Chapter Text
It’s often the quiet parts of your life that feel the most wrong. It’s funny; I never was very good at finding myself moments to breathe. Life moves fast when you’re busy. You barely notice it going by, until you suddenly encounter that momentary respite from the clutches of time. You find yourself thinking the strangest of things. Trivial things. Not that they feel trivial in the moment, no. You’d think to yourself, “Gee, I hope Belos didn’t see Flapjack today.” As if Flapjack was the biggest problem in my life at that moment. As if I myself wasn’t in danger every day I woke up. I’d hate myself, hate my stupid heart for feeling so fondly of him. Why should I care, I’d think, if Belos decides to kill him on a whim. One less problem, I’d think with my head. But not my heart.
I could live without one of those. They only ever get in the way.
Belos is what matters, my head would say. The blood in my veins pumps for no one but him. Every inch of my being is for Belos; a tool, I should be, for to prove myself worthy of being a Golden Guard is all I was ever born to do. It was always easy to listen to my head; it spoke mostly what I wanted to hear. The heart isn’t so forgiving. When the head tells you you’re happy, the heart asks you, “Are you really?” When the head gives you an order, the heart asks if you’re sure you should. Whatever did I do, to deserve this torment? These questions would forever elude me.
I.
Know.
What.
I.
Am.
And then silence. And the heart would say at last, “Then why aren’t you?”
A year has passed since the death of Belos. As if to prove itself a nuisance, the heart would nag at me with an unwelcome “I told you so,” at every following moment. When suddenly you realize that your head—the one thing you thought you could rely on to tell the truth—was wrong the whole time, you begin to see the heart in a different light. You get all these confusing signals, like people... friends ... suddenly being “there for you”, whatever that means. They’re here to tell you that your heart has a purpose. Well, it’s one I’d still rather ignore.
The human realm is too... quiet. On the Boiling Isles there was noise everywhere. It helped to drown out the nonsense my heart would spout. To silence the little part of my head that wanted me to admit it might be right. That night, as soon as we arrived here, it didn’t even feel like much had changed. The sky was loud, thundering and pouring safe rains from the heavens. I hated the feeling of rain. It didn’t kill you here, like on the Boiling Isles, but one night couldn’t undo sixteen years of experience. The feeling of danger remained. So I wanted to get inside as soon as possible. Luz’s home was a wreck of sobs. A confusing mix of joy and despair. I couldn’t do much but sit in the corner and let the noise of the house drown out everything I had to think about. I wanted to go to sleep, so I did. First chance I got, and nobody tried to stop me. Sleep, a perfect escape from my thoughts. I slept for a long time.
And for a long time I thought that feeling would sustain. I hoped I would find something difficult to distract me, like I found every day on the Boiling Isles. But it didn’t take me long to find out it wouldn’t be the case. In the human realm, you don’t walk the streets knowing you could encounter ten wild animals that could kill you in ways you couldn’t even imagine. In the human realm, you don’t get to sit still and let distraction overcome you. You sit still, and there’s peace. Quiet. Room, to think and to feel. And I hated every minute of it.
Like those brief moments of respite in the Boiling Isles—where your heart would get its only chance to tell you what it thinks, and your head would harass you with all the things you’re doing wrong and all the ways your life could be instantly turned on its head—the human realm consisted of nothing but those moments. Every waking moment you feel things you don’t want to, and think things you wish you didn’t.
And like the Boiling Isles, where you find yourself thinking trivial thoughts but stop yourself because you know there’s a million things more important, you’re always ready for the next big, bad thing. You know there’s no such thing as a real, permanent break. Belos may be dead, but he can always come back. The Collector may be back in the Boiling Isles, but who’s to say he won’t pop up here out of boredom? There’s no time to rest as long as these threats still exist. We must be ready. We must not let our guard down.
These are the thoughts that have plagued my mind for a year now. And every time I find myself thinking something small, something trivial and stupid like, “I hope I see Willow today,” I’m forced to stop myself. To remind myself that this is not the end. This is only the beginning.
But most of the time I feel like the only one who thinks that way. Willow was the first to move on. After only a few months of nothing from the Boiling Isles, she suddenly seemed calmer. More at-peace. She’s probably just pretending, my head would say to me. She has to see the truth.
Then after a few more months it was Amity. She might not have truly believed it, but still she stopped talking about her siblings. About her father. As if she’d come to terms with their deaths. Nobody in the Boiling Isles could have survived, she’d maybe thought. Not that I asked her what she really thought, of course. I don’t quite get the feeling she likes me all that much.
Gus came next. A few months later he was back to his joyful self. Marveling at all the “wonders” of the human realm. Bugging Luz and Camila to tell him all about everyday items and what they do. Again, maybe he didn’t truly believe it was over. But I didn’t want to ask him.
Last was Luz. Actually, she hasn’t quite come around yet. I can always find company with her, and pick her brain about what she thinks happened, or what could possibly still happen. I always know where to find her. Most times of the day she’s either with Amity, or by the abandoned house with the door where we came. She’ll spend hours alone at that door, opening and closing and opening again all without asking for a bit of company. So occasionally I’ll provide it. Some days she’s more talkative than others, but then again so am I. Neither of us truly know what to expect anymore. But I feel I know her well enough at this point to know when to leave her alone.
Like I said before. It’s often the quiet parts of your life that feel the most wrong. That’s how I felt at first, but... It’s not as if all is wrong. I’ve come to learn that having room to breathe is a good thing. I actually feel well rested most days. I can’t remember a single time I felt well rested on the Boiling Isles. It’s comforting.
Comfort was a bad thing on the Boiling Isles. Something to be ashamed of. If you found yourself comfortable, you were doing something wrong. But here, it’s simply how you are. Everything here is made for the sole purpose of comfort and convenience. Everyday inventions, scattered about the house, exist to make something easier or automatic. There’s chairs, beds, couches, and they’re soft . Beds on the Boiling Isles weren’t soft . Not any that I slept on, at least. It’s like the human realm is always embracing you. Whispering in low tones into your ears to let yourself rest. Calling you. Telling you it’s okay. You’re not in the Boiling Isles anymore, Hunter. You’re safe. It’s over.
At first I hated it. I wanted to go home, to the only home I ever knew. No matter how uncomfortable, or how unforgiving it may have been. It was the only place I felt like I could keep my mask on. To pretend to be this confident, capable person. The Golden Guard . That was who I was, and I could wear it proudly.
The more time passed in the human realm the less I felt that way. The human realm wanted to be what made me feel safe.
But maybe that was something else... Something a little more personal. Here I have something I didn’t have in the Boiling Isles: friends. Luz, Amity, Gus, Willow. They’re my only true friends. Not my comrades , not my soldiers. I’m not their superior . They listen to me when I’m upset. They embrace me when all I want to do is cry. Not that I want them to see me like that, but they pretend to not care. They pretend, for me, that they’re willing to comfort me through anything. Why would they do that? They can’t truly care for someone like me, someone who’s done so many terrible things. To them , too. So I know they’re pretending. They couldn't love me like they love each other. It’s just not possible.
That’s the one thing my heart and mind could both agree on. That they may say such sweet and comforting things to me, but it can’t be real. Maybe someone told them to do it, maybe it was Camila. Gosh, Camila. It’s like she can see right through me. She’ll give me these looks when I’m with the group. When everybody’s laughing, and I’m trying to pretend like I get it, but she’ll see me across the room and she’ll look at me with understanding eyes. Like she’s saying to me, I know what you’re going through, and I’m sorry.
She’ll sit me down and have these long conversations with me. About how I’m “not alone,” and that I can talk to her or anybody else. Somehow I feel she’s the only genuine person. The only one who says what they truly want and feel. I appreciate the gesture, Camila, but I don’t think you’d quite understand what it’s like. You don’t know what I’ve done. You’ve lived your life in this... boring world. This tiny, quiet world. It’s nothing like the Boiling Isles. You wouldn’t understand.
So I smile, I nod, and I say everything is fine. But she knows I’m lying. She always knows.
But the worst part is that it’s working. Luz, Amity, Gus, Willow, they’re all my friends and I... like it. It scares me how much I like it, how much I’ve grown to depend on them. I never depended on anyone in the Boiling Isles. It’s too unreliable, too risky. I was the only one I could trust. But what choice do I have? I’m alone if not for them. I have to let them pretend, for me. If I don’t, I’ll just be alone with my thoughts again. Like I am right now.
“But what if”, my heart would say, “ she wasn’t lying?”. That’s right. The heart does like to play tricks on me. There was always one person I couldn’t quite read. Willow. Maybe it’s just because she and I always got along the best. We’d never run out of things to talk about when we were together, and as fate would have it, we were together a lot.
Willow. Something about her was different from the rest, I could feel it. It wasn’t an obvious difference, like the way she acts or the way she looks. It was something much more subtle. So subtle even, that I still can’t exactly place what it is. Maybe she’s the only one who’s telling the truth when she says she cares for me. Maybe she’s the only one lying. Maybe she’s just... a much brighter person. But what does that mean ? I don’t have enough experience with people to draw any meaningful conclusions anymore. On the Boiling Isles I knew only two categories of people: superiors, and inferiors. People I obeyed, and people who obeyed me. Not this. Not someone in the same physical situation as me, experiencing all the same things I am. Not someone who says she wants to help me.
She must have an ulterior motive then, my head would say, that’s what’s different. She wants something from you. You just don’t know what.
And my heart would tell me things I can’t decipher in response. Why can’t I just know? Why must this be so complicated?
But the one thing I knew for sure about her was that I respected her. She proved herself a strong witch from the day we met. Her plant magic is one of the most impressive things I’ve seen, as well as been on the wrong end of. She’s a force to be reckoned with, and I’m happy to have her as a friend. In spite of what I said earlier, I actually trust her the most. I know she would never betray me.
It shouldn’t have come to my surprise that just as I was thinking about her, she would somehow end up right in front of me. After all, I often find my mind wandering to the thought of her when I should be focusing on something else.
“Hey,” a familiar voice said, with a pencil tapping the edge of my book. I lowered it to find none other than the subject of my thoughts, sitting right across from me at my table. “What’cha reading?”
I could feel my face getting hot. I thought I was alone here. In the quiet, where I could read in peace. “Ah, Willow!?” I found myself exclaiming as I dropped my book onto the library floor, losing my place. “Oh!” she said, bending under the table to help me pick it up, “Sorry, Hunter!” Clearly she didn’t see that I was already halfway under the table, or else she wouldn’t have done that. Our hands reached out at the same time to grab the book, and they touched for only a split second. Like a knee-jerk reaction, my head shot straight up into the bottom of the table.
After a series of curses, I finally found myself above the table, clutching the back of my head where I hit it. There Willow sat, holding the book in front of me and wincing as if she’d shared my pain. “Oooooooooooh, I’m so sorry!!!” I took the book and forced a smile. “N- nahhhh, ‘s okay! I’ve had worse, heh.”
I could feel prying eyes all around me. Right. Libraries are supposed to be quiet, and here I am injuring myself over a touch .
“ History of Gravesfield , huh?” She recited the title of the book, hoping to steer the conversation away from my pain, “You must really like this town, then?”
Fortunately it worked, because in an instant I forgot about the dull throbbing in my head. “Well,” I started, “It’s less that I like it, and more that I’m trying to figure something out.” Willow’s ears perked up a bit. She claimed to love hearing me talk about things I was interested in, even when most people seemed to tune me out. “Oh?” she inquired, “Do you wanna tell me about it?”
An empty question, really. She knew I would. “So,” I began, “It all started when I noticed the town seal. It looks like this.” I showed her my notebook, in which I had copied the symbol from the town’s welcome sign. The symbol was of a bird, in the middle of what appeared to be a window. “This is the town seal.” Willow nodded along as I talked. “Well, it also happens to be identical to the sigil of the Golden Guard. You may not recognize it, but I do.”
“The Golden Guard?” she said, “Like from the Boiling Isles?”
“The only Golden Guard I know of.”
“But how’s that possible?
“Well...” I paused. “That’s what I’m trying to figure out.”
Willow creased her brow in thought. “Have you found anything of note?” I sighed. “No, I haven’t.” Bringing the closed book up to my head, I buried my face into the cover. “And it’s so boring too!” Willow let out a laugh, a genuine one. “I’m sure it is! When did anything of note ever happen in this town?”
As usual, we were on the same page. “I know, right?” At this point we were both laughing a little too hard and a little too loudly. Eyes were glancing at us once again from around the room. Not that we cared anymore. “Plus,” I said, “I’m not even retaining what I’m reading!”
“Oh, I can relate to that ,” Willow responded, “Every time I read I’m like, accidentally thinking about something else. So I make it to the end of the page and realize I forgot to actually comprehend the words!”
“Wow,” I said, “I thought I was the only one.”
“Heh. You’re not alone. Welcome to the terrible-at-reading coven.”
I didn’t realize just how much I was smiling until I felt it fade from my face. When was the last time I felt this... home? Definitely not with anyone else, that’s for sure.
“Yeah, well...” I tried to remember what I was saying, “Nothing here seems to point in the direction of witches.”
“Bummer,” she said, resting her face on her hand. She looked... cute. Her hair all floofy, her glasses slightly crooked where her hand bumped the temples, and a smile on her face like she could sit here an eternity and still be having a good time. It wasn’t the first time I thought that of her, and it wouldn’t be the last. But it’s not a thought I enjoyed having. What’s the purpose? The easiest thing to do would always be to avert my gaze. Stop letting myself relax to the point where I think things so loosely. She’s my friend. That’s all. I respect her too much to let myself enjoy her company more than I should.
I could feel my face burning. Why do I get like this only around her? It doesn’t make sense. She’s just a friend. We’re not like Luz and Amity, whatever they have going on. I can’t have something like that. My purpose is elsewhere. I need to stay vigilant.
I couldn’t see it, but I could feel the smile fade from Willow’s face too. In the silence that followed, the dull pain in my head began to slowly fade back in. The distraction was over. She looked down at her free hand, the one that had touched mine earlier. For a small amount of time she seemed lost in her own thoughts, until finally she spoke again:
“You... don’t like people touching you, do you?”
The question caught me off guard. It wasn’t anything I’d ever thought of, but now that she brought it up I felt I needed to come up with a sensible explanation. “I, uh... Well...” was the only thing I could get out.
Willow said nothing.
“I never really... I mean, I guess... I- I learned from a very young age, that... The only reason someone would touch me is if they wanted to hurt me.”
I lowered my head down. “So I guess, subconsciously, I’ve never really felt comfortable being touched. Heh.”
Willow’s ears lowered. “Oh,” she said, “I see.”
Suddenly my ears perked up, and my head raised higher: “I mean!! Not that I think you’re going to hurt me or anything!”
“Oh, no no!” said Willow, “That’s not what I was thinking at all, don’t worry!”
She and I were looking directly at each other now, a hint of fluster on her face and probably mine as well. “Okay, good.”
A few more moments of silence pierced the conversation. “So, uh,” I started again, “What exactly... were you thinking?”
Willow lowered her head: “Just that it’s a shame. What he did to you. It’s not right.”
“Well... I- think he’s dead now.”
“Think?! You saw what the Collector did to him, didn’t you?”
“He’s skipped out on death more than once. I wouldn’t put it past him to survive that, if only out of spite.”
“Pfft.” Willow chuckled. “Imagine not dying purely out of spite.”
I found myself smiling again. “It’s certainly not out of character for him.”
And once again, the mood was lifted. We were giggling and chuckling amongst ourselves, this time doing our best to avoid disturbing the tables around us.
But I think it's safe to say they were a decent bit disturbed.
To break the air around us, an artificial beeping sound suddenly filled the room. My digital watch; I’d previously set an alarm for 6:00. “Ah, geez.” I’d forgotten that Camila wanted me home for dinner by a certain time. “Heh, right,” said Willow: “Quesadillas!”
“Only my favorite,” I replied, standing up to pack my things into my bag. “That’s actually why I came here,” added Willow, “to let you know we’d be having dinner soon.”
“Hmm? But how’d you know where to find me?
“Camila told me,” She smiled.
“Hmmm? But I told her I’d set an alarm to make sure I’d be back in time. You didn’t have to come, you know.”
“Weeeeeeell...” she said with her hands behind her back, “I wanted to.”
I looked away for only a split second as I shoved my notebook in my bag, but when I looked back she had a few small flowers in her hair. I could’ve sworn those weren’t there before. It’s not the first time I’ve noticed something like this, however. She almost always has flowers in her hair when I see her, so I usually just chalk it down as my memory being hazy.
Flapjack sat still on the library table, asleep. With a quick whistle from me, suddenly he had perked up and immediately flew onto my shoulder. With a heft I lifted my bag and slung it over my other shoulder. “Ready?” I asked. “Sure!” she replied. We sauntered over toward the door. I’d already checked out my book, but still the librarian caught my eye on the way out. “Got your book?” she inquired from behind her desk. “Yep, safe and sound!” I said, patting my bag. “You sweethearts have a wonderful day!” And by the time we were out the door, the cool breeze hit us both as we walked through the empty parking lot and back toward the house. Gravesfield was a pretty small town, and everything was practically within walking distance of everything else. It wouldn’t take long to make it back home.
The autumn air felt great. It was one of the few things I could safely say I liked more about the human realm. Autumn was nothing like this back on the Boiling Isles. There it was either too cold, or too hot. Too dry, or too wet. Here... it was perfect.
It didn’t take long before Willow had already started up another conversation: “Heh, can’t believe you’ve been to the library so much that nobody even questions your ears anymore.”
I smiled: “Honestly, Luz made it sound like a much bigger deal than it actually was.”
“She really did! Sure, I get a few weird looks but in the year we’ve been here I’ve only really had a handful of people ask about them.”
“Same here.”
When we first arrived, the thought of us going out in public terrified Luz. She stressed to us how normal peoples’ ears are round, and that our pointy ears would make us stick out like a sore thumb. Eventually she came up with a response we could give if anybody gave us trouble for them:
They would say, “What’s up with your ears?” and we would say, “I’m prepping for a cosplay!” Whatever that means. And if they followed up by asking what for, we could say, “It’s for a convention coming up soon.” And if they followed up further , we could say “it’s out of state, you wouldn’t know about it.” Personally I found it a bit over the top, especially considering I’ve never had to use anything outside the “prepping for a cosplay” line. Most people lose interest right about there.
“Yeah,” said Willow, “It’s always so weird seeing people out in public with such... weird ears.”
“No kidding. Always feels like something’s missing from them.”
“Heheh, like I still find myself doing a double take whenever I see how round they are. Haven’t quite gotten used to it.”
“It’s strange to think that to them, we’re the ones with odd ears.”
“I know!!! Like, do those ears even work? Can they still hear out of them?”
“They’re so... tiny. I think not.”
“I’m inclined to agree, since Luz can barely hear us even when we’re shouting her name across the house.”
And that’s what got me. I laughed way harder at that than I probably should have. It felt like the funniest thing I’d heard all day.
“Hahahah, woah there buddy. You good?” said Willow with a hand on my back as I tried to catch my breath between wheezes.
“Fine!!! Thanks!”
And a thought occurred to me. A thought just then that I hadn’t considered before. When Willow said what she said about Luz’s ears, I found it more than hilarious. It was an amazing joke. But... was it really? She wasn’t really trying to make me laugh. So why did I? And then I thought harder... Would that joke have still been funny if it had come from someone other than Willow?
I tried to imagine Gus saying it. “She can’t even hear us when we shout her name across the house!” he said. It didn’t get more than a chuckle out of me.
Now was Amity. “She can barely even hear us when we’re shouting her name across the house!” she said. Nahhh. She wouldn’t say that. I can’t even imagine her saying that.
Luz? No, that’s herself . Vee? Maybe. But would it have been funny?
And then I remembered Willow. Only a moment ago, with a smile on her face and the breeze in her hair. The evening sun bathing her in a beautiful orange hue, reflecting off her glasses in the most perfect way it could.
It was her. She made it funny, because it came from her.
I think I understand now, I couldn’t help but think. Maybe it’s not such a bad thing, I desperately wanted to feel. She’s the only one that feels like home. Not like the Boiling Isles, not like the misery and pain of it all. Home. Perfection. Bliss. I didn’t even know the meaning of those words, but they felt right.
I don’t know what it is I’m feeling, but I want to let myself enjoy it. For now. A guilty pleasure, but a pleasure nonetheless. I felt like I could be me with her. I didn’t even know who that was. Me? He’s a foreign concept. A distant idea I couldn't dream of reaching. But someone right in front of me makes me feel—in spite of how distant it seems—that it’s possible. That I’m out there, and I can find who I am and be that person.
But there’ll always be that tugging feeling at my chest. The one that tells me no. Comfort is a luxury you cannot afford. She is not your future. Only he is. And my mind would flash with images of Belos. My sole superior. The only “father” I ever knew.
And I watched him splatter into a pile of literal goo. Unrecognizable. Dead; gone beyond recognition. And at what? A flick?
And of course I can’t find comfort in that either. He might’ve ended up a genocidal maniac, but he was still the only one in this world I could call my father . A confusing mix of terror and... relief? In death he can no longer hurt me; he can no longer manipulate me into doing his dark deeds or kill me when my usefulness has come to an end. But he can no longer be my support, either. He might not have been a true father in a literal or figurative sense, he might not have loved me like I thought I loved him, but I was still his child. A grimwalker, however, so not a real one. Not even a real child. But nonetheless his. Life was just so much simpler when all he had to do was give an order and I would follow it, without question. When I knew my purpose. I was the Golden Guard .
And now back here, I’m a nobody. Just a nobody with weird ears and traumatized friends.
But right there, in the middle of it all, was Willow Park. And I wanted to believe, despite everything I’ve ever known, that she was here to stay.