting it spin through the air a few times, catching the sword so that it was pointing towards the sky. 

“We will vanquish you!” Gus finished.   

Without another word Gus cast an illusion over the clearing, completely cloaking their location. 

“Do you think such simple special effects will trick me?” Graye said. “You can’t touch me without your trauma bubble, much less your childish antics.” 

Graye snapped and the illusion fizzled away. 

To his surprise, the entire clearing was covered in a thin layer of ice, seemingly rooting him to one spot. 

“Ice illusion?” Graye scoffed, taking a step forward. “You’ll have to do better than that.” 

When he took that step forward, Graye immediately slipped on the ice and fell flat on his face. A loud crack resounded when Graye’s forehead hit the ground.

“Nope!” Gus’ voice called out. 

Part of the scenery wavered, and Gus, dragging Mattholomule behind him, slid across the ice towards him. Their paired swords sheathed sloppily in their belts, rattling precariously as they sped straight towards Graye. 

Graye hissed and attempted to get back on his two feet. Grasping desperately for purchase on the ice, Graye slammed a spell onto the ground, shattering the ice closest to him, leaving some even ground to stand on. He managed to get back on two wobbly legs, and aimed another spell at the approaching figures. Graye shot it, aiming for their heads, eyes crazed and hair flying around his face like tendrils. 

In contrast, Gus laughed as he spun around the ice. He dramatically arched backwards while simultaneously swinging Mattholomule close to the ground, avoiding the blasts from Graye. Gus nimbly glided on the ice, subtly shifting his and Mattholomule’s positioning to avoid any subsequent shots from Graye.

Ever the good sport, Mattholomule was cursing under his breath the entire time. 

They twirled and whirled around the ice, the blue blasts of light illuminating their forms, brightening the ice, and casting a beautiful glow to the fog that always hung over Forearm Forest. 

If he closed his eyes, Gus could pretend this was the Frost Moon Ball, with snow white capes and stomachs full of hot cocoa, rather than being shot out with unknown spells from the Illusion Head. 

To dodge another spell, Gus dipped Mattholomule back, shot him a wink, and gestured in the direction they were gliding in. Mattholomule stopped cursing to smile devilishly at Gus, understanding the plan without words. In the next second Mattholomule summoned a ramp made of stone from the ground. Using the low dip to its full potential, Gus pressed an ice glyph to to the ground, making sure not to knock Mattholomule’s head against the ice. They slid up the ramp and went airborne, holding each other tight. 

As they flew through the air, they each grabbed their swords, raising them above their heads. Gus drew a spell circle, creating multiple illusions of themselves, all hurtling down at Graye. Once they were close enough, they swung down, aiming the edges at the top of Graye’s head. 

Graye braced for the impact, arms covering his skull protectively. 

Instead of feeling two swords hit him, he felt nothing. 

He quickly turned around, and saw the two boys land on a giant heap of vines right behind him. 

While Gus landed gracefully, Mattholomule landed on his face with a thud. 

Graye twisted around, preparing a clawed hand to grab the boy by his hoodie. 

Quick as a flash, Mattholomule shot his head up and swung his sword, aiming for the back of Graye’s kneecaps. 

When Graye fell face first onto the ground again with a shrill shriek, Gus grabbed Mattholomule and slung him over his shoulder. While Graye was distracted, Gus jumped off the ice and ran into the surrounding forest. Still dangling from Gus’ shoulders, Mattholomule made sure to make eye contact with Graye as he blew a raspberry and flipped a finger at him. Then constructed a wall to hide them from his view. 

Gus veered sharply left and zig-zagged. Once they were a bit further, Gus stopped, catching his breath. 

“Phew, not even Willow runs us that hard for Flyer Derby practice,” Gus wheezed. 

“That’s great and all,” came a voice from behind him, “but can you put me down?” 

Oh right.

Mattholomule was hanging over his shoulders like a sack of flour. 

Gus placed Mattholomule down gently, taking some time to fluff up his bangs. 

“Sorry, Matty, but you’re just so little.” 

Mattholomule swatted his hand away, flushed with anger, “Shut up, squirt. Next time, it’ll be me carrying you like some knight in shining armor.” 

“Aw, you think I’m your super hot, buff, charismatic knight in shining golden armor?” 

“Shut up!” Mattholomule snapped. “And I didn’t say any of that!” 

Gus let out a laugh that was inappropriate for the situation they just got out of, but it still felt nice. Somehow Mattholomule, no matter how grumpy, always managed to make him smile. Maybe he even preferred the grumpiness. It was refreshing and different. Plus, it challenged him. Kept him on his toes. 

Well, now wasn’t the time for Mattholomule Theory. That would have to wait. 

Since Graye was probably back on his feet, chasing them down on all fours, Gus summoned Emmiline, his trusty palisman, and hopped on. Mattholomule spared precious seconds to give Gus a judging look, eyes flicking down at how Gus balanced precariously on the stick. 

In reply, Gus stuck out his tongue and winked at Mattholomule, who only rolled his eyes. 

Ultimately, Mattholomule still climbed onto the palisman, awkwardly grabbing Gus' leg, refusing to stand like Gus was. He gripped Gus’ leg tightly, almost cutting off circulation. 

He launched off into the air, hoping that Graye was too stunned to have seen where they went. They went above the treelines and above the fog. In the distance Gus could see that the real graveyard was still covered in its dense fog. The fake graveyard they led Graye stood out, the illusion mist they conjured long gone. 

They just had to get to one of their safepoints to regroup, and then they would find a way to completely drive Graye and his scouts out. 

Gus felt Mattholomule shiver, whether it be from the chilly air or the high altitude. Mattholomule looked more like a cat stuck to a tree than a witch riding a broomstick. He looked like he was clinging to Gus’ leg for dear life, and it felt like it too. 

“What’s the problem, Matty?” Gus teased, “I thought you liked flying, bragged that you were better than me at it.” 

“Normal flying!” Mattholomule screamed into his pant leg. “Do you always fly like a maniac?” 

For a split second, Gus let Emmiline dip. With a happy squeak Emmiline obeyed, shifting down so that Gus could do a little jump in the air, Mattholomule still latched tight onto his leg. He landed and bowed, and shot a smug smile at Mattholomule. 

“Can’t you do this normally?” Mattholomule whimpered. 

“No can do,” Gus replied, to which Emmiline chirped in agreement, “you know it wouldn’t be me if I did things normally.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re so special and unique,” Mattholomule deadpanned, though his death grip on Gus didn’t loosen in the slightest. 

Right when Gus was preparing to reply with a quip of his own, a sudden oppressive fog surrounded him. It was cloying, sticking to his skin and covering his eyes with a film. His hearing was muffled, the sound of the wind completely gone. He could even taste the darkness, it was damp and overwhelmingly earthy. 

He cursed internally, losing visibility over the snake pits was one of the worst places. The wrong landing could land them straight into the jaws of a witch eating demon. 

“Dude, can you see anything?” Gus asked. 

There was no reply. 

“Come on, now isn’t the time to be petty, I’m sorry for scaring you, I just thoug-” 

Gus stopped himself there. Mattholomule was probably one of the pettiest witches on the isles, but that didn’t mean he was a fool. Whenever they were truly in danger, he would help to the best of his ability. If anything, Mattholomule was more likely to overexert himself trying to be useful than to let Gus flounder alone. 

In a panic, Gus looked down and saw that there was nobody behind him. Gus couldn’t even feel anybody holding onto his leg anymore. 

When he reached his hand down to where Mattholomule was, he only felt air. He grabbed and poked and swung at empty space. 

Mattholomule couldn’t have fallen off, could he?

Gus would have heard that. Or felt the weight of Emmiline shift. 

When he looked down at Emmiline, he had to restrain a scream.

The palisman had a large crack in her body, her entire head missing, and glowing green liquid dripped down into the void. 

Gus bent down and put his hand to the stream, feeling it fizzle and bubble on his fingertips. Somehow it was both viscous and gaseous at the same time. It was disturbingly warm and smelled like old rotting wood. 

“This must be one of Graye’s illusions,” Gus thought nervously, as he kept flying forward. “He’s trying to get me to land to ambush us. Emmiline and Matty are okay, it’s just an illusion. I just need to get far away enough that his illusions will fade”

As if someone was listening in, the air shifted, spinning Gus around in the air. It felt like he was trapped in a jar, being shaken around by the whims of someone bigger and more powerful. Gus dropped to a sitting position and clung to Emmiline’s pole, eyes closed shut. 

When the air settled, the only source of light was the glowing goo coming from Emmiline, continuously dripping upwards in a silent stream. 

It felt like Gus was flying upside down, with blood rushing to his head. He tentatively stood up, bracing for a fall, but when he didn’t he straightened his posture out. Just as he suspected, Gus was standing on his broom like he always did, the only difference was that he could right himself. Every time he tried to get upright again, an unseen force would slap him right back down. 

He only stopped trying when a bit of the goo dripping from Emmiline splashed onto him, leaving warm damp spots on his tunic. 

Gus came to a stop, dazed and unsure of what to do. 

He had no idea where he was. He wasn’t even sure if he was even in the skies anymore.

He cast a spell to dispel the illusion surrounding him. 

Nothing. 

He blasted one of his few remaining glyphs in an attempt to blast the illusion apart. 

Nothing. 

Tentatively, Gus shouted out into the void.

Nothing, he couldn’t even hear his own voice.

The silence was suffocating. 

He was devastatingly alone. 

It took Gus his entire life to make illusions large enough to fool a witch’s vision. And here Graye was, repressing and muffling all of his senses, leaving him completely disoriented and at the mercy of whatever hidden dangers there were. 

At this point, Gus couldn’t even trust his senses. He bet if something were to hit him right now, he wouldn’t be able to feel it. Mattholomule could be screaming right into his ear and he’d be none the wiser. 

Of course, that wasn't certain. There was still the possibility that Graye could have captured Mattholomule and this was one last taunt before everything fell to pieces. 

Only a few witches in history overcame the obstacle of masking voices under an illusion, and Graye did it with ease. He didn’t even have to use it. 

Anything and everything was possible against Coven Head Graye.

So this was the work of a true illusion master. 

“Augustus,” Graye’s disembodied voice boomed around him, echoing and bouncing, making it difficult to discern where he was, “you’re completely alone now. No little friend and no palisman. You’re powerless.” 

“Nuh-uh,” Gus put two fingers to his own cheek, “this human magic trick will snap me out of this.” His chest swelled with pride, grateful to Luz for teaching him human dream magic. Maybe he really still was the thinker Matty said he was. 

“Plus,” Gus added, “I know you’re lying because Matty would probably try to bite off your hand if you tried to capture him. He’s got the bite force of a human piranha.” 

Graye rubbed at his temples, “Enough about the human world, I really don’t care.” 

“You’ll care now!” Gus shouted. “Human Wake Up Technique.” 

Gus pinched down on his cheek and pulled, hard. 

Pain was one way to break free of illusions and pinching was how humans broke out of their dreams, which were just illusions by another name. 

Gus prepared his gloats for when he broke out of the illusion. 

Huh, why didn’t his cheek hurt?

He took two hands and started pinching his cheeks, pulling on them so hard he was sure they’d be sore. It didn’t feel like anything? 

All the while, Graye watched with bemusement. 

“This is what I can do without the earring you stole from me. You could never match me in power. Now, could you be a dear and surrender quietly before I shoot you down myself.” Graye laughed brightly. “In fact, I’ll be taking that back now.” 

Various objects floated out of Gus’ pockets, floating in the air around him. His note paper, various sharp pebbles, and an illusion pin. Even the sword Mattholomule made pulled itself out of his belt loop. He grabbed desperately at them as they all drifted somewhere into the inky blackness. 

Adrian bleed out of the darkness from the right, walking elegantly across what Gus thought was thin air. Though at this point, he wasn’t sure of that. For all Gus knew, he might not have been able to take off at all before Graye cast his illusion. 

Graye's smile widened as he lifted the pin up, examining it. 

“Thank you for keeping it so safe in your pocket,” Graye said, voice dripping with sarcasm. 

He snapped a finger and Gus felt himself drop to the ground. Two coven scouts emerged from the darkness as well and held his arms tight. 

The ground beneath him and the arms restraining him really and truly felt solid. 

“Now, let’s get a better look into those memories.” 

Graye cast a large spell circle and held the earring up to it. 

He smiled down at Gus’ defiant face. 

When he moved the spell circle in front of Gus’ face, it fizzled. The pin burst into a puff of smoke, leaving behind a jagged pebble. 

Gus smiled smugly at the Illusion Head. 

He had secretly slipped the relic to Mattholomule when they were first confronted by Graye. Considering the man’s ego and vendetta, Gus knew he would be the primary focus of the investigation. Keeping a small pebble illusioned as an earring was small work for Gus, too easy. 

Graye threw the pebble on the ground and stomped over to Gus, he pointed a spell at Gus’ forehead. 

“I’ve had enough of your games,” Graye hissed. “I’ll erase all of your memories right now. You know, memory manipulation does fall under illusion magic, a subcategory from the Savage Days.” Graye grinned serenely. “Why am I even explaining this to you? You won’t even remember who you are in a few moments.” 

Gus panicked a bit, Graye wiping his memory wasn’t anticipated. 

“Fine by me,” Gus spat, hoping desperately his sweating didn’t give him away, “then you’ll never find the Graveyard.” 

If I can’t get to the Looking Glass Graveyard through your memories, I’ll just have my scouts set off every last trap until we do,” Graye scoffed. “They’re just my extras, I’ll get new ones after The Day of Unity.” 

Gus felt something waver next to him, a low humming coming from behind him, beckoning him. Internally, he imagined a bright yellow string, stretched tight, a point of focus. His inner mind grabbed onto and pulled. 

It felt like there was a clog inside of his brain, locking away his true senses. There were barbed wires keeping his mind captive. He felt Graye try to get his attention back, he felt the murky darkness squeeze tight against his body, making it hard to breathe. The darkness filled his lungs, his eyes, and his mind. 

But he still pulled on the string, focusing only on the string. 

Then, something inside of his mind popped. 

The illusion rotted away around him. 

He smelled mud, heard Emmiline squealing, and saw that they were hurtling down towards the treeline at rapid speeds.  

“Gus!” Mattholomule screamed, “Gus snap out of it!” 

When he fully came to, he realized that he was now sitting on the broom and Mattholomule was clinging tight to his back. One arm around his waist, keeping him on the palisman, and the other holding the illusion relic in a spell circle to his face. 

Huh, when did Mattholomule learn a concentration spell? 

“Gus I know you’re awake now!” Mattholomule shrieked. “I don’t want to die before seeing Warden Wrath in a Bonesbourough Brawl!” 

“That’s a really weird thing to want, Matty,” Gus mumbled. 

“Less yapping and more saving our sorry asses!’ 

With those, less than ideal motivational words, Gus lept into action. 

Literally. 

Gus wiggled out of Mattholomule’s grasp, causing Mattholomule to resume his former “cat stuck in a tree” position. He did a flip in the air, motioning for Emmiline to do the same, and landed back on the palisman with his own two feet. Their wild descent came to a stop right above the treeline, a few reptilian red eyes peeking out from between the branches. 

Now that he was back in control, Gus navigated past the snakes and into another safe zone, the trap he intended to keep the giraffes once he imported them onto the Boiling Isles. When their feet touched the ground, Emmiline started his slow crawl up Gus’ arm. Mattholomule was hunched over, one hand wrapped tightly around Gus’ arm.

Flying was out of the question if Graye could interfere with their flight. Plus, if they had any more flying disasters, Mattholomule might lose his entire lunch. 

Mattholomule squeezed hard on Gus’ arm and started shaking him.

“What happened up there? You just stopped talking and almost flew us into the ground!” Mattholomule reached out to scoop up Emmiline and help him protectively to his chest. “I had to hold you down and direct Emmiline at the same time! Look at him! He’s traumatized!” 

Emmiline blinked up at them, one eye pointed at each of them. Her tongue stuck out and hit Gus on the cheek, then it flopped over to hit Mattholomule in the eye. Then she let out one final squeak before fading off to wherever she went when Gus wasn’t watching. 

“Wait, before we start, how do I know you’re not an illusion imposter?” Gus asked. 

Mattholomule glared and impatiently tapped his foot. 

Ah, good sign. 

“Sorry, man, it’s just, he somehow got into my head. I was in this dark realm with him, I couldn’t see you or anything. He controlled all my senses. He started going through my things, looking for the earring I took. Which I’m glad I gave to you by the way,” Gus rambled, unsure how much that made sense. 

Gus patted down his pockets, everything really was gone, as if whatever happened under the effects of the illusions happened in real life. 

“Your stuff? When I wouldn’t let you crash us onto the ground you started throwing your shit off. Your eyes were all foggy and weird,” explained Mattholomule. He held up the illusion relic to Gus. “You said you could see through illusions with enough concentration. I figured it was some illusionist mumbo jumbo going on in that brain of yours, so I tried amplifying a concentration spell I learned.” 

Gus wondered how Mattholomule never saw how clever and resourceful he was. Gosh, he even made life or death situations a learning experience. If it weren’t for Mattholomule, he’d probably be right on his way to instant petrification. 

“I wonder how he wasn’t able to get into my head,” Mattholomule mused. “Maybe it’s because he was in yours before? Or maybe it’s because he can only create one of those at a time, better to take out the driver than the passenger.” 

“You’re really smart, aren’t you?” Gus asked out loud. 

Mattholomule looked somewhere between flattered, confused, and annoyed. 

“Are you teasing me?”

“No,” Gus said, “it’s just, you’re really good at putting the pieces together, picking up little hints to make the full story. Like, how did you learn to use glyphs?” 

“I just copied Luz’s notes, you know she doodles a lot in class? She draws incomplete glyphs all the time so I copied them and tried them at home until I got them rightt,” Mattholomule stated, as if it were the most natural thing to do. 

“You’re so cool and so smart when you want to be,” Gus gushed and leaned in. 

“Hey!” Mattholomule pushed Gus’ face away, “no time for back-handed compliments!” 

“He’s right you know,” rasped a nearby voice. 

Head Witch Graye once again, this time stumbling, came out of the darkness of the forest. 

He looked horrible, a bit gross even. 

Stubble, that he was apparently hiding his illusions until now. The fine decorations lining his outfit were all gone. His silky hair stuck to his face, soaked in sweat, mud, and other unknown liquids. 

“There’s only so many grand entrances a star can make before it gets old,” Graye wheezed.

He aimed another spell at the boys, his fingers glowing such a bright white that it burned their eyes a bit. 

Gus trembled a bit. He had enough of Graye related nightmare scenarios for a lifetime, he wasn’t looking for another one. Why couldn’t Graye just fall unconscious long enough for them to roll him into a ditch? 

In response to Gus trembling, Mattholomule clung onto Gus’ arm a bit tighter, reassuring him that he was still there. 

Graye looked at Mattholomule, furious, “You’ve been just as big of a thorn in a side as this menace. I’ll get rid of you both here.” 

“As if, Gus’ magic is way better than yours,” Mattholomule bragged. “And with me as his back-up, we’ll never lose. We’ll beat you here and stop The Day of Unity.” 

Unsure on whether to get flustered over the praise, scold Mattholomule for taunting a witch much stronger than they were, or to join in on the taunting, Gus opted for a compromise. Which was standing there blushing and mumbling like some nervous teen. 

Despite everything, Graye smiled softly, almost bashfully. 

“You think you know about The Day of Unity? Oh, please stop with the wild witch propaganda. You’re still children, but, you are interfering with the Emperror’s plans. I’ll have to dispose of you two,” Graye’s gentle smile warped, the bright light gathering at his fingertip cast deep shadows across his face. “This trick is a bit too simple for my tastes, but it’ll have to do.” Graye’s sneer pierced through the shadow, his bright blue eyes and perfect white teeth glowed. “I’d close my eyes if I were you, wouldn’t want you to go blind.”

The magic in the air shifted, rather than a consistent flow it sparked. All the magic in their vicinity drained towards Graye. The air buzzed around them, Mattholomule attempted to cast another stone shield over them before Graye fired and slipped a piece of paper into Gus’ hand. Gus put a protective arm around Mattholomule. He took Mattholomule’s sword out of his belt and slapped the plant glyph onto it.

“I won’t let you take Paradise from us,” Graye said coldly. 

All the light within the clearing gathered at his fingertip, making it the only source of light in cold, deep darkness. It tangled around them, pierced into them. Graye’s fingertip was the only beacon in that choking abyss. 

Gus took that moment to aim the sword at that beacon, and threw. 

For a brief second, everything was perfectly silent and dark. 

In the next, the world burst into light. 

The construction wall shattered like glass, the debris hitting both of them. 

That was when Gus lost his grip on Mattholomule, for the briefest of seconds. 

It was too bright for him to look for Mattholomule, even with his eyes closed, his pupils still burned at the brightness. 

He only lost Mattholomule for a second, by the next second another hand grabbed onto his own. A familiar calloused hand, one that was unique to Mattholomule. 

They landed on the ground, hand in hand. 

It took a few seconds for Gus to dare open his eyes. When he blearily opened them, he saw Mattholomule splattered face down next to him, a comforting and familiar sight. 

When Gus glanced back towards where Graye was, he saw a pulsating mass of vines. 

Titan, Gus was exhausted. He was nearing his magical and physical limit. He didn’t need any more direct altercations with Graye, not at his state. If it weren’t for Mattholomule’s safety, he would have passed out right then and there. Instead, he reached out to Mattholomule, and bopped him on the head a few times. 

No reply.

“Hey, wake up,” Gus mumbled, “say something.” 

“Shut up,” Mattholomule grumbled into the dirt. 

Mattholomule groaned, but slowly made his way back onto his feet. He too looked back at the mass of vines behind them, then he looked back down at Gus. 

“Is he still alive? Or did we just. . .” Mattholomule cut off, eyeing the now still mass of vines warily. . 

“Let’s worry about that later,” Gus muttered, lifting himself up as well, “we have to get out of here before any scouts get here.” 

“Do you think any of the scouts made it to the real graveyard?” Mattholomule asked. 

Gus looked Mattholomule in the eyes, taking in his mud streaked face and messy bangs. He took in the color of his eyes, his posture, and his furrowed eyebrows. 

“What?” Mattholomule smiled, flashing two rows of teeth, “Wanna check if I’m real again? I can give more details about your apple blood sweat if you want.” 

Gus squeezed Mattholomule’s hand tightly and smiled back at him. 

“I’d never doubt you, Matty. Now let’s go, the Looking Glass Graveyard is waiting for us.”

Chapter Text

The two walked, Gus tugging the other along by the hand as they navigated through the thick brush. Gus steered them away from the thick thorn wall that Willow helped him regrow a week ago. The entire time Mattholomule kept shooting glances back towards where they came, and then every few seconds he’d shoot Gus another look. 

“Gus, do you think we really killed Graye there?” Mattholomule asked. “Do you think we stopped The Day of Unity?” 

Gus didn’t reply, but he did slow down his pace a bit, letting Mattholomule get a few steps ahead of him. 

Just as Mattholomule brushed past him, he reached out a hand and poked the other boy on the back of the head. He tapped a short and sharp rhythm. Mattholomule huffed loudly and dodged the last few taps, bending down low so that Gus’ hand missed its target. 

Gus grinned to himself at that. 

“A few boops for you,” Gus chirped, “it’s not like you to think or worry this much.” 

Mattholomule swiftly turned around, ears drawn low, and scowled. 

“I have nuance.” 

“Sure you do,” Gus teased. “I bet you’re so worried about old donkey tail.”

“Stabbing a dude with a plant sword is kind of a big deal,” Mattholomule retorted and he waved his free hand in the air. “Aren’t you worried what Belos is going to do when he hears we murdered a Head Witch? He kinda needs them for The Day of Unity.” 

Gus pondered it for a moment, just for show. 

“Nope, not really.” 

Mattholomule pouted, “You sure are carefree.” 

“I’ll have you know, I’m a very serious boy,” Gus let go of the hand in his hand and ran ahead. 

He brushed his hands along the treeline as he walked forward, feeling the illusion cover bubble underneath his fingertips, just like he did for the fake graveyard earlier. It felt like a thin spider-web film, just slightly too sticky to be moss and bark alone. Behind that illusion of a forest was one of his favorite traps, the Mirror Maze. 

The Mirror Maze was simple. Cursed shards of mirror, courtesy of Mattholomule’s boss, were fused with construction magic into regular mirror glass. The full thing was shattered ages ago at some school of witchcraft, but Tibbles somehow managed to get his hands on the shards. And according to Mattholomule, he was kind enough to lend the shards free of charge to defend the graveyard, which in Mattholomule meant he pocketed them after not getting paid. According to Tibbles, looking into the reflection of the cursed mirror was said to reveal the viewer’s deepest desires, and that it would expose their true nature. They could become obsessed with gazing further into the mirror’s depths. As the victim laid their souls bare to the mirror, it would slowly consume their life force. Of course, with it split into so many pieces, its effects weren’t as powerful, but simply being within the vicinity of the shards erased all logical thought, leaving behind only the desire to gaze into the nearest reflection. Unfortunately that meant the mirrors wouldn’t eat anybody, but it sure did a great job at disorientating them. The mildly cursed mirrors became a maze, designed to subtly guide any trespassers over a cliff into the Boiling Seas to their painful doom. 

Well, that was Gus’ idea. Mattholomule suggested they just dump them into a giant pit that they would check for survivors in every week or so. 

The maze, which would have been incredibly inconspicuous and suspicious on its own, was blended seamlessly into the surrounding forest, hidden by a permanent illusion. It was Mattholomule’s idea, something about a trick one of his many bosses taught him. Apparently scenery warping magic was used at the CryptCon Mattholomule was a speaker at. Gus never quite got what it was about, and based on his rambling explanations, he didn’t think Mattholomule got it either. The magic there worked so that once you entered, you couldn’t exist unless you were the creator of the illusion barrier or you exited out the other end. Warden Wrath ended up busting the whole thing and arresting people out of habit, so it was a bust for Mattholomule. But one thing did come out of it, and that was their experiments on concealment stones. 

They spent a few sleepovers together experimenting on concealment stones, testing how construction and illusion magic together could better hide their traps. It took a few sleepless nights, and one scolding from his father when they accidentally dropped a stone and covered the Porter home in a bounce house illusion, to get the right effect. 

In the end it was just a few modifications to a concealment stone, tweaking it until it copied a visual location instead of a living being. It was the same trick they used on the fake graveyard, they inserted one of three modified concealment stones in the stone walls, ensuring that trespassers wouldn’t be able to tell the difference unless they tore the whole thing apart. Unlike with witches, locations didn’t have a voice that would give themselves away. 

Once they walked into the maze’s realm, the victims would have no way out. 

He wished he could push Graye in there, just to see what would happen, to see how far the mirrors could push the man, but now wasn’t the time. 

Gus subtly pushed his hands past the invisible barrier and smashed at the mirror, feeling the glass prick against his knuckles. Then he pulled out a small shard of mirror. After checking that it wasn’t a cursed shard, he slipped it into his pocket. When he heard scuffling further into the thicket, he stopped in his tracks. He turned his head towards the sound, trying to make out what was happening. 

It almost sounded like music, a few sharp strums, but it was too far away to make out the tune. 

The Mirror Maze itself always gave off a vague and indecipherably hum, with no particular tune. Whatever was out there sounded more precise, when Gus tried to listen more closely, he felt his mind fog a bit. 

A hand on his shoulder jolted him awake. 

“Come on, Gus,” Mattholomule said firmly, “we have to keep moving.” 

Gus could have sworn he heard bard magic, which was a huge danger to them, but he had to trust Mattholomule. 

He nodded silently and kept moving, making sure to keep an eye on the surrounding forest, just in case. 

Now that it was quiet, Gus picked up a few leaves off the ground. He dragged a fingernail over it, leaving behind marks. The notepad and pen Luz gave him for glyphs would have been easier, not to mention having the cheat sheet on the first page. He internally cursed Graye for causing him to lose that aide as he tried to draw a light glyph from memory. Light glyphs were probably the ones he used least since he had his illusions, but his vague knowledge would have to do for now. Luckily, leaves and a fingernail were a slow, but decent, alternative. 

When he thought he got it right, he tapped on the leaf. It curled in on itself and formed a small ball of light. Nestled gently in Gus’ palm and it lit the way amongst the thicket. 

Gus weighed the ball of light, he took out the shard of mirror, testing how the flashes of light interacted with each other. He spluttered when one flash of light nearly blinded him. Despite that, he flickered the mirror back and forth, watching how the light and shadows interacted. He wondered how far into the forest could the flashes reach. Well, at least there weren’t masses of angry scouts rushing to his very location, which was a win for now. Satisfied, Gus stuffed the rest of the leaves into his pockets, just in case he needed them for another altercation. 

“What? Are you planning on using that fairy light to beat the scouts?” Mattholomule asked. “If anything, that’s going to lead the rest of Head Witch Graye’s scouts right to us.” 

“Actually, that is the plan,” Gus replied with a smug smile. “Once they get too close, BAM!” Gus purposefully flashed a ray of light into Mattholomule’s eyes. “We permanently blind them.” 

Mattholomule shielded his eyes against the flash, he peeked out glared at Gus. 

“You’re weird,” Mattholomule replied. 

“And Matty loves it,” Gus added smugly, flicking Mattholomule’s forehead as he walked past. 

Mattholomule grumbled something under his breath, but Gus didn’t pay attention to that. He only thought about how Mattholomule would always flick his ears a bit when he called him Matty affectionately, or whenever he was only pretending to be annoyed. 

They crunched through the woods alongside each other for a while, both of them expertly jumping over roots, ducking under branches, and beating off a few stray snake demons with a few sharp kicks. Gus led them to their final destination happily, humming softly underneath his breath. 

The entire time, he kept the light glyph held in front of himself like a beacon. 

Instead of the usual chatter and bickering, the two walked silently, one leading the other. They navigated past some of the smaller traps, like the two rusty bear traps and the feral apples they let loose in the forest. Eventually Gus bent down in front of a tree, let the light glyph float beside his head, and reached underneath the roots. He pulled out two bottles of potions Eda, Lilith, and Luz brewed for them. Gus uncorked his potion, a shiny and pearly blue, and chugged it all in one go. Then he turned to Mattholomule, tossing a deep purple potion that the other boy caught with ease. 

“Eda’s special brew,” Gus shook around his empty bottle, which only had a few drops of purple left in it, “for when you need an energy boost. Or for hangovers.” 

Mattholomule smiled at that, so widely that Gus could see two rows of pearly teeth. 

“The Owl Lady sure is interesting,” Mattholomule said, and then he took a log swig at the bottle before handing it back to Gus. 

Gus reached under the roots to grab a few of the extra ealing stickers they left there for emergencies. He secretly thanked Mattholomule for suggesting that they hide a few recharge stations throughout the forest. They were filled with potions, healing supplies, and poisons for the worst case scenario. It took a lot of convincing for Mattholomule to agree to the poisons, something about “Knowing me I’d take one by accident,” to which Gus replied “I’d never let that happen to you, Matty.”

When he was shuffling through the different potions, Gus finally noticed his knuckles were bleeding, probably from punching that mirror earlier. With a slight of hand, he uncapped and poured some healing potions over it. When he felt the scratches heal up, he let his hands emerge with more healing supplies. 

He slapped a few more healing stickers onto his knees and forearms, noting that his father wouldn’t be happy that he ripped up his clothes. This was one of the few outfits that still fit him after his last growth spurt. They’d have to go to the tailors again, maybe even for a new outfit. 

Once he was patched up, Gus handed a few of the healing stickers to Mattholomule, who took them while grumbling about something or the other. 

Gus slipped the empty bottles back under the roots, making sure to slip one more tiny vial under his sleeve, and they began their trek again. 

During that time, Gus felt his energy return a bit. Eda’s specialty brew was her own creation, one she made for the mornings after a night long apple blood binge. It wasn’t exactly made for replenishing magic, but it sure did the trick. According to Luz, the stuff had the same effect as a human Red Bull, but in a good way. 

Soon, they were forced to stop in front of a large construction wall, one of Mattholomule’s creations. It went about twenty feet into the air, covered in steep ledges, sharp spikes, and the occasional plant glyph to grab onto any misplaced hands or feet. Right on the other side was their destination. Since none of the Coven Scouts were allowed to keep their palismen, that meant they would have to climb over it by themselves. 

Luckily, Gus had Emmiline who could just fly them over to the other side. He reached out his right hand to summon her. 

No answer. 

He mentally called for her a bit more sternly, after all, she was a free spirit like he was.

Not a single squeak.

This wasn’t like her. She only really listened to him, and well, maybe Mattholomule since he liked spoiling her. There was no way she’d leave him hanging just because he didn’t give her enough treats or build her a palisman-sized jungle gym to hang off of. Gus felt a few trickles of sweat run down his temple. 

“So,” he stiffly turned towards Mattholomule, “how about some climbing practice?” 

Mattholomule’s right eye twitched a bit, “You’ve got to be kidding me.” 

This wasn’t ideal at all. There was one safe path to the other side, and Gus didn’t really want to show it off right, but getting to the other side was more important right now. 

It was his last ditch plan. 

The plan he was going for was already a bit risky, but hopefully it would weaken Graye enough to interfere with The Day of Unity. 

Gus looked at the light glyph in his hand one last time and glanced towards the treelines. In the distance, he was sure he saw at least one stark white cape. Pretending to think, he started pacing back and forth a few times. He put the shard of mirror to the light again, flickering it a few times as he paced. The same pattern, over and over, as fast as he could. When he saw that Mattholomule was peering at him with narrowed eyes, he realized the light glyph had overstayed his welcome. 

He didn’t want the light to attract the wrong type of attention. 

With that, he completely closed his fist around the ball of light, extinguishing it completely. 

“Sorry, man,” Gus said, “looks like we’ve got a little bit of a workout before we get there.” 

“Whatever, let’s just get this over with,” Mattholomule grumbled. 

Some part of him figured he could use a mega plant glyph to raise them all the way to the top, but with the Emperor’s Coven still around, he didn’t want to risk their plant magic users to figure that trick out. He added another mental note to ask Willow to help him come up with anti-plant magic defenses and Mattholomule to help him come up with some aerial defense tactics. 

Gus jumped onto the first safe ledge, and reached out his hand. Mattholomule grabbed onto Gus’ hand with his right, and pulled himself up. Now Gus was really glad that Willow put them to work with flyer derby training. He complained about how he didn’t need to build upper body strength, but the upper body training was a great aid in helping drag himself and another heftier witch up the wall. 

After what felt like ages, they finally made it to the top of the wall. In one direction, Gus could see the fire spike traps and the carnivorous plant field. In the other, was another dense covering of fog. Gus turned completely towards the foggy forest and drew a few plant glyphs on the leaves he collected, throwing one down to the ground. It floated gently downwards and then burst into a large bloom once it touched the ground. 

He grabbed onto Mattholomule’s hand and jumped down without giving the other boy a warning. As they fell, Gus did a flip, savoring another chance to show off while Mattholomule only let out one short yelp on the way down. Gus landed on his feet, gave a flourish, and then bowed. Mattholomule landed next to him, scoffed, and walked ahead while brushing pollen off of his pant legs. 

The other boy walked past the gates of the graveyard with determination. Gus followed after and brushed his hands along the stone, checking for the magic’s integrity, feeling spiderwebs tangle underneath his fingertips. 

The fog here was thicker than the fake graveyard they led Graye to before and the ground below them was dry and cracked. Around them were stone statues, each holding onto a glittering blue stone. 

Mattholomule stood there, waiting for him in the middle of it all. 

Gus internally grinned at the sight. 

“Hey,” Gus called out, running to catch up to the other boy, “I want to tell you something, something really important” 

Gus took a hold of both of Mattholomule’s hands, gripping them tightly. He looked into the eyes of the person in front of him. 

“Now?” Mattholomule said, eyes darting around nervously. “Does it have to be now?” 

Gus shifted his head so that they would keep making eye contact. 

“It’s about you,” Gus admitted, “you’re the one that needs to hear this, from me.” 

Panic set into Mattholomule’s eyes. His right eye twitched a bit again. 

“Ah, Gus, I don’t think,” Mattholomule muttered rapidly, “this is the best place. Or the best time. It’s just I- ” 

Gus’ grip on the hands in front of him became vice-like. 

“No,” Gus stated firmly, “I want to say this, something I’ve been meaning to tell you.” 

The other boy stared at him with wide eyes. 

And then. . .

Chapter Text

And then the world burst into light. 

Mattholomule felt something wrap around his ankle and PULL. As desperately as he tried to hang onto Gus’ hand, he was forced to let go. Though he tried to scream, the sound of the blast and his construction wall shattering were too loud. He landed somewhere on the ground, knocking his forehead against the forest floor, dazing him a bit. 

When the world stopped spinning, he noticed the vines wrapped around his ankle. 

Before he hand a chance to pull the stupid vines apart, they dragged him further into the underbrush, apparently uncaring of how many obstacles he hit along the way. 

Eventually, he came to a stop in a clearing. A few hushed voices spoke over him. 

“Is he dead?” 

“You check.” 

“Ew, no, you check.” 

It didn’t take a genius to guess it was those damn Coven Scouts. 

A hand reached down and shook him. It felt more like when his brother was shaking him awake because he was sleeping in than a government soldier checking if he was a corpse or not.

Mattholomule whipped his head around and snapped his teeth at the scout, who moved their hand out of the way. He bared his teeth, taking a few seconds to assess the situation. There were seven scouts surrounding him, only one of them was daring enough to be right by him. When none of them moved, he went back to tearing at the vines around his ankle. 

One of the scouts cast a spell that caused the vines to shift, wrapping around his torso instead of his legs. 

Well, if running away wasn’t an option, then he would have to hope his next plan would work. 

Mattholomule took a deep breath, preparing to scream at the top of his lungs. 

The scout closest to him cast a spell, it immediately felt like cotton filled his mouth. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t make a sound. He could feel his vocal cords straining but still, nothing. 

“Aw, man, you could let me do the thorn mouth one?” asked a scout. 

The scout by him shook their head. 

The vines lifted him up in the air, dangling him in a rather undignified fashion. 

“Start walking, or else we’ll drag you all the way back to the castle,” said the scout casting the plant spell. 

He was dropped back onto his two feet. That scout tugged on the vines tentatively. 

“Shouldn’t we, like, restrain the kid a bit more?” asked a scout with a lazy voice. “The traps those two kids set up already took out, like ninety percent of our squad.” 

“It’s fine,” one of the scouts, the one that was closest to him, said gruffly in a strained voice, “Plus, he might know where the rest of the traps are.”

That scout looked down at him, somehow expectantly despite the mask covering his face. 

Mattholomule blew a raspberry at them and turned his head away. He plopped back onto the floor into a ball and rolled as far away from the scouts as his restraints would allow, making sure to keep his back to them. 

He swore he heard the scout chuckle at that. 

Irritated, Mattholomule started gnawing on the vines. 

“Whatever, let’s just bring the kid. I wanna get out of these creepy woods, I hope the Head Witch is done with the other one.”

“Why did we get dragged into this,” sighed the lazy scout. “I should have quit like Severine did. We’re already working triple shifts with The Day of Unity coming up.” 

“Are we really gonna drag him around? Can’t we just give him a sigil he doesn’t know how to use? He’s gonna keep fighting.” 

“Or we can put him out of his misery,” a stocky scout added, turning towards the skinny scout next to him. “And I don’t mean killing him.” 

The skinny scout muttered a half-hearted apology. 

“Alright, no more loafing around. Get up and start walking, prisoner,” said the largest scout. 

Heavy footsteps thudded in his direction, Mattholomule started chewing faster, bitter taste be damned. He wiggled his arms a bit, if he could get one spell out, then that was all he needed. 

A giant hand grabbed onto his hoodie and lifted him up to eye level, “Are you listening brat? I said get up and-” 

Mattholomule spit the chewed up vine juices directly into the scout’s face, aiming for the eye holes. He wrestled one arm out of the loosened vines and aimed a large spike at the scout’s arm. It hit him hard, forcing the scout to yell and let him go. 

The second his feet hit the ground, Mattholomule started sprinting. 

His foot immediately slipped on a partially formed abomination and he landed right back on his face. 

The same scout he spat on yanked him off the ground. 

“You think you’re so clever?” he sneered.

Still unable to speak, Mattholomule spit some of the remaining vine slobber into his face. 

“That’s it, try chewing through this!” 

The partially formed abomination crawled up the scout’s leg and wrapped itself around Mattholomule’s hands. 

Out of spite, Mattholomule lifted his hands and bit into the mass. It tasted even worse than the vines, like rubber and raw meat left out too long. He made sure to spit as much of the abomination goo onto the scout’s white uniform as possible, taking some petty pride in the purple splotches. 

The scout laughed as the bits of abomination goo crawled back into the mass. 

“Now are you going to listen?” 

Mattholomule dragged a muddy footprint down the scout’s uniform, smirking the entire time. At least that would stain. 

The scout roared and threw Mattholomule, who quite frankly should have seen this coming. Luckily for him, one of the scouts had the kindness to catch him, probably because most of them weren’t as pro-child harm as Graye was. Though apparently they weren’t anti-child harm either if the sigil glove that another scout pulled out was any indication. 

“Let’s just get this over with,” a glum sounding scout said. They held out the glove to the one currently holding him. “He’s not biting you, can’t you do this?” 

“I remember that one, he’s dual tracking in illusions and construction, don't give him either of those,” another said, voice dripping with disdain. “Especially not construction, I almost broke my nose running into that wall.” 

Silently, the scout took the glove and put him down. They pulled out his arm and dispelled enough of the abomination goo to reveal Mattholomule’s wrists. The glove flickered and landed on the healing coven. 

“Stupid scout,” thought Mattholomule, “I already know that magic. And with my mom teaching me, I’d become a pro in no time.” 

The glove glowed a pale baby blue and approached his hand slowly, way too slowly, giving Mattholomule a chance to strike. 

He launched his head forward and sunk his teeth into the glove. The scout yelped and shot a hand back as Mattholomule sunk his teeth into their hand. He had no idea what tearing an active sigil glove would do, but it was better than just letting it happen. Though he would be a bit embarrassed if his tongue got branded. 

Mattholomule tore the glove apart as best he could, thankful that his dog demon mother at least passed down her extra sharp fangs and strong bite force. The glove had already stopped glowing and the inside of it was strangely gooey. It tasted like rotting leaves and dirt, not that he knew what that tasted like.

He wasn’t sure what magic being sealed off felt like, but he didn’t feel any different. Maybe sigil gloves didn’t affect other body parts. 

He spit the shredded glove at the scout’s feet, channeling all the smugness he could into his smile despite his voice still being blocked. He hoped the scouts could see the slew of insults and curse words he would have thrown their way if it weren’t for that stupid silencing spell. 

“Are you an idiot?” shouted the largest scout. “You let a kid maul you like that?” 

The scout holding him looked down shamefully. 

“Take that,” Mattholomule smugly thought, “can’t brand me without one of those stupid gloves.” 

“Well, luckily I have a backup glove,” a scout said helpfully. 

“Titan’s balls,” Mattholomule would have said if he still had his own voice. 

“I’ll give you one chance to redeem yourself, if you mess this one up, you’re in for it when we get back to base,” the large scout threatened as he threw the backup glove at them. He grumbled under his breath. “Who even let this idiot on the mission?” 

The scout holding him silently saluted and held up the glove, it flickered through a few covens before landing on healing again. 

“Was this bozo a healing track student? Damn biased freak . ”  

Once again, the glove reached for him slowly, if anything it was slower than last time. Mattholomule easily snapped up the glove, which was easier this time because that scout was apparently too scared to put his fingers all the way through to the tip. And maybe it was defective, because it wasn’t glowing this time either. 

“Seriously dude?” asked one of the scouts as Mattholomule gnawed on the glove, spurting glove goo everywhere. “And now George is pissed off.” 

The largest scout, supposedly George, stomped over, grabbed the scout by the collar, and lifted him into the air. Mattholomule almost fell face first onto the ground again, but the scout caught him by the back of the shirt. 

“If you mess this mission up, I will personally throw you into the dungeons for a disciplining.” 

The scout holding onto him winced and nodded rapidly. When the large scout dropped him to the ground, they even lifted Mattholomule a bit so he wouldn’t hit the ground and briskly placed him back on his two feet. 

“Let’s follow the Head Witch from afar like he asked, if he needs back up we can be there. That illusion kid is a freak,” George grumbled. He loomed over Mattholomule. “Don’t even think about helping out your friend. So, start walking or we’ll drag you through this entire forest, runt.” 

In retaliation, Mattholomule fell face first on the floor and refused to move. 

It turns out George was serious about dragging him through the forest. One of the scouts tied a rope made of abomination goo around his torso that he couldn’t chew through this time and pulled him behind them. They meandered the forest, taking odd paths where the scouts had already triggered traps. He could feel the bruises forming from all the bumps he was dragged over. 

He tried to dig his goo-covered hands and unrestrained feet into the ground as much as possible in an attempt to slow down the scouts. His restraints were even beginning to turn brown from how much dirt was getting into it. There were even a few stones inside of the mix. At this point, it was probably more mud than abomination. 

A burst of brilliance flashed through his head. 

Mattholomule tentatively moved his hands inside of the mass, focusing on the dirt and stones. He drew small smell circles, concentrating on the materials he knew well. He willed it all to shift and was excited when he felt it solidify. Though it wasn’t enough yet, he dug his hands deeper into the dirt, collecting as much of it as possible. As the mass turned more solid as his magic manipulated the muddy mixture, he actually managed to gain some friction against the ground, slowing down the scout’s march. 

“Come on, you’re not heavy enough to drag me down,” the scout dragging him said lazily. “I’ll just cast a floating spell if you keep this up.” 

Mattholomule ignored him and stood up. 

“Oh, you’re standing now? Can you walk? Thanks, that makes this easier,” the scout sounded a bit surprised. “See? Being a good prisoner is totally wo-” 

The scout didn’t finish their sentence as Mattholomule charged forward, headbutting the scout in the stomach. When the scout yelped and fell over, Mattholomule took the chance to shift the abomination cuffs into a pair of messy gauntlets. It was still partially abomination, so it was hard to form it properly, but there was enough earth in there for him to change its composition. He punched the abomination goo rope apart and ran into the forest, making sure to stomp on the fallen scout, before any of the other scouts could react. Though his act didn’t buy him much time, judging by the footsteps and shouts thundering behind him. 

The scouts said that Graye wanted them closeby, which meant Gus was nearby as well. He just had to outrun them long enough to reach Gus. Maybe he would know how to dispel the silencing spell. If it were the two of them, they could take on all these fools easily. 

Plus, who knew what trouble that goofball was getting into without him there? He wanted to be there for Gus, the sooner the better. 

He chanced a glance back to see that he’d outrun the scouts, though that didn’t mean he was losing them for long. Maybe he could lead them into the mirror maze and lose them there, he and Gus would just have to remember to check to pit it fed into. 

Without stopping, he burst through some brush and crashed into someone, he could tell it was a person based on the hands that gripped his shoulders. 

“Mattholomule. There you are.” 

Mattholomule looked up to see Gus looking at him in concern.

Since he still couldn’t speak, he used the next best form of communication. 

He aimed a punch at Gus’ stomach. 

“Gus always calls me Matty. And you got his eye color wrong, his eyes are way darker than that. They're like the night sky, inky black with the slightest undertone of navy blue, stupid fucking idiots.” 

The figure in front of him screamed and knelt over, the illusion poofed away and revealed it was the large coven scout, George. Considering how much taller the man was than Gus, that probably meant that Mattholomule ended up punching him in the. . .

“There he is!” shouted a voice in the distance. “Surround him.” 

Dammit. 

The six other scouts melted out of the forest scenery, silently approaching him. 

One of them moved ahead of the rest and grabbed him by the shoulder. Vines and abominations shot out of the ground, locking his feet in place. Mattholomule noticed that they were reinforced several times over. At least the idiot coven could learn some lessons, it sucked that those lessons interfered with his daring escape. 

“Stay put, little man,” the scout said softly. Mattholomule recognized the voice as the one that failed to brand him twice. “This will only take a second.” 

Now that he thought about it, the scout’s voices also seemed. . .

Two spell circles formed around the scout’s wrists, hovering by Mattholomule’s head and partially cupping his ears. The spell glowed a dark murky red. 

“Putting him out of his misery?” joked one of the scouts. “Make sure not to kill him.” 

“Don’t worry, I won’t,” replied the scout restraining him. 

The scout looked down at him, still holding the spell against his head. 

“I know what I’m doing.”

Chapter Text

“Start running,” the scout whispered, “don’t answer me, just do it.”  

As if he could even answer if he wanted to.

“Hurry up, we have to catch up to the Head Witch,” complained a scout. 

George wheezed, “The little brat punched me in the-” 

“What spell are you even using? I don’t recognize that one,” interrupted the stocky scout. 

The scout holding him ignored his peers and pressed his hands against Mattholomule’s ears. Mattholomule scrunched his eyes closed as the scouts hands pressed down and the cottony feeling spread from his mouth into his ears. The complaints of the other scouts faded out.

Suddenly, the restraints around his feet disappeared, retreating back into the ground. Once he was free, Mattholomule sprinted into the forest. A few of the scouts he passed attempted to grab him, but a few construction spikes sprang from the ground between them, forcing them to jump back to avoid getting impaled. 

When he glanced back, he saw the scout that freed him summon a guitar. The scout strummed the guitar and Mattholomule noticed that he couldn’t hear it, but he saw surrounding guards crumpled to the ground, clutching their ears. 

Bard magic only worked on those that could hear it, the deafening spell was protecting him. 

The plants scout summoned enough concentration to whip a few vines out into the forest, searching for him. One of the tendrils snapped uncomfortably close to his ankles. At that, Mattholomule forced himself to face forward and keep running. 

He knew the scouts were trying to stay within the same proximity as their asshole boss, but that didn’t mean he knew which way they were. He could be running in the opposite direction of his friend. Still, he had to try his luck. 

While he wasn’t 100% sure of where he was, he memorized their map of traps well enough to make a guess. If the stray rampaging apple he kicked away was any indication he was right in the vicinity of the mirror maze. 

Gus always favored the mirror maze anyway, so that was a good place to start. 

Mattholomule made sure to stop at a large rock, slowly pushing it aside to reveal a small hole. He let the gauntlets melt off his hands, keeping their form was draining, and reached into the small space. Unfortunately this was one of their older rest stops, from before they got the Owl Lady’s help with potions, so there were only a few cheap tricks they bought off their combined allowances. Mattholomule unshrunk his bag and stuffed a few essentials into it.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a flash. 

He turned his head completely around and in the direction of, indeed the mirror maze, was a series of flashing lights. 

Mattholomule groaned, partially out of relief and partially out of annoyance. 

Gus Porter was the only person daring, creative, and stupid enough to use the old mirror signal trick. 

It was a damn gamble. Gus was probably counting on the scouts being ordered to monitor him from afar while old Fish Eyes and Mattholomule would be the only ones who would actually engage him. 

He could imagine how Gus would react if he were there, “How do you like these smoke and mirrors, Matty?” 

Then he’d disappear in a puff of smoke to spook him or flash the light in his eyes. 

In return, Mattholomule would shove him.

They’d both laugh and tease each other, it would have been fun. 

He really wanted to see Gus again. 

He forced himself to shake off lame sentimental feelings in order to concentrate on the light. 

The light, and therefore Gus, was a bit too far to get a good look. He kept low to the ground and slowly approached, concentrating on the flashing light, his focus on how the light flickered between the leaves. Judging by how he could hear the leaves crunch underneath his boots, the deafening spell wore off. 

A hand suddenly grabbed him, covering his mouth. 

“Whoa there, little man, where do you think you’re going?” 

Mattholomule gripped the hand and bit down on it. 

When the scout recoiled back, Mattholomule twisted around and ripped the gray mask off. 

Underneath it, was a familiar face. 

“Come on, Matt,” Steve said, his signature crooked smile on his face, “is that any way to treat your big bro?” 

Mattholomule grabbed his brother’s other hand and prepared to bite into it. 

Steve ripped it back. 

“I just saved you, no thank you?” 

Mattholomule pointed at his mouth, then grabbed his brother’s hands, sharp fangs hovering above flesh. 

“Okay, just promise not to freak out,” Steve whispered. 

Mattholomule nodded slowly. 

“Promise me not to shout for your friend, then I’ll give you your voice back.” 

Mattholomule furrowed his brows. He glanced up at his brother, who looked at him as fondly as he always did. Steve held out his pinky, just like when they made promises when he was little. 

He tentatively linked pinkies with Steve and shook.

Steve drew a spell circle, his normal yellow, over Mattholomule’s mouth. The cotton dissolved and fizzled away. 

“Stupid,” Mattholomule whispered, testing his voice. 

“Alright, Matt, let’s just-” 

Mattholomule ignored his brother and started sprinting in the direction he last saw Gus. He’d have to apologize to his brother later. 

For now, he needed to find Gus. 

“Gus!” Mattholomule shouted, or at least, he tried to. 

His voice could barely go above a raspy croak, there was no way Gus could hear him like this. 

A construction shot out of the ground, tripping him. The ground underneath him turned muddy and soft, softening his fall. 

“Matt, listen to me,” Steve approached him slowly, a spell ready at his fingertip. 

“Shut up,” rasped Mattholomule. 

“You promised me you weren’t going to shout for your friend,” Steve said. 

Steve was still smiling, it felt out of place in the gloomy forest. 

“I didn’t shout,” Mattholomule muttered bitterly, “you didn’t let me.” 

“I know you.” 

His brother knelt down next to him, his blue eyes soft. His eyes squinted and crinkled a bit when he smiled, meaning it was a genuine one. 

That pissed Mattholomule off. 

“I want to stay,” stated Mattholomule. “I want to help Gus.” 

Steve’s expression soured for a second, “Are you sure about that?” 

As an answer, Mattholomule scooped some of the mud and threw it at his brother’s face. As Steve spluttered and tried to wipe the mud off, Mattholomule scrambled up and ran. 

Titan, he was exhausted. He and Gus had barely gotten any sleep or rest since the Emperor’s Coven invaded. Pretty much every night was spent coming up with new defenses. He wasn’t like Gus, he couldn’t recover from one big battle in a few days. Mattholomule was already at his limit, there was no way he could win a fight against his brother, but there was no way he was letting Steve stop him from protecting Gus without a fight. 

“Dammit, I just need a power boost,” he muttered. 

His mind briefly wandered to the galderstones, but immediately dismissed it. There was no way he was desecrating the stones any further. Plus, taking one would mean leading his brother right to it. 

He let out as much of a scream his repressed voice could produce when he felt something small latch onto his arm. 

“Ew!” Mattholomule swatted at it, assuming it was a large bug. 

The blue blob squeaked and latched onto his hand instead. 

“Emmy?” 

Emmiline squealed happily, her tongue slapped against Mattholomule’s face, leaving small spots of sticky slobber. 

“Shouldn’t you be with Gus?” Mattholomule asked as he stroked her head, making her chirp happily. 

When the leaves behind them rustled, her chirps turned into an angry rumble. 

“Little man,” Steve moved out of the bushes, that stupid smile still on his face, “what are you doing? We don’t have time for this.” 

Emmiline chirped and shifted into a staff, landing snugly into Mattholomule’s hands. A wave of magic pulsed over him, coming straight from the palisman’s core. 

So this was what palisman magic felt like. 

Mattholomule shifted his stance, aiming the staff at his brother. 

“You either help me save Gus, or I’m going to take you down and save him myself.” 

Steve’s smile slowly faded away. 

“Sorry, Mattholomule,” Steve aimed a spell at his younger brother. “I’m taking you home to our mothers, safe, and I don’t care if I have to hurt you to do so.” 

“Do you know how much of an asshole you sound like now?” Mattholomule scoffed. 

Not letting Steve reply, Mattholomule created a pit underneath his brother’s feet, it was way bigger than normal due to the magic boost. 

Steve yelped as he fell, but one hand shot out and grabbed onto the ledge. With that one hand, he pulled himself out and was back on his feet. 

“You gotta give me some credit, little guy,” Steve said calmly. “I’ve been thrown down way worse and I have years of construction magic over you.” 

“Shut up,” Mattholomule stuck his tongue out. 

Mattholomule moved to run, but he couldn’t lift his feet. Every time he lifted his foot, he felt himself sink deeper into the ground. He desperately tried to scramble out, but the more he struggled the more he sank. Soon he was waist deep, he used his hands in an attempt to claw his way out, fine granules of sand filtered between his fingers. 

Quicksand, and if Mattholomule was to guess, it was just deep enough to cover Mattholomule’s arms, preventing him from using spells. Mattholomule lifted his arms so that Emmiline was above sand level. 

“Come on, girl, let’s go.” 

Emmiline’s eyes glowed and she lifted him out of the quicksand, hovering precariously a few inches over it. She let him crawl onto her, though she seemed to dislike the “normal” flying form. 

“I’m telling our moms on you,” Mattholomule hissed. “They’re gonna be so mad you tried to drown me in quicksand.” 

“They’ll forgive me if it means saving you from this mess,” Steve replied. 

“You mean Gus? He’s my friend, I can’t let him get hurt,” Mattholomule pleaded. 

“Forget about your friend,” Steve said, his expression blank. “It’s better if you do.” 

Now Mattholomule was furious. 

“Are you serious?” Mattholomule barked. 

“I’m defying the Coven’s orders to save you, they’d imprison me or worse if they find me out,” Steve said. “I’m risking everything to save you.” 

“And I’m risking everything to save him,” Mattholomule shot back. 

Mattholomule willed Emmiline to spin in a circle, the spell conjured a thick smoke, the one Gus had taught him earlier that day. Illusion fog, when done right, was nearly impossible to burst through by simply waving it away. Each particle was its illusion, so there was no way to “pop” it away. It was so thick that he couldn’t see his brother even with an aerial advantage, meaning Steve couldn’t see him, that meant he had the upper hand. 

“I can do this,” Mattholomule reassured himself. “I’m gonna win.” 

A construction hook shot out of the fog and wrapped around his leg. The hook morphed into a shackle and tightened. 

“Are you serious?” groaned Mattholomule. 

He yelped as he was dragged back into the fog. Emmiline squealed and shifted out of staff form, jumping into Matt’s hoodie as they went down. Instead of hitting hard ground, he hovered a bit before landing on his feet, right in front of his brother. 

Steve waved his hand and the illusion dissipated. 

“You really have been learning new magic,” Steve said vaguely, in a way that wasn’t really directed at Mattholomule. “You’re getting good.” 

“Yeah, I’m gonna be the best illusion and construction dual tracker ever!” Mattholomule answered anyway. He summoned a saw from the ground and started at his restraints. “I’m gonna be so strong, popular, and cool when I leave Hexside.” 

“As a wild witch?” Steve asked. He knelt down, taking the saw from Mattholomule, and started ruffling his brother’s hair. “You goof, you can do that in the Emperor’s Coven too. Wasn’t that what you wanted?” 

Steve’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. 

“Don’t act like you know me, you don’t,” Mattholomule accused. “You never come home, I see the Detention Pit snakes more than I see you.” 

Steve’s lips tightened at that, the hand ruffling his hair went stiff. 

“Why would I join the coven that tried to brand me and my classmates? Do you really support that?”  

His brother refused to meet his eyes. Instead, he shifted his gaze to Mattholomule’s writhing hood, where Emmiline’s head was poking out. 

“Where did you get that palisman?” Steve reached out for Emmiline, who hissed. “Palistrom wood is rare.” 

“Gus adopted her,” Mattholomule curled around her protectively. “Don’t you touch her with your dirty hands. That Golden Dweeb told us that the Sludge Overlord kills and eats palisman souls. Did you know that?” 

Mattholomule looked up at his brother, hoping to see surprise or disgust. Some small part both feared and hoped for regret. 

His heart sank when he looked into his brother’s stony face. 

“Where’s Ratthew?” Mattholomule asked, dreading the answer. 

He only had vague memories of Steve’s palisman. She was a small yellow and brown rat that Steve let him help name. She liked crackers and napping in Steve’s hoodies. Ratthew was grumpy at the best of times, but she never snapped at him when he pulled at her oversized ears and tail. The image of Belos snapping her open to suck out her soul made him ill.  

“You let her die,” Mattholomule whispered. “She’s dead.” 

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Steve said, moving his hands to his brother’s shoulders, gripping them tightly. “Let’s just go home.” 

Mattholomule recoiled from the touch. He felt like he didn’t recognize the person in front of him. Fear curdled in his stomach, he felt dizzy and sick. 

The last time he saw his brother was probably when he left to join the Emperor’s Coven when he was sixteen. That was less than ten years ago. 

“Don’t touch me,” Mattholomule hissed. 

“Matty, I-” though Steve smiled, there wasn’t an ounce of warmth in his brother’s face. 

“Don’t call me that!” Mattholomule grabbed the saw and held it in front of himself. “You knew. You knew what they were doing at Hexside. They were gonna brand us, you were gonna let them.” 

“Not you, I would have found a way to get you out of there,” Steve said. 

“Get me out of there,” repeated, a cold realization washed over him. “You were there that day?” 

“Titan,” Steve muttered under his breath.

Mattholomule pushed his brother away, and Steve let him. 

“I always thought you were so cool. You know you were my hero, right?” Mattholomule rambled. “I thought you were saving people, helping them. That’s what you told me, but you attacked my school and I doubt we were the only ones. Do you just lie to me all the time? How many witches have you hurt?” He tugged on the chain around his ankle, Steve's eyes naturally drifted to them when he saw the movement. "You're hurting me." 

“Please, try to understand,” Steve said, “I did this for our family.” 

“You’ve got me chained here like some criminal! You told me to give up my only friend. That’s some family values you got there!” Mattholomule strained his voice against his brother’s partial silencing spell, his vocal cords started to hurt. “I hate you!” 

Steve flinched at that, “Matt, don’t make this harder than it needs to be. Please, let’s go home.” 

“And then what?” Mattholomule scoffed. “I pretend none of this happened? I pretend you didn’t try to destroy the lives of my classmates? That you didn't tell me to let my friend die or worse?” He gripped his hair, yanking on it hard. “Did you expect me to thank you and live with that?” 

“I-” Steve slumped over, “I don’t know.” 

“Get away from me,” Mattholomle spat, he pulled even harder on his hair, “I don’t want to see you anymore.” 

Steve dropped his face into his hands, the shackle around Mattholomule’s ankle melted back into mud. 

“You go,” Steve said quietly, “go save him.”

At first, Mattholomule moved to run, but one glance back at his brother, and he couldn’t do it. 

Instead, he crawled to his brother’s side, nestling his head on his brother’s arm and wrapping himself in his brother’s cape. He snuggled against his brother’s warmth, just like when Mattholomule crawled into his brother’s bed when he was still little enough to be scared by the wails of ghosts outside your window. He wiped his snot and tears on Steve’s cape, even daring to blow his nose on it, Steve chuckled wearily at that.

They hadn’t done this for years, Glandus weeded out displays of comfort like it. 

He knew Gus could wait a few more moments, Gus was the second strongest witch he knew. If anything, Gus was probably playing around with the head lameass like the silly little puppet he was. 

Gus was strong enough to hold his own. 

Right now, he needed his brother, and his brother needed him. 

Steve wrapped his arm around his brother and he stared off blankly into the distance, looking much older than the twenty-five he was. Only his watery eyes gave away his youth. 

The two brothers sat there, silently. 

For those few fleeting moments, it felt as if the Day of Unity would never come, and everything was fine.

Chapter Text

“Titan, what am I doing,” Steve muttered. “I’m so sorry, Matt.” 

Steve looked at his brother with big watery eyes.

Mattholomule had never seen his brother look so lost. 

It scared him a bit. 

If Gus were here, he’d know what to do. 

He was still just Mattholomule, just the same brat he always was. 

“You’ve grown up so much,” Steve sobbed. “I’m so proud of you.” 

“What?” Mattholomule had half the mind to check if his brother had a concussion or if he’d accidentally ingested a confusion potion. “Why? You just wiped the floor with me.” 

“You put up a great fight there, you almost got me a few times,” Steve gestured to a few of the bruises on his face alone. “Plus, those traps were genius. You’re finally using that brain of yours.” 

“Gus came up with those, he’s the amazing one,” Mattholomule grumbled. Now that the adrenaline of escaping the guards dissipated, the reality of the situation crashed down on him. “No offense dude, but if I can’t beat you then how am I gonna help Gus against that Head Bi-” 

Steve shushed him, “Language, and I think you’re just as amazing as this Gus kid.” 

“Gus probably already wiped the floor with that hag already,” he ruffled his hair angrily, pulling at the strands. “What is this? Some stupid pity party?” 

He tried to remember the kind things Gus told him, the things Gus admired in him, but those words felt meaningless now that Gus wasn’t there next to him. 

Dammit, 

“What’s there to be proud of? I’m the same as I always was. Some jerk whose ego got the best of him!” His grip on his hair tightened and he felt a few strands come out. “Just a few minutes ago I was ready to swoop in and save Gus all dashing like, and now I’m whining to my brother instead like some pathetic wimp.” 

“Hey, can I say something?” Steve asked gently. 

Mattholomule scowled and wiped his nose on his brother’s cape, “You already did.” 

“Change doesn’t happen that easily, even if you know what you’re doing wrong,” Steve patted his brother’s head reassuringly. “I hurt a lot of people all while telling myself I was a hero. Eventually the horrible things felt normal, too normal. When I realized that, it was scary. I started going to therapy to fix what I’ve done and to make sure I’d never sink to those levels again. Yet there I was, threatening my little brother so I could be the hero one more time.” 

Steve stiffly withdrew his hand, stuffing it into his pocket, fumbling around inside of it. He pulled out a packet of gum and offered a stick to Mattholomule, then he popped one into his mouth and continued. 

Now that he thought about it, Steve didn’t smell like smoke anymore. 

“The hardest thing about getting better is that sometimes you go backwards, but that doesn’t mean you’re a horrible person, you’re just you. What matters is that you’re trying, and if you keep trying you’ll get there someday,” as Steve looked into the distance, Mattholomule realized how much older his brother looked. “Being upset means you want to change, right? Isn’t that great in a weird way?” 

“I guess so,” Mattholomule grumbled. “I still hate feeling like this.” 

“You’re doing your best. My little man stood up to me, you have more of a spine than I did when I was your age, I know you’re going to be a great man,” Steve’s serious expression wavered a bit, fat tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. He maneuvered around the already snot-covered parts of his cape and blew into it. “You’ve grown up so much, I’ve missed so much of your life.” 

“Quit your job,” Mattholomule snapped. “Belos is a conman.” 

“We kinda still need the snails,” Steve laughed awkwardly. 

“Be a bum at home, I’ve got plenty of jobs?” Mattholomule bragged. “There’s the scamming gig, the CryptCon gig, and the delivery gig. I’m making big bucks. I can put in a good word for you.” 

“Scamming?” Steve winced. “I don’t know, maybe I’ll ask Lulu for a job rec.” 

“Lulu?” Mattholomule narrowed his eyes, “that your girlfriend?” 

“What? No?” Steve sounded offended. “Lilith Clawthorne, we’re like, best friends. She’ll get me a job at her museum I bet.” 

“No fair!” Mattholomule tugged on his brother’s arm irritably. “I wanna work at Lilith Clawthorn’s museum.” 

“Well, it’s not exactly her museum, but I can put a good word in for you,” Steve teased. Then he tentatively reached out to his brother, “if you’ll forgive me for this that is. I’d understand if you’re still mad.” 

Mattholomule took the hand that reached out to him and bit down on it. Emmy also joined in, using her tiny mouth to pull hard on Steve’s hair. When Steve yelled and flailed, Mattholomule lept into his brother’s arms. He wrapped his arms around his brother’s torso and buried his face into his brother’s tunic.

“You’re still my brother, stupid,” Mattholomule muttered. 

“Whoa, what’s happening?” Steve sat stiffly. “You didn’t do this before.” 

“I’m giving you a hug,” Mattholomule said, “it’s kinda a human thing.” 

“Huh, did you learn that from your friend?” 

“Hmm, maybe.” 

Steve tentatively hugged Mattholomule back, reaching one hand up to noogie him gently. He cast a spell that removed most of the drying mud out of their clothes and he cast a few small healing spells on Mattholomule’s cut and bruises. If Mattholomule closed his eyes, he could pretend that they were little and he was pretending to cry (not crying harder, he wasn’t that much of a crybaby) just so his brother would spoil him more. 

Unfortunately, there were better times and places for brotherly bonding. 

“So, you ready to save your friend?” Steve asked. 

Mattholomule squirmed out of his brother’s embrace, pretending he wasn’t just being babied, “Uh, duh.” 

Suddenly, a force yanked Mattholomule off the ground by the arm and swung him around, as he was temporarily airborne, he saw a bunch of vines striking the spot he was in just seconds before. 

Four of the remaining scouts shuffled out of the brush, led by George. Their uniforms were more tattered than before, one of them was even swaying a bit. 

“Lay low, little buddy, I got this,” Steve set him down and winked at him before putting the scout mask back on. 

“Uh, no you don’t,” Mattholomule scoffed, and to his delight, Emmy wriggled out of his hoodie and landed in his hands in staff form. “You’ve got two to back you up.” Emmy hissed in Steve’s direction. “Or well, close enough to two.” 

Though he couldn’t see his brother’s face, he could imagine the big dopey smile his brother had on. 

That big dopey smile also meant that Steve was distracted and that he couldn’t see one of the scouts charge at him, vines ready for the attack. Mattholomule, fueled by the power of a palisman, summoned a giant high-five out of the ground, willing it to crush the scout underneath. Considering they were barely standing on their two feet before, the scout went still. 

“Point for Matty!” he whooped. He ran over to his brother, maneuvered his hands into an upright position, and slapped his hands against them. “High-five!” 

“High-five?” Steve questioned rather than said. 

“It’s a human thing,” answered Mattholomule as he grew his bag to its normal size. 

Steve shrugged, summoned a hammer, and swung it at two of the guards, “So, uh, Matt, this Gus kid is pretty strong, huh.” 

“Yeah, he’s super strong and smart,” Mattholomule tripped one of the guards. “He’s also really nice, creative, and funny.” 

“Huh, I kinda regret kidnapping him that one time, sorry about that,” Steve said. 

Mattholomule ducked to avoid an abomination hand, “Yeah I can guess what happened at Hexside, still mad about that.” 

Steve paused, “Uh, I guess I kidnapped him two times then. Double sorry.” 

Mattholomule clenched his bag furiously. 

“You WHAT?” 

He had half the mind to throw something at his brother. 

Before he could, his brother yanked him off the ground where an abomination hand grew. Steve batted the offending scout away clumsily with his hammer, as the scout recovered, he hastily drew a complex shape into the ground with his feet. It resembled the glyphs Luz drew, but more complex. 

Steve stomped on it and a gush of icy slush gushed out of it, completely covering a scout. Once the stream stopped, it immediately started solidifying, keeping the shivering guard in place. 

“How did you learn that?” Mattholomule whined from underneath his brother’s arm. “Teach me!” 

“Lulu taught me, she’s been inventing new glyphs for her human friend and using me as a test subject” Steve said cheerfully as he placed Mattholomule down. He ruffled his brother’s hair and summoned a thick notebook covered with neat handwriting. “You can take this, it’s her notes. They’re color coded and in alphabetical order.” 

“Sweet!” Mattholomule shoved the notebook into his bag. “Thanks, man. You’re so cool.” 

Steve beamed through the mask, even Emmy seemed so pleased with the development that she didn’t bite Steve’s fingers. 

“Uh, hello, we’re still here,” one of the remaining scouts, not George, said impatiently. “Well, whatever, time to put you two out of your misery and I don’t mean to sleep.” He cocked his head, “Well, I guess dying is the ultimate sleep.” 

The skinny scout got out his flute and brought it to his lips. As he played, a thick smoke emerged, curling ominously around the scouts feet and slowly approaching the brothers. 

Steve summoned a guitar and struck a chord, which temporarily dispelled the smoke, but as the other scout played, the smoke only got thicker. In response, Steve played louder, trying to drown out the sounds of the flute. 

“You kinda suck at bard magic,” the scout stopped his music to mutter. “Well, you’re asking for this.” 

The scout played his flute, purposefully making its notes so sharp that it pierced through the air. Steve yelped when his cloak wrapped around him, forcing him to stop playing. Mattholomule’s outfit stretched, but there wasn’t enough fabric for it to do anything, though he regrettably had to take off and stomp on his belt. 

Mattholomule hopped onto the high-five he made earlier for a higher vantage point, making the scout stuck underneath groan. He held up a few green balls in his hand and pointed dramatically at the skinny scout, who was ignoring him, instead focusing all of his breath on playing louder. 

“You know what you asked for?” Mattholomule was undeterred by the scout not answering and by the smoke slowly approaching. “Stink ball to the face!” 

He threw all his stink balls down, one of them even made it through the eyehole on the scouts mask. The scout spluttered and stopped playing, choking on the direct fumes in his face. The smoke dissipated and Steve’s cloak unclenched. 

“Cover your ears, okay little guy?” Steve said, already back on his feet. 

Mattholomule obediently shoved his finger into his ears, even playing a small sound illusion Gus tried to him. He was pleased to vaguely hear the muffled tones of a weird whale CDs Gus liked to listen to. 

Steve strummed his guitar dramatically, holding a pose as a shock wave shook the ground. The scout with the flute went limp and the one underneath the stone high-five might have been foaming at the mouth a bit. 

“Let’s go Steve!” the man shouted, smashing his guitar against the ground. “All hail-” Steve pondered a bit. “All hail freedom!” 

Mattholomule jumped off the stone hand and rushed over to his brother, grabbing and tugging on his sleeves. 

“That was awesome! I wanna do that too!” 

“Heh, I can teach you. Steve still has some slick moves.” 

The two of them basked in their pride for a bit, admiring their work on the three scouts lying motionless, well, maybe they were twitching a bit, on the ground. 

“You forgot someone,” a deep voice said lowly.

Two large hands grabbed each of them by the neck, squeezing against their throats threateningly. The hands lifted them above the ground, far enough that they couldn’t kick him. 

Emmy ran circles around on the ground, whining in a panic. She scampered a few steps into the woods as if she wanted to run away. Instead, she changed her mind and returned to climb up back into Mattholomule’s grasp. 

“Looks like your fun ends here,” George sneered. “I’ll personally hand you two traitors over to the emperor, and maybe even get a promo-” 

His sentence was cut off by a shriek of pain. He dropped both of them as he doubled over, clenching where two stone pillars rammed into his flesh. 

“You brats hit me in the d-” 

He was cut off by the giant pit that opened up underneath him. Mattholomule swung Emmy around flamboyantly, nearly dropping her, before blowing out the magic that still emitted from her. 

“Stupid!” Mattholomule shouted down into the pit. “We still have hands!” 

He ran over to his brother, with hands held out expectantly. 

“High-five!” 

Steve beamed and copied the motion from before, meeting his brother’s raised hands. Then he scooped his brother up under his arm, giving him a rough noogie. Emmy hopped onto Steve’s shoulder and started plucking out hairs, which Steve only winced at. 

“You did great out there, little guy,” gushed Steve. 

“Titan, stop that,” the younger complained, swatting at his brother’s hand. “We gotta go save Gus now. We wasted so much time being sad and beating up those goons.” 

“Alright, alright,” Steve set him down with one last head pat. “So, any ideas on where he is?” 

Mattholomule answered by dragging Steve down into the bushes, gesturing for him to stay quiet. 

In the distance, Gus was standing in front of an entrance, the one with the obstacle wall. Floating in front of him was a small ball of light, it perfectly illuminated Gus’ face and the one of the witch next to him. 

“That bastard,” Mattholomule barely restrained a scream. 

Standing with Gus was another Mattholomule. The two of them seemed to be getting along, even having some conversation that he couldn’t hear. 

Gus moved away from the fake, pacing back and forth, staring into the orb of light. His wrist flicked rapidly, casting light further into the forest, far enough that Mattholomule could see the flashes clearly, much brighter than a light glyph alone. 

He zeroed in on the flickering light, silently taking it in. 

Then Gus extinguished the light with his fist and returned to the side of the fake Mattholomule, who was definitely the Hag Coven Head in disguise. Mattholomule watched enraged as Gus started to help the fake up the wall.  

“That idiot!” Mattholomule hissed. “Stupid brat! Pain in the ass! Titan’s shit!” 

“Huh, did I curse that much when I was your age?” Steve asked offhandedly. 

“Come on, let’s go! Someone needs to save that dork from himself!” Mattholomule shouted. 

Mattholomule started into a sprint, stopped short by his brother pulling him back. As he motioned to shout at his brother, Steve put a hand to his lip and gestured. 

A bunch of fresh looking scouts silently swept through the woods. All in the direction that Gus and the fake had gone in. Each of them were holding spears or nets, all ready for a capture. 

Mattholomule cursed his past self for not resetting the traps. Graye himself said he’d use as many guards as it took to find the stones. 

“Hold your breath,” Steve whispered, “and keep doing it until you get to Gus. I’ll buy you time.” 

“You better not get hurt,” Mattholomule snapped. 

Steve nodded, face unreadable behind the mask. He gave his brother a second to take a deep breath and pressed a glyph into the younger’s chest, rendering him invisible. He motioned for Mattholomule to fly, sending him off with a salute. 

Then Steve climbed onto the nearest tree trunk and summoned another guitar. He started playing a loud guitar solo as Mattholomule sped off silently. 

“Wild witches forever!” Steve screamed. “And I quit!” 

Mattholomule almost yelped when a few scouts ran right past him, nearly running straight into him. Out of the corner of his eye he swore he saw his brother tear off his scout uniform to reveal. . . a bright yellow shirt with bold red letters on it. 

That’s the last he saw of his brother before the scouts descended. 

His brother was the toughest witch he knew. There’s no way he would lose. 

And since Steve was back there fighting with all his might to buy time for a kid he barely knew, then the least he could do was make that sacrifice worth it.

“Gus, you better not be doing anything stupid,” Mattholomule thought to himself. “Well, either way, I’m saving you this time." 

Chapter Text

“You’re weirding me out, Gus,” Mattholomule said nervously. “You’re usually not this serious.” 

Gus smiled reassuringly. His hands gripped the ones in his tighter, squeezing on them. He looked into Mattholomule’s eyes, taking in their color. 

“You illusionists always get color and shading wrong,” Mattholomule scoffed one time they were hanging out. “Or maybe just you, try taking some art classes, Augustus.” 

Then the other boy proceeded to give a prideful lecture on shading and how real artists are the only ones to get it right. That resulted in a few enforced art lessons with Mattholomule on shading and color theory, which were actually pretty fun. 

Because of that his illusion magic, and his ability to assess for hidden illusions, got stronger. 

“Dude,” the Mattholomule in front of him said, “are you okay? Did you hit your head?” 

“Don’t worry, even if I did, you could heal me right up,” Gus quipped. 

“Right,” Mattholomule responded softly. 

They stood awkwardly for a bit, in the middle of the graveyard. 

“So, uh, what did you want to tell me, Gus?” 

Gus blinked owlishly, extending the awkward silence between them. At first he blinked quickly, small flutters that you had to concentrate on to really comprehend. 

Then slower, never tearing his gaze away from the witch in front of him. 

Gus tapped his fingers against Mattholomule’s hand and popped his lips to fill the silence. 

“Being weird again?” Mattholomule asked, laughter slightly scratchy, exactly the way it always was. 

“Actually, you know what, you’re the one acting kinda weird,” Gus said out loud, rocking back and forth on his heels. He tilted his head, quizzically, “In fact, you even look kinda weird. It’s been bugging me.” 

Mattholomule made a very Mattholomule-like scowl. 

“I don’t know, maybe getting hunted down by Head Witch Graye is a bit stressful,” he argued. “Sorry I can’t look pretty for you all the time.” 

“True,” Gus replied, “but something about your face is bothering me.” 

One of Mattholomule’s eyes twitched a bit. 

“My face?” 

“Yeah,” Gus squinted, “is it just me or is your mole missing? The one under your left eye?” 

A mini illusion Gus materialized on Gus’ shoulder, pointing to a specific spot by the corner of his eye. 

“What do you mean?” 

Then Gus blinked. 

“It’s right where it always is.” 

Gus looked closer and saw the aforementioned mole. 

“You’re right,” Gus said happily, the grip on Mattholomule’s hands tightened, “you’re the exact Mattholomule I’d thought you’d be.” 

“Is that all you wanted to tell me?” Mattholomule asked, clearly annoyed. “All this suspense just for a dumb mole?” 

“Sorry,” Gus laughed lightly, “must have been covered by mud or something.” He looked down and scuffed his foot in embarrassment, “I never doubted you for a second.” 

“So, uh, do we have to keep holding hands?” Mattholomule asked. “Your palms are kinda sweaty, it’s gross.” 

“Please, I pulled you out of Willow’s plants hundreds of times, you can deal with some sweat.” 

“Yeah, whatever,” Mattholomule muttered. His eyes flicked towards the entrance of the graveyard. “Can we like, move or something?” 

The fog around them thickened so much that it felt solid. It blocked out any of the scarce light that filtered through the clouds. 

Gus lifted his head and flashed a wide grin, sharp teeth flashing unnaturally, almost glowing against the dark smog. 

“You know what? I just remembered something,,” Gus smiled widely, eyes sparking with magic, “Matty’s mole is on the other side.” 

He winked and a bubble of magic popped around them. The Gus in the middle of the graveyard exploded into a puff, replaced by a mass of vines, reaching out and entangling everything in its path. 

At its end, restrained by his hands and feet, was Adrian Graye, Head of the Illusions Coven. 

“What?” Graye gasped. “How?” 

The real Gus stepped out from behind a statue, a cheerful smile on his face. His hands spun a spell circle between them. 

“What can I say?” The spell circle moved up to Gus’ right wrist, as he did a low bow, “I didn’t skip a few grades for nothing.” 

Graye pulled against the vines, “You brat, how did you do that? You even got the disgusting feeling of sweaty hands down. Are you telling me you pretended not to know how to manipulate senses other than sight?” 

“Hmm, no,” Gus said, “I’m just a fast learner. Thanks for teaching me.” 

“You really are clever,” Graye stood up straight, looking all too calm for the situation, “but you’re still nothing compared to me.” 

Graye’s eyes glowed a pale blue and flickered like flames,  his entire form shimmered and turned smokey. The air rattled and shook as powerful illusion magic warped it. Gus stumbled as the ground around him shook, a sheen of sweat formed at his brow. 

“Now it’s my turn to dazzle you!” Graye cackled. “It’s time the curtain fa-” 

He couldn’t get that last sentence out. Graye’s form snapped back into shape, the impact of the magic recoiling hit him hard as he fell to his knees. Instead of light blue, his eyes turned a dull murky purple before fading back to normal. Graye couldn’t make a sound as the magic in his body swirled inside of him, sucking itself back into his bile sac. At the end of it, Graye sat there, skin gray and heaving. 

“What did you do?” he wheezed. 

“Being friends with the Owl Lady has tons of perks,” Gus chirped. “It’s just a few simple modifications on a common medicinal potion.” He struggled a bit to remember the details Luz told him. In order to keep face, he added, “Don’t ask, wild witch secrets.” 

“Since then?” Graye gasped, “what gave it away?” 

“I could make a list,” Gus smiled, he sat in front of Graye and boyishly rested his head in his palms. “I knew you weren’t Matty from the start.” 

“How?” Graye rasped. 

Well, there were a ton of things. He really could make a list, heck, there was already a list inside of his head. But if cartoons didn’t teach him anything, he knew that he shouldn’t just rattle off everything Graye did wrong so he can do better the next time. 

“Besties’ secret,” he smiled and put a finger to his mouth. 

“Hmm,” Graye hummed, “as cunning as you are, you’re still a mere child.” He twitched a finger and a small illusion of Willow spun through the air. Even with the magic repression poison, Graye could still use magic, a terrifying testament to his true power. “And you still make stupid mistakes.” 

The illusion of Willow grew to her full size, her form flickered a bit, but Gus could see that Graye got her features perfectly. 

“Gus, I can’t believe you fell for a fake me,” she said sadly. “I thought we were best friends.” 

Something in Gus longed for Willow, her confidence and level-headed leadership.

“You’re smarter than this,” whined Illusion Willow. She teared up a bit, “I'm scared, Gus, why did you let Head Witch Graye win? 

With some reluctance, Gus swiped the illusion aside. The illusion smiled widely, unnaturally, as it faded. 

“Willow wouldn’t say that,” Gus said firmly. “She believes in me.” 

“Yet you still fell for the fake Willow I sent for you before,” Graye chuckled. 

Gus looked to the ground, using all his willpower to keep his magic running. 

“I’m surprised you actually found me out this time, I even did my extra homework on how to get the brat’s act just right.” Graye looked far too relaxed for someone in his position. “The Emperor has eyes everywhere.” 

The remaining magic from the illusion Willow swirled, it condensed into the shape of a mirror. In the reflection, Gus could see him and Mattholomule, an eagle’s eye view from yesterday, when they decided to skip school to check on the traps. The two of them in the reflection shoved each other and joked as they snuck off school grounds, which was exactly what they did yesterday. 

“No,” Gus fell to his knees, the magic circle around his wrist flickered wildly. 

“You thought you outsmarted me? The greatest Illusionist in all of history?” Graye laughed. He stood up as straight as his restraints would let him. Magic washed over his body, tidying his appearance. Adrian Graye stood there proudly, looking down at Gus. “I’ll pay you back for that unwarranted arrogance.” 

A few small balls of fire pierced through the fog and burnt away at the vines, leaving nothing but ash. Graye leisurely rubbed at his wrists and stretched. Then he flicked his hand, the fog part like a dusty curtain, revealing several scouts, all with pristine uniforms, unmarred by traps and the dangers of the forest. 

Titan, he should have thought of having back-up traps. 

The scouts hovered tentatively by the statues, Gus could sense their hesitation. 

Graye must have already told them about the fake stones. 

Strangely, none of them moved to restrain him. 

“What? Not chaining me because I’m some kid?” Gus muttered bitterly. “I could still have some tricks up my sleeve.” 

Graye slunk over and patted Gus on the head, smiling condescendingly. 

“Don’t worry, we have a better way to keep you in line.” 

“Let go of me!” 

Two scouts stepped forward silently. One of them held Emmy in their fist, holding her so tightly that her squeaks were raspy and strained. The other held Mattholomule’s hands behind his back as the boy struggled. Gus remembered how painful that method of restraint was, how it forced him to bend his arms unnaturally. 

“Let us take the stones peacefully and I’ll let you all go. Try anything smart and those two won’t leave here alive.” 

Graye snapped his fingers and two more guards stepped forward, spears aimed towards Mattholomule.

“Don’t you dare, Gus!” Mattholomule shouted. “I’ll never forgive you!” 

Graye rolled his eyes. In a puff of smoke he teleported over to Mattholomule’s side. He pinched his fingers and pulled across the boy’s mouth, as if he was zippering a bag closed. 

Mattholomule’s mouth flapped, but no sounds came out. The boy screamed silently and thrashed harder than before. 

Emmy’s eyes focused on him, silently pleading. She let out a feeble little whine. 

“Matty! Emmy!” The magic around Gus’ wrist flashed like a distress beacon. He held his hand out towards them. Emmy only looked on sadly while Mattholomule just kept fighting against the grip on his arms, ignoring him, refusing to look at him. Gus’ hand fell to his side. “Fine, I’ll disable the traps here.” 

“One more thing,” Graye motioned for a few scouts to come forward. “It’s just a simple interrogation spell. You may have sealed most of my magic, but these scouts can do the spell just fine.” The scouts formed a bright spell circle and held it against Gus’ face, he could feel the hot searing magic burn at his skin. Graye tutted and lounged against a new director’s chair a scout brought out. “Don’t lie, lying to this spell is painful. I heard some even died lying to this spell, just in case you wanted to know.” 

Gus swallowed nervously. 

“Put that spell down,” Graye ordered, gesturing to the spell circle that was still floating around Gus’ wrist. 

Without a word, Gus held up his hands. Graye watched intently as the spell circle fizzled away, leaving Gus defenseless. The scouts forced Gus’ head to go through the circle, raw magic buzzing at his throat, threatening to clamp down at the slightest lie. 

“Which one of you has my amplifier?” asked Graye. 

“Neither of us, I secretly dropped it in the forest when you weren’t looking.” 

Graye cursed when Gus didn’t flinch. He crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes, searching for any magical inconsistencies. 

“You ask,” he told a scout, “I’m watching to see if he tries anything.” He turned and barked orders at a few of the idle scouts. “I want you to find that relic within the hour!” 

About a third of the scouts and a captain rushed out of the graveyard and out of sight into the dark and silent woods. 

“Is this the real Illusionist Graveyard?” asked a scout. 

“Yes.” 

Graye smiled, detecting no illusion magic over Gus. He nodded at his scouts to continue. 

“Are there any traps activated here?” 

“No, there are no traps activated here.” 

“Wonderful,” Graye stood up, took a sip from the mug a scout provided him, and began clapping. “With that sorted out, let’s not waste anymore time. Scouts, collect the stones and prepare them for our journey back.” 

An airship lowered from the clouds, releasing a long ramp that pierced into the ground, knocking the heads off a few of the statues. Scouts systematically gathered the stones, carrying them onto the ship and out of sight. 

Gus pressed his face against the ground. 

“Can we go home now?” Gus pleaded. 

“You know, I thought about it,” Graye stroked his chin, “I don’t think I can let any of you leave here alive.” 

Graye’s smile widened, so much that it looked as if it would tear his face apart. 

“Throw the boys into the Boiling Sea and bring the palisman as an additional gift for the Emperor.” 

“Wait!” Gus shouted, face still facing the ground. “Can I just say one last thing? Please?”

“Ugh, are you always this self-centered?” Graye rubbed at his brows and waved the scouts off. “But since you gave a decent fight, I’ll let you say your piece, one illusionist to another.” 

“Thanks, Mr. Graye,” Gus sat up in an upright position and rocked back and forth a bit. He leaned forward and rested his hands on his cheeks, tapping idly. “You know, you really should learn some new tricks.” 

“What?” Graye tensed, tail flicked to-and-fro. 

“I said what I said,” Gus stood up, imitating the way Graye stretched moments before. “You really gotta stop with this impersonation gimmick, it’s getting boring.” 

Gus yawned lazily, he wiped away at the space in front of him, as if he was erasing something from a whiteboard. 

The scouts that were supposedly holding Emmy and Mattholomule recoiled when the images of the two wiped away with Gus’ motions. Instead of them, all that was left was some poor lizard demon and one of the shorter scouts. 

They looked towards Graye, seeking orders, or even an answer. 

“Thank you! Thank you!” Gus bowed deeply towards a silent crowd. 

“How do you keep foiling me?” Graye stomped the ground so hard that Gus could feel the ground shake. 

“Because I’m smarter than you and I’ve got way more style,” Gus flung his hands out. “I’m unstoppable!” 

“I still have the stones,” Graye hissed. “You. Still. Lost.” 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” Gus replied. He opened his hand to reveal a small illusion of Mattholomule. Gus and the illusion blew raspberries, a human thing Luz taught Gus, at Graye. “I asked Matty to hide the stones before I led you here.” 

“Now I know you’re lying,” snapped Graye. “My scouts captured him and he’s probably in a cell right now, ready for a life of rot because of you.” 

“I dunno, Matty is waaaay harder to catch than that.” 

The Mattholomule illusion flipped Graye off before poofing out of existence. 

One of Graye’s eyes twitched a bit. 

“Scouts, please tell me you have him as a prisoner somewhere, or at least dead in a ditch,” Graye barked towards the airship. 

A few scouts looked down nervously. 

“Uh sir,” one squeaked, “we did actually lose him.” 

“And someone quit!” shouted another. 

“I think George is dead,” added a third. 

“You’re all useless!” shrieked Graye, tearing at his hair. The man took a deep breath, and brushed his hands through his hair until it was neat again. “Well, that doesn’t matter. As long as I get rid of you, the stones are as good as mine. There’s no way that weakling can fend us off alone.” 

Graye glared up at the airship, he snapped at them impatiently, the scouts aboard scurried back to their posts. All three of the canons facing Gus fired up, gathering all the magical energy around it. 

“Now do die quietly,” Graye started to walk up the ramp, “I’ve heard enough of your annoying voice for a lifetime.” 

“Gus Porter will never die!” Gus did a confidence dance from a game Luz showed him (Four Nights?) and the ground beneath them rumbled. 

The fog returned, wrapping itself protectively around his body. A ghostly wail echoed hauntingly, so loudly that it shook the stone walls. A controlled whirlwind appeared, spinning the airship round and round. The scouts screamed inside of it and the motion knocked Graye off the ramp and onto his back. A bunch of water sailed through the air, aimed at the cannons which immediately froze on impact. In a grand finale, giant vines burst from the ground and dragged the ship down with a heavy crash that almost knocked Gus off his feet, but he recovered quickly and did a confident pose. 

A column of rock raised beneath Gus’ feet, lifting him higher than the fallen ship, the scouts, and Graye. He grinned wildly from atop of it, magic crackling at his fingertips. 

Some of the more courageous scouts charged at the column, but large spikes poked out, threatening to spear them. More spears poked out of the ground and a ghastly wail filled the air. The remaining scouts dropped their weapons and fled into the woods, their shrieks echoing hauntingly through the forest. 

“Those damn useless fools,” Graye bit his lip harshly enough to draw blood, “I’ll have them thrown into the conformatorium, right after I throw you in there myself.” 

Not a chance, because unlike you, I’m a real Master Illusionist,” One of his hands raised in the air and the other pointed directly at Graye. “And boy, do I have the trick for you.”

Chapter Text

Gus held his pose, one hand in the air and the other pointed at Graye. He swayed impatiently back and forth on his feet a bit, watching as Graye’s shock quickly melted right back into raging fury. 

“I should have known it was all talk, you are just a mere child,” Graye muttered. 

“Uh,” the corner of his lip twitched a bit, “just charging up my final attack. It’ll knock the socks right off you.” 

He coughed a few times, eyes darting around, looking for some movement that wasn’t from a half conscious coven scout. 

“Dammit, Mattholomule,” Gus grumbled, thankful that he poisoned Graye a bit, that was probably the only reason he hadn’t been blasted in his face with magic by now. 

A wheezing gasp behind them and a wobbly hand slamming down onto his shoulder nearly startled him off his perch. 

Mattholomule was hunched over, standing precariously on Emmy’s staff, held up only by his iron grip on Gus’ shoulders. A thick book was clutched under his right arm, a small cluster of bombs from the joke shop in his left hand, and a freshly spit out glyph still hanging off his chin a bit from how damp it was. 

Graye, for his part, looked too confused to be angry anymore. 

“You okay?” Gus hissed. He internally thanked Willow for roping him into Grudgby, standing on a palisman while the other team shot fireballs at you was nothing compared to whatever messed up circus trick the two of them looked like right now. “You look like you had a standoff against one of the coven heads and learned that he was your father.” 

He expected Mattholomule to perk up at the human movie reference, instead the other boy blew off the spit-covered glyph and wheezed heavily. 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

Knowing that Mattholomule was okay, Gus turned his attention back to grow just in time to dodge a rock. Boy, he owed Willow (and maybe even Boscha) for all those harsh practices, dodging a pebble was nothing against the throwing arms of the two strongest witches at Hexside. 

The rock ended up hitting Mattholomule in the forehead, knocking him backwards off his precarious perch, but luckily Emmy readjusted to that he fell in the seated position. He flipped his hair out of his face and posed, pretending that was what he meant to do the entire time. 

“I won’t,” Graye threw a rock that didn’t even make it to Gus’ feet, “lose to you.” 

“Face it dude, you already lost,” Gus bragged. 

“Suck it, LOSER,” Mattholomule put his left hand against his forehead into a J. “Loser, loser, loser!” 

Gus was glad that Graye was down there while they were up here, because from the way he was gripping the giant rock in his hand, he wanted to smash it against both of their skulls. And if the crazed look in his eyes were any indication, that wasn’t the only way he was murdering them inside his head. 

“You just lost to some kids,” Gus said. “That’s kinda pathetic.”

Graye screeched and ripped out a few locks of his hair. 

“Uh, actually it’s not pathetic,” Mattholomule shoved Gus, nearly off the column. “It’s not his fault that we’re two of the best students that Hexside has to offer.” 

To his credit, somehow Graye got back on his two feet and shifted into a fighting stance, a spell circle pointed directly at the two boys. The amount of poison Eda gave him should have been enough to knock out most witches for a day at least. Heck, it even rendered the top left side of Hooty comatose, however that worked. . .

“I don’t get it,” Graye chucked another stone at them. “I made sure to keep the two of you separated and confused.” 

“We have our secrets,” Gus said, at the same time Mattholomule bragged. “We have a secret code.” 

Gus shot Mattholomule a look and shoved him. “Secret code means it stays secret.”

Mattholomule steadied himself on Emmy’s staff, shrunk the book in his hand to put in his pocket, and shoved right back. 

“A secret is cooler if we tease about it!” 

“I don’t care!” Graye shouted with a hand raised ready to toss the next stone. He turned to make eye contact with Gus. “I’ll pry every last secret out of you, even if I have to break your skulls open to do it.” 

Gus flinched at that, remembering the feeling of Graye digging through his memories with magic. Ice cold tendrils of illusion magic tearing through his mind with little regard for his well being. He couldn’t tell if the magic tearing at his mind was imagined, or if Graye really did have the energy to do what he said he would do. 

He breathed deeply, like Willow told him to do, but there wasn’t time to do that. Not with Graye threatening them again and again. 

All he needed was a minute. One minute to collect himself. 

Was that too much to ask? 

Before Gus could do anything, Mattholomule flew around in front of him, keeping Gus out of Graye’s line of sight, or maybe keeping Graye out of Gus’. He reached back, awkwardly twisting his back, and he put a pack of something in his hand.

Looking down, Gus saw that Mattholomule had placed a pack of mustard cookies. He recognized it as one of the snacks they left as rations in case they had to stake out the graveyard defenses long term. 

“C’mon Gus,” Mattholomule whispered, “you’re gonna let Graye beat you before I do? I’m, like, a way better rival. If we lose here I can’t beat you later.” 

The truth was that Mattholomule hated the mustard cookies, he called them “an offense to people with taste buds everywhere” whenever Gus offered to share. There were plenty of snacks that they both liked in each of their check points, so there wasn’t any particular reason for Mattholomule to pack this one. His crumb crinkled the corner of the packaging, a smile creeping in. 

“Thanks, Matty” Gus took a deep breath like the way Willow taught him, then he opened the pack and ate one of the cookies in one bite, shoving the rest of the pack into his pocket. As he chewed, savoring the tangy staleness, he shook the tension out of his shoulders. “You know, you really are a good friend, an awesome one even.” 

Mattholomule opened his mouth, first in shock. Then, presumably, to reply. His mouth flapped a bit, almost as much as his ears did as he tried to get his words out.
Whatever he would have said was quickly forgotten when Graye tossed another handful of rocks their way. 

“Don’t ignore me!” Graye screamed. 

After making sure to roll his eyes dramatically, Mattholomule flew up higher into the air, circling over Graye like a vulture. 

“Hey Graye! I’ve got something WAY better than that,” he lifted the three joke bombs with a childish glint in his eye. He even took a second to stifle a laugh before shouting, “Like ugly bomb to the face!” 

Mattholomule threw the bombs directly at Graye and they exploded into a putrid green smoke. Even from way up high, Gus could smell the burnt plastic and wet mildew smell the bomb spilled into the air, his eyes even watered from the stinging pain. He could only imagine how bad it was down on ground level. 

Graye coughed and gagged on it, practically retching as he was forced to breathe it in. In the first few seconds, he desperately gasped for air, only for it to be replaced with the smoke. He fell to his knees and curled into a ball with his hands clasped against his face all in an attempt to protect himself from further harm. 

It took several minutes for the smoke to solidify and melt back into the ground. 

In its wake, it left Graye collapsed against the floor, covered in the foul smelling liquid. He visibly cringed as the liquid then seeped itself deep into his skin. 

Yet, despite it all, Graye threw his head so far back it looked as if it might snap off from the strain and let out a loud hacking laugh. 

In a split second, too fast to see, his posture snapped back to his normal arrogant stance, all prim posture and tail curled perfectly so. If you looked anywhere but at his crazed expression, he would look like any of the witchly elite with more snails than anyone would know what to do with.

The sight of it was hilarious, even with how stressed out he was, Gus couldn’t help but to laugh. Graye looked like a vaguely witch shaped goo monster than whatever regal facade he was trying to embody. 

When Mattholomule started howling with laughter, Gus joined him, cackling and sneering. As he laughed, he felt the last of the tension leave his body. 

Titan, Mattholomule was fun. He really wished they got to be friends sooner.

“Did you really think a simple stink bomb could take me out?” Graye snapped, shaking off some excess goop. 

By this point, Mattholomule and Gus were back on the ground, the two of them holding each other as they doubled over in laughter. 

“M-maybe,” Mattholomule took a second to catch his breath, instead falling to the ground and rolling around while clutching his stomach, “maybe you sho-, maybe you should check, pffft-” 

Mattholomule lost himself completely to laughter, laughing so hard that he breathed in some of the dirt on the ground. When he started coughing frantically, Gus lifted him up by the shoulders and started patting him on the back. 

“You should check a mirror,” Gus finished, he tried to look cool and collected but the corners of his mouth twitched. 

“Why would I check a mirror?” Graye asked, both dumbfounded and annoyed. 

Gus smiled innocently and cast a small illusion, making it look like he was in front of a shop. An illusionary Gus camera crew motioned him into action.  

“Introducing the new Ugly Bombs,” Gus pulled a small ball out of his pocket. “Throw one of these babies at your victim of choice and cast an instant and unbreakable twenty-four hour ugly curse. You heard right, instant and unbreakable! Make your friends ugly today!” He reached over and pulled Mattholomule over by the hood, smashing the illusionary ugly bomb into his face. . . leaving Mattholomule looking exactly the same. “Doesn’t work if your friend is already ugly though.” 

“Hey!” Mattholomule flapped his arms around, poofing the fleeing illusionary Gus crew from existence. “Jerk!” 

Gus gently pushed Mattholomule out of the way, he tapped his chin, his smirk growing wider by the second, “I forgot to say this, but we modified those bombs, so that ugly curse is gonna last a week!” 

With an undignified shriek, Graye pulled a pocket mirror out of his pocket. His face went sheet white when he saw his face. 

“No, no, no, no,” Graye ran his fingers over his unevenly shaved stubble. They moved to his baggy and bloodshot eyes. He desperately cast a spell circle over his face, trying to mask it, “I, no, I can’t.”

“Don’t waste your time,” taunted Mattholomule. “It’s called unbreakable for a reason. No magic is getting past that.” 

“It’s not really that bad,” Gus added, “but I guess it’s the end of the world for a shallow washout like you.” 

“You ready to give up?” Mattholomule pulled out another bomb. “Or do you need to learn even more of a lesson?” 

Graye looked too furious to even reply, his fangs mashed together so violently it was a surprise he didn’t chip any of them. 

“You foul beasts,” Graye took a step towards the boys, he grabbed a spear from one of the fallen scouts. “If only Hettie were here to see what I’m about to do, she knows a thing or two about vivisection. As for me personally, I’d prefer not to get my hands dirty, but you’ve left me no choice.” 

“Wait, so the ugly bomb was the final straw?” Mattholomule, judgemental even with a spear pointed at his throat, asked. “You’re killing us over uneven stubble and eyebags?” 

Graye shot them a glare. “I’ll bring your severed heads back to the emperor” 

“Oh! I’m bringing your severed heads back to the emperor!” mimicked Mattholomule, brushing off the threat a bit too easily. “Do you ever say anything interesting?” 

With a shout, Graye motioned to swing the spear towards Mattholomule’s head.

But as Graye lifted the spear above his head, a crow swooped down and landed on the tip of the spear, forcing Graye to lower it.

“Head Witch Graye,” shrilled the crow, in an all too familiar voice, “report back to the palace at once.” 

“Kikimora,” Graye said evenly, “I am in the middle of something.” 

“Emperor Belos has summoned ALL coven heads for an important meeting,” the crow said. “Is what you’re doing that important?” 

“I am getting him new Galdorstones,” explained Graye, he moved the spear to point at Mattholomule’s throat. “My time is much better spent on this.” 

“Oh, so do you have any stones in hand?” Kikimora let out a cackle. “Or is this going to be like branding the Hexside students? A complete and UTTER failure.” 

Graye’s eyes flicked over to guess. “Well. . .” 

“Be quiet,” Kikimora shouted, “we have sent a replacement airship to your destination, if you come peacefully, I might even consider covering this up for you.” 

The treetops swayed violently, and as promised, an airship lowered from the sky. 

“Wrap this up before I throw you and your pathetic scouts into a chasm,” said Kikimora. “Do not embarrass yourself or the Emperor with your failures any further.” 

“But-” 

“NOW!” the crow shrieked, before flying off into the woods. 

“Ugh fine,” Graye turned and motioned to the scouts that ran down the ramp of the airship, “gather up the stones, and if possible, capture the brats.” 

“Uh, what brats?” asked a scout. 

Graye turned, and lo-and-behold, instead of two boys, were two statues that held up their middle fingers. 

“What the?” Graye fumed. “They were just here.” 

“Sir,” one of the scouts stopped at Graye’s side, “we were told you wanted to get back to the palace immediately.” 

“Sure, sure, whatever,” Graye rubbed at his temples. “Could you at least grab some of these stones while you’re at it? And the survivors I guess.” 

“Yes, sir,” the scout saluted and rushed off. 

Just as one of the scouts reached for a stone, the ground beneath them shook. A series of explosions shook the ground and filled the air with smoke. Then, a giant sinkhole formed in the middle of the graveyard. The statues shook and toppled, the scouts barely dodging falling debris. Even the previous airship, suspended in the air, toppled into the depths below. 

“Back on the ship!” shouted a scout. 

The scouts, dragging whichever survivors they could, ran back onto the airship. A few of the last few barely made it back on as it rose into the sky. Those that were too slow scrambled for purchase on the ground below, screaming as they fell. The airship hovered above the crumbling display. Graye looked over the edge, a strained but smug smile back on his face. 

“Scouts, let Kikimora know we’re on our way back. We might have lost some cannon fodder, but in return we have something much more valuable,” he smoothed his hair as best as he could despite the ugly curse. “Let her know that maybe she’s the embarrassment to the Emperor.” 

Though they shot each other looks, the two scouts standing at his side scurried off to complete his request.

“Augustus Porter,” Graye chuckled, “you should learn that I always win in the end.” 

He nearly fell over the side of the ship as light and fire flashed behind him. The air started smoking a bit, though none of it was as loud as the panicked screams of the scouts. 

“The stones exploded!” shouted a scout, holding up charred hands.

“I think the ship is on fire!” shrieked another. 

“Kikimora hung up because she was really angry,” added one of the scouts Graye was just talking to. 

One last stone rolled across the floor, stopping in front of Graye’s feet. It flashed a few bright colors, then it exploded into words that spewed out confetti and fireworks. 

GET WRECKED!!!! 

A row of small dancing Gus and Mattholomule illusions held hands and danced around Graye’s feet. An illusion Mattholomule even got on the ground to convulse and writhe around like some bizarre bug while his partnered illusion Gus started standing and crouching as quickly as it could. 

With a final scream, Graye stomped out each and every illusion. 

“Just wait until I get real revenge next time,” hissed Graye. 

He slammed a fist against the nearest abominaton, not flinching when it sunk into the rotting goop a bit. Graye motioned to hit it again until another crow flew from the direction they were headed and landed on his fist. 

“GRAYE!” shrieked Kikimora from the other end, screaming so harshly that the crow on Graye’s hand almost fell over. “What is the meaning of this?” 

“Look, I, I know this looks bad,” muttered Graye, “but let me exp-”

“I don’t want an explanation!” Kikimora interrupted. There was the faint sound of the crow on the other end being squeezed tightly which made it squawked in pain. “I oh-so-kindly got you your airship you desperately needed.. You should be glad I’m even giving you this charity, I didn’t even tell Belos.” 

The “yet” was silent. 

“Please, let me explain,” pleaded Graye. 

“You can explain when I say you can explain!” Kikimora said. “The only further calls I want from you today are ones offering me a few favors for all the trouble I went through for you.” 

Letting out one last cackle from Kikimora, the crow flew off, back in the direction from whence it came. 

Graye stared after it, shoulders slouched. 

Too worn out to reach out to yank the crow out of the air to give Kikimora a piece of his mind. Hell, too worn out to even spin this into some theatrical display. Too worn to yell at the scouts for not putting the fires out quickly enough. 

He just held his head in his hands and sighed. 

“Fuck me in t-”