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Belos was used to being haunted. It was simply something that came with the territory of living far, far longer than he should have.
He’d long since stopped letting his ghosts bother him. The past was in the past, and there was no need to waste time lingering on ‘what if’s.
That was a mistake he no longer intended to make.
The grimwalkers were a foolish hope, a foolish attempt at fixing someone that was destined to stray off the path of good.
The grimwalkers were a waste of time. They had all betrayed him, no matter what Belos did to them, no matter how Belos treated them, no matter how much Belos had loved or despised them.
He should have known. He should have stopped sooner.
Because Caleb had never accepted his help, not in his first life, and not in the many lives that followed.
Caleb never changed.
And now, there wasn’t even a single bone left of him.
Belos sighed, leaning back against his throne once he had dismissed Lilith and the guards from the throne room. Despite how wasteful the grimwalkers constantly were, he missed having them as his coven heads.
At least if they started to become incompetent, he could simply replace them and spin a story about wild witches taking away their memories. It wasn’t like the switch would be noticed by anyone else within the Emperor’s Coven.
All the grimwalkers had the same voice, and none of them ever revealed their face.
“Phiiii-liiiiip,” a voice sing-songed as the shadows of the throne room began to spin, “You will not believe who I just spotted trying to sneak around the castle!”
This time, Belos repressed the sigh that threatened to escape him. “What is it, Collector?” he exhaled, already tired of this conversation.
The Collector giggled, their shadowy form hanging upside down from the Titan’s false heart. “Guess, guess!”
“ Collector .”
“Come ooon, just guess!” he whined, slithering down onto the floor. “Look, I’ll even give you a clue!” With that, they transformed the floor into a mural.
Belos watched, resting his head against his fist, as a hand burst out of dirt. He watched, as a familiar silhouette sat up, gasping, from a grave.
Within a blink, the figure turned into the grinning face of The Collector. “You didn’t tell me you made another grimwalker to play with!” he exclaimed, “Why’d you hide him?”
“Impossible,” Belos scoffed, “I ran out of materials. You saw it for yourself.” As much as he’d have liked to, hiding a grimwalker from the god-child was impossible. Thankfully, The Collector had only turned a grimwalker against him a few times.
“But I saw what I saw!” They pouted, appearing beside his throne, “And I saw a grimwalker!”
Belos resisted the urge to pinch his nose, knowing that it would only make him look stupid with the mask on. “And where is this grimwalker?” he asked instead, keeping his voice light and playful.
The Collector giggled. “He’s helping with a relic heist!” They sang out, before they disappeared into the shadows once more.
He sighed once more, closing his eyes and deciding to tune into the Relic Room. Even if The Collector was mistaken, there was still someone trying to steal from him.
He heard the witchlings first before he saw them.
"-Anything you want to try out, Hunter?" A girl asked.
"Nah, I'm just here as a look-out," answered a painfully familiar voice.
Belos's eyes snapped open to the bright lights of the Relic Room, his heart suddenly pounding in his throat as his gaze swept over the various displays.
He knew all the grimwalkers were dead. He knew how each and every one of them died, knew where all of their final resting places were.
That voice should not exist, could not exist, no matter how much Belos longed to hear it again. And yet…
"Did you get what we came here for, Luz?" The voice asked, its owner leaning casually against one of the entrances.
A young, teenage boy that looked exactly like Caleb. A boy with the same blonde hair and stray curl as Caleb once had. A boy with the same roman nose as Caleb once had. A boy with the same rounded ears as Caleb once had. A boy with–
Red eyes, as all the grimwalkers once had.
“I got it,” the human girl said, holding out the Healing Hat, “Now we can cure Eda and get this hat back before anyone knows it's gone.”
“I would know,” Emperor Belos spoke into the room, watching as the children startled. He kept his gaze on the boy, watching as he froze, his red eyes widening at the voice.
He wondered if the boy recognized him, if the boy knew him.
“We need to go,” the human girl whispered, “Now.”
Belos was not going to let him leave.
The bulkhead doors slammed down, making the boy scramble backwards, scramble into the room lest he be crushed under the metal.
They were trapped.
Belos smiled, withdrawing his senses from the Relic Room and doing a quick sweep of the surrounding area. Even if the boy did find a way out somehow, there were patrolling scouts that would no doubt notice the suspicious teenagers.
Now, the Emperor thought as he watched the children try to escape, only to run into Lilith Clawthorne, All I have to do is wait.
~*~
As expected, Lilith bested the children with ease and presented her catch to her master.
"You may go," Belos instructed the kneeling witch once she had finished detailing her plan to capture her sister, "Leave the boy here."
Lilith looked up at him, a protest on her lips. "But Emperor, I need-"
"You're competent enough to not need two hostages, aren't you, Lilith ?" He interrupted, coldly. He tore his eyes away from Caleb to stare down the witch.
Lilith froze. She swallowed thickly. “Of course, my lord,” she replied. Wordlessly, she stood up and left the room, ignoring the shouted protests of both humans.
As soon as the door closed, Belos was on his feet, stalking towards the boy.
The bubble cracked open, dumping the boy onto the cold floor of the throne room. He didn't have the time to do more than grunt in pain before the Emperor was upon him.
Belos grabbed the boy– Caleb – by his jaw, forcing Caleb to look him in the eye.
Brown.
His eyes were brown in the dim lighting of the throne room.
His eyes didn't glow like the grimwalkers' eyes always did, forcing Belos to see their unnatural magenta eyes.
Caleb's eyes were brown, mundane, human . Just like he remembered.
Belos was just… mistaken, when he saw Caleb's eyes in the Relic Room. He was simply mistaken.
Belos leaned in close, his grip growing tighter. He scrutinized the boy’s face, searching for a mistake, searching for something that would crush the foolish hope that was beginning to fester in his chest.
But the boy’s hair was the same platinum blonde, with the same stubborn curl hanging over his forehead. But the boy’s nose was the same aquiline nose, and he could feel the familiar sharpness of the boy’s jaw underneath his fingers, underneath the vestiges of baby fat on his cheeks.
His ears were round, and his eyes were brown.
Cheerful laughter echoed in his ears.
Caleb was frozen under his hand, his brown eyes wide with fear. Philip loosened his harsh grip on his jaw, instead stroking the boy’s cheek to soothe the bruise that was undoubtedly going to form.
“Forgive me for being so rough,” the Emperor spoke gently, as to not spook him, “I was simply confirming something.”
Caleb slapped his hand away. “Don’t touch me!” he shouted, crawling backwards, away from his touch.
Philip clenched his fist, ignoring the sting of hurt. “Now, now,” he huffed, stepping forward, stepping closer to him, “No need to throw a tantrum. I already apologized-”
Suddenly, Caleb slapped something onto the ground, and a wall of flames sprung up between them. Separating them.
And then Caleb was running, running for the doors as Philip stamped out the fire that had clung to the edge of his robes. Caleb was leaving him –
A snap of his fingers, and he was dragging his brother back to him. “That was quite rude,” he chastised the squirming Caleb, lifting him up until he was on eye level with him. His artificial magic cast a red glow over the boy’s features.
Philip forced his gaze away from Caleb’s eyes, instead focusing on his rounded ears, focusing back on his voice.
“Let go of me!” he yelled, wriggling in the red force as if it would loosen the magic’s grip on me, “I need to- What are you going to do with my sister?!”
Sister.
A sister .
With a thought, Belos tightened the spell’s grip on the boy until he began to hiss in pain. “Sister, hm?” he said, shocked, surprised, disbelieving, “My, I never would have guessed. You two look nothing alike!”
The boy glared at him, his red eyes glowing in the light. He took a deep breath.
Then spat on his mask.
Belos saw red .
His flesh gurgled painfully, the skin bloating up under the pressure of the mud his muscles have decayed into. His bones creaked painfully, as they bent and broke and twisted under the pressure of the mud his muscles had decayed into.
Belos heard, more than saw, more than felt, the way the cursed limb burst from himself. A wet snap, as his skin broke.
The grimwalker couldn’t dodge, as the liquid limb grabbed him by the neck and slammed him into a nearby pillar with a loud crack .
His magic faded, letting the thing slide to the floor, groaning in pain.
Slowly, Belos approached the fallen creature. Slowly, the mud crept up its face, dragging shattered bone and liquid viscera up his chin, up his cheeks.
Sealing his mouth.
Sealing his nose.
He loomed over the shrinking, cowering figure of the grimwalker , clicking his tongue in disapproval. “ Spitting on me, really,” Belos scoffed, “I thought I taught you more manners than that. But then again, I suppose none of you ever listen to me.”
The grimwalker clawed desperately at his stolen face, digging his fingers into the sludge as if he could tear it off him if he just tried hard enough .
Belos forced his curse into the grimwalker’s mouth, into the grimwalker’s nose. Belos forced his curse to crawl faster , to cover up those blasted, pointed ears and that unnatural shade of pink -
Then, the grimwalker lifted his head up.
Cast in the shadow of the Emperor, Caleb stared at him, his brown eyes leaking tears.
Then, Philip was desperately trying to pull himself together.
Desperately trying to reel his curse back in, trying to force his muscles and bones and skin back into place, back into a solid, human arm instead of– instead of something scraping, dragging, staining his brother’s face.
He turned on his heel, rushing to grab a palisman staff he had tucked away into a corner, because Caleb was in no position to help him now.
Crack, snap , inhale.
Breathe.
Breathe , and ignore the sudden migraine as a cacophony voices began to roar at the addition to their numbers.
His arm pulled itself together as the curse released its hold over his body, his bones and flesh and skin slotting back into the right places.
Behind him, he could hear Caleb start coughing, start sneezing, start gasping, start gagging .
Slowly, cautiously, Philip approached his brother. He closed his eyes as Caleb hunched over, and began to heave .
“I’m sorry,” Philip said after Caleb stopped vomiting. He didn’t look at the bile staining the throne room floor, didn’t look at the chunks of congealed mud and mucus and blood and bone. Instead, he kept his eyes on the crown of his platinum blonde hair. “You know how the curse gets when I’m upset.”
The only answer he received was a wet, choked sob.
He sighed deeply, grabbing Caleb by his arm and helping him to his feet. He ignored the flinch, ignored the way he weakly tried to tug his arm away from Philip’s grasp.
“Let me see what the damage is,” he said softly as he gently coaxed his brother into facing him, into lifting his bowed head and looking at him.
Caleb’s face was dirty . Covered in evidence of what the damned curse did to him, with streaks of mud and faint scratches adorning his face, with clumps of bloody sludge and partially digested food clinging to his chin.
And on his left cheek–
On his left cheek was a large gash, dragging itself up from Caleb’s jaw to his cheek. On his left cheek was a large gash, the open flesh stained with cursed sludge.
On his left cheek was a large gash, weeping blood.
Philip sucked in a sharp breath. “Nothing a quick potion can’t fix,” he reassured himself and Caleb. It wasn’t that bad, after all.
It wasn’t that bad.
Then, Philip was guiding Caleb out of the throne room, pulling him along even as he stumbled. He tightened his grip on Caleb’s arm when he felt him try to pull away.
The halls were bustling with activity, scouts rushing to and fro to prepare for the Owl Lady’s arrival. Philip could hear Kikimora’s grating voice, instructing the captains to rearrange the guard positions, to make sure the Owl Lady gets into castle grounds and stays where they want her.
The scouts they ran into bowed their heads as the Emperor passed, then turned their heads away from the boy he was dragging along by the arm.
Caleb’s hand snagged onto the sleeve of a passing scout. “Please-” was all he managed to croak out before Philip was yanking him back to his side. Pulling him close enough that he was almost pressed to his side.
“Please,” Belos said pleasantly when the scout continued to just stand there , “Do return to your duties and pardon my interruption.”
“Y-yes, sir,” the nameless scout stuttered, raising their hand in a sloppy salute before rushing away.
Philip continued to walk his brother the rest of the way to his personal chambers, keeping a tight hold on his arm. It wouldn’t do for him to get swept up by the bustling crowd, after all.
Caleb didn’t try to reach out to any of the scouts again.
~*~
Philip shut the door behind them, locking it with a swipe of his hand. Gently, he pushed Caleb into sitting on the edge of his bed. “Comfortable?” Philip asked, tilting his head.
Caleb didn’t answer, squeezing his eyes shut. “Why am I here?” he asked in a trembling whisper.
“You need somewhere to sleep, of course,” Philip replied, ruffling his brother’s hair fondly. He wondered if it still felt the same after all these years. He couldn’t tell through the gloves. His own hair had definitely grown brittle since the last time they saw each other. “It’ll take a while for the servants to prepare your room, so until then, you’ll be staying here.”
Philip would rather fix up the room himself too . He left the room a mess after Icarus’s death, and there were… some things he had left out in the open.
He pulled a nearby chair up to the bed, summoning a basin and a medicine kit from the bathroom. With another flick of his hand, the basin was filled with warm water. “Let’s get you cleaned up, shall we?”
With a clean cloth soaked in warm water, Philip began to gently dab away the mud that had already dried on his face. Thankfully, his brother didn’t struggle as Philip held him by the jaw, turning his face to the side.
Caleb kept his eyes closed the whole time.
Philip kept looking at his brother’s ears instead, reminding himself of the rounded edges.
It was strangely peaceful. Neither of them spoke a word, with the only sounds that echoed within the Emperor’s personal chambers being the soft, dripping of water and Caleb’s labored breathing.
It was painfully nostalgic, reminding Philip of the days when his older brother would clean the various scrapes and scratches he had earned after a long day of playing in the woods.
But unlike Caleb, he had always been careful not to hurt himself badly enough to make himself bleed this much.
He flinched as Philip started to treat the cut on his cheek, carefully applying antiseptic. “Look at what you did to yourself,” he tutted, “You’re lucky you don’t need stitches.”
Caleb made a noise, something like a strangled, hysterical laugh, and Philip smiled. He finished bandaging the cut, the blood and open flesh disappearing underneath cotton and tape.
As if it never happened.
Philip gently patted his brother’s bandaged cheek, before standing up. As much as he’d love to stay, there were some things he needed to do. “All done,” he said, “Now, I have some other business to attend to, so I’ll be leaving you here.”
He placed a hand on Caleb’s shoulder, squeezing tight. “Try not to snoop , alright?” he reminded him, making sure to keep his tone light.
Philip didn’t want to have to threaten his brother, after all.
As soon as Caleb nodded, he let go of his shoulder. “Good.”
Philip locked the door behind him as he left.
~*~
When Philip shouldered his door open, carrying a tray of food, he really expected to see Caleb doing something he shouldn’t be doing.
Instead, Caleb stared at him with wide red eyes from where he was sitting cross-legged on the bed. He smiled, a bit awkwardly, and gave a little wave.
Philip raised an eyebrow underneath his mask. He glanced around the room, trying to spot if something was out of place.
But there wasn’t. At least, not anything that was obvious at a first glance.
“I’m glad to see that you’ve made yourself comfortable,” Philip spoke as he stepped into the room, still keeping an eye out for anything unusual.
“Yes!” Caleb squeaked out, “Very comfortable! The pillows are very soft!”
Despite his suspicions, Philip found himself smiling. Perhaps Caleb truly didn’t poke his nose where it didn’t belong and stayed put. This was Caleb , after all. Not one of those grimwalkers .
He settled back into the armchair next to the bed, placing the tray in front of his brother.
Caleb’s red eyes tracked his movements. Philip avoided his gaze, staring at Caleb’s hairline instead.
“Go on,” Philip said, gesturing towards the food, “Eat. I’m sure you must be hungry after today’s exploits.”
“Oh, um, I can’t eat those,” his brother stammered, scooting away a little from the food, “Humans, uh, can’t digest a lot of Boiling Isles food so…” He smiled sheepishly, shrugging. “Sorry?”
Philip snorted at that. “I’ve made sure that these dishes are only made of ingredients safe for human consumption.” He paused. “Unless the menu is not to your taste?” He was sure that these were all his favorites–
“No, no,” Caleb repeated frantically, waving his hands around, “I’m just… being cautious! I’ve had reactions, really bad reactions, when I eat something that’s had contact with ingredients I can’t eat!”
He nodded in agreement, remembering how frustrating it used to be whenever he had to eat at a restaurant. At least now Philip had the power to ensure that the food he ate would not cause him indigestion.
“Understandable.” His hands reach up to pull down his hood. “But I will be eating with you, and you know how careful I am when it comes to what we eat here.”
Caleb gawked at him as he unmasked, no doubt staring at the scar that now stretched across his face. Staring at the proof of how bad Philip’s curse had gotten, proof of how this realm had corrupted him.
Philip made the mistake of making eye contact with him.
Red eyes.
Quickly, he focused on the stark white of the cotton taped onto his cheek.
It was a trick of the light.
Caleb’s eyes weren’t red, they were brown .
They were brown. They had to be.
They had to be,
If they weren’t…
Then where was Caleb?
Then why did Caleb leave –
“Great,” Caleb replied weakly, “I’m… sure that the food will be… uh, delicious?” His voice pitched up at the end, turning his statement into a question.
Philip beamed at him in response.
Caleb was right here.
His brother blinked, his expression twisting.
But in a blink of an eye, it was gone, leaving Philip wondering if he imagined it. He elected to ignore it, picking up the spoon and fork and beginning to eat.
Caleb watched him eat, hands hovering over his own utensils. When he raised an eyebrow questioningly, Caleb jerked into motion, grabbing a fork and shoving a piece of meat into his mouth.
Philip huffed out a laugh. “You do know that your food isn’t going anywhere, right?” he teased, “Slow down.”
Caleb flushed and continued to eat without a word, slowing down his pace. Eventually, he swallowed his food and hesitantly asked, “What… what happened out there?”
“Hm?”
“Outside the window,” Caleb said, gesturing, “There were lights. A lot of lights.”
Philip hummed, debating with himself whether or not to tell him.
Caleb made the decision for him. “Did… Did Eda show up to the duel?” he asked quietly.
Ah, right. He had been there while Lilith told the Emperor of her plan. “She did,” Philip answered with a smile, “You don’t have to worry about her anymore.”
His brother sucked in a breath through his teeth. “...Why?”
“Lilith succeeded in capturing her.” Philip’s fork speared a stuffed eyeball, bringing it up to his mouth. “Edalyn will be petrified come tomorrow evening. You’ll be safe from her now.”
Once the Owl Lady was dead, she would no longer be able to lead his brother astray, and he could start helping his brother recover from her influence.
“How are the eggs?” he asked, tilting his head, “I asked the cooks to add a little bit more salt than they usually do. Do you like them?”
Caleb’s hands were trembling as he brought a piece of griffin egg to his mouth. “It’s perfect,” he whispered shakily.
Philip glowed at the praise, happy that he managed to remember how his brother liked his eggs.
They continued eating in content silence, basking in each other’s presence. God, he missed this. He missed having Caleb with him. After centuries of faulty copies, Philip finally had his brother back.
He just couldn’t look him in the eye.
“What happened to Luz?” At his raised eyebrow, Caleb clarified, “The other human I was with.”
His so-called sister . His replacement .
Philip scowled at the reminder of her . Luz was her name.
“She left,” he stated, voice dripping with disdain, “Walked away when all was said and done.” If only she had. Instead, she caused a ruckus trying to get over the spike moat instead of crawling back to wherever she came from.
Caleb stilled, his head bowed. “She left?”
“She did.” Eventually.
His brother let out a slow, measured breath. “Okay,” he breathed out. He continued to eat, his movements almost seeming robotic.
Philip wondered how easy it would be to hunt down Luz and have her killed in an accident of some sort. It would certainly prevent Caleb from ever leaving to search for her.
Not that he should even need to. Philip was far better than her in every way.
He was the Emperor of the Boiling Isles and the savior of humanity. He could give Caleb everything he wished for and more. He could keep Caleb safe from the dangers of the Boiling Isles.
Luz was just a human girl.
“A scout will escort you to your room tomorrow once it’s ready,” he informed his brother.
Caleb tilted his head. “A scout? Not you?”
“Unfortunately, I have to oversee preparations for the Owl Lady’s petrification,” he sighed, “And if you have anything specific you want for your room, tell me now so I may arrange for it.”
His brother glanced away. “Could I… get a journal, maybe?” he asked, fiddling with his fork, “And a pen of some sort.”
Philip hummed, considering it. His brother had already shown that he knew at least one pictoglyph, which meant giving him paper and pen to write with could be a risk. “Why?”
“Oh. Well… Sometimes I, uh, like to write stories!” Caleb exclaimed, his lips pulling up into a smile.
Accidentally, Philip met his brother’s red brown eyes. “Perhaps once you’ve settled then.” Once Caleb had proven that he wasn’t going to run away as soon as he could.
His smile faltered, but Caleb nodded. “Alright,” he agreed.
Philip reached out and squeezed his hand. “I’m glad you’re back.” He was going to stay this time. He had to.
His brother stiffened.
This time, Caleb was the one to look away. “Yeah,” he whispered, “Yeah. Okay. I… I’m glad too?”
For the first time in centuries, Philip allowed himself to hope.
Maybe this time, Caleb wouldn’t leave him. Maybe this time, Caleb would see reason.
Maybe this time, he could save his brother.
~*~
Caleb was not in his room.
Caleb was not in his room.
Belos kept his fury tightly in check as he hunted down the scout he had assigned to escort his brother to his new room. Belos kept his voice steady and pleasant as the stuttering scout told him that Lilith had told them that their instructions had changed, that Lilith was to be the one escorting the captive.
Once again, a Clawthorne had stolen his brother away from him.
He gripped his staff tightly and made his way to the Conformatorium. The witch likely was planning an attempt to free her sister, and she wouldn’t have time to stow Caleb away somewhere else.
Lilith Clawthorne would be joining her sister soon enough.