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“I didn’t know those snails were counterfeit— I swear !”
“Uh-huh,” Hunter dryly hummed, pressing the four-armed demon harder into the brick wall and grabbing binders for both sets of wrists. He let out a scornful exhale and scanned the broken shop stalls along Rot Alley, his silver mask warping the light of the afternoon sun and casting strange reflections on the bricks. Titan , he swore beneath his breath, do all these criminals really need to use the same whiny excuses?
“And that’s why you ran—” Hunter placed a hand on his hip, shifting his weight and signaling to the other scouts to come hold the thief— “and destroyed everything in our path, right ?”
The demon winced and gave the cuffs and experimental tug, snarling and gnashing her pointed teeth when the scouts turned her around. Hunter didn’t flinch. He could see the fear hidden behind her eyes.
“Listen,” the demon began, her purple hair swishing side to side as she shook her head, “I am not about to go back to the Conform—”
“Then I guess you should’ve tried a little harder to get away,” Hunter lazily said, his hidden smirk sending the words dancing off the tip of his tongue. “Besides, the only ones who should be fearful inside the Conformatorium are the emperor’s enemies. And you’re not the emperor’s enemy, are you?”
Without breaking eye contact, he reached for the demon’s wallet and pulled it from her belt with a quick snap .
“H-hey!” she scoffed, blinking in surprise and fighting harder against the Scouts clamping down on her shoulders. “You can’t do that, I know my rights! Mother of Titans , you Coven Scouts are all the sa—” A magic muzzle snaked its way around the demon’s mouth, silencing her even as she continued screaming against it.
“Temper, temper,” Hunter tsked, tossing the coin bag from hand to hand before tying it to his hip. He pointed at the scouts holding the demon back. “You two, take the perp back to the precinct for processing, I’ll handle the field reports with the rest of the squad.”
The two Scouts curtly nodded and began dragging the demon away. Hunter gave her one final wave goodbye for good measure before turning on the heels of his boots and walking back up the Market Place, the rest of the Coven Scouts trailing close behind.
Sheesh, if looks could kill.
Hunter slowly shook his head and adjusted his cowl— the darn golden trimmings of the hood never wanted to lay flat. If the edges curled up one more time, he swore he was going to request to be demoted… Titan , he missed the simplicity of the basic Scout uniform.
A little bell above the door rang a quick note as Hunter pushed through it. Inside was a small, cramped store with sweet-smelling leaves, herbs, and spices all neatly lined along the shelves. Plants hung down from the ceiling and vines crawled up the shop pillars, making the room feel equal parts botanical garden and tea shop. He walked to the back counter, Scouts flanking either side of him, where the owner stood waiting for him. Her feline face scrunched together with worry as she tightly twisted an apron in her claws.
“Thanks for the tip, Ma’am,” Hunter said, untying the wallet and throwing the pouch onto the countertop. “This is the amount the thief owed you.”
The stress immediately dropped from the demon’s shoulders, and she breathed out a breath of relief. Glossy tears formed in her eyes, but she swiped them away before they could roll over her fur. “Thank you, Captain,” the feline's voice sounded breathless as she counted the snails. “These last few months have been hard for my family, and I wasn’t sure how we were going to recover after the scam.”
Hunter felt a blush rising up his cheeks, and his neck and face steadily grew warmer behind his Guard Captain mask. He cleared his throat and tried to think of something to say, Titan , he never knew what to do when citizens expressed gratitude.
Just as he opened his mouth, Hunter felt a tug from the back of his tunic. He looked over his shoulder. A smaller, younger feline demon held the end of his gray tunic in one paw and a yellow flower in the other. The child pushed up on the tips of their shoes and held the flower closer to Hunter’s face.
“Oh, um,” he quickly cleared his throat again— now was not the time for a voice crack— and took the flower. “Thank you?”
The captain nodded to the mother and child and turned to leave, tucking the yellow flower safely behind his belt as he pushed out the door.
“Now if we could only do something about that Owl Lady,” a scout muttered after the squad exited the shop. “I hear there have been more and more sightings of her on this side of the Isles now.”
“That wild witch’s days are numbered,” Hunter said, reaching into his side bag and pulling out a pad and pen. “If she knew what was good for her, she’d turn herself in.”
He took a long breath in and suppressed the urge to exhale it out as a groan. So many of the stalls along Rot Alley had gotten destroyed during the chase to apprehend the counterfeit scammer— there was going to be a lot of collateral damage paperwork to do. The captain rolled his eyes and flicked his wrist, flipping open the pad to a blank sheet of paper.
“Captain!” a new scout yelled, running up to Hunter and saluting him. “An urgent message from the castle!”
Hunter snapped the writing pad closed and took the envelope from the scout’s gloved hands. The Emperor’s sigil shined proudly on the back of it, looking almost holographic in the sun. He glanced up at his soldiers and bit back a laugh, the scouts were eagerly watching him peel open the envelope with bated breath.
There had just been a lottery to see which units were selected to serve at the Conformatorium in the coming quarter. His company’s current rotation was spent stationed at Police Precinct 128, and when they weren’t patrolling Bonesborough, they ran special missions for the Emperor. Why they all wanted mind-numbing guard duty was beyond Hunter, but if it made his scouts happy, he’d grin and bear it.
He started scanning the letter, and then took a sudden step back, a gasp slipping from his throat.
“Captain?”
Hunter swallowed, gripped the paper tighter, and looked up at the scouts. “At the end of the week, the company will be assigned a new captain.”
“WHAT?!” the Coven Scouts shouted, gripping the tops of their helmets and looking at one another in shock. “Why would the Emperor replace you ?!” another added, their voice sounding saddened and shocked.
“Do not question the Emperor,” Hunter darkly replied, trying his best to push down the icy feeling creeping over his heart. He thought over every little detail during his last seemingly perfect months as a Guard Captain— he’d only just started! Was there some unseen failure of his that his uncle had picked up on?
Keeping his breaths even was a fight he was steadily losing, but he pushed himself to continue reading. Then a gasp caught in his throat and his eyes widened, spying the symbol of the Golden Guard at the bottom of the page. Hunter swallowed and looked back up at the scouts when he’d finished the letter.
“This is a promotion.”
The next few days felt like a blur of noise and color.
Hunter had met briefly with the new captain; she seemed nice enough and was eager to take over all of his duties at the police precinct, but before he could even process the fact he’d be returning to the castle, he found himself being ushered inside it.
Torches and candles blanketed everything in the Grand Hall with warm light, and ivory banners carrying the Emperor’s sigil hung over each pointed archway. Hunter walked up to the focal point of the Hall, a stained glass window of the Emperor near the Titan’s palm, and held his hand against it— the reds, oranges, and purples of the glass almost too bright to look at. He hummed as he ran his gloved fingers along the glass panes and breathed a calming breath.
He was home.
After all this time, he was finally home.
He couldn’t remember a time when the castle was ever this busy though. Hooded servants ran in every direction in the Grand Hall, carrying chairs, decorating tables, and polishing the tiled floors until they looked like they were made of water. He knew affluent bloodlines and the most powerful witches within the main nine Covens would soon fill the castle with idle chatter, but for now, the only sounds within the Hall were the concerned, frantic mumblings of the servants.
“Emperor Belos will now receive you in the throne room, Captain,” a scout said, leading Hunter from the Hall to a set of red, floor-to-ceiling doors
Green carpet cushioned Hunter’s steps as he walked inside the throne room, the ends of his ivory cloak floating upward from his brisk pace. A steady pressure on his chest grew, and his heart almost skipped a beat when the boom of the heavy doors shutting behind him echoed out.
The Emperor sat on his throne on a raised dais, his fingers slowly drumming against golden armrests as Hunter made his way closer to him.
“Emperor Belos,” he said once he’d reached the steps of the dais, kneeling down and keeping his head low.
The heartbeat of the Titan filled the silence.
Hunter felt his own heartbeat quicken but kept his eyes trained on the carpet, listening as the Emperor rose from the throne. The rustling sound of fabric and the clinks of plated armor steadily grew louder as Belos walked closer. Hunter’s pulse moved up past his throat and began pounding in his ears. He clenched his jaw and tried focusing on the steady gait of the Emperor’s footsteps.
The Emperor came to a stop, looming just above Hunter.
“Remove your mask, Captain, I wish to see the face of my dear nephew.”
Hunter wordlessly obeyed, reaching to the sides of his silver mask and peeling it off. His ash-blond bangs cascaded over his eyes as he pulled back his hood and lifted his head, moving his face to meet the blank expression of the Emperor’s horned mask.
The Emperor wordlessly looked down at him, and Hunter sensed that he was being appraised. He forced down the nervous knot in his stomach and dryly swallowed, trying not to squirm under the weight of the Emperor’s hidden gaze.
Belos hummed.
The boy was pale, which was unsurprising. He’d heard that the newest captain in his Coven rarely took off his mask and that not even the Coven Scouts in his own company knew what he looked like. A rumor circulated claiming that the mysterious witch didn’t even have a face at all.
He flicked a long, blond forelock out of Hunter’s eyes.
“My, my… How much you’ve grown.”
Belos grasped Hunter’s chin between his thumb and finger and slowly tilted the boy’s head to the side. His eyes shrank down into electric-blue slits, locking onto a notch missing in Hunter’s left ear.
“Do I want to know?” he sighed heavily, sliding his gloved hand from the boy’s chin to his shoulder, noticing how each muscle tensed beneath his palm.
Hunter felt his notched ear twitch, but he kept himself from lowering it.
“The Captain Trials were—” he winced at the memory— “treacherous.”
“And yet you survived with little more than a glorified training wand,” Emperor Belos said, releasing the boy’s shoulder and lacing his fingers together. “That shows skill, Hunter. I think you’ve finally earned the chance to possess something more dignified .”
Belos clapped his hands and when he pulled them apart, a staff grew from the red magic crackling at his fingers. It was an Imperial witch’s staff with a golden wing curving over the top of a red jewel at the tip.
Small creaking sounds squeaked from Hunter’s gloves as he curled and uncurled his hands, desperately fighting the urge to reach for the staff.
Belos caught the brief flash of desire in the boy’s eyes— after all these years, he could still read him like a book— and pulled the staff away.
“Ah puh-puh—” the Emperor waved a finger— “this will be yours after the ceremony this evening. Then your real training begins.”
Hunter nodded, rising to his feet at his uncle’s request but still standing at attention. Belos signaled for someone to enter the throne room, and Hunter heard the doors behind him open and close.
Small, quick footsteps echoed across the throne room.
“Yes, Emperor Belos?”
Hunter’s eyes widened and he bit down on his tongue to keep from gasping. He recognized the prim, high-pitched voice of the demon that had spoken those words. Releasing his breath, he moved his head to the side, looking down at a crimson-skinned demon several heads shorter than him.
Kikimora?!
He pulled his lips into a thin frown, his dark brows creasing and his eyes narrowing.
A mirrored expression rested on Kikimora’s face when she locked eyes with Hunter, but it was blinked away into a blank slate as she faced the Emperor and bowed for a second time.
If the Emperor noticed the disdain the two had for one another, he simply didn’t care.
“Take Hunter to the Golden Guard’s chambers,” Belos said. “And be sure to keep him on track— he has a lot on his schedule tonight.”
“Of course my Liege,” Kikimora quickly said. Then with a fake cheery voice, she turned to Hunter and added, “Come along, Golden Guard.”
The angry tension between them grew with each step they took further from the throne room. Kikimora walked ahead at a brisk pace— which wasn’t all that difficult to keep up with given her short stature— huffing and mumbling under her breath as she led Hunter through the corridors.
“Sooo… Did you ever become a captain, Kiki?”
Kiki glanced behind her shoulder, her fringe covering one eye but a dark frown still clear on her face.
“That’s Kiki mora to you, Brat,” she faced forward again with a huff, “but to answer your irrelevant question, I was offered something far greater. I am the Emperor’s Assistant… and I outrank you!”
“Golden Guard outranks Assistant,” Hunter flatly stated. “Everyone knows that.”
“Indeed.” He could practically hear Kiki roll her eyes as she spoke. “Unfortunately, you won’t really be the Golden Guard until the conclusion of the ceremony tonight, Captain . Meaning that for the next eight hours, you must obey my every command— if you don’t, it’ll be treason!!”
She started laughing wickedly, the wild sounds bouncing off the walls of the corridor throughout the entire castle. A few scouts who were about to enter the same hallway as Kiki and Hunter ducked their heads and turned the other way.
“You’re right, Kiki,” Hunter said, heaving out a long, over-dramatic sigh and bringing his hand to his forehead. Woe to him, the soon-to-be Golden Guard, at the mercy of his Coven Scout rival. He smirked and spun his mask in his hands before slipping it over his face. “But it’ll be hard to boss me around if I can't hear you.”
“You’re walking right behind me. How wouldn’t you be able to hear—”
She turned, her jaw practically hitting the floor when she saw nothing but empty space where Hunter once stood.
“That BRAT .”
Hunter raced through the corridors as fast as he could, skidding around corners and weaving through servants until Kiki’s frustrated screams completely faded out. He tried to keep to the quieter parts of the castle— the last thing he needed was a well-meaning scout ratting him out to the Emperor’s Assistant.
He held back a gag. Out of every sentient being on the Boiling Isles, the assistant had to have been her .
Rounding one final corner, Hunter slid to a stop in front of a familiar set of ornately-carved, wooden doors. He pushed through them and quickly used his back to close the doors, slumping against the wood and breathing a breath of relief through his nose.
He pushed off the doors and moved his silver mask up to his hairline, taking in the comforting sight of the Imperial Library. Titan , he’d missed this place. He closed his eyes and breathed in. The smell of books was enchanting— a smokey-vanilla almost— and the silence was more than welcoming after his last few days of rapid-paced chaos. Hunter’s eyes fluttered open and he sighed, feeling calmer already surrounded by the curved shelvings and atlas stands rather than the electric commotion of the castle.
He hummed, his brows drawing low into a frown. There was something different about the library. On the far side of the room were—
“New shelves?!” Hunter couldn’t help but gasp, eagerly walking up to the unfamiliar section of the library. He tried to recall what had been in this space before— a collection of statue busts or artifacts perhaps— as he ran his hand along the new books, his fingers rising and falling over the gaps and grooves of their spines.
A navy cover with gold lettering caught his eye, and he tilted his head to the side as he read the book’s title.
“From Bones to Earth...”
Hunter hummed and shrugged his shoulders, it sounded interesting enough. He reached for the book and hooked a finger over its spine.
“Can I help yo—”
Hunter froze and looked behind him, his training kicked in as soon as he’d realized who’d spoken. He brought his shoulders back and moved his chin parallel to the ground, standing straight and at attention— the same way he’d been drilled time and time again to address a Coven Head.
Lilith Clawthorne’s mouth hung open and her brows pulled up high in shock.
“...Hunter?”
She couldn’t believe how much he’d grown. the last time she’d seen him, the top of his head was still well beneath her shoulders…. It must’ve been a little over two years ago, the witch realized. The boy had since sprung up like a weed— now standing just below her nose. Lilith’s heart grew cold when she noticed a notch missing from his left ear. Whatever— whoever caused that scar had come uncomfortably close to killing a child…
No, Lillith hummed, despite the boy’s age, she knew she was no longer looking at a child.
“I’m sure basic training with the Coven Scouts must’ve been mentally taxing for someone as young as you,” she said, clearing her throat and hugging an arm across herself. “I’m not sure if you still remember me, bu—”
Hunter met her green eyes and smirked, the rigidness of his stance disappearing as he turned on his heels. “Of course I remember you, Ms. Clawthorne,” he said, a devilish grin pulling up the sides of his lips as he grabbed the book. “I’ll be borrowing this, byee~”
Lilith grit her teeth and the tops of her cheeks tinted red.
Had all that just been an act?! Argh, not even the scouts could straighten out that little hoodlum!
Her arm snapped forward, grabbing Hunter by the scruff of his cowl and pulling him back in front of her. The boy rolled his eyes and gently batted her hand away with the back of his wrist.
“I’m the Golden Guard now, you can’t stop me anymore, Clawthorne.”
“You’re not the Golden Guard yet,” she said, taking the book from his hands. “So yes I can.”
An annoyed huff wormed its way past Hunter’s tight frown.
Lilith rolled her eyes.
“What are you doing in the library anyway?” she said. “Shouldn’t you be busy prepping for the ceremony tonight?”
“Yeah, about that…” Hunter rocked back on his heels and massaged his neck, sucking in a breath through his teeth. He brought his weight back to his toes, laced his fingers together and pointed them at Lillith. “I’m hiding from the Emperor’s Assistant.”
“...Kikimora?”
“Yes.”
Lilith blinked and shoved the book back into Hunter’s chest.
“Stay as long as you’d like.”
He couldn’t stay hidden from Kiki forever, tragically.
She’d found him when he was halfway through the book’s second chapter. She commanded him to cease reading— rude — and took him to a room in the wing of the castle that housed the Coven Head apartments.
“You’ll need to review these before the ceremony begins,” Kiki said, handing him a schedule and another document containing the evening’s itinerary. “Failure to do so will only make you look like a fool.”
“Wow, look at all these scribbles,” Hunter tonelessly said, holding up the sheets of paper. “If only I hadn’t been ordered to stop reading, maybe I’d know what they mea—”
She slammed his door shut, the echoes of her footsteps and her growls of frustration brought a smile to Hunter’s face. He hummed out a small laugh and turned to get a better look at the Golden Guard’s chamber— his new room.
It was, for the most part, completely empty. The stone walls had no decorations, the wooden shelves had nothing on them, and the window on the far wall looked like it hadn’t been opened in years . His bed had a nice wooden frame and headboard, but the sheets and pillows looked like they’d been resewn and patched hundreds of times.
Hunter couldn’t complain, he was amazed to be standing in his own room after bunking in barracks for so long. A beam of light caught in his eye— he winced and started blinking, bringing a hand up to shade his eyes. Something was shining at the foot of his bed. Hunter walked closer, a gasp catching in his throat when he’d realized what it was. The unmistakable mask of the Golden Guard lay glistening at the edge of the bed, and folded neatly beneath it was an ivory and gold uniform.
“Woah,” he quietly breathed out, a smile curving at the edge of his lips. He grabbed the sides of the golden mask and held it up, noticing how the light reflected off the mask as he rotated it in his hands. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening— that he was going to be the next Golden Guard.
Hunter had pushed the thought to the back of his mind after getting the letter from his uncle— he needed to focus on the transition of command at the police precinct after all— and this morning had been so busy that he didn’t have time to process it.
Now, in the silence of the room, it finally dawned on Hunter that he’d been chosen to be the next Golden Guard. That he was finally going to make the witch who’d rescued him and raised him even though he was powerless proud. Hunter lowered his brows and tightly clenched his fists. He needed to be a perfect Golden Guard to repay Belos.
No, Hunter thought. He couldn't just do it for his uncle, he needed to do it for everyone in his family who’d fallen prey to wild magic— this post needed to be perfect to honor them.
With a nod, Hunter held up his new uniform and began to change into it. He brought the black leggings up to his hips and slipped the gray undershirt over his head. His gold chest armor came next, followed by strapping on a matching golden set of greaves and vambraces over his shins and arms. A gold, long-sleeved tunic hid the armor, and a belt clipped across a yellow surcoat kept everything in place. He slipped on his boots and tightly curled his hands into fists, trying to loosen the leather of the uniform’s brown gloves. Ivory fabric cascaded down his back as Hunter slipped into his hooded cloak and snapped a golden pauldron on his left shoulder.
He wished his room had a mirror. The uniform felt loose at the waist and shoulders, but something about wearing it felt right — familiar almost.
The mattress squeaked as Hunter sat on the edge of the bed, his gold mask in his lap and the itinerary in his hands. His red eyes scanned the first few lines of text, and a determined hum slipped from his mouth.
“Time to prep for my ceremony.”
Darius did not want to be standing here.
He did not want to be queued up alongside the other Coven Heads, waiting for the signal to enter the Grand Hall, clearing the way like some sort of Imperial cavalcade for this new Golden Guard.
He wanted to be in his room alone , soaking in the tub, dry marshtini in hand, pretending that this day wasn’t happening— That there wasn’t a reason for this day to happen, because… because…
The witch sucked in a sharp breath, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head to rid himself of the painful memories. A deep sadness pooled in his heart, weighing it down until it felt like a stone in his chest. Even after all these years, it still pained him to think of his late mentor. He looked over his shoulder, the replacement should be lining up any moment now.
Darius did a double-take. He’d seen a ghost, he was sure of it.
A boy walked up to the group, tightly holding the Golden Guard’s mask in his hands. Darius locked eyes with the boy. To the untrained eye, they would’ve looked scarlet, but the Abomination Head Witch could see clear as day that they were magenta . He dryly swallowed and thought of his mentor’s eyes, a sinking feeling steadily growing in his stomach. This kid was what— fourteen? Probably around the same age he’d been when he’d first met Ja—
“HUNTER?!” that tiresome demoness, Kikimora, shrieked at the boy. The boy broke eye contact with Darius and turned toward the assistant. “Per the tradition,” she continued, “that was bolded and underlined in the itinerary , no one is to see your face from the moment the ceremony starts until sunrise tomorrow morning.”
“The ceremony hasn’t started ye—”
“I command you to put your mask on!!”
Hunter groaned and slipped the mask over his face. He swiveled his head around a bit, trying to get used to the slightly heavier weight of the gold mask. He looked back toward the Abomination Coven Head, but the witch had already turned away. Hunter frowned. The witch looked sick to his stomach and wouldn't stop scanning his face. Hunter hadn’t recognized the Coven Head, but he’d heard that the old Abomination Coven Head retired around the same time he’d been sent off to basic training.
He’d probably just been shocked by his young age; everyone always was.
The doors to the Grand Hall swung open, and the sound of stringed instruments filled the air. All nine Coven Heads walked inside, the gathered crowd in the Hall coming to a hush as Hunter followed close behind.
The pounding of blood in Hunter’s ears muted whatever music the bards were playing, which really was a shame. The first two seconds sounded really nice— Titan, focus , Hunter mentally scolded himself, forcing a deep breath in and out and focusing on his uncle. The Emperor waited for him in the middle of the room, standing still like a predator poised to strike.
The Coven Heads took their places to the side of Emperor Belos while Hunter stopped directly in front of him
Belos gave his nephew the smallest of nods and presented a staff before him, the same ivory and gold one he’d shown him earlier that morning.
Hunter reached out and took it, feeling the biting chill of artificial magic nip in his veins as he tightly wrapped his hands around the rod of the staff. He knelt down, dropping one knee on the ground and resting his new staff across the other.
“To my most loyal guests, welcome,” Emperor Belos said, his strong voice bouncing off the walls of the Great Hall. “We are gathered here this evening in celebration. The Titan has revealed to me that the time has come to ordain the next Golden Guard, and I am pleased to present my selection as tribute before you all.”
Belos moved his gaze from the crowd down to the boy knelt before him.
“The Golden Guard is not a title to be taken lightly; it is a post without end. Only death may release you from duty. Knowing this, will you willingly take up the mantle of the Golden Guard?”
Hunter took a shaky breath.
“I will,” he said, fighting to keep himself from shivering.
“Will you solemnly promise and swear to defend this Empire and its Emperor, even at the cost of your life?”
“I will.”
“Will you bind yourself to the Titan, swearing to maintain and preserve the law and decrees of the Boiling Isles?”
“I will.”
“By the undying Oath, by the strength of the Empire, and by the will of the Titan; I present before these witnesses, the Emperor’s Golden Guard.”
The Grand Hall lit up with noise as Hunter stood. He could feel the cheering radiating throughout his entire body, lighting all of his nerves with electricity. He’d almost missed the heavy hand pressing itself against his upper back. Hunter looked up and met the Golden Guard’s reflection staring back at him in his uncle’s horned mask.
“Come along, Golden Guard,” Belos smoothly said, his soft voice somehow breaking through the chaos of the room. He quietly led Hunter out of the Hall and away from the celebration feast taking place in his honor.
“I take it you know what happens next, hmm?” the Emperor asked, the sounds of the party sounding muddled as he guided Hunter down the castle’s corridors and up to a spiral staircase.
The Golden Guard nodded.
“The silent vigil.”
“Are you up to the challenge?” Belos asked, the hint of a laugh lightening the ends of his words as he pushed open the door leading to the roof of the outlook.
“I think I can handle it,” Hunter replied, matching his uncle’s same teasing tone. “Sunset to sunrise.”
They walked together to the parapet of the outlook, the Titan’s ribs and blood-red forest were clearly visible from where they stood.
Belos reached for the sides of his mask and gently removed it. Hunter’s hidden eyes widened, he hadn’t seen his uncle’s face in a little over two years. The porous scar across his face had gotten worse, stretching diagonally past his nose and leaking out a green, muddy substance whenever Belos moved his head. A heavy feeling settled in on Hunter’s heart, his uncle’s curse had gotten worse.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that, Nephew,” Belos hummed, resting a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “It’ll break my heart. I asked to see your face earlier this morning, it’s only fair that you see what’s become of mine.”
“What can I do to help you, Uncle?” Hunter asked, his voice sounding desperate as he turned to face Belos.
“You already are,” he said, adjusting the ivory hood on Hunter’s head. “Together we will help rid this world of the evils of wild magic. Then, at last, my mission will be complete.”
The Golden Guard nodded, silently watching as the sunset past the treeline.
The scouts stationed in front of the Grand Hall pushed the doors open for Belos, bowing low at the torso as the Emperor walked by. The man hummed his approval and waved a gloved hand, permitting the guards to relax as he stepped inside. He moved around the room as quiet as a shadow, the tip of his beaked mask glistening in the torchlight as he watched his unsuspecting prey.
Idiots, each and every last one of them— feasting, laughing, merrymaking— all of those witches ensnared in his thick web of propaganda.
All except one.
Belos turned his head, a lone witch catching his eye— the Abomination Coven Head, and the newest member of his court, Darius. The witch leaned against a cocktail table in the most shadowed corner of the Hall, out of sight from the rest of the guests and surrounded by what had to be a case worth of hard apple-blood bottles.
The Emperor hummed and slowly made his way over to the Coven Head.
“Enjoying ourselves, are we?” Belos asked, taking up the empty space across from Darius and signaling for a servant to come and clear the empty bottles from the table.
“Emperor Belos,” Darius said, his tone flat. He tipped his empty glass in the Emperor’s direction.
The Emperor smirked beneath his mask, noticing how Darius’ ears, nose, and cheeks were tinted crimson beneath his dark complexion. Oh, this witch was hurting , and Belos couldn’t help but twist the knife.
“You know,” he began, his hidden smile present in his voice, “out of everyone in my court the Golden Guard saw tonight, you were his favorite. Poetic isn’t it?”
Glass crinked as Darius gripped the rim harder. He grit his teeth, sucking in a shaky breath and turning his glossy eyes away from the Emperor.
“I’m the Head of the Abomination Coven,” he said to the floor, fighting to keep his low voice from shattering. “I’m privy to the darkest secrets of creation! Did you not think that I would've realized what that boy was the moment I laid eyes on him—” he looked back at the Emperor, a deep pain twisting his face— “that I’d realize what the previous guard had truly been?!”
“It has been an understandably painful night for you,” the Emperor said, nodding his head and breathing out a deep sigh. “Remembering the previous Golden Guard is hard for us both.”
“He was my… my…”
“Whatever fairy’s breath of pain you felt at losing your mentor was nothing compared to the mountain’s worth of agony that struck me to lose a son .”
An adopted son who willingly chose to betray the Empire. Belos clenched his jaw and hissed at the memory of him. He’d really thought he’d made his final grimwalker. If not for his appearance— copper-blond hair and mismatched eyes— he would’ve been perfectly like his late brother in every way. Though the trait had ultimately become that grimwalker’s downfall.
How ironic that his favorite had hurt him the most— almost ruined him.
Belos’ mouth pulled into a tight frown beneath his mask. Damn that boy for founding a rebellion against him . It was only fitting that Hunter’s ‘birth’ brought the end of it… remembering the petrification ceremony for the last rebel cell never failed to warm his heart. Belos hoped a small part of the previous grimwalker's consciousness remained; if only to have seen the last embers of his legacy turn to stone before him.
Darius’ mumblings brought Belos’ mind back into the Grand Hall.
“You killed him… you killed him and… and replaced him.”
“I did.”
Darius' head whipped up, his green eyes wide. He hadn’t expected his Emperor to so readily admit it.
“And, if anyone else discovers the boy’s true nature, I will personally see to it that your name will be his last pathetic cry as I rip the galdorstone from his chest and start over.”
Darius made a choking sound, and the beginnings of tears stung the sides of his eyes. He felt a phantom hand from his memory tightly grasp around his shoulder.
‘Darius, I would never wish this post on you or anyone else. Being the Golden Guard is… dangerous. If anything were to happen to me, please promise me you’ll watch out for my successor.’
The witch was snapped out of the memory when Belos moved closer to him. The Emperor twisted a wrist in the air, magically refilling Darius’ hard apple-blood and summoning a goblet into his own hand.
“So if I were you, Coven Head,” Belos said. “I would keep this new grimwalker at an arm's length— belittle him, ignore him, undermine him— whatever it takes to keep him away from you and the ‘secrets of creation’ that you’re privy to. You of all witches should know that a small part of Jasper will always live on so long as Hunter’s heart continues beating.”
Belos came close to Darius, too close , and darkly whispered in his ear.
“And I can think of no better way to honor your mentor than to keep his successor safe.”
He tapped his glass against Darius’ with a soft clink .
“To the Golden Guards.”