Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Hunter watched as the ground below him got further and further away. Fear latched onto him and kept him in its cold grip. Kikimora cackled above him, spouting on and on about how the Emperor will repay her favors and appoint her to be the next Golden Guard. He could see the others with the utmost horror on their faces, watching until they became specks, nothing but ants against the ground. The sphere he was in rose higher and higher and he had to fight the urge to look down. Nausea rushed through him at the thought of plummeting to his death. 

He focused on taking deep breaths, just like Gus taught him. At the thought of his friends, his heart twinged painfully. He knew that the Emperor would kill him, it was inevitable. After all, his fate was sealed the moment he was created. He let out a pitiful laugh, staring at the confinements of his bubble. This is it. He never got the chance to redeem himself, to fix his bountiful mistakes. The castle drew nearer and so did Kikimora’s excitement, as did Hunter’s fear. Taking shallow breaths, he took a trembling hand and shut his eyes.

The abomination landed with a thunk , and Kikimora didn’t seem to mind how rough his landing was. He was immediately swarmed with scouts, each circling him, leaving no room for escape. Kikimora gloated as she stepped out of the abomination, waving the scouts away, saying she deserves to take him to the Emperor himself. Hunter scrambled back as Kikimora popped the pink sphere, he attempted to run, to get away, but scouts immediately circled him. Trapping him.

Panic bubbled up as the scouts took him by the arms and marched him to the Emperor’s throne room. His eyes were blown wide, terror shining through. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to -

The doors to the throne room opened and the scouts shoved Hunter forward, forcing him to kneel before Belos. But Hunter refused, struggling to stand up in shaking legs. Kikimora pushed him back down though, before taking her place next to him and kneeling. Hunter was shaking so much that he couldn’t even gather the strength to stand up. Kikimora stared up at Belos, who had his back turned towards the both of them and seemed to be thinking about something. 

“Emperor Belos, I have brought to you the treacherous Golden Guard. I rest assured that you will dispose of him,” she seemed to hesitate for a split second before confidently stating, “and appoint a new Golden Guard.” She looked up at him with prideful eyes, until Belos finally turned, then she averted her gaze to the ground. Hunter stared stubbornly at Belos, if he’s to die, then he won't let Belos see weakness. Although his body was trembling and his breathing was shaky, he would look his uncle in the eyes. He would fight his fear and die standing. 

“Leave.” The Emperor’s voice cut through the thick silence once Kikimora was finished with her speech. His cold voice reverberated throughout the chilled room. Kikimora stumbled with excuses but quickly left, bowing her head and scurrying out of the room. The door shut behind her, shaking the room, or maybe his head was spinning. 

Belos looked him over, making a tsk sound. “Such a shame, and here I was beginning to think you’d last the longest. You disappoint me Hunter.”

The boy stayed stubbornly silent, glaring holes into the Emperor’s mask. Belos stepped towards him, until he was merely a few feet away. “But what to do with you?” Hunter’s breath hitched, and he finally spoke.

“You’re - you’re not gonna kill me?”

“Oh Titan, no child. You still have use to me. I need you for the Day of Unity, you play an important role.” Belos hummed, “although, with all of this disobeying, I say you deserve a punishment.”

That fear that Hunter had tried so desperately to push down, came resurfacing back up again. “What are you gonna do with me?”

He regrets ever asking that question; a blinding white hot pain burst through his left shoulder as he was thrown back into the wall of the throne room. His uncle’s decaying flesh retracted from his shoulder and he tried not to gag at the rotten stench. He shakily placed a hand on the wound, wincing at the feeling of hot, sticky blood. 

Attempting to take in deep breaths, but all that he could manage were short bursts. He tried not to focus on the pain, instead trying to focus on not allowing any tears to slip down his cheeks. The Emperor stepped forward again in front of Hunter before stomping down on his stomach harshly.

“You never did learn, child.” He said. “You’d think after getting that scar, you’d stop speaking out of turn.”

This time Hunter couldn’t stop the tears from flowing; curling in on himself to stop himself from vomiting. 

“Don’t cry Hunter,” Belos crooned, “you know the rules. Now be good, and behave .”

Hunter gathered whatever courage he had left in him and spat at the Emperor’s feet. “Very well.” His uncle said, “I can make you hurt , child. As long as you are alive, it doesn’t matter what I do. Or rather, what others do.” 

A sudden wave of exhaustion came over him and he looked up at the emperor. “What are you doing to me? Stop!” 

“Just a simple sleeping spell, tomorrow is going to be a long day.”

Hunter fought the sleeping spell as long as he could, but to no avail. The last thing he felt was utter terror as he anticipated for what would happen when he awoke. 

(oo)  (oo)  (oo)

His lungs felt heavy and he realized with a start that he couldn’t breath. He tried to open his eyes and they were immediately assaulted by water. Opening his mouth to scream, cold water rushed into his lungs as he thrashed around, limbs bucking wildly. The grip that someone had on his head loosened slightly, but still held firm. Hunter tried desperately to escape the grasp of however had him and he knew he was failing. Everything felt heavy. He still tried to move, but he couldn’t anymore; and just as everything had begun to darken, he was forced out of the water. 

Heaving on the floor, he expelled the liquid out of his lungs. He sat on shaking knees and nearly collapsed into a pile on the floor; and despite how much water filled his body, his mouth was bone dry. His head was pounding, and he could feel the blood rushing throughout his entire body. He retched until he was dry heaving and coughing. 

Tears pooled in his eyes and ran down his cheeks. He sobbed and cradled his head in his hands, curling up in a fetal position. He almost died. He almost died and he just accepted that. He accepted the fact that he was going to drown. 

He peered up through his hands to see Belos standing over him as well as… Darius? Scrambled backwards, he stared at the two with wide, terror filled eyes. Breath couldn’t seem to fill his lungs and he could feel his headache worsen as well as become lightheaded. Everything felt dizzy as he hyperventilated, continuing to stare at the men, at Darius .

Darius, who he trusted. Who he confided in. 

And Darius tried to kill him.

Darius tried to kill him.

Darius tried to -

He let out a guttural cry of despair, agony coursing through him. Distantly he could hear the clanging of metal doors closing and footsteps leading away from him. He continued to sob, sucking in shallow breaths. Hiccuping and pulling at his hair. He’s so stupid, how could he ever trust Darius. He’s a coven head for Titan’s sake. And Darius tried to drown him, he tried to kill him.

Darius was torturing him.

This was a form of torture. Hunter knew from the amount of times he’s had to do it to wild witches. Disgust welled up inside of him, is this how they felt? He… he’s hurt so many people. Just to, what? Prove himself his uncle. (Not get punished.) Oh Titan, he’s tortured people. He felt like he was gonna be sick again. He tried to puke but all that came up was spittle and bile. After coughing and gagging, he wiped his mouth; it remained dry and he felt like he was going to pass out due to dehydration. 

Leaning against the wall, he closed his eyes. The headache continued to pound away and his limbs still trembled. He was exhausted yet he didn’t want to sleep. Fear keeping a grip on him, he didn’t know what would happen if he allowed himself to succumb to blissful black. But soon his lids felt heavy and he struggled to lift his head. He couldn’t fight off sleep any longer, and soon it took him.

(oo) (oo) (oo)

Waking up to his face submerged in water became a painful routine. He began to grow accustomed to headaches and dehydration, as well as hunger; of course, Belos supplied him with food and drink, albeit they are rather meager portions. 

Darius sometimes sat outside of his cell, watching him with a blank expression. It unnerved Hunter, he didn’t know why Belos just didn’t station scouts outside of his dingy prison. He didn’t want to be reminded of Darius’s betrayal. Of the fact that he blindly put his trust in a coven head, he knew that they were all close to the Emperor. His uncle was right, he never did learn. It was always one thing after the other, always disappointing someone. Always disappointing himself. 

Coughing, he wheezed, air whistling through his teeth. He hasn’t had water for at least a few days (Not like he could tell anyways.) and it’s taken a toll on his body. He stares ahead through the bars of his prison cell and at Darius, who's decided to stand guard today. At first, Hunter had tried to speak to him, to understand why he was doing this. After Darius never answered, he began yelling and cursing him. That did a number on his throat though, so eventually he had to stop. Instead, he settled on glaring at the man. Anger replaced fear, he loathed the man and wished that he’d stop staring at him with those blank eyes.

“What do you want?” He rasped, “are you here just to gloat? Torment me? Just say something !” His throat burned but he didn’t care. He just wanted Darius to speak . To do something other than stand there and stare.

“I hate you.”

That’s when Darius’s expression finally changed. He looked sad, a pained look crossed his face. He also looked confused, lost, as if he didn’t know where he was or what was going on. 

“Little Prince?”

“Oh now you talk, did I hurt your feelings?” Hunter glared. 

“What? Where am I? Why are you down here?” And Hunter hated how Darius looked genuine. He hates how the man is trying to let his guard down, but he won't let him get into his brain. Hunter’s learned.

“Don’t act dumb Darius.” Hunter snapped, “I bet you have a right laugh torturing me. Do you enjoy hurting me?” He gave a self - deprecating laugh. “I thought you cared.”

An utter look of horror donned on Darius’s face as he continued to stare at the other. And Titan, isn’t that the moment when the Emperor decides to pay him a visit. He descends the cellar stairs with his usual grace and poise, his unmasked face looked calm - as if he was coming down for a casual chat, though upon seeing Darius’s expression, his face hardened.

“Did you miss your tea today Darius?” His voice, smooth as silk, cut through the air and had a commanding aura to it. 

Darius ignored his question and asked one of his own. “What are you doing to Hunter? What are you making me do to him?”

Belos sighed, “it appears that you did miss your tea today. Come, Darius, Terra needs to speak with you.”

Taking a step back towards Hunter’s cell, Darius shook his head. “ No. ” Belos sighed again and summoned a spell circle. Before Darius could even summon abomination matter, he was knocked out by a sleeping spell and dragged off by Belos.

Hunter stared with wide, terror filled eyes. Terra has Darius. Terra is drugging Darius and Belos is forcing him to torture Hunter. He let out a weak, pitiful noise, his throat hurt so bad but that didn’t stop him from wailing. Tears cascading down his cheeks because he never wanted Darius to be a part of this. This was his mess yet somehow, other people got caught up in it. He never wanted this. 

(oo)  (oo)  (oo)

Belos stopped showing up, usually he’d stand outside the cell whilst Darius dunked his head in water. It’s just Darius now, and those cold, blank eyes. They stared at each other most days, neither speaking, just silence.

Dead, dead eyes.

The Day of Unity drew nearer, causing Hunter’s panic to surge. He doesn’t know how long he’s been here, but it couldn’t have been for more than a week. Although in that week, Belos seemed to get more creative with his punishments. Often dragging him from his cell and locking him in a dark room. No sound, no light, and worst of all, no walls to touch. He couldn’t feel anything and the more time he spent in that room, the more he could feel his mind slipping from him. He craved the warmth of another person and oftentimes tried to reach out of his barred cage towards Darius.

It was futile though, as Hunter’s arms were too short and Darius too far away. 

The Empty Room, as he’s deemed it, always felt cold and angry. Every time he’s trapped there the Bad Thoughts come. He hated the Bad Thoughts. They made him want to rip his ears off and pluck his eyes out. He hated them, he hated them, he hated them. They tell him to scratch at his neck or to rip his finger nails off. They tell him awful things and Hunter wants to listen to them, to allow himself to feel. Because in the Empty Room, there are no feelings except for pain, blinding white hot pain. He craved to feel anything other than that dark emptiness and oftentimes, when the Emperor would retrieve him, he would be covered in bite and scratch marks. Each oozing blood.

His uncle never healed him though, probably hoping that the boy would get an infection and die. The water was tainted red now. He’s learned not to open his eyes when he wakes up. 

Screaming is something he’d become accustomed to, begging anyone to just talk to him. He screamed until his throat was raw and he couldn’t muster up another noise. 

He can’t speak anymore.

He stopped crying days ago, his eyes ran dry. No more rivers of tears running down his cheeks each day. Some days, he’s hopeful that he will cry, that maybe his eyes will wet once more. 

They don’t.

Darius is gone today. Probably off doing coven business , Hunter thought. He doesn’t like thinking too much, they often lead to the Bad Thoughts. Even without being in the Empty Room, they still whispered to him. Hunter doesn’t like thinking.

His right arm hurt. It hurt a lot. Little golden streaks of light snaked its way up the flesh and to the side of his face. He felt tired. Sleeping sounded really nice; he hasn’t been able to get much of it lately. And maybe this time he won't have to wake back up again. Yeah, that sounded nice. Really nice.

He tried lifting up a hand to examine the little golden bits, but everything felt heavy. As if gravity suddenly became more forceful. Breathing had become harder, ears ringing and mouth dry. He really wanted to sleep, but the survival instincts that were carved into him at a young age screamed at him that he had to stay awake . Lest he never wake again. 

But Hunter wanted that, he wanted to sleep forever and not have to be bothered by responsibilities and troubles. 

The ceiling is cracking. The ceiling was cracking and Hunter couldn’t move. The ceiling was cracking and Hunter couldn’t get up. He’s going to die here. Alone. Hunter didn’t want to die alone. 

Shutting his eyes tight, he braced himself for an onslaught of agony; because surely, the ceiling will collapse and he’ll be crushed. 

The ceiling collapses.

But… nothing appeared to happen. He cracked open one eye at the sound of yelling.

Gus and Willow.

Gus had a sunken look in his eyes and that seemed to worsen at the sight of him; he rushed over towards Hunter and grabbed him around the arm, hauling him up on his feet. His legs buckled and he had to have Gus support his entire body. The golden cracks are gone now, he noticed; and he glanced over at Willow through tired eyes, he could see that she was supporting the ceiling with her vines.

“Hurry up.” She strained.

Gus lugged him forward and his vision spotted for a moment. He wheezed, his body already exerted. 

“Come one,” Gus urged, “you have to move Hunter.”

Hunter fell to his knees, dragging Gus down with him. He felt so tired, his body hurt, his mind weighed him down. He didn’t understand why they were here, why not save themselves?

“Willow!” Gus called, but it felt all murky, as if he were underwater. Suddenly vines wrapped around his and Gus’s waists, pulling them out of the way of the now collapsing ceiling. The three of them sat panting, fear chewing them up and then spitting them out. Coughing, his throat burned much hotter from the dust that settled around the area.

“We need to go.”

But Hunter couldn’t move. Exhaustion felt heavy and sleep beckoned him. He didn’t want to burden the others with his weakness, so if he just slept, they wouldn't bother. They’d run away and leave him, leave him to Belos. With that thought, his body slumped and he welcomed sleep. 

(oo)  (oo)  (oo)

He awoke with water on his face and just for a moment, he thought he was back in his cell. He tried to flail his arms but found them held down. He’s back. He’s back in his cell and soon they’re going to take him to the Empty Room. Gus and Willow never came to save him. It was all some delusion to make himself feel better. 

He wanted desperately to open his eyes but he knew that you can’t open your eyes in the water. You can’t or the red liquid will get in your eyes and blind you. Screams pierced the air, (Tearing and clawing his throat and it burned so bad .) because the sooner he ran out of air, the sooner that the hands would leave and he could breathe again. The sooner he could see again.

Gasping in breaths of air, the hands left and he could see. He could breathe . But… he wasn't in his cell, nor the Empty Room. He was sitting in a patch of grass, rain poured down from the sky, washing away the caked on mud and blood. 

Luz, Amity, Gus, and Willow were looking at him as they’d seen a ghost. Right. He was just screaming bloody murder at them. Shrinking in on himself, he put hands over his ears and began rocking back and forth. His nerves were frayed and his heart was beating so loud, he wouldn't be surprised if the others could hear it. 

Someone placed a hand on his shoulder and he flinched back.

“Come on hermano , I know a safe place.” Luz gave one of her signature smiles but this one looked weighed down by grief and tragedy. She gave out a hand and he took it, allowing her to haul him up on shaking legs. He still had trouble walking, albeit he could at least stand this time, and Gus wrapped an arm around him to support his weight.

Hunter nodded to him in thanks, not yet trusting his burning throat to speak yet. The walk to Luz’s house was met in heavy silence with Luz and Amity leading the way. Hunter and Gus took up the middle whilst Willow in the rear. 

A knock to the door.

“Hey mom, I’m home.”

Chapter Text

After being ushered inside, Ms. Noceda took in their appearances with shining eyes. She seemed to linger on him and Luz, making Hunter avert his gaze. He didn’t like the sadness in Ms. Noceda’s eyes as she took in her daughter’s new scar and the haunted look in her eyes. 

“ Hija , what happened to you?”

“It’s… a long story.” Luz admitted. “I’ll tell you later - just - please help my friends.”

“Of course, let me get my first aid kit. Go on, sit, sit.”

Luz was first to take initiative and sit down on the living room couch, Amity trailed after her - her gaze far away. Gus and Willow sat on the floor and Hunter took his spot beside Gus and awaited for Ms. Noceda to arrive with her first aid kit. But rather than the (Kind???) older woman, a green basilisk slithered out carrying the required medical materials. 

Hunter subconsciously flinched back (Belos always taught him not to trust basilisks, they’re dangerous, is what he said.) the young basilisk waved timidly to them as she scurried over towards Luz. 

“Hi.” She whispered, as if the two were in on some big secret. Luz smiled at the basilisk, “hey Vee.”

“I can get you all patched up, mom’s been teaching me some nurse things.” Vee gave a proud grin and her tail wagged a bit. 

Ms. Noceda walked out into the living room, a confused look crossing her face. At the sight of Vee, the confusion cleared and all that was left was fondness. “Vee…” Ms. Noceda started.

“I know, I know, eavesdropping is rude. But mom, I want to help!”

Ms. Noceda sighed, but it wasn't an angry or disappointed one like Hunter was used to. This one seemed fond as well as tired.  “You can help Vee, why don’t you clean up - I’m sorry what was your name dear?” She gestured towards Gus, who told her his name.

“You can help out Gus, if you need help, ask me.” She then gestured towards Hunter, “come niño , you have the worst injuries out of everyone.”

He looked hesitant, he didn’t want to place trust in a stranger. He doesn’t know what they were capable of. He doesn’t want to be hurt again, (Doesn’t want to be placed back in the Empty Room.) he’s learned from the last time. His throat and hands ached at the reminder of what he’d been through. 

Ms. Noceda looked disheartened at Hunter’s blatant mistrust, but she didn’t lash out as he anticipated. Instead she gave a patient smile, “I won't hurt you,” she promised.

Luz nodded. “You can trust mama . She’s safe.” 

Hunter hesitated once more before scooting forward, away from Gus and Willow so Ms. Noceda can have better access to healing him. She knelt down and gently took the first aid kit from Vee, who also got to work on healing Gus. Vee rambled on to Gus while Ms. Noceda stayed silent. 

She wiped down the blood and dirt with a wet rag, and then took out antiseptic and began cleaning the bite and scratch marks. “You’re incredibly lucky these aren’t infected.” Ms. Noceda murmured, finally breaking the rather tense silence that settled between the two. Hunter tensed as she cleaned a deep bite mark. The stinging pain somehow grounded him and it made sure he didn’t drift and allow the Bad Thoughts to come. 

The Bad Thoughts scared him.

A lot of things scared him now.

“I need to see your hands, niño. ” M s. Noceda said, making Hunter immediately wrench out of her grasp - his eyes blown wide. Because she can’t see his hands, his awful, scary, scarred hands. There’s a reason why he never took his gloves off. Shaking his head rapidly, he curled his hands in on himself. Ms. Noceda sighed but relented. “Okay, you don’t have to show them, just promise me that you are okay.” Hunter hesitated again before nodding.

After meticulously going through cleaning all of his wounds, she began to wrap them in gauze and bandages. Vee had already finished with Gus and began to look over Willow, who had a look of curiosity as well as exhaustion. Vee caught him looking over at them and gave a chirpy, “hello!”

Hunter tried to say hello back (He didn’t want to be impolite.) but instead a garbled reply was shot out. It burned and it itched and it made hack and cough. As if he were trying to dispose of his lungs. Ms. Noceda looked worried, (He doesn’t want to make anyone have any unnecessary concern for him.) her eyes darting back and forth between the basilisk and Hunter. 

“Are you hurt?” Ms. Noceda asked, concern lacing her tone.

Hunter nodded and pointed towards his throat, maybe… maybe Ms. Noceda could help. After all, she was gentle whilst wrapping his wounds and she talked to him as if he were equal. It was strange but not unwelcome. 

Ms. Noceda told him to open his mouth and he complied, she took a look and made her assessment.

“Your throat looks raw and swollen, you’d best to rest and drink liquids to keep the throat from drying out; though from the looks of it, it already is. Have you been drinking enough water?” 

Hunter shrugged, embarrassment creeping up on him. He didn’t want her to know that he couldn’t drink - couldn’t eat. That because of his weakness, he became gaunt and thin, that his throat became nearly irreparable. 

Ms. Noceda noticed his hesitance and quickly reassured him. “Well, as long as you get enough liquids and rest up, your throat should be fine. Refrain from talking as well, so as not to irritate it.” She explained, firm but not unkind. He nodded along at her instructions and she soon sent him off to sit by his friends while she called Luz over to fix her up. 

Sitting by Gus, he could notice that the boy looked troubled. That haunted look lingered in his eyes. Hunter nudged him and raised a brow, as if to say, are you okay ? Gus smiled at him but it came off as more of a grimace. “I’ll tell you later.” He said, before turning his gaze back to his lap. 

Dissociation is a term is familiar to Hunter. When your mind becomes empty but full at the same time. Thoughts clouding your vision yet your mind is terrifyingly blank. Time seems to flow past your grasp, like sand through your fingers. It scared Hunter when his mind was calm; and right now Gus looked frighteningly calm. As if everything came crashing down and he had no time to process it. The urge to comfort the other boy overwhelmed him so he placed a gentle hand on his shoulder in silent support.

They’d get through this.

(oo)  (oo)  (oo)

Nightmares plagued him. Shadows lurking in each corner ready to lunge at him, the boogeyman ready to tear his heart out. Each time he resembled Darius. He often woke up screaming and thrashing. Ms. Noceda (Or Camila, as she preferred to be called.) comforted him and made sure that the other children went back to sleep. But sleep never came to him anymore. The fear of seeing Darius again overtook him and sent him spiraling. He missed the man but the fear of him outweighed the desire to see him again.

Fear latched onto his heart, infecting his body and brain. Warping his perspective on the world.

He’s taken to isolation, no one can hurt him if they don’t see him, right? (Some twisted part of himself missed the Empty Room, it brought a comfort being able to have control when everything can be silent.) Often confining himself to the spare bedroom that Ms. Noceda - Camila - offered him and Gus while the girls resided in Luz’s bedroom. 

Camila was too nice, allowing Luz to continue school in online courses - not pressuring her to be perfect. Just telling her to do her best, that she’d be proud of her either way. Is this normal? Surely it couldn’t be; chances need to be earned, mistakes were met with harsh punishments and the demand to be better. 

But Camila gave out second chances as if it were nothing. A broken mug? It's fine - accidents happen. You got a question wrong on an assignment? You tried your best and that’s what matters. 

Hunter didn’t understand and often lashed out in frustration because of it. He still didn’t have his voice back so he often began scratching himself instead of yelling like he wanted. Camila tried to work him through it, coaching him and offering different coping mechanisms , as she called it. Always patient, never becoming angry with him or telling him he’s useless or a burden. (Never hurting him.)  

He felt so stupid, no one else acted like this. They didn’t act out as if they were a child, they acted strong and mature. It’s ironic that Hunter’s the oldest, yet acts the most childish. He couldn’t just be normal . Of course, there’s nothing much normal about him. Neither witch nor human, a creation made out of Galdorstone and Palistrom wood. 

He didn’t know what he was. 

The thought kept him awake most nights, as did his time spent in his cell. His friends (Are they really his friends or are they manipulating him, trying to earn his trust before taking a dagger straight to his heart.) often tried to comfort him or seek him out. Hunter ignored them, they deserved someone real. Although Gus caught him on another one of his sleepless nights off guard.

“Hey.” Gus whispered, making Hunter jump. “Sorry,” he apologized, “didn't mean to scare you, can’t sleep?”

He shrugged, making Gus smile a bit. “How can you not know if you've slept or not?” His tone was joking and Hunter found himself relaxing a bit. The younger boy padded over towards him quietly and sat next to him on the living room couch. They both sat in compatible silence. It’d been nice seeing Gus recover, out of all of them, he seemed the most distraught. He’d stayed silent for a few days, that haunted look never leaving. Eventually, he became much more open. He became his usual self in no time, bouncing back with his usual vigor.

Hunter… couldn’t say the same about himself. He seems to have gotten worse while the others have gotten better; dragging them down on his already sinking ship. He was undeserving of them. The Bad Thoughts began creeping up in his mind, lurking in the corners of his brain - nearly unnoticeable, but still there.

“I’ve been needing to ask you something.” Gus said, breaking the silence as well as breaking Hunter out of his spiraling. He turned his attention over towards the younger boy, who began chewing on his lip in return. He looked nervous.

“Before we found you, I tried casting an illusion spell on Belos. It’s kinda like that spell that I used back at Hexside, and…” He trailed off, as if he wasn't sure what to say. Hunter nudged him, making Gus snap his attention back to the conversation.

“You’re a grimwalker.” It was a statement. And Gus sounded so sure, that no amount of dissuading could convince him that he’s otherwise. Gus knew. He knew and now he's confronting Hunter about it. He’s going to push Hunter away, call him a freak; that he’s not worth his time because he’s nothing. A clone, he’s not even his own person. Are his thoughts his own, his actions? Did Belos simply create him just to die, over and over again?

A hand on his shoulder and he subconsciously flinched. But the hand wasn't deterred, but instead tightened its grip.

 “Are you okay?” He looked like he wanted to say more, but for some reason refrained.

And Hunter shook his head no. Because he’s not, he wants desperately to be real. To not have nightmares about the Empty Room. Some part of him hoped that he would get better. That he’d become better.

Maybe… maybe these people - his friends - can help him. Maybe he can become himself again instead of an empty shell, tormented by memories. Of course, realistically he knew that his past experiences would never leave him; but he clung onto the hope that the thoughts would become manageable. 

That the dark wouldn't scare him anymore, that he wouldn't flinch at the contact of water. 

If he wanted help, he needed to accept it.

But did he want to?

(oo)  (oo)  (oo)

His throat had healed after many weeks, the nightmares hindering his progress. It hurt to speak still, but at least he could form sentences without his throat feeling like it was on fire. His nightmares still frequented him, just not as often. Darius hasn’t shown up in his dreams for a while now. He missed the man. He missed their sewing lessons and their spars.

Darius would always go easy on him, but Hunter didn’t mind. He just enjoyed spending time with the man. But thinking of Darius always led to the memories of him dunking his head in water until his lungs ran out of air. Of him just staring blankly at him under the influence of Terra’s tea.

Hunter still didn’t like thinking.

Camila tried her hardest to help Hunter, offering ways to ground himself; she suggested counting to ten and then backwards from there. He had tried it a couple times when the Bad Thoughts became too loud and found that it didn’t work that well. So instead Camila suggested that he rubbed his hands instead of scratching them.

It fared much better than counting and he found himself using the tactic often - until it was only needed occasionally. Sometimes his eyes became dull and sad, revisiting his memories. Gus or Luz would always snap him back to reality though, patting his back or putting a comforting hand on his shoulder until he could finally breathe again.

Some days felt heavy and numb. He’d amber around, cleaning or just sitting and hours would pass without him realizing it. Sometimes it would last for weeks or maybe a couple of hours. He never liked those days. Where he felt as if he weren't in control of his own body, as if he were a puppet, watching his body do things without having a say in it.

Sometimes he thought he heard the voice of Belos whispering in his ear, telling him to do things or just rambling on to him. He told Camila about the voice of Belos and they both put some research into the matter. She concluded that it was stress induced hallucinations or a possible development of psychosis, although Hunter could never get a diagnosis - at least - not while he was in the human realm.

After some days though, the voice disappeared and Hunter felt a heavy weight lift off of his shoulders. He didn’t like the voice of his uncle in his ears. Although some part of him missed Belos, he often pondered where he disappeared to. Maybe he just left Hunter to rot in his cell for the Day of Unity. Hunter wouldn't be surprised if that were the case.

He remembered that the golden streaks had disappeared, he only wished that the others had made it out okay. Though he had no way of knowing, anxiety kept him up some nights and often led to full blown panic attacks. Gus had taught him how to calm down from them though and he learned how to manage them on his own.  

Sometimes Vee would catch him mid - breakdown and sit by him. Talking about random things, it helped him in a weird way. But something about the basilisk seemed familiar, maybe he’d seen her around the Boiling Isles before; though it’d had to have been when he was younger. Because most - if not all - basilisks died out after the Emperor ordered their capture. 

At the time, Hunter hadn’t understood what he was doing, he just wanted to please his uncle. Now thinking back on it, knowing that he hurt people, just to save his own skin, made him nauseous. 

But he’s getting better now, (Though that won’t make up for the amount of lives he’s ended.) and he’s learning that people can care with no strings attached. And the memories of his cell and the Empty room still scared him. Luz says that talking things out can make someone feel better. And Hunter… maybe Hunter could tell them about his time there. About what went on in the dank, dark cell beneath the castle.

(oo)  (oo)  (oo)

“You wanted to talk to us Hunter?” Luz inquired.

He nodded, his mouth dry with nerves. Everyone was sat at the dining table, each circled around him sitting on spare chairs. It felt as if a thousand eyes were on him, each scrutinizing him under their gaze. Taking a deep breath, he steeled his nerves and began. And as he spoke, the more horrified their faces became. (Gus just gave a knowing look, as if he knew all along. He supposes that he did, after all, the boy looked right into Belos’s mind.) No pity, but anger. Anger that wasn't directed towards him. It made him feel… warm inside. 

“Darius didn’t mean it,” he mumbled, “it was the influence of Terra.” He wanted desperately to defend Darius, but he knew that the others wouldn't buy it. They would blame him for allowing himself to succumb to Terra’s spell. They would blame him for hurting Hunter. 

And Hunter wouldn't deter them. He would allow them to feel anger on his behalf. Some part of him reveled in their anger, because he wanted to blame Darius. He wanted to resent the man for hurting him, but a much larger part wanted to sympathize. Terra was powerful, at least Darius hadn’t hurt him willingly. 

“I’m sorry that you had to go through that hijo , and thank you for telling us.” Camila said, a sad smile on her face. 

“Why are you thanking me? I haven’t done anything but burden you.” His voice wobbled, thick with tears. He didn’t want to cry in front of them, to display vulnerability. (But he’s already shown immense vulnerability by sharing what happened to him. By telling them the reason for why he’s fucked up.) But the tears flowed because he couldn’t understand . 

“Oh, Hunter, c’mere.” Camila held her arms out, allowing Hunter the option to reciprocate her embrace. And Hunter did, falling into her arms and sobbing; the others, thankfully, averted their gazes and allowed Hunter to put down all of his defenses. Camila stroked his hair and murmured comforting words whilst he cried.

They stayed like that for a while, until Hunter’s tears ran dry. Eventually, he broke the embrace by pulling away. He averted his gaze, embarrassment creeping up on him but Camila reassured him that there was nothing to be ashamed of. Emotions were normal and it’s healthy to express them. 

For some reason, Hunter trusted her.

(oo)  (oo)  (oo)

They hadn’t found a way back to the Demon Realm yet, but there was hope. They had hope that everyone was still alive, that they were thriving and recovering. That hope kept them going that one day they’d be reunited again. 

Hunter, though, didn’t know how they could be so hopeful when Belos was still there. The others typically pointed awkward looks towards each other whenever he brought up that fact. They just patted him on the shoulder and said that he wouldn't be bothering them again.

Which was… ominous. But Hunter trusted them, they’ve proven that time and time again. 

And so he recovered, slowly but surely, he got better with their help. The nightmares never truly stopped and the voice occasionally whispered in his ears. Sometimes he has flashbacks but he has people to support him, to help him through the numbing days and whenever he gets reminded of the Empty Room - they were there to pick him back up. 

He got a fresh start, a chance to redeem himself and fix his bountiful mistakes. He became better as a person. No longer relying on commands, he started making decisions for himself and chiming in with his own opinion from time to time. He felt better.

Sometimes, he got homesick and missed the Demon Realm, he missed Darius and some sick part of him missed his uncle. He missed the familiarity that was the man, he knew what to expect when in the presence of the man. He can follow orders just fine, after all, that was what he was created to do. 

But Hunter has learned, he’s changed and grew better as a person . Because that’s what he was, a person. It took a lot of convincing and many panic attacks, but Hunter finally became a person - his own person. Not his uncle’s. 

And Hunter finally learned that what his uncle did wasn't considered normal. Abuse is the term that they used. Being hit for not being fast enough or strong enough wasn’t normal. Camila promised that she would never lay a hand on him, that she would protect him - not harm him. At first it confused Hunter, because why not punish him when he deserved it? But eventually he grew used to it and his uncle just became an inconvenient thought. 

(oo)  (oo)  (oo)

Months passed and Hunter felt his trust towards them grow.

The gloves came off, exposing his gnarled and scarred hands. He never showed anyone them, shame radiated off of him each time he was reminded of why he got his hands this way. But no one batted an eye, they acted as if his hands were normal and treated them as such. Not bringing attention to them. It made him feel accepted and normal. 

He… he liked this. 

He was glad that they found him.