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Chapter Text

Hunter was nine when he snuck a toy frog into his room in the Emperor’s castle.  He wasn’t supposed to have it, of course.  But it had fallen behind the booth at the unauthorized county fair that the Emperor’s troops were raiding and nobody but him had seen it fall.  He picked it up, fully intending to turn it in to be cataloged and destroyed with the rest of the carnival prizes, but for some reason his boots made it all the way back to his room without revealing to anybody else what he had concealed underneath his cloak.

His uncle wouldn’t approve, of course, but a little stuffed frog never hurt anybody.  What was the harm in keeping it?  Especially for a lonely little boy who had trouble falling asleep at night.  It had seemed harmless enough, though looking back he felt that’s where it all started.

Hiding the toy frog from his uncle turned into hiding a book which turned into hiding another book and another, then a palisman and an outing and a scroll and a Penstagram account and the Emerald Entrails private group chat.  This must have been why Uncle was always so strict about these sorts of things.  It was a slippery slope that led to heresy.  

But at age sixteen his uncle had found him out.  It was probably inevitable.  Emperor Belos was the most powerful witch on the Boiling Isles, and Hunter was just a silly, wicked child.  

“Forgive me, Uncle.”

“It is not my forgiveness you should be asking for.”  Even without his mask, Belos made an imposing figure.  He’d had to bend down to even fit through the doorway of Hunter’s room, and even now his head nearly touched the ceiling.  “It is the Titan’s.  The wicked will not be spared on the day of rapture and the Titan is watching us carefully to see who is worthy.”

“The day of what?”

“The day of unity.”  Belos narrowed his eyes at the boy.  “It is not up to you to question the Titan’s will.”

Hunter hung his head.  “I’m not… I would never….”

Belos held out the picture in front of the boy.  His fingers were clutching tears in the paper and a thin drip of green ooze fell from one fingertip.  “Who are they?  Who?”

Hunter didn’t look at the picture, he knew what was on it.  He had stared at it so many times he had every detail memorized.  The smiling faces, the green facepaint, Flapjack.  It was the Emerald Entrails group photo.  The one taken after they’d won their first game.  He had been foolish to think that his uncle wouldn’t find it.  “I don’t remember.”  He muttered.

“Ah, so we are adding lying onto your list of sins, are we?  And with only a few weeks to go before the Day of Unity.”  Belos’s face held an expression of calm fury. 

“I’m not…lying.”  Hunter nearly yelled the first two words but then mumbled the third.  Who was he kidding?  He was lying, of course he was.  

“And the palisman?  The red one?  Whose was it?  Or do you not remember that either?”  Belos thrust the photo towards his nephew.

If possible, Hunter’s heart began to beat even faster.  No, not Flapjack.  He couldn’t let his uncle find Flapjack.  He couldn’t.  “It just…flew into the frame as the photo was taken.  I didn’t get a good look at it.”

“And the witches?  Did they fly into the frame as well?  While your eyes were closed, perhaps?  Next you will tell me you don’t remember getting your face painted.”

“It wasn’t like that.”  Hunter sucked in a breath, suddenly afraid that he would cry.  No, he wouldn’t.  Not here, not like this.  “I went undercover at Hexside.  I wanted to recruit some more members to the Golden Coven.”

“And did you?”

Hunter swallowed.  “No.”

“Ah, so we will add failure onto your list of transgressions.  This day keeps getting better and better.”

Hunter didn’t answer.  His eyes fell onto where his toy frog was hidden underneath his pillow.  He wanted to be in that bed, hugging that frog.  For some reason the fact that this reprimand was happening in his bedroom made everything so much worse.  He had always been able to retreat to his bedroom after being scolded by his uncle, but now he felt like there was nowhere left to escape to.

Belos narrowed his eyes.  “Well?  What do you have to say for yourself?  Are you a liar?  Or just incompetent?”

“I’m…”  Hunter swallowed a few times.  He felt like there was something heavy in his throat that he couldn’t speak around. He didn't want to cry in front of his uncle.

“Or perhaps…”  Belos turned the picture towards his face and examined it carefully.  “Perhaps the reason that you won’t tell me what happened is because things are worse than they appear.  Is that what the green paint represents?  A devilish ritual perhaps?  Or perhaps something more carnal.  Did you submit to the sins of the flesh?  Answer me!”

“No, Uncle, of course not.  It wasn’t like that.  I would never…”

“Then what?”  Belos sighed and reached down to cup Hunter’s chin with his hand, forcing the boy to look at him.  His hands were cool and slightly sticky and made Hunter feel like throwing up.  “You are not the first one to betray me.  There have been others, and they were dealt with in a matter suitable for their transgressions.  So it is hard for me to decide upon the appropriate punishment without knowing the full nature of your sins.”

A cool shiver ran down Hunter’s body.  A part of him wondered if he was about to die.  No.   His mind told him.  This is uncle.  He wouldn’t hurt you.  He is too good, too kind.  It’s not his fault you made him angry.   On another day he might have believed that.

Belos gripped his nephew’s face harder.  “Confess.”

Hunter’s self-preservation instincts were strong.  He stared back at his uncle, feeling suddenly calm.  He knew what he had to do.  “Forgive me, Uncle.”

Belos stepped back and watched the boy calmly.  “Go on.”

Hunter steadied his breath and continued.  “I was weak.  I allowed wild magic to corrupt my thoughts.”  

Belos smiled.

“I repent my wickedness.”  Hunter felt his voice waver and he swallowed.  He only managed a few words at a time before he had to take a shuddering breath, but it was the best he could do.  “I humbly request that I be allowed to spend the night in quiet contemplation and prayer, so I may find my way back to the rightful path, as a faithful servant of the Titan.”

“Rise.”  Belos held out one hand and the offending photograph burst into bright blue flames.  The ashes drifted down to fall onto the ground in front of Hunter’s clenched hands.  “And let this be a warning to you, against inciting the wrath of the Titan.”  

Hunter obeyed, standing shakily to his feet.  He felt his left hand tremble, and he gripped it to keep it steady.  

“The Titan is more forgiving than I am.  With the day of Unity so close at hand I do not have the time to train your replacement.  Consider yourself lucky.  I am prepared to overlook some things from you that I would not tolerate from your predecessors.  But just know that the wicked will not be spared when it is time for the final judgment.”

Hunter couldn’t answer, even if he wanted to.  There was a heavy lump in his throat that made forming words difficult.

“Now, is there anything else that I should know about?  Any past transgressions?  Impure thoughts?  Carnal relations?”  A bitter sort of smile twisted on the sides of Belos’s mouth.  He looked like he was remembering something long past.  “Or a witch’s familiar, perhaps?”

A fresh wave of fear washed over Hunter.  His eyes flickered towards his bed, where Flapjack was hiding under the mattress.  No, not Flapjack.  You can’t have Flapjack.

Belos turned his head to face the bed when he saw Hunter’s eyes move in that direction.  “It will go better for you if you tell me now.  Don’t make me drag it out of you.

Without emotion, Hunter walked to his bed and fetched his toy frog out from under his pillow.  Let his uncle have the toy, if it kept him from finding Flapjack.

Belos looked at the toy coldly.  “Destroy it.”  He said simply.

Hunter looked down at the toy.  He wondered if there was any way of getting out of this.

Belos twitched his head to the side and Hunter’s golden staff, with the single wing arching proudly up to the side, appeared in the air.  Hunter grabbed it before it could clatter to the ground.  “Don’t make me ask twice.”

Hunter gripped the staff and looked at the toy.  He’d loved that toy.  He’d played with it, whispered secrets to it, slept with it.  He’d hid it away for seven years.  And now its time had come.

Dully, he arched his staff downwards and touched it against his toy.  For the briefest of seconds nothing happened.  Then a snap, a sizzle, and the toy engulfed in flames.  Hunter watched it as it burned.  

He stared at the charred spot on the floor long after his uncle had left the room.  At some point Flapjack had come out of hiding and was making distressed noises as he hopped along his shoulder.

“I’m alright, Flap.”  Hunter said at last, reaching up one finger to stroke the little cardinal.  His voice sounded hollow in his ears.  “It was my fault, I just made him angry, that’s all.  I just need to do something big to make it up to him.  Go catch a traitor or something.”  

Hunter was tired.  His head hurt and there was a burning in behind his eyes and Flapjack would not stop trying to convince him to run away.  He just wanted to go to bed.  

Automatically, he reached under his pillow for his toy frog, but of course it was not there.  It was in that scorched pile on the floor of his room.  Hunter fell down onto his bed, hugging his chest instead.  His arms were empty.  A dim part of him felt like he wanted to go to his room, but of course that was silly.  He was already in his room.  He just missed being able to feel safe here.

Hunter squeezed his eyes closed, willing himself to be able to go to sleep.  Uncle is good, uncle is kind.  Uncle takes care of me.   He repeated to himself, over and over again.

Uncle is good, uncle is kind.  Uncle takes care of me.   He was starting to feel calmer.  He just needed to do something to make it up to his uncle, that’s all.  Something big.  He knew that Kikimora was going out tomorrow to try to find some Titan’s blood.  Maybe that’s what he could do.  Find the Titan’s blood first, before she did, and earn his way back into his uncle’s favour.

Hunter gripped his fists together, feeling a renewed sense of determination.  He knew what he had to do. And this time, he would not fail.

Chapter Text

Resist, evade, escape.  

Hunter stilled his breathing, trying to remember his training.  Resist, evade, escape .  He’d trained for this.  He’d read all the books.  Resist divulging critical information during intensive interrogation.  He’d never had to put these techniques into practice in the field, but he’d run over the scenario a million times in his head.  He could do this.  Resist, evade, escape.

“Hunter?  Are you alright?”

Hunter squirmed in his chair.  He’d never been great at resisting interrogation, if he was honest with himself.  The urge to nervously babble his way out of the situation was too powerful.  A high-pitched sound emitted from the corner of his mouth.  Resist, evade, escape.

Principal Bump sighed and shuffled some papers around.  “I just asked how you were settling into Hexside, but we can start with a different question if you want.”

“NAME, RANK, SERIAL NUMBER!”  Hunter yelped, suddenly remembering a crucial part of his training.

“Pardon me?”

“My name is Hunter.  No last name.  My rank is Golden G… well I guess I don’t have a rank anymore.  My serial number is one-four-seven, though now that I think about that it might have just been the number of Golden Guards that came before me.”  Hunter clamped his mouth shut and stared straight ahead, gripping the edge of his chair.

“I know your name.”  Bump opened a thin file folder that he had on his desk.  “Though I don’t believe I have your…serial number?  Is that what you called it?  If it’s important to you I can add it to your file.”

“One-four-seven.”  Hunter repeated.  “Uncle said it wouldn’t have been so high except that there was a twenty-five percent failure rate.  I didn’t understand what he meant by that at the time.”

“Of course.”  Bump held his face neutral, though the tail of his palisman had started twitching a little faster.  “Shall I add it to the file?”

Hunter flinched when Bump picked up a pen.  He swallowed heavily but didn’t answer.

Bump paused, pen in hand.  “You don’t seem like you want me to write it down.”

“My uncle only used it when I was in trouble.”  Hunter replied quickly.  “I think he wanted to remind me that I was replaceable.”

Bump put down the pen and pushed it to the side.  “Well, here at Hexside you are not a number.  You have a name and I would like to use it.”

Hunter allowed himself a single nod, not daring himself to speak.  Was he in trouble or not?  It didn’t seem like it, but he couldn’t understand why else Principal Bump would ask to speak with him.  His uncle would never have summoned him like this if he wasn’t in trouble for something or another.  He just had to figure out what.

Bump had gone back to examining the file in front of him.  “I am aware of your…complex social history.  It must make for some unique challenges when it comes to adjusting to the school environment.”

“Nope!”  Hunter’s voice rose several pitches.  “No problem at all!  Everything is fine!  Everything is A-OK.  No problem at all, why would there be a problem?”  He clamped his mouth shut, mentally scolding himself for his nervous babbling.  Resist, evade, escape.

“I didn’t say there was a problem, I said it must be challenging.”  Bump examined the boy over the edge of his desk.  “You seem… tense.”

“Not tense at all!”  Hunter positively squeaked.

“Clearly.”  Bump replied without emotion.  He turned his attention back down to the file.  “It also says here that you might react unpredictably to authority.”

“I’m great with authority!”  Hunter protested.  “Like this one time we had to navigate a maze full of traps.  Kikimora tried sending us in the wrong direction which totally would have led us into a patch of flesh-eating nettles but I saw right through it.  We got out with minimal casualties.”  His smile faltered when he saw that Bump didn’t appear to find the same humour in it that he did.  

“A maze full of traps?”  Bump looked stricken for a moment before he carefully secured that look of mild indifference back onto his face.

“It was only once a year.”  Hunter pointed out.  “It was part of our recertification process.  Not a big deal really.”

“Well there will be no mazes and no traps here.”  Principal Bump went back to studying the folder.  “I see here that you have a very intense course load.  Hex Effects, Anatomy and Demonology, Fundamentals of Deconstruction, Dry Spells, Com-potion, Witchualistic Practices, Advanced Magical Theory, From Seeds to Weeds… and that is on top of Flyer Derby Practice.  Frankly, I don’t know how you fit it all in.”

“Oh, it’s because I have strictly regimented my time.”  Hunter said proudly.  “I eat high-density protein snacks between classes to keep up my energy and eliminate the need for meal breaks.  I have mapped out my classes to minimize travel time and I keep myself in a perpetual state of dehydration so that I can go the whole day without having to use the bathroom.”

For some reason Principal Bump looked alarmed.  “You what?”

“Yep.”  Hunter said smugly.  “ And I wake up at four-thirty every morning to read ahead in the textbooks.  That way it’s still fresh in my brain.”

“Four…thirty?”  Bump repeated.

“That’s right.”  Hunter said, starting to feel nervous again.  The urge to please his authority figures was strong, and for some reason Principal Bump did not look pleased.  Should he try harder to impress?  “But I can start getting up earlier if you’d like.  Who needs sleep anyway?  It is just succumbing to the weak mortal vessel in which we are all imprisoned.”  Titan, he sounded like his uncle there.  Hunter scowled as his voice echoed in his ears.

“No, I don’t want you to start waking up earlier.  Sleep is important for a teenager.  You do… sleep, right?”

“Most nights.”  Hunter admitted.  “But you’ll be pleased to hear that I believe that I have found the optimal way to maximize productivity by sacrificing the most amount of sleep that I can possibly manage without affecting my higher functions.”

Principal Bump could only stare at him.  Even his palisman looked alarmed.  Hunter squirmed in his chair, jamming his hands underneath his thighs.  Was he in trouble or not?  He did get a measly eighty two percent on that recent essay, but that was because Professor Homunculus had it out for him.  

Well, if he was going to be punished, he would accept it with dignity and grace.  He just hoped that whatever punishment his Uncle the Principal chose for him wouldn’t be too public.  He detested public humiliation.

“I think I have heard enough.”  Bump announced, closing Hunter’s file with a flourish.  He slid a sheet of paper across his desk.  “I have trimmed your courses down to the basics.  Here is your new schedule.  You will notice that you now have Toesday afternoons off.”

“Uncle, please!  I’ll try to do better…”  Hunter clamped his mouth shut once he realized what he’d said.  He swallowed heavily and looked away.  Why did he say that?  Why did he say that ?

“This isn’t a punishment.  You are not in trouble.  Hunter, please look at me.”

Hunter glanced upwards for a brief moment only before looking away again.  A weak voice in the back of his mind said resist, evade, escape.

“It is my job to give you a well-rounded education.  Apparently this includes making sure that you have time to sleep… and drink water…”

“I can do both those things.”  Hunter said weakly.  “Whatever you want me to do, I’ll do it.  Just don’t cast me out, please?”

“I’m not going to—Hunter?  What makes you think I would cast you out?”

“I…”  Hunter trailed off, not really sure how to answer.  He supposed the real reason, that his uncle used to threaten just that, would probably not help his case.

Principal Bump folded his hands together, his long nails reaching almost to his wrists.  “You are, of course, aware that Hexside has a full-time counselor on staff?”

Hunter nodded, mildly confused by the sudden change of subject.

“Dr. Greer is highly qualified for her position.”  Principal Bump said proudly.  “She has a specialization in youth and adolescent development, with a lot of experience in childhood trauma, grief, and abandonment issues.  I believe that she will be a great asset to Hexside.”

Hunter was starting to think that this might have something to do with him.

“Do you have your own therapist in the community, Hunter?”  Bump asked directly.

“Darius tried to find one for me, but I stopped going.”  Hunter admitted.

“Why did you stop going?”

“I didn’t think I needed it.”  Hunter gave an ironic smile.  “I’m starting to think I was wrong about that.”

For the first time, a smile appeared on the principal’s face.  “It’s encouraging to hear you say that.  It shows a certain amount of self-awareness that I wasn’t sure we would achieve today.”

“Oh.”  Hunter said simply, mildly surprised at the turn that this conversation was taking.  He wasn’t in trouble?  Was that right?   And Principal Bump didn’t seem to think that he needed to prove his worth?  This whole situation was entirely foreign.

“You will show up at Dr. Greer’s office at one p.m. on Toesday afternoons.  That is after your lunch break, by the way, which I want you to take.  With your peers.  And a well balanced meal, and please for Titan’s sake drink water.”  

“Understood.”  Hunter allowed a tentative smile to appear on his face.  He relaxed when he saw the Principal return it.  That voice in the back of his mind telling him to flee was getting quieter.

“Dr. Greer will inform me of your attendance record but will not disclose anything that you tell her.  That is all confidential, understood?  The rest of Toesday will be a free period, and then you will have a full course day starting again on Wristday mornings.”

“I…”  A distant part of Hunter wanted to protest.  Tell the Principal that his old schedule was working just fine for him, and he didn’t need therapy and his headache that he got from being dehydrated all the time wasn’t that bad.  But, well, at least one of those things would be a lie, and both of them knew it.  Finally he finished with a simple “okay.”

“I have spoken with your Flyer Derby Captain.  She seems as eager as you are.  You two make quite the team.”  Bump didn’t seem to notice when Hunter coughed and looked away when Willow’s name was brought up in casual conversation.  “You now have Flyer Derby practice three days a week only.  Toesday, Thumbsday, and Femurday.”

“But…”  Hunter started to protest.  

“You may…”  Principal Bump interrupted, holding up one finger for silence.  “...work your way back up to full practice once I see that you can keep up with your counseling sessions and maintain your school-life balance.  Understood?”

Hunter nodded, feeling… what was he feeling?  Disappointed, for one.  He liked Flyer Derby Practice.  But also a little conflicted, and a little relieved, and a little confused.  He’d been stressing so much about meeting Principal Bump’s expectations of him, only to find out that they were significantly lower than he’d thought they would be.  All he had to do was… show up to class, and talk to a shrink, and take meal breaks?  He could do all those things.  Though he didn’t fully trust that there wasn’t a catch.  

“Good.”  Principal Bump looked pleased.  He leaned back in his chair and studied the boy across his desk.  “Now, do you have any questions?”

“No.”  Hunter replied, frowning at his new schedule.  He was already plotting the most efficient route between his classes.  

“Very good.”  Principal Bump picked up his pen again and pretended to be very interested in some forms on his desk.  “Your new schedule starts immediately.  Now, if I am not mistaken it is lunch hour.  Please report directly to the cafeteria.  Dismissed.”

Hunter left the office feeling a little lost, if he was honest with himself.  It felt weird to not have to rush to get to the next class.  He deliberately slowed down his usually quick walking pace and examined the lockers.  Were they always this colour?  Occasionally he would spot photos of graduating classes of years gone past.  Maybe he could find Darius’s photo somewhere?  

Out of habit he teleported the last few meters to the cafeteria, but he didn’t really need to.  He’d never realized how long a forty-minute lunch break could be when he wasn’t trying to cram an extra class into his already overburdened schedule.  Mindful of Principal Bump’s instructions, he joined Willow and Gus in line for a lunch tray and was immediately drawn into an animated discussion of Flyer Derby strategy.  He still didn’t fully understand what Hexside was all about, but he was starting to think that it was going to be a lot simpler than being in the Emperor’s Coven.  

Chapter Text

Hunter had noticed that each abomination witch developed their own style of using their magic.

Darius wielded his abomination matter like it was an extension of his body.  It was elegant and fashionable, stylishly framing his head and face.  On his more casual days Hunter had noticed it being used as an article of clothing or dotting the tips of his fingernails.  Other times it melded with his very flesh, turning his whole arm into a scythe or his body into a terrifying monster.  Even when being used as a tool or a weapon, Darius’s abomination was designed to accessorize.

Amity’s magic was delicate and graceful, constantly in motion, as if the two were in a perpetual dance.  She could make it as thin as the membrane of a balloon or spin like the wheels on a skateboard.  It swirled around her like the bend in a river, dancing from the tips of her fingers and twisting around her body before finally being returned to the satchel at her waist.

Professor Homonculous’s magic was big and showy.  Designed to intimidate.  No matter where he went or what he did, he wanted his magic to be visible.

For Professor Bump, magic was a tool; for practical application only.  He was fairly casual with its use, employing it when necessary and then promptly cleaning up afterwards.  No fuss, no muss.

And Alador Blight?  Well, the best word that Hunter could come up with was “globby.”   

Oh, Alador was a powerful witch, alright.  He could use his magic to teleport, which apparently was a difficult skill to master, and he was always finding new and innovative ways to use abomination magic.  Still, Hunter couldn’t help but think that his creations always looked like they were a suitcase stuffed just a little bit too full, and this one was no exception.

Hunter had been tasked with picking up a book from Alador and delivering it to Darius.  They were both senior abomination witches so occasionally their jobs would overlap.  It sounded like a much simpler mission than it actually was, considering the two witches still would not say a single word to one another, so Hunter had to act like a go-between.  He’d finally arranged a time to stop by what was left of Blight Manor only to be met with a series of “just one minute” and “it’s around here somewhere.”  So now he was just watching one of those globby abomination creations ooze around the house, pulling books out from under cushions and behind lamps.  So far none of them had been the right book, and none of them made their way back towards the bookshelf; instead they were just being discarded where they lay, tossed haphazardly onto the nearest available surface before the abomination servant moved onto the next spot.

Tired of waiting, Hunter wandered back to Alador’s workshop.  “Umm, Mr. Blight?  If it’s convenient for you I can always come back for the book later.  You can just put it aside for me once you find it.”

“Suit yourself.”  Alador replied without pulling himself out of the engine that he was working on.  “But call me Alador. ‘Mr. Blight’ reminds me too much of who I used to be.”

Hunter suddenly felt an odd sort of kinship with the man.  They’d never had much to do with one another before, having at best a tense working relationship when they were both servants of the Emperor, but it seems that they were both actively rejecting an identity that was chosen for them, and he could appreciate that.  

“Though if you do decide to stick around, make yourself useful.”  Alador said absently.  “Help me steady this power coupling.”

Hunter was at his side in an instant, placing both hands on the sides of the aforementioned object and holding it steady while Alador plugged various wires into various slots.  

“There!”  Alador said at last, standing back to admire his handiwork.  He seemed pleased by what he saw, but to Hunter it just looked like a tangle of wires; his fingers itched to start organizing them by colour.  Alador didn’t seem to notice.  “Thank you.  If you weren’t here I would have had to use an abomination to help me, and they’re not precise enough for this sort of thing.”

Darius could do it.   Hunter thought, but was smart enough to keep that to himself.  Instead he asked “what are you working on?”

“Repurposing an airship.”  Alador replied, once again dipping the upper half of his body into the engine compartment.  “The Emperor left a whole bunch of them behind after the Day of Unity and most of them aren’t in working condition.  The weakest part is the canopy so I thought that I could use abomination magic to make them self-healing and get them airborne again.”

Hunter was immediately interested.  He’d flown one of these things plenty of times when he was the Golden Guard, so he felt like he knew a thing or two about them.  “But abomination magic is heavy.  It would have to be symmetrically applied or it would throw the steering column off.”

“That is exactly right.”  Alador apparently couldn’t find the tool that he needed so he made one out of abomination magic and started hammering at something deep in the compartment.  “And then there’s the problem of having the magic react appropriately without a witch present to wield it.”

“You’d need an independent power source.”  Hunter said, peering over his shoulder.

“You seem to know a lot about this.”  Alador pulled himself out of the engine and studied the boy curiously.

Hunter puffed his chest up.  “I read the repair manual several times.  And I memorized the blueprints.  I figured that if I ever got in a sticky situation I would need to know how to fix it.”

“And did you?”

Hunter let the air puff out of his lips.  “Sticky situation, yes.  Fix it, no.”

“I’m not surprised.”  Alador replied, turning back towards the engine.  “These things are notoriously finicky.  Still, the idea of air travel is pretty exciting.  I’d love to repurpose them for freight and establish trade routes between major ports.  Can you imagine what sorts of things we could accomplish if we had a non-magical means of transportation throughout the Isles?  Of course, I have yet to solve the question about how to counteract the air currents above The Ankle…”  

“An experienced pilot could do it.”  Hunter pointed out.

“For one airship, yes.  But that’s only because the pilot can compensate once they get blown off-course.  But once you get a whole fleet then we would not have as much room for error.  We have to eliminate the chance of mid-air collisions…”  He trailed off, and then blushed and looked away.  “Sorry.  Emira calls this ‘info-dumping.’   She says I should try to stop doing it so much.”

“It’s okay!”  Hunter jumped in, a little bit too fast.  “I don’t mind, I do that too!  And I am interested in this.  You can keep talking… you know, if you want.”

Alador brightened.  “You do?  I can?  Really?”

“Absolutely.”  Hunter nodded eagerly.  “I, uhh… don’t have anybody to talk to about this sort of thing either.”

“Wonderful.”  Alador rubbed his hands together gleefully.  “Well if you’ve got the time I was about to start remodeling the converters.  Help me strip these wires.”

“Oh.”  Hunter cleared his throat as Alador passed him some sort of tool.  It felt unfamiliar in his hands.  He stood around awkwardly, waiting as Alador rummaged around for a second.

“I know I have another one somewhere…Aha!”  Alador finally turned back from his toolbox, holding up another one of the same sort of tool that Hunter was holding.  He faltered when he saw the look on Hunter’s face.  “What’s wrong?  Are you left-handed?”

“No.”  Hunter hesitated, embarrassed.  “I just… I’ve read the manuals and memorized the blueprints, but I’ve never actually gotten to apply my knowledge, you see.  It’s always been theoretical.  Nobody has ever shown me how to actually do it.”

Alador looked at him with an expression of… sorrow?  Was that it?  “You had to figure a lot of things out on your own, huh?  Back when you were the Golden Guard?”

Hunter clenched his jaw but didn’t answer.  He was suddenly very aware of the ambient noise of the workshop.  The humm of a motor, the buzz of a light, the gluttoral ooze of that same abomination still looking for his book.  This was…awkward.  Hunter hated awkward.  He wondered if he should just leave after all.  

“It’s alright.  I understand.”  Alador finally broke the silence.  “Times were…lonely, back when the Emperor was in power.  He took so much from us, and then he kept us too tired and too busy and too isolated to even question if there might have been a better way.”

Hunter smiled bitterly.  He knew all too well how true that was.  “I was expected to know everything, but then I wasn’t allowed to ask anybody to teach me anything.  I learned to be…resourceful to get what I needed.”

Alador raised one eyebrow.  “Resourceful?”

“Yeah.”  Hunter mumbled, a sick feeling of guilt twisting in his stomach.  “Resourceful.  Like turning over the Blight Industries inventory to the Emperor’s Coven.”

“Right, that.”  Alador rubbed one arm, also looking rather awkward.  “I’m not angry about that, by the way.”

“You would have every right to be.”  Hunter protested.  “A lot of people have a right to be angry with me.”

“A lot of people have the right to be angry at The Emperor. ”  Alador emphasized the last two words.  “Including you.”

“I know.”  Hunter cleared his throat awkwardly.  “I’m just saying, I get it if you’re still angry.”

“I never was angry.”  Alador sighed.  “Not at you, anyway.  I know that I lashed out at you on the Day of Unity, but that was misplaced, I am sorry.  I was angry at myself because I suddenly had to confront the reality that I was making weapons and there was no moral way to do that.  But it should have been obvious from the start and I felt like a blind fool for thinking otherwise.”

“Oh.”  Hunter said, thinking that over for a while.  “I guess we all have some things that we wish we could take back.”

“Yeah.”  Alador chuckled bitterly.  “Some of us more than others.”

“I’m trying to make up for it now!”  Hunter said eagerly.  “I want to replant the palistrom forests.  And for every palisman that I helped Belos destroy I want to carve two more!  Not that they’re replaceable, of course, but it might help offset the harm that I’ve caused.”

A strange look came over Alador’s face.  He swallowed twice and looked away, avoiding the boy’s eyes.

“What?”  Hunter asked, suddenly feeling like a sinking feeling in his throat.  He recognized that look.  “You don’t think I can do it, do you?”

“It’s not that.”  Alador mumbled, still without meeting Hunter’s gaze.

“It’s fine, I get it.”  Hunter clenched his fists and looked away.  He should have known that nobody would believe in him.  It was a stupid idea anyway.

“No really, that’s not it.”  Alador groaned and rubbed one grimey hand over his face.  “Oh Titan, I’m messing this up, aren’t I?  Stupid Alador, Stupid.”

“Y’know what?  I think I’ll just come back and get that book later.”  Hunter said, inching towards the exit.

“No, wait.”  Alador jumped in, a bit too quickly.  “I absolutely think that you can do it.  I hope you can.  That is an admirable goal, and you could really make a difference.”

Hunter was now more confused than ever.  What was Aldor not telling him?  “But…?”  He prompted.

“ But…”   Alador emphasized.  “Have you considered that you don’t need to atone for anything?  You can just do those things because they bring you joy or whatever.  It doesn’t have to be over a misplaced sense of guilt over the things you did when you were the Golden Guard.  You especially don’t have to do them over guilt of the things that the Emperor did.  I just don’t want you to think you need to do this for the wrong reasons.”

Hunter blinked stupidly at him.  “You’re one to talk.”

“I know, it’s hypocritical of me to say that.  But I was passionate about something once, and then I spent twenty years doing it for the wrong reasons and I nearly lost that passion.”  A far-away look came over the older witch’s face.  “And now I see that same passion in you.  So maybe if you learn from the mistakes that I’ve already made then you don’t have to repeat them.”

“Oh, I have plenty of my own mistakes to learn from.”  Hunter said, twisting his lips into a half smile.  “But thanks.  I’ll…think about that.”

“Good.”  Alador muttered, and rubbed his arm, a movement which Hunter distantly realized that he was doing too.  An awkward silence descended upon the workshop once more, broken only by the opportune entrance of the abomination servant, finally holding out Darius’s book.

Hunter took the book, shaking residual abomination goo off it.  He now had what he came for and technically that meant he could leave now but… his eyes drifted back to the airship.  It seemed like a shame to leave without learning a few things, right?

“So.”  Hunter cleared his throat.  “Are you going to show me how to strip a wire, or what?”

Alador’s face brightened.  “Oh yes.  I can show you how to strip the whole engine if you want.  How much time do you have?”

“Hunter considered, examining the clock on the far wall.  “I do have to get this book back to Darius…”

“Darius can wait.”  Alador said with a peculiar glint in his eye.  He seemed positively delighted at a chance to stick it to his rival.  “Roll up your sleeves, do you need an apron?  This is about to get messy. ”

Hunter grinned and did as he asked, rolling up his sleeves and tying the apron behind his back.  Alador was right about one thing, at least.  Darius could wait.

Chapter Text

Hunter had agreed to this.  No, more than that; he had volunteered.  He wanted to be helpful.  He wanted to be useful.  He wanted to earn his keep.  

He was no longer so sure that it was worth it though.  His boots were squishing unpleasantly underneath him and his nose kept twitching as new and pungent smells hit him.  It was probably not too late to back out, but it was more pure stubbornness than anything that kept him going.  He was long past the stage where he felt like he was above this sort of chore, unpleasant as it was.  He took another step, and felt something crunch underneath his boot.

“Remind me why we’re here again?”  He couldn’t help but whine.

“We are looking for treasure .”  Eda said gleefully.

“You mean garbage?”

“Some of it is garbage.”  Eda replied, reaching down into a pile.  She winced and pulled her hand back, shaking some sort of orange goo off it.  “Ewww.  Okay, most of it is garbage.  But you would be amazed at some of the stuff that people throw out.  Keep looking.”

“What exactly are we looking for?”  Hunte asked, frowning up at the bloated carcass of the trash slug.

“Treasure.”  Eda repeated, still rummaging around.  “You’ll know it when you see it.”

Hunter wasn’t so sure of that.  He took another few steps, relieved to at least find a less gooey pile of rubbish to stand in.  There was what looked like a discarded Coven Scout uniform nearby.  It was holding its shape nicely, and Hunter couldn’t be sure that there wasn’t still a person in there.  He shuddered and looked away.  

“Here, look!”  Eda said excitedly, pulling an object out of the pile.  “What could it be?  Who knows!  But I can sell it.”

“It’s a rotary phone.”  Hunter replied.  “From the human realm.”

“Human realm, huh?”  Eda said, twirling the cord around her finger.  “That’ll sell at a premium.  Keep looking.”

Hunter obeyed, pulling a trombone out of the pile.  That had to be valuable, right?  Raine had told him that musical instruments were expensive, but Eda shook her head and tossed it aside.

“Most of these items are in really good shape.”  Hunter pointed out, determined to find the silver lining on all this.

“Uh huh.”  Eda said absently.  “Trash slugs preserve their treasures for years.  Decades even.  It’s all about their stink nodes; they have temporal properties.  Also good for hair and scalp, but Belos banned that nearly fifty years ago, not that it ever stopped me, of course.”  She ran her remaining hand through her hair and gave a snorting laugh.  “I think this slug must be sixty years old or so.  If we’re lucky we’ll find some stuff from before Belos came to power.”

That got Hunter’s interest.  He picked up a book, surprised to see that the pages were still dry and readable.  It appeared to be a recipe book, but it used combined magic.  Most of this sort of thing had been banned long ago, and Hunter figured he could probably use it to learn more about wild magic.  Eda didn’t seem interested in it, so he started a pile of his own.  

“Gosh, it’s not every day you find one so fresh.”  Eda said, pulling out a red and white striped barber pole.  She smiled gleefully at her find.  “You sure lucked out today!  First time digging through the trash and it’s on such a fine specimen.  Most of them smell way worse than this.”

At this point Hunter was sure that she was goading him for a reaction.  It sure sounded like she knew what she was doing, but even so, he took the bait.  He scowled and looked away.  “It’s not my first time.”  He said flatly.

Eda stopped what she was doing and stood up to face him.  “Huh?”

“Digging through garbage.”  Hunter said without emotion.  “It’s not my first time.”

Eda’s expression changed as she watched him.  She looked almost sympathetic.  “Wanna talk about it?”

For a moment a feeling of yearning bubbled up inside of him.  He did want to talk about it, actually.  He opened his mouth, but then clamped it shut again and glared at her.  He didn’t want to risk losing Eda’s acceptance by saying the wrong thing.  He scowled, annoyed at how close he had come to revealing a vulnerability.  “No.”

Eda watched him carefully for a moment and then went back to her pile of trash, pulling out a garden flamingo.  “You know, I didn’t always sell the junk that I found.”

“You didn’t?”  Hunter asked, jumping on the change of subject.

“Nope.”  Eda replied without looking at him.  “There was a time when I slept on it.  Or wore it.  Or ate it.  When you’re cold and hungry and alone then you do what you need to, am I right?”

Hunter felt his heart pounding in his chest.  He opened his mouth to answer, but found that his throat felt tight and painful.  He elected to stay quiet so as not to give himself away.  

“You should have seen the mattress that I slept on when I was twenty five.”  Eda continued, still not looking at him.  “It smelled terrible.  Trash slug gunk washes off really easily, but this one wasn’t from a trash slug so I couldn’t get the stink away.  I’m sure I smelled bad too, not that I let anybody close enough to tell.  That was after Raine dumped me, by the way.”

Hunter wasn’t sure what to say to that, so he elected for a simple “oh.”

“Not that I blame them, of course.”  Eda continued with a bitter sort of smile.  “I would have dumped me too.  They did what they had to do, just like I did.  There’s no shame in doing what you need to do to survive, do you hear me?  No shame at all.  Sometimes the universe gives you a shitty hand and it’s not fair but what even is fair, anyway?   Knowing that something is fair or not fair doesn’t change the reality.  Fair or not fair, you have to deal with what the universe throws at you, and sometimes that means sleeping on garbage.”

Eda’s voice broke.  She didn’t sound like she could continue, but she was saved from having to say anymore by Hunter, who had wrapped his arms around her tightly.  Her face softened and she hugged him back, resting her stump arm gently on his back.

“After I ran away from the Emperor’s Coven,” Hunter said, keeping his voice quiet even though there was nobody else around to hear them, “I did exactly that.  I dug through the trash cans every night.  I put together an outfit from the lost-and-found bin and I ate sandwiches out of the garbage and I slept on a pile of smelly gym mats.”

Eda rested her remaining hand on his hair, her long nails tickling his scalp pleasantly.  “You did what you had to do.”  She said, her voice soft in his ear.  “I could call you a warrior.  I could tell you that you are strong and brave and that would be the truth.  But what it comes down to is that you should never have had to be any of those things, because you should never have been in that position to start with.”

Hunter hugged her even tighter.

“I should have gone after you that night, I’m sorry.”  Eda murmured against him.

“S’not your fault; I ran away.”  Hunter stepped back from her and swiped one sleeve over his eyes.  “I was dealt a shitty hand, remember?”

Eda looked at her stump arm.  It looked like she was about to make another of her missing hand jokes, but she must have decided against it.  “Yeah.”  She said finally.  “You were.  And you dealt with it the only way that you could.”

“I guess… I’d never really thought of it that way.”  Hunter admitted.  “I thought that I should be ashamed of that time.  Just never mention it, and hope that nobody else does either.”

“Never be ashamed of something that got you to where you are today.”  Eda said firmly, booping one grimey finger along his nose.  “ Especially if it involves digging through the garbage.  Come on, give me a hand over here.  Titan knows I need one.  Get it?  I need a hand, because I only have one?”  She grinned and waved her stump arm around gleefully.

“Yeah.”  Hunter said, not  really feeling her joke, but appreciating the lightening of the mood.   He started digging through the trash and quickly found what looked like a music box.

Eda whistled, looking over his shoulder.  “Palistrom wood!  Good find.  Those are super rare nowadays.  They used to be a place for people to keep their magical treasures, but Belos banned them forty years ago.”

Belos banned a lot of things, it seemed.  Hunter examined the box carefully.  He opened the lid, surprised when a tinny melody met his ears.  “It still works!”

“Yep.”  Eda said, not sounding at all surprised.  “Trash slugs, remember?  What are you going to do with it?”

“Don’t you want it for your booth?”  Hunter asked.  “It could be valuable.”

“Nope.”  Eda said simply.  “That one’s yours.”

“Oh.”  Hunter felt oddly emotional as he examined the box.  He always got emotional when touching palistrom wood.  He supposed it was because he was a Grimwalker, and as such was made with palistrom wood, among other things.  Part of him felt a little guilty.  It must have taken a lot of wood to make him, and he couldn’t help wonder how many palismen could have been made with that same wood.  “Why is palismen wood so rare?”  He finally asked the question that had been on his mind for a while, but he had never before been brave enough to ask it.  He was afraid that the answer would be ‘because Belos made so many Grimwalkers.’

“The official answer is overharvesting.”  Eda replied, once again digging through the trash.  “But truthfully we were doing just fine for a millennia before Belos appeared.  We had our orchards and our forests and we always replanted what was taken.  But Belos put a stop to that.  He ordered the trees to be cut down and used them to make his throne room.  Then he salted the earth when he was done.”

Hunter felt sick.  He swallowed, staring hard at the music box.

“Hey, it’s not your fault.”  Eda said kindly.  “Besides, we’re replanting the forests.  And thanks to my dad we have a twenty year headstart.  Keep it under your hat, but some of the trees he’s planted are big enough to be harvested.  But we’re keeping quiet about it for now.  We don’t need a rush of people competing to get their hands on palistrom wood.  Besides, sometimes it’s nice to just leave a tree in the ground, ya know?”

Hunter suddenly felt an unfamiliar emotion rise in his chest.  Hope.  Is that what it felt like?  Surely that couldn’t be the first time he’d experienced it.  And yet, somehow he felt like it was.  Hope.  

“Do you think…”  Hunter cleared his throat, suddenly nervous.  “Do you think that your dad would let me work with him?  I want to help.”

“Not until you’re done with school.”  Eda replied absently, and then straightened, a look of disgust on her face.  “Oh my Titan, I sound like my mother.  Do what you want, kid.  I’ll put you in touch with him.”

“Thanks.”  Hunter said, still feeling emotional.  He stared down at the music box in his hands, which was still playing that childish tune.  He felt that this might have been the first time in maybe fifty years that somebody had heard this tune.  Wood carving tools .  He finally decided.  That’s what I’ll put in here.  And seeds and fertilizer and…what else does one need to regrow a forest?   He would have to ask Willow.

Hunter closed the lid on the box, hugging it tightly to his chest.  Somehow, standing in this sea of trash, he felt lighter than he had in years.  “Thank you for the gift.”  He told Eda, keeping his voice steady.

Eda waved her stump dismissively.  “No problem, kid.  You were the one who found it, after all.”

But Hunter didn’t tell her that that wasn’t what he meant.  Very suddenly he wanted to grow up.  He was excited about it.  He would plant palistrom orchards and carve palismen and have a future and a career and maybe a house and a family…

He wondered if Willow would… No.  Hunter shook his head.  He didn’t have that much hope.

“Yo, Blondie!”  Eda called, interrupting his thoughts.  “Less brooding, more rummaging.”

Hunter put his music box safely aside so he could find the next treasure.  It appeared to be a wooden duck on a stick with little leather feet attached to the wheels that slap slap slapped their way along the ground when pushed.  It was clearly a child’s toy; Eda was delighted by it.

Hunter laughed as he watched her push it along the belly of the trash slug, puckering her lips and making little quacking noises.  He was glad he’d stuck around.  This was turning into an alright day after all.

Chapter Text

Hunter knew this place.  He knew the ornate windows and the tapestries, the cold floor and the damp walls.  The way his boots echoed along the corridors.  Over there was where he had scolded some poor hapless guard who had dropped some papers.  And over there was where his uncle had scolded him–also for dropping some papers.  And over there was when Kikimora tried to frame him for petty theft.

But if he knew it so well, why did it seem so strange?  It hadn’t changed at all since the last time that he had been here.

But Hunter knew the reason.  The Emperor’s castle hadn’t changed.  He had.  He tried to ignore the voice in his mind frantically telling him to flee as he marched purposefully down the corridor next to a somber Lilith.

Without speaking the two of them stopped before a pair of heavy doors.  Both of them knew why they were there, but neither wanted to take the first step.

“You don’t have to do this.”  Lily said at last, her voice echoing eerily off the walls.

“Of course I have to.”  Hunter tried to give her an encouraging smile, though he felt it falter on his face.  “I just don’t want to.”

“It doesn’t have to be today.  It doesn’t even have to be this year.  We can have it all boxed up and put in storage for you when you’re ready.”

“No.  I don’t want it hanging over me like that.  I just want to see what’s there and then have it all destroyed.”  Hunter glared at Lily when it looked like she wanted to refuse.  They’d already had this conversation, several times, and Hunter still hadn’t changed his mind.  “I am his next of kin.  It is my right.”

Lily sighed and handed him a packet of stickers.  “Green for keep, yellow for store, red for destroy.  Mark things as you go along.”

Hunter nodded and took the stickers, then pushed open the door to Belos’s chambers.  The first thing he noticed was the paintings.  He had seen them before; they were the same ones that Belos had in the upper floor of his mindscape; he had seen them when he and Luz got trapped in the Emperor’s mind that one day.  They were all lies, of course; but Belos must have stared at those paintings for long enough that he was able to convince himself that this version of events was true.

Hunter swallowed the lump in his throat and immediately started walking around the room, putting red stickers on each one.

First was the painting of Belos leading the villagers out of their burning town.  Destroy.   The painting of the wild witches rejoicing under a venerated Belos.  Destroy.   Belos holding his staff up against the Owl Beast, that one ironically titled ‘Triumph Over Wild Magic.’  Destroy.   Belos swearing-in Hunter as the next Golden Guard.  Extra destroy.   Hunter put two red stickers on that last one.

Once he was done with the paintings, Hunter went around the rest of the room, putting red stickers on everything else too.  Even things that could be repurposed like the bedframe or the carpet or the wardrobe.  Destroy, destroy, destroy.

At last Hunter stood in the middle of the room, the pile of red stickers in his hand notably diminished, the green and yellow ones still untouched.  This couldn’t be it, could it?  

“For a four-hundred year old man, Belos sure didn’t have that many belongings.”  Lily commented, hands on hips.  “Oh well, I guess that means we’re done.  Come along, I promised Eda I would take you out for Feetza.”  Her words were casual, but Hunter knew that she wanted to get out of here as much as he did.

“There’s gotta be more…”  Hunter said thoughtfully, examining the room.  Just a dotting of red stickers, as far as the eye could see.

“We checked the castle thoroughly.”  Lily replied.  “We even found the–umm–shall we say—previous Golden Guards.  They are being sorted and will have a proper burial, by the way.  This is the last room before the whole castle is going to be gutted and repurposed.”

“I know all that.”  Hunter said, continuing to turn in a slow circle as he examined the room.  “But I also know Belos.  He kept a journal.  More than one, probably.  So where are they?  What about his masks?  He had a lot of secrets, so where did he keep them all?”

“We have long suspected that he had a hideout somewhere.”  Lily answered.  “Making Grimwalkers takes a lot of raw material so he would have needed privacy, but the isles are big and there are still a lot of places to search.”

“I know all that.”  Hunter repeated, beginning to feel frustrated.  He did know that.  He did.   But he also knew Belos and he didn’t believe for a moment that he didn’t have more hideouts in the castle.  What could they be missing?  “You go ahead, I’ll look around some more.”

“Eda has threatened to do dire things to me if I leave you alone.”  Lily replied flatly.  “Maybe there’s a hidden door somewhere.  I’ll help you search.”

“Thanks.”  Hunter muttered without enthusiasm.  He started knocking on floorboards while Lily peeked behind the paintings and tugged on all the candle sconces.  Lily seemed content to search all the classical places for a hidden compartment, but Hunter was starting to get frustrated.  He found himself standing in front of that painting again, staring a reproachful hole into it.  He hated that painting.  Hated it.  He hated seeing his younger self in the Golden Guard’s uniform.  He hated seeing Belos and his staff.  He hated Darius’s sad face.  Hated that it made him remember being in Belos’s mindscape.  He even hated the stupid gold-painted frame around the whole thing.

Spitefully, Hunter put the last few red stickers on it.  Destroy, destroy, destroy.   Somehow it wasn’t as satisfying as he thought it would be.  He didn’t want red stickers, he wanted it gone, now.   He reached into his pocket for another pack of stickers but his hand closed onto something else instead.  He contemplated for a moment longer, fiddling with the sheet of paper in his hand, before drawing the fire glyph out of his pocket and placing it right into the center of that hated painting.  

As expected, the painting burst into flames.  Hunter flinched away as a wave of hot air hit his face, and then again when Lily grabbed him by the back of his shirt and dragged him away from the fire.  

“What are you…?”  She hissed, checking him over for injuries.  Hunter blinked as her face came into his line of sight.  It was grounding, in a way; he was glad to have something else to focus on.  

Satisfied that he was unharmed, Lily turned back to the painting.  Hunter followed her gaze, and both of them watched as the pigment bubbled and the canvas curled in on itself as the flame ate its way outwards towards the frame.

“I really didn’t like that painting.”  Hunter said simply as the last of the charred pieces fell to the floor.

“Clearly.”  Lily said dryly.  “Hey, look at this.”  She cocked her head to the side and approached the scorch mark on the stone wall.  There was that hidden compartment that the two of them had been searching for.  Hunter carefully touched the handle, surprised to find it still cold.

“I aready checked behind all the paintings and there was nothing there.”  Lily said thoughtfully.  “The fire glyph must have revealed it.  Good thinking…even though I know you weren’t really thinking.”

Hunter cleared his throat.  “For a long time Belos thought that he was the only one who knew how to make glyphs.  He must have used that to hide his secrets, trusting that nobody else would know how to find them.”

“Clever.”  Lily muttered thoughtfully, staring at the door.  “You know, for a tyrant.  Do we really want to know what’s in there?”

Hunter winced, not really sure what a good answer to that would be.  Of course he didn’t want to, but he felt like he had to.  He stepped forward and opened the latch.

Hunter jumped when he saw what was behind the door, and he felt Lily do the same beside him.  At first he thought it was Belos, staring back at him from behind the hidden door.  But it was just a mask, sitting on a shelf.  Hunter put some red stickers on it, careful not to let his fingers touch the mask.  Then he grabbed the only other thing in there, a yellowed, crinkly journal and then sank down to his knees to read it.

“It looks like Belos took very careful notes on all the Grimwalkers he made.”  Hunter said thoughtfully, flipping through the pages.  “Look at this.  Height, eye colour, ear shape.  Date of animation.  Date of termination.  Nature of transgression.”

“That language is rather… heavy.”  Lily said distastefully.  

Hunter ignored her, still flipping through the book.  “One hundred and forty seven of them, including me.  Some of them only lasted a single day.  He marked those ones as defective.”

Lily made a strangled noise, but Hunter didn’t even glance up from the journal.

“He reused the same few names over and over again.  Some others were named Casper, and Sayer, Abacus, Foster, Cordell, Carver–that one seems a bit on point, don’t you think?”

“Hunter…”  Lily said gently.

Hunter nodded.  “That’s right, there were a few Hunters, besides me.  Look at that, he filled in my date of termination as the day of unity.  I guess he never intended for me to survive after all.”

“Hunter.”  Lily said, more firmly this time.  “I really question whether you should be reading this.”

“Of course I should.  It has to do with me, after all.”  Hunter gripped the book tighter, as if afraid that she would take it away from him.

“I mean, it doesn’t have to be right here, right now.”  Lily pushed gently.  “Let’s just mark everything and go.”

Hunter hesitated, his eyes traveling up to the scorched wall.  She was right, of course she was.  He knew that, and yet, he couldn’t seem to let go.  He found his eyes drifting back down to the book in his hands again.  “In a minute.”  He mumbled.

Lily sighed as Hunter kept reading.

“The Grimwalker before me was named Creed.”  Hunter muttered thoughtfully, flipping to the end of the book.  “Nature of transgression was…buggery?  What even is that?”

“It means non-procreative coupling.”  Lily muttered, sounding uncomfortable.

Hunter raised his eyes to meet hers.  “Meaning…?”

Lily flapped a hand, looking flustered.  “You know, copulation… intimacy.”

Hunter blinked stupidly at her.  “Sex?”

Lily cleared her throat nervously.  “That’s right.”

“Oh.”  A sinking feeling appeared in Hunter’s belly.  He lowered his eyes back down to the journal.  “That’s the reason that Belos murdered him?”

“It would appear so.”  Lily replied carefully.

Hunter ran his thumb over the page.  “It wasn’t even that long ago.  He would be middle-aged today if he had survived.  I wonder who his partner was?  Do you think that Belos killed them both?”

“We might never know.”  Lily said gently.

“I guess… I just…”  Hunter’s hands began to cramp and he became aware that he was clenching his fingers tightly around the journal.  

Lily knelt in front of him and placed her hands over his.  Her fingers were long and pale, her long nails painted black.  He found it calming to focus on her hands; it was easier than focusing on the pages of the book.  She applied gentle pressure to his hands and guided the journal closed.

Hunter swallowed as he raised his eyes to focus on her.  “I just don’t want to believe that this is the only record of him.  He was somebody.   He was older than I am now when he died.  So who was he?  Somebody has to remember him, right?   Do you remember him?  You’ve been in the Emperor’s Coven longer than I have.”

For a minute Lily looked haunted.  Her eyes flickered away from him and she took a deep breath to steady herself.  A small part of Hunter felt guilty.  He’d never really considered before what it would be like for Lily to have lived her whole adult life in the Emperor’s Coven.  At least he got out when he was still a teenager.

“I didn’t know him very well.”  Lily said at last.  “I didn’t even know that he had a name. I was just a trainee.  I never saw him without his mask, but he seemed kind.  I got the feeling he was a deep thinker.  Darius might know more, I think they used to spar together.”

That made Hunter feel better.   A little.  “I just want to know that he’s remembered.”  He said bitterly.  “That could have been me.  I could have spent my whole life without anybody ever seeing my face until I was murdered over something stupid and thrown in a hole to be replaced with the next one.”

“Well, he must have taken his mask off for somebody , considering he was found out for fornication.”  Lily attempted a smile that never quite reached her eyes, a weak attempt at humour.  Hunter attempted to return it but was fully aware of how inadequate it was.

Lily sighed and lowered her eyes down to the book, which they both still held.  “Believe it or not, this is good information.  It’s more than we knew before.  Now that we have this journal we  can start sorting through the remains.  We can work on a memorial, give them a proper burial.  Maybe even conduct interviews from people who might remember something.  We can piece together his story.  All of their stories.  We will make sure that they get told.”

Hunter swallowed around the lump in his throat, not daring himself to speak.  It felt inadequate.  He felt like he wanted to do more.   But of course what could be done?  They had all been dead for years. 

Lily squeezed his hands.  Somehow the gesture made him feel warm and protected.  “But you, you get to tell your own story.”  She told him.  “It belongs to you.  Not to Belos and not to this book.  It is yours, and it will be a long, long time before it is finished.”

“I…”  Hunter’s voice cracked and he had to swallow a few times before he dared himself to speak again.  “Okay.  Thanks.”

Lily let go of his hands and both of them stood up, stretching their stiff legs.  Hunter stared down at the journal in his hands.  The urge to open it again was strong, but somehow he knew that it was a bad idea.  He knew himself well enough to know that he would just obsess over it late into the night to the point where he would just never sleep again.  It was a valid concern.  He tentatively put a yellow sticker on the cover.  

“Can you keep this for me?”  He asked.  “Maybe one day I will ask for it back, but not now.  Just…keep it safe, okay?”

“I will.”  Lily said, taking the journal and holding it to her chest.  “I promise.”

Hunter nodded and turned back to survey the rest of the room.  He felt like he was watching it through a crystal ball.  Everything seemed far away, nothing seemed real.  All those red stickers winked at him from every corner of the room, but he found it hard to focus on any one of them.  His eyes just drifted aimlessly across them as he surveyed the room, wanting to be sure that he hadn’t missed anything.  At last he found himself standing in front of that piece of scorched wall where that painting had been hanging not that long ago.  The empty mask taunted him.

“How do you feel?”  Lily asked, her voice soft.  Hunter hadn’t even realized that she had come to stand beside him.

“Fine.”  Hunter said flatly.

“I know that’s a lie.”  Lily did not sound at all convinced.

Hunter snorted.  “I guess…”  His voice sounded hollow in his ears.  “I mean, the journal is upsetting, but I’m glad we found it.  All those previous Grimwalkers… before today the only person who could tell their story was Belos.  And now he’s dead and we have the journal so maybe we can reclaim their story, you know?  Tell it the way it should have been told.”

“I think I do know.”  Lily replied thoughtfully, and Hunter believed her.  Of all the people in the world, she knew exactly what it was like to have Belos drip lies into her ear.  She knew what it was like to believe them.  “It might be the same reason that you burned this painting, actually.”

Hunter glanced at her.  “You think?”

Lily waved her hand vaguely in the direction of the rest of the room.  “These paintings represent the lies that Belos told himself, over and over again, until his lies became his truth.  And then he made it everybody else’s truth as well.  None of us really know the true history of the isles anymore.  It will take years to sort out what actually happened because for so long the only history we knew was what he told us.  So when you burnt the painting, that was your way of destroying the version of events that Belos told and starting afresh.”

“Oh.”  Hunter muttered, processing what she had just said.

Lily smoothed her skirt down nervously.  “Or maybe I’m just reading too much into this.”

“No, I don’t think you are.”  Hunter wandered over to the next painting, the one titled Triumph Over Wild Magic.   Lily was in this painting, or a version of her anyway, cowering under the owl beast along with Luz and King.

Hunter glanced up at Lily, who had come to stand beside him, taking in her thin lips and stony-faced expression as she examined it.  She looked positively grim.  He knew exactly what she was feeling.  He dug another fire glyph out of his pocket and handed it to her.  “Do you want to do this one as well?”

Lily looked at the glyph, and then back at the painting.  “I really do.”

“Well then…”  Hunter moved to stand back out of the way and indicated with his hand for her to go ahead.  

Lily hesitated, glancing at him and then back at the painting, clearly wondering whether or not she should practice restraint.  At last she placed the fire glyph on the top left corner of the canvas, right over Belos’s head.  Her flame was more controlled than Hunter’s was, but it did the trick, the two of them watched the painting burn, and Hunter found himself grinning.  It was hard not to feel a certain amount of euphoria while watching something like this burn.  Unlike the last painting, there was no hidden door behind this one.

As the last cinder drifted to the floor, Lily’s expression went from careful exhilaration to one of alarm.  “I am setting a terrible example.”

“Feels good though.”  Hunter replied.

“Rather therapeutic.”  Lily agreed.  “Don’t tell Eda.”

“I’m sure Eda would approve.”

“That is exactly what I am afraid of.”  Lily replied dryly, and both witches cracked a tentative smile at one another.  

Hunter jammed his hand in his pocket and fiddled with the last fire glyph that he had brought that day.  He only had one left.  A small part of his mind recognized that this shouldn’t be an obstacle.  He could use charcoal to draw as many glyphs as he wanted, and burn the whole room to the mothertitan ground if he wanted to.  Of course then he would have to get into a philosophical discussion with Lily about where the line is between healing and vengeance…

But, well… he had one fire glyph left and that seemed symbolic enough.  He knew exactly what he wanted to do with it.  He turned back to that hidden cupboard that he accidentally found with the first glyph, and found himself staring down the empty, soulless eyes of Belos’s horned mask.  

“Go ahead.”  Lily told him gently.  She seemed to understand just how much he needed this.  “Just be careful, stand back, and seriously, don’t tell Eda.”

Hunter nodded to her and placed the last fire glyph on that hated mask, right on the forehead.  He felt calmer this time, and the glyph seemed to respond to that.  This one burned slowly and deliberately, in sharp contrast with the desperate way that his first glyph had consumed that painting.  These flames kept themselves small, they leisurely worked their way through the mask, not stopping until what had once been a smooth golden surface was now nothing more than a smoldering pile of ash.  

Hunter felt lighter, somehow.  Freer.  He took one last look at the room but all he saw was a dotting of red stickers.  He no longer felt that there was anything holding him here.  He squared his shoulders and walked out of the room without looking back.  He was perfectly happy to leave it all behind.  

Chapter Text

There was something uncannily familiar about Dell Clawthorne.

Maybe it was his wild hair, so much like his youngest daughter’s.  Maybe it was his strong nose, or his scars, or the far-off look in his eyes, or the way that he walked, or the way that he clutched his hand to keep it from trembling.  He had a sort of sad wisdom to him that Hunter found recognizable.

Or maybe it was his palisman.  A cardinal.  Nothing at all like Flapjack, of course.  This one was yellow, with a larger body and a pointier head and bushy eyebrows.  Besides, its scar was in entirely the wrong a different place.  

Still, Hunter felt his eyes drifting up to Dell’s shoulder as they walked, watching the little bird that was perched there.

“So.”  Dell said at last, hoisting off his heavy pack, which landed in the dirt with a thud.  “Why do you want to become a palisman carver?”

“I…”  Hunter mumbled, not really sure how to answer.  I feel a huge amount of responsibility for the current palisman shortage.  Belos consumed hundreds of palismen before I was even born (made?) and dozens more that I supplied for him.  Their deaths haunt me and I sometimes stay awake at night trying to remember as many details about each one as I can.  I also feel drawn to palistrom wood and my fingers itch to pick up a carving tool and I feel like I need to start carving with every fiber of my being, and not just because I want to atone for my part in all this.  Finally I know that as a Grimwalker I was made using palistrom wood and I keep wondering if my very existence might have caused or at least contributed to the palisman shortage.  

“I don’t know.”  He finished at last.

Dell sat down on a nearby log.  He did not look at all satisfied with the answer, but thankfully he decided not to push it.  “Here.”  He said, fishing two twigs out of his pack.  He held them up so Hunter could see them.  “Which one of these is palistrom wood?”

Hunter examined the twigs.  They looked pretty similar.  One was maybe a bit thicker but that was probably just because the branches had been different sizes when they’d fallen.  “I don’t know.”  He admitted.

“Take them.”  Dell said, passing the twigs over to Hunter.  

Hunter took the twigs and immediately the one in his left hand started tingling pleasantly.  He held up that one confidently.  “They’re both palistrom wood, but only this one is worth carving.”

Dell looked surprised.  “That is exactly right.  How did you know?”

“It just felt right, I guess.”  Hunter muttered.  “But I couldn’t tell until I touched it.”

“You have the touch.”  Dell muttered thoughtfully.  “It’s not necessary to be a palisman carver, but it helps.  It’s a good place to start.”

Hunter examined the two twigs.  Both had the same colour and thickness of bark.  Even the woodgrain looked the same.  “I can’t tell the difference by looking at them.  They look the same, they even smell the same.”

“You’re right that they’re both palistrom wood, but only one of them carries enough magic.”  Dell said.  “Every palisman is made from a palistrom tree, but not every palistrom tree has enough magic to produce palismen.  A lot of it has to do with the conditions in which the tree grew.  Under the right circumstances the tree can pick up magic from the isles themselves.  Over time the magic gets more and more concentrated, until we are able to carve it into full sentience.”

“Wild magic.”  Hunter whispered in awe, gazing at Dell’s palisman.  The idea intrigued him, and not just because of mere curiosity.  He wondered if this was an opportunity to learn more about himself.  He cleared his throat.   “How do they achieve full sentience?”

“The prevailing theory is that as you carve them, you are providing a vessel for Wild Magic to be able to interact with the physical world.”

Hunter frowned, rubbing one thumb over the twig.  That sounded…uncomfortably familiar.   “Mr. Clawthorne?  What do you know about Grimwalkers?”

“Call me Dell.”  Dell cocked his head to the side.  “Grimwalkers?  I’m not an expert, of course.  Why do you ask?”

Hunter winced, suddenly afraid of revealing too much.  “That thing that you said about the palistrom wood offering a physical form for magic to become sentient.  I wonder if something similar happens with Grimwalkers?”

“The theory is sound.  But without a Grimwalker around to examine, it would be impossible to know for sure.”  Dell smiled as if inviting Hunter to share in a joke.

Hunter tried to smile back, but he wasn’t really sure if he succeeded.  

“Really, it’s a mystery how any of us achieve sentience.”  Dell mused.  “Why do you ask?”

Hunter fidgeted nervously, wondering how much he should reveal.  It wasn’t exactly a secret that he was a Grimwalker, but he didn’t like to go around bragging about it either.  Finally he settled on asking a question of his own.  “How much did Eda tell you about me?”

“Eda?”  Dell shook his head sadly.  “Not much, I’m afraid.  It’s been a while since she talked to me about much of anything, but I like to think we’re mending bridges.  I believe her exact words were ‘ be gentle with that one, he’s going through some things. ’”

Hunter wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“To be honest, I was half expecting her to have brought me home another grandchild.”  Dell said with a good-natured chuckle.  You have to admit, it wouldn’t be out of character for her.”

Hunter found himself returning the laugh.  That much was true.  Eda did have a begrudging way of collecting wayward children.

Dell studied Hunter for a while longer before he spoke again.  He seemed to understand Hunter’s reluctance to open up.  “I don’t know your story, but I can speculate, if that’s okay with you?”

Dell waited for Hunter’s nod of approval before he continued.  “You are guarded.  You want to trust people, but you are afraid to open up; I suspect with good reason.  I don’t know how you got your scars, but I know how Raine got theirs, and I know that they haven’t been the same since Belos possessed them.  I see how your hand trembles, like it’s doing right now, and I see how you keep looking at my palisman.  Now, none of this is enough to piece together your life’s story, but it’s enough to tell me that it wasn’t always a happy one.”

Hunter closed his eyes and tilted his head back, seeing the sun glow red behind his eyelids.  He stayed there for a long minute, feeling the heat of the sun on his face, listening to the rustle of the wind in the trees.  It was peaceful.  “Yes.”  He finally said, and then opened his eyes to look at Dell once more.  He felt a sad smile creep onto his face.  It didn’t feel happy, but it did feel genuine.

Dell nodded, a sympathetic look in his eyes.  “So you want to learn to carve palismen to replace the one that you lost?”

Hunter shook his head immediately.  “No.  I could never replace Flapjack.  I don’t want another palisman.  I want to populate the isles with them.  I want to replace all the palismen that Belos destroyed, twice over.”

Dell started, blinking heavily at Hunter.  “Flapjack?”  He asked.  “Red cardinal with a scar over one eye?”

Hunter felt his breath hitch in his throat.  “You knew Flapjack?”

“I didn’t know he’d been –destroyed.”  Dell said sadly.  “Titan rest his soul.”

“I’m sorry.”  Hunter said bitterly.  “He died saving my life.  When Bel–when I was almost killed, Flapjack was damaged.  He used his magic to save me.”

“Flapjack has been watching over my family for generations, but he never bonded with another witch, not after his first one was killed, nearly four hundred years ago.  That he finally found somebody to bond with, and that he was able to save you…”  Dell smiled and swiped at his eye.  “It means that his last days were happy, and it means that he finally got another chance to save his witch.  That’s the way he would have wanted it.  I am glad he had you there with him.”

Hunter couldn’t find the words, though he felt like he wouldn’t have been able to speak even if he knew what to say.  All of a sudden he felt a familiar weight on his shoulder.  He jerked his head to the side, only to see Dell’s palisman perched there.  It cooed and rested its head against Hunter’s cheek.

And then Hunter found that he couldn’t hold it in any longer.  He sank down onto a nearby log, drawing the little yellow form in towards himself.  So familiar.  So Unfamiliar.  So much like Flapjack.  Yet nothing at all like Flapjack.  He closed his eyes and stroked the little form rhythmically.  It was soothing.  Meditative almost.  All he could feel was the smooth prickle of wood-carved feathers under his fingers and warm tears on his cheeks.  He was crying, but somehow that didn’t even seem like the most important thing happening at the moment.  It was a calm sort of sad.  A peaceful sort of sad.  

Hunter wasn’t sure how long he stayed there, breathing evenly and petting the palisman.  At last he started to become more aware of other sensations.  The warm sun on his face, the breeze in his hair.  At some point Dell had come to sit on the log beside him.  Not saying anything, just a calming presence by his side.  At one point Hunter might have been embarrassed by this; tried to hide it or fight it, but not today.  He felt like the world owed him this one.

Besides, he wasn’t sure how to articulate this exactly but Dell seemed… safe, somehow.  Even still, he sighed and released the palisman back to Dell.  

“You never allowed yourself to mourn properly, did you?”  Dell asked at last, his voice sounding distant, as if talking to a memory long past.

“I guess I didn’t.”  Hunter admitted.  “There was a lot happening at the time.  I was pretty focused on survival.”

“I understand.”  Dell said, and Hunter believed him.

They were silent a moment longer, and Hunter picked up the palistrom twig that Dell had given him, not too long ago.  He rolled it around between his fingers for a while, thinking.  It was too small to carve, of course, but somehow he felt like it wanted to come out.  Like it was waiting for him to give it a voice.

“You asked why I wanted to be a palisman carver.”  Hunter said at last, and Dell nodded.  Hunter took a deep breath, not really sure when he decided to open up to Dell, but only sure that it seemed like the right thing to do.  “I am a Grimwalker.  Belos made me for his own purposes, and for a while I tried to follow him because it was the only thing that I knew how to do.  I’m not the only person who lost a palisman to Belos, and for a while I was helping him do it.”

Dell didn’t seem shocked by anything that Hunter was saying.  He just nodded, a silent indication for the boy to continue.

“In a way I guess I kinda relate to palismen.  I was made out of palistrom wood and given sentience to be a companion for one particular man.  But he was awful and now he’s gone and I get to choose my own path.  And I choose to populate the world with palismen.”

Dell didn’t react at first.  He just smiled vaguely at the sky.  “Eda was right.”  He said at last.  “You are going through some things.”

“Uhhh…”  Hunter muttered, not really sure how to answer.

At last Dell slapped his knee.  “Well, one thing is for sure.  You have more reason than most to see palismen as having value on their own, independent of what they can bring to another person.  So if you really want to be a palisman carver, we’d best get started.”

Hunter felt his heart swell.  “You mean it?”  

“Absolutely.”  Dell said eagerly, and for the first time Hunter began to wonder if Dell wanted this to work out just as much as Hunter did.  “No time like the present.  And Hunter?”

“Yeah?”  Hunter asked, looking up at the older witch.

“Thank you for telling me all this.  It can’t have been easy.”

Hunter looked down at the twig that he still held in his hand.  “I think I wanted to talk about it for a long time, actually.  I just didn’t know how to bring it up.”

“Well I’m glad you did.”  Dell said, clapping the boy on the shoulder as he hoisted himself to his feet.  “I can better tailor your training to your unique background now that I know what I do.  Come on, let’s see the tools that you brought.”

Hunter felt a thrill of pride as he unrolled his leather satchel that held his wood carver’s tools.  Some of it he had bought at the market using the few meager snails that he had gotten from helping Eda at her booth, some of it was given to him by Eda herself, who had loudly proclaimed that she had no need for it anymore, while waving her stump arm around in the air.  Secretly, Hunter thought she seemed excited at the idea of somebody finally carrying on the Clawthorne tradition of palisman carving.  

Dell whistled as he ran his good hand over the wooden handles.  He pulled out the first one and nodded his approval, before handing it over to Hunter and starting to explain its use.

By the time that the sun had come around to the ribs, Hunter had aching hands and a sore shoulder and an empty belly and a fresh bandage wrapped around his palm, but he was feeling calmer than he had in weeks.  He would have liked to continue, but as Dell pointed out the sun was getting low in the sky and they really should be heading back.  Hunter walked with a spring in his step as the two headed back to Bonesborough.  

And Hunter noticed that Dell, that grizzled old witch with his scars and his limp and the aura of sorrow that he always carried around with him; Dell Clawthorne walked with a spring in his step as well.

Chapter Text

Hunter was trained from an early age in various types of disaster response.  Advanced trauma life support, mass casualty incidents, natural disasters, wilderness survival, critical incident response, unarmed combat, you name it, he could respond to it.

But this, well this was a real emergency.  And Hunter was out of his depth.  Perhaps it was a sign of maturity, but he was willing to admit that he needed help.

“Darius!”

The door that Hunter had been pounding on opened, seemingly on its own.  Hunter was initially confused until he noticed that the doorknob itself was made out of abomination goo.  Could Darius ever do things the normal way?

“Darius?”

“In the kitchen!”  came the response from down the hallway.  Hunter dutifully followed the voice.

“Darius, something big is coming and I don’t know how to prepare for it…”  Hunter took a deep breath, not used to admitting vulnerability.  “I need your help.”

“Little Prince?”  Darius asked, putting aside the yellow rubber gloves that he had been using to wash dishes with and once again donning his pristine white gloves.  All concern for the boy aside, he was still able to prioritize his style.  “What’s wrong, tell me.”

Hunter took a deep breath in, and then let it out again without saying the words that he had come here to say.

Darius raised one graceful eyebrow.  “Well?  Out with it.”

“I’ve been invited to Grom and I need to know what to wear.”  Hunter finally said in one quick breath.

The corner of Darius’s mouth twitched.  “I see.  Who invited you?”

Hunter blinked.  “Principal Bump?  Everyone is invited.”

“No, I mean who invited you?  As in, who are you going with?”

“Oh right.  We’re going as a group.  Me and Luz and Amity and Gus and Willow.”

“Indeed.”  Darius thought for a moment, studying the boy.  “And have you been tasked with coordinating your outfit with anybody else’s?”

“Oh that, yeah.”  Hunter admitted.  “Luz and Amity have been planning their outfits together for weeks.  Willow just said she’s going to be wearing green so I should try to match her.  Gus is going to be the MC so he’s doing his own thing.” 

Darius just stared at him, an unimpressed look on his face.  His ear twitched once.

“What?”  Hunter asked, beginning to feel uncomfortable.

“Nothing at all.”  Darius said smoothly.  “What shade of green is Willow going to be wearing?”

“Just…green?”  Hunter asked, momentarily confused by the question.  “Hang on, I’ll ask her.”  He sent a quick message on his scroll, and promptly got a response.  It was a picture of a dress splayed out on a freshly made bed.  The image made Hunter feel…strange.  It was an oddly intimate picture.  That was the bed that Willow slept in.  That was the dress that she put on her body.  He found himself wanting to see more…

Hunter hurriedly turned the scroll towards Darius, feeling flustered.  No part of him understood any of those thoughts that just went through his mind.

Darius glanced at the scroll, seemingly immune from the strange reactions that had just overcome Hunter at the sight of that picture.  “Sage.”  He replied simply.

Hunter wanted to look at that picture again, but now was not the time.  He put the scroll away and took a few deep breaths.  “So should I wear green then?”

Darius shook his head.  “Green will make you look sickly.  And I mean that with all the love and respect in the world.”

Hunter blinked, not really knowing how to answer.  He supposed it was probably true, though he wasn’t really sure he wanted to hear it.

“Blush would go nicely with sage, though it would make your scars look…hmm.”  Darius continued, rubbing his chin.  This was making Hunter feel worse and worse about himself.

“I’ve got it!”  Darius sat up straight and snapped his fingers.  “Gold and rust.”

“Gold doesn’t rust.”  Hunter pointed out, not really sure what this had to do with anything.

“Not real gold, the colour gold.  Willow will be wearing sage, so we will dress you in gold with auburn accents.”  Darius said with gentle impatience.  “They have an analogous relationship.”

“Me and Willow?”  Hunter asked, feeling heat rising to his cheeks.

“Green and gold.”  Darius replied without emotion.

“Oh.”  Hunter said, feeling very foolish indeed.

“Here, come and see.”  Darius waved the boy towards the kitchen table while he fetched a sheet of paper and a pencil.  He started sketching a roughly witch-like form.  

Hunter watched the movements of the pencil; he wanted to point out that the proportions were off.  The arms were too long, and nobody held their hip like that.  But he kept his mouth shut.  It wasn’t like he was the greatest artist either.

“You should be able to find a tunic fairly easily.”  Darius was saying.  “White or cream, just make sure the sleeves are loose.  The trousers can be any neutral shade of beige, brown, or black, but make sure that you wear a belt , you hear me?  No protege of mine will go prancing around with droopy drawers.”  

“Uhh…”  Was the only thing that Hunter could say, watching the figure take form.  He did have to admit that it looked better now that Darius was adding detail to it.

“We can go this afternoon to find all that; it shouldn’t take too long.  We are going to want to save our time and money for the cape.”  Darius continued, adding a cape onto his drawing.  “Half-length only.  You can make it yourself with that fancy human sewing gadget of yours.  We can buy the fabric while we are out.”

“I haven’t worn a cape since…” Hunter began, feeling a little awkward.  He wasn’t sure that he was ready to go back to how things used to be.

“You wore a cloak when you were the Golden Guard.  That is different.”  Darius said firmly.  “It was designed to intimidate and to conceal.  This will be a cape, and it will make you shine.   Gold to accentuate your hair, auburn to bring out the colour of your eyes.  A little bit of eye concealer, and you’ll be the belle of the ball.”

Hunter was starting to feel better about himself.

“Did you notice how Willow’s dress is asymmetrical?  It comes off one shoulder.  Likewise your cape will be offset to one side.  You have broad shoulders, you want to be able to show them off.  If we have time at the end we will try our hand at embroidery.”

“Great!”  Hunter rubbed his hands together, starting to feel excited about this whole idea.  He had noticed that Willow’s dress would come off her shoulder, and he had been trying not to think too hard about that.  “Let’s get started.”

“Not so fast, Little Prince.”  Darius replied.  “Do you know how to dance?”

The colour drained from Hunter’s face.  “Dance?”

“That’s right, dance.  Show me what you’ve got.”  Darius twirled his finger in the air and a nearby glob of abomination goo took shape.  For a moment it swirled and curved until it took the form of a witch.  Complete with something resembling round glasses and thick braids.  It held out its ‘arm’ towards Hunter.

Hunter peered at it.  “That looks like Willow.”

“Purely a coincidence, I assure you.”  Darius replied unconvincingly.  “Have you ever danced before?”

Hunter had to admit that he had not.

Darius didn’t look at all surprised by that.  He tapped a nearby crystal ball until it started playing some music.  “When dancing there is always a leader and a follower.  You decide who is the leader by looking to see who is taller of the two.  Since you are the tallest of your peers then I will teach you to be the leader, though it is conceivable that you will need to know both.”

“I think humans decide based on gender.”  Hunter said, remembering a movie that he’d watched at Camila’s house that one time.  “The man always leads and the woman always follows.”

“That seems rather…archaic.”  Darius replied distastefully.  “What if they are both men?  Or if someone is gender-fluid?”

“I don’t know.”  Hunter had been wondering the same thing.  “I’ll have to ask Luz next time I see her.”

“Do that.  In the meantime, take your position.”

Hunter obliged, stepping in towards the abomination and putting his hands on its shoulders.  It felt cool to touch, and his finger left little indents where he touched.  “I feel ridiculous.”

“Then you will fit right in at Grom.  I can assure you, everybody feels ridiculous at Grom.  Let us begin.  Hands here and here .  Right foot, step forward.  See the way your partner moves with you?  Eyes up.  Don’t look at your feet, look at them.”

“This is very awkward.”  Hunter grumbled.

“No.”  Darius’s voice was very authoritarian and Hunter winced and stepped backwards.  “If it is awkward then you are not doing it right.  As the leader your job is to make your partner feel safe and protected.  They are trusting you and you have the responsibility to make it an enjoyable experience for them.  Dancing is about two bodies moving as one.  It is about communication and trust and teamwork .  At its height it can amplify magic in ways that you might never experience in any other context.  It should never be awkward.”  Darius wrinkled his nose as if he found the word itself unsavory.

Hunter gulped.  He felt oddly inspired by that speech.  He had faced down gods and monsters.  Surely he could do this.

“Don’t worry, it’s not that hard.”  Darius continued, his eyes kind.  He made a second abomination dance partner for himself.  This one looked suspiciously like Alador Blight, though Hunter decided not to say anything about that.  “We will practice until you get it right.”  

“Okay.”  Hunter steadied his voice and squared his shoulders.  “I want that.  That bit you said about making your partner feel safe?  I want that for her.  I mean them!  Whoever it is, I mean.”  He cleared his throat, fearing that he had said too much.

Darius stared at him for a long moment.  “Little Prince, may I give you some fatherly advice?”

Hunter nodded, still holding his jaw clamped safely shut.

“When you see Willow on Grom night, make her feel special.  Make her feel like the most beautiful witch on the isles.  Pamper her, adore her, worship her.  That feeling that I described earlier?  It’s not limited to the dance floor.  It starts when you first lay eyes on her, and it ends when you finally say goodnight.”

“Oh.”  Was all Hunter could say.  To be honest he was planning on doing the exact opposite of all that.  Pretend to be indifferent to Willow for the whole evening so that nobody would guess how much his heart raced whenever he saw her.  It was a self-preservation strategy, though at that moment he recognized that it wouldn’t be fair to her.  He could feel his cheeks burning up as Darius spoke.  The thought of doing as he suggested was frankly exhilarating.  He wanted that for Willow, she deserved that.  She deserved the world.

He could have done without hearing Darius say it though.  That part was frankly embarrassing.

Darius watched him for a while longer and then gave a curt nod, satisfied that the boy had understood.  “Then we are ready to resume.  Take your position, remember where to put your hands?  Ready?  Begin.”

In the end Grom night went better than Hunter could possibly have imagined.  He stopped short of worshiping Willow, as Darius had instructed (that seemed weird and uncomfortable, and what did Darius mean by that, anyway?), though he was careful to make her feel attended to.  He bought her a small jeweled hair clip in the same shade of red– auburn –as the inside of his cape, and she responded by making a flower of the same shade and tucking it behind his ear.  He did blush at that, but he was holding out hope that she hadn't noticed.  He finally got to see her wearing that dress, rather than just imagining it, and he got to show off his cape.  He was proud of his cape.  It was cool and silky, a deep gold on the outside and a rich auburn on the inside with small embroidered flowers on the trim.  It draped nicely around his shoulders and gave a satisfying swish around him when he danced.

Because, oh yeah, he did dance–just not on the dance floor with the rest of the students.  The Grom Beast had barely glanced at its appointed foe–a pretty three-eyed demon-witch named Boscha who Hunter didn’t know very well–then promptly breezed past her and zeroed in on Hunter.  In retrospect Hunter guessed that this was probably related to Boscha’s greatest fear, feeling somehow ignored or irrelevant, though he didn’t pick up on it at the time and he didn’t know her well enough to go and ask now. 

Regardless, Grom had seen him and turned into Belos.  Not goopy, glowey, globby Belos with too many joints and eyes in strange places and exposed teeth.  No, the Grom Beast had turned into regular old Belos as Hunter knew him through most of his life.  His uncle, with his flowing hair and kind smile and cruel eyes, standing in front of him and telling him how disappointed he was.  That Hunter would have to come back to the castle and earn forgiveness the hard way.

But then Willow, wonderful, beautiful Willow, had stepped in front of him as if to shield him from his very fears.  Hunter wasn’t about to let her do that on her own, so he had taken her hand and the two of them faced Grom together, stepping in time along a path of vines and leaves that grew under their feet as the two ascended higher into the air.  They danced a full sphere of plants and vines around the Grom Beast until it finally burst into a carpet of flowers beneath their feet.  

As the two were crowned Grom Queens, Hunter noticed Darius, who was attending as a volunteer chaperone, leaning casually against the walls of the gymnasium, arms crossed and looking very smug indeed.  Hunter couldn’t even find it in himself to be embarrassed.  All in all, he decided, Grom had been a pretty successful evening.  He was very glad that he’d asked Darius for help.

Chapter Text

Masks.  

Why did it have to be masks?

Okay, Hunter knew why.  Pass-querade.  A celebration of life and death. A festival of Wild Magic that Belos had banned long ago.  First time in nearly three hundred years that anybody had been allowed to celebrate it.  A symbolic F-you to Belos and everything that he represented.

But it involved masks, and Hunter was having a hard time with that.  

Of course, they were nothing at all like the Golden Guard mask.  Nothing at all like the Emperor’s Coven Scout masks.  These masks were brightly coloured and ornate.  Some of them had feathers or lace or flowers or beads.  Lots of them were asymmetrical.  All of them were designed to dazzle.  

The costumes too; the headdresses, the music, the decor, the food.  Everything was just a little bit over the top.  Everybody seemed to be having fun.  In theory Hunter approved of this whole idea.  But in reality, he just wanted to get away.  

He’d followed Willow and Gus around for a while, but it was too loud to really carry on a conversation with them.  Then he’d drifted over towards Luz and Amity and King but encountered much the same problem.  Now he was hanging out by the food table where at least it seemed to be a bit quieter.

From here he had a good spot to people-watch.  This, at least, was an enjoyable activity, and he did have to admit that the masks did look good.  Gus’s mask was decorated in purple and black geometric shapes.  It made him look mischievous, like a trickster.  Willow’s mask was shimmery-gold with vines crawling upwards past her hairline.  He watched her for just a little bit too long, admiring the way the metallic paint caught the light as she moved, before forcing himself to look elsewhere.  Luz and Amity each had asymmetrical masks, each one covering only one eye in a mirror image of the other.  Hunter suspected that their masks would fit together like two puzzle pieces if removed from their faces.  King wasn’t wearing a mask, but his skull did seem to be outlined with glittery paint that accentuated his features and made him look fierce.

Hunter’s own mask was angled sharply down to sit low on his cheeks.  This was a conscious choice, done deliberately to hide his scars, but now it felt stifling and he was beginning to wish that he’d chosen one that covered his eyes only.  

Either way, his field of vision was narrow.  He wondered how he’d put up with this for so long when he was the Golden Guard.  He supposed he must have gotten used to it at the time.  

Well, he wasn’t used to it anymore. 

People drifted in and out of his line of vision.  Darius, looking as stylish as ever with his abomination magic woven into a delicate lace mask.  Principal Bump, who had designed an elaborate headdress for his palisman.  The Blight twins, their masks looking metallic-like with little gears glued on them.  They were no doubt planning mischief of some sort.  Eda, whose mask was predictably bird-like, was probably also planning mischief.

Raine must have had the same thought.  They joined their partner at the food table, not far away from where Hunter had been standing.  Their voices reached Hunter’s ears, even in the noisy room.

“You’re planning something, aren’t you?”  Raine asked Eda, looking not at all interested in the food at the table, but leaning past her anyway, their arm brushing against hers.

“Already planned, already in motion.  Stick around, Whispers.  You’re in for a treat.”  Eda replied gleefully.

“You’re incorrigible.”  They replied, with a low chuckle.

“And you love me.”

“Not enough to stick around.  I need to get some air.”

Eda’s expression softened as she looked at them.  “Do you need me to come with you?”

“Nah, you go have your fun.  Can you hold my mask for me though?  I shouldn’t be too long.”  Raine took their mask off and twirled their finger in the air, magicking their glasses back onto their face.  Only then did Hunter notice that their mask had little beads hanging down their cheeks like teardrops, probably designed to conceal their scars from view.

“Only if I get to wear it.  Yours fits better than mine anyway.”  Eda said, reaching out to take their mask from them and holding it playfully up to her eyes.

Raine scrunched up their face.  “Okay, but you might want to wipe it down first.  It’s spent some time on my face.”

“ I’ve spent some time on your face.”  Eda replied without missing a beat.

“Eda-a!  Keep it down.”  Raine hissed, shushing her and looking around guiltily to see who else might be nearby.  They looked mortified when they saw Hunter standing within earshot.  

“Suit yourself.  Byeeeee!”  Eda said, giving a casual wave with her stump arm as she sauntered back to the dance floor.  She didn’t seem to have noticed Hunter at all.

Raine walked over to Hunter, their eyes wide.  “She, uhh.  She didn’t mean that.  Just a joke.  Harmless joke.  It’s all very innocent.”

“A joke?  About what?”  Hunter suddenly wondered what he’d missed.  Were Eda and Raine talking about kissing?  Gross.

“Never mind.”  Raine said, a little too quickly.  “Umm, I was just about to step outside.  Get some fresh air.  Do you want to come too?”

Outside?  Fresh air?  Away from this place?  That sounded amazing.  For some reason Hunter didn’t even realize it was an option until now.  “Can I?  Oh, yes please.”

“Of course you can.  You know you don’t need permission, right?  Nevermind, let’s go.  I have decades of experience sneaking out of social engagements.  The trick is to move purposely, like you have somewhere important to be.  If you really feel cornered, use the phrase ‘ recharge my social battery.’  People usually understand what that means.”

Hunter followed Raine out one of the side doors and immediately felt better.  The night air was cool and smelled vaguely of rain and damp earth.  He found himself tearing his mask off his face and taking several deep, gasping breaths.  A small part of him recognized that this was illogical.  It wasn’t that he couldn’t breathe properly back in the banquet hall.  It’s just that he felt like he could breathe better out here.

Raine seemed to be doing the same thing.  They had their face turned up towards the moonlight and were breathing deeply, a look of solace on their face.  Their tear-streaked scars shone dully in the moonlight, subtly accentuated against their bronze skin.  Hunter found himself examining those scars.  They were much lighter in colour than Hunter’s were; not as jagged, their edges rounded, rather than angular.  Not for the first time, Hunter found himself trying to piece together the timeline of Raine’s possession by Belos just by the shape of their scars.

Raine must have noticed him staring.  They raised an eyebrow at him, a knowing look on their face.  “Something wrong?”

“Nothing!”  Hunter said, quickly averting his eyes.  “Sorry.”

“It’s alright, I get it.”  Raine said, reaching up to touch one of their own scars.  “You’re allowed to look.”

Hunter copied the movement, reaching up to touch the scar at his own cheek.  “Do they hurt?”  He asked at last.

“Sometimes.”  Raine examined him thoughtfully.  “They feel… tight?  Is that the word?”

“Yes, that’s it!”  Hunter said enthusiastically.  “Tight.  Like the skin has been stretched out.”

Raine nodded.  “I mostly only notice it when I smile.”

Hunter tried to remember the last time he’d smiled.  It couldn’t have been that long ago, could it?  He wrinkled his nose and scrunched up his face only to feel the familiar tug below his right eye.  Oh yeah.

He noticed that Raine was doing much the same thing and the two of them made eye contact, both faces contorted into rather peculiar expressions.  Eyes crinkled and noses scrunched and upper lip contorted upwards.  There was a moment of hesitation, a lop-sided smirk, and then both erupted into a fit of giggles.   

“The look on your face.”  Hunter said at last as his chuckles died down.

“The look on yours.”  Raine said with a matching grin.  The last few giggles faded into the night.

“I guess Belos did a number on us, huh?”  Hunter looked down at his arm, tracing one finger along the line where the pale skin of his hand met the ruddy tissue of their arm.  

“He’s dead.”  Raine said flatly.  “He can’t hurt us anymore.”  They looked like they were trying to convince themself of that.  They also looked like they didn’t fully believe it.

“I know that.”  Hunter replied without emotion.  He sighed and let his arm flop back down to his side.  “He’s dead, and this time he’s not coming back.  So why am I still afraid of him?”

“Fear isn’t always logical.”  Raine said thoughtfully, glancing back to the banquet hall, where there was a loud pop and the sounds of an elated crowd.  They waited until the sounds of the people inside had drawn back down to a quiet buzz.  “Fear is designed to protect you, to keep you safe.  But the trouble is that you have no way of turning it off when you don’t need it anymore.”

Hunter’s therapist had been saying much the same thing, but it felt comforting to hear it from somebody else.  It made it more real somehow, more valid.  Like he was suddenly allowed to start believing it.  He reached his hand up to touch the scar under his right eye again.  “It just hardly seems fair.  Belos is dead, and we’re alive.  We won, but somehow I feel like he still has control over me.  It’s hard to feel like a victory when I have to wear what he did to me on my face.”

Raine mirrored his action, resting two fingers on the scar under their left eye.  It wasn’t fair, a small part of Hunter whined.  Raine’s scars were smaller and less noticeable than his.  As far as he could tell they covered less of their body.  Heck, they were even cooler than his.  How come he couldn’t get cool tear-mark scars?

Ashamed of his thoughts, Hunter turned away from Raine, pushing any feeling of resentment down deep into his body.  It wasn’t up to him to tell them that their scars were any less impactful to them than his were to him.  

“Your scars belong to you, not him.”  Raine said at last.  “I don’t know if that helps at all since neither of us asked to be possessed but…”

“How long did he possess you?”  Hunter interjected without thinking, and then hurried to backtrack.  “You don’t have to answer that!  I mean, not if you don’t want to…”

“It’s alright.”  Raine said.  “I’m not exactly sure.  Not quite a full day.  Eighteen hours, maybe as much as twenty.”

“I don’t know how long it was for me either.”  Hunter said with a frown.  “It was pretty insidious, I didn’t even notice when it first happened.  It could be as few as three hours.  It could be as many as twelve.”

“I noticed when it happened.”  Raine said flatly.  “He announced it.  I believe his exact words were ‘ you will do nicely.’ Or something like that anyway.  I was just a tool to him.  He needed a body and he chose mine.”

“I think I was more than just a tool.”  Hunter muttered.  “He didn’t just want a body, he wanted mine.  He wanted to hurt me.”

Raine winced.  They seemed very disturbed by what he’d said, but the only thing they said was “our experiences sound so different.” 

“Do you think that’s why our scars are different?”  Hunter finally asked the question that he had been wondering about for so long.

“Maybe.”  Raine rubbed their wrist thoughtfully.  “Mine are a pretty good indication of the emotional state I was in at the time.  Do you think that could be it?”

“That… makes sense, actually.”  Hunter said, thinking back to the moment.  He’d replayed it many times over the last year, intentionally or not, but usually it was more about what was done to him, and not really about what he was feeling at the time.  He had been feeling… outraged, that was the word.  And angry and disgusted and infuriated.  He’d been so close to being free of Belo’s control.  He’d traveled to another world to get away from him, only to have that happen.  It made sense that his scars were jagged and angry-looking.  

“Hunter?  Are you okay?”

Hunter snapped his eyes forward to meet Raine’s, a blush forming on his cheeks.  He hadn’t even realized that he was zoning out like that.  Lost in a memory that he would be happy to never have to think about ever again.  “Sorry.”  He mumbled, embarrassed.

An unreadable expression flashed over Raine’s eyes.   “Don’t be sorry.  Don’t ever be sorry.  What happened to you wasn’t your fault, and how you react to it isn’t your fault either.  Your feelings are yours and you have every right to feel them.”  With effort they stopped themself and took a few deep breaths, letting the air out of their lips in a stream.  Once they were calm again they looked embarrassed at their outburst and muttered “sorry.”

Hunter couldn’t help it.  The irony of it made his lips twitch.  Raine telling him never to apologize for his feelings but at the same time apologizing for theirs was almost too much.  He held in his smirk for a few seconds before he couldn’t fight it anymore and allowed himself to laugh.  

Raine looked perplexed.

“You said sorry.”  Hunter explained between giggles.  “You told me not to say sorry… but then you said sorry… right after you told me not to.”  

A look of realization came over Raine’s face.  “Oh.  I guess I did, didn’t I?”  They asked sheepishly, and allowed themself to grin along with him.

“You totally did.”  Hunter couldn’t resist rubbing it in, just a little bit.

“I don’t have all the answers.”  Raine said at last when Hunter had gotten himself under control again.  “But I’m trying.  I’m talking to people, and I’m reaching out, and I’m getting better at telling myself that sometimes it’s okay to not be okay.”

“It’s okay to not be okay.”  Hunter repeated, trying out the sentence in his mouth.  He liked that.  It sounded good.  It sounded liberating.   It’s okay to not be okay.  “Sometimes I’m not okay either.”

“And that’s okay.”  Raine replied simply.

Hunter thought about it a moment longer.  He really liked this expression.  “I think I’m okay now though.”  He said at last.

Raine smiled warmly.  “I am too.  And I think I’m starting to have more good days than bad.”

Hunter considered what they’d said, and then smiled.  “I think I am too.”

And it felt good to say that.  This whole conversation, this whole evening, was starting to feel cathartic.  Hunter didn’t feel on-edge anymore.  He took a few more deep breaths of the night air and started to think that it maybe wouldn’t be so bad to go back inside that banquet hall.  Mask and all.

He fiddled with his mask, which had been dangling idly by its strings for the entirety of this conversation.  He’d spent a little bit of time making it, and a lot of time planning it, but the thought of putting it back on his face still seemed stifling.

“You don’t have to wear it, you know.”  Raine said at last, their voice being swallowed up by the cool night air.

Hunter gripped it tighter. 

“I’m serious.”  Raine said.  “Lots of people in there aren’t wearing masks.  Plenty of former coven guards can’t stand the thought of wearing them.  And plenty of demons just can’t find a way of making it work with their anatomy.  You wouldn’t stand out at all.”

“It just…”  Hunter grumbled.  “I feel like I should be able to wear it.  Like if I don’t then I am letting him control me all over again.”

“You’re not, of course you’re not.”  Raine said firmly, and then turned around to face him, placing one hand on each of his shoulders.  “This whole damn festival is about healing from all the things he did to us.  Why suffer through wearing a mask if you don’t want to?  Just let it go, and go have fun with your friends.”

Hunter ran his thumb along the mask, tracing the details that he already had memorized.  He’d carefully designed it to hide his scar, and now in the cruelest of ironies, he didn’t even want to wear it.

And maybe that’s where he would get his autonomy back.  By not trying to hide his scars anymore, even on the one day that he could.  He sighed and let his mask fall to the ground, then nodded to Raine.  “Ready?”

They swept out their hand towards the door in a dramatic gesture, as if beckoning royalty through the open door.

Hunter laughed and shook his head, but walked back inside anyway.  His eyes immediately started scanning the crowd for Willow.  He spotted her on the other side of the dance floor, chatting with Amity.  She waved when she saw him and beckoned him closer.

Hunter glanced over at Raine, wondering if he should say anything.  One final goodbye or whatever.  It seemed only polite, but Raine was also scanning the crowd, no doubt looking for Eda.  They winked when they saw him looking and wandered over in the direction of the orchestra. 

Hunter straightened his shoulders and started weaving his way along the perimeter of the room, dodging ornate dresses and frolicking palismen and at least one careless wine goblet.  Any lingering thoughts he might have had about masks and scars and Belos had been left behind in the dirt with his mask.  Where they belonged.

Chapter Text

There were a lot of people at the Owl House right now, so it wasn’t too surprising that somebody would still be awake.  He was just surprised that it was Camila.  She didn’t seem like the type to sit around in the dark, drinking tea.

“Hunter.”  She said when he walked into the house.  “Come, sit.  Join me.”

Hunter was tired, he wanted to go to bed, but he had never been one to resist authority.  He sat at the table across from her and watched as she poured him a cup of tea.

“So.”  She said casually.  “Do you know what time it is?”

Hunter glanced at the clock.  “Just past three a.m.”

“Yes, I know.”  

Then why did you ask?   Hunter wanted to ask her, but he kept his mouth shut.  He figured that she would get around to her point eventually.

“Mijo…”  Camila said, the word coming out in a sigh. “As the parent-figure in this house I have to ask… did you go out to meet up with Willow tonight?”

“Yes.”  Hunter took a sip of his tea, but it was too hot on his tongue.  He gasped and hurriedly put it down on the table, sloshing some of the hot liquid onto his hand.  He held his hand up to his mouth where the hot tea had splashed him.

“Okay, but were you with her tonight, if you know what I mean.”  Camila said awkwardly.  “You know, are you seeing one another?”

“Yes.”  Hunter said, still sucking on his burnt knuckle.  She was asking very strange questions.

Camila frowned at him.  “And was this the first time that you two have engaged in such…activities?”

“For me, yes.”  Hunter admitted, suddenly worried that he would get his friend in trouble.  “Willow has done it before, but don’t worry!  She knows what she’s doing!”

“Cariño…”  Camila sighed again, looking very awkward indeed.  “You understand that it is my job as a parent to ask if you used protection.”

“Oh yes.”  Hunter said immediately.  “Safety is very important.”

Camila cocked her head to one side, looking at him curiously.  “You are being very casual about this.”

“Not at all.”  He said, straightening up to attention.  “I would never risk Willow’s safety.  Gloves and boots.  But the flowers are closed at night anyway so the risk is negligible.”

Camila just blinked at him.

Hunter shifted nervously under her gaze, suddenly not sure if he was in trouble or not.  He wished that she would just tell him either way.  “The flowers are the venomous part of the plant, so we go at night to avoid them.  We just wanted the seed pods.  Here, I might still have one.”  He dug around in his pockets for a moment before producing a seed pod.  He placed it in front of her.  “See?  Titan’s Cradle.  It’s called that because the seed pod is shaped like a baby’s cradle.  … Mrs. Noceda?  Are you alright?”

Camila suddenly had her hands up to her mouth and was busy trying to stifle a giggle.  Hunter watched her for a while, bewildered.  She was acting very strangely tonight.  “You snuck out of the house… to meet up with Willow… to go and collect seeds?”  She finally asked between breaths.

“Seed pods.”  Hunter corrected.  “Willow uses them to keep pests away from her herbs.  She said that they might help with my palistrom seedlings too so I’m going to try that.  Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Fine, fine.  Sorry.”  She said, taking a few quick breaths and leaning back in her chair with a sigh.  “I guess I should have remembered who I was talking to.”

Hunter didn’t quite understand what she meant, but he took another sip of his tea, slower this time, mindful of the hot liquid.  “Have you been up all night?”  He asked politely.

“Yes.”  Camila admitted.  “I was worried about you.”

“I’m sorry.”  Hunter said.  “I didn’t mean to sneak out.  Nobody cared where I went when I was in the Emperor’s Coven and I didn’t know the rules would be different here.”

“Here we care.”  Camila told him kindly.  “Of course we care.  I just thought…never mind what I thought.  But it’s normal for teenagers to want to take risks, and it’s normal for parents to worry about them.  I just want to know that you trust me enough to tell me what’s going on in your life.”

Hunter suddenly wondered if they were talking about the same thing.  He stared at her, feeling a wave of anxiety rising up in his insides.  “Mrs Noceda?”

“You know you can call me Camila.”  She replied.  “Hunter, I know that you and Willow are close, and it would be okay if you started to have certain…thoughts about her that you don’t have about anybody else.”

“Oh.”  Hunter suddenly realized what she was talking about.  He raised his hands to his mouth.  “Oh no.”

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about.  It’s developmentally appropriate for a boy your age.”

“This is mortifying.”  Hunter squeaked.  He suddenly felt very exposed.

“No, Mijo.  No it’s not.  It’s a rite of passage for you to start having these feelings, and it’s also a rite of passage for you to have to sit through a conversation with a parent about it.  Back home we just call it ‘the talk.’ ”

“I just…”  Hunter’s eyes darted across the room, automatically taking notes of the exits.  He always had an escape route planned out wherever he went, but this was the first time in a while he felt the need to actually use it.  “Does everybody know?  Does Willow?”

“No, Mijo, no.  Nobody has to know anything until you want them to.  But I think it’s important that you’re honest with me right now.  Can you do that for me?”

Hunter’s instinct was to tell her no.  You’re mistaken.  Thank you for the tea, goodnight.  But he’d already half-way admitted to feeling something towards Willow and there was no taking that back.  Besides, he wasn’t that far removed from his upbringing at the Emperor’s Palace that he was comfortable just walking away from somebody in a position of authority.  Against all his instincts he nodded.  

“Thank you.”  Camila smiled kindly at him and Hunter felt himself relax–a bit.

“Nothing has happened between us, if that’s what you’re going to ask.”  Hunter said without meeting her eyes.  “I mean, we’ve held hands but like, in a friendly kinda way!  I think.”

Camila sipped her tea casually.  “And do you wish there was more between you?”

“Yeah, of course.”  Hunter blushed when he realized what he said and turned his face away from her.  “I mean, they’re just thoughts.  It’s not like I’d ever act on them.”

“Why not?”

“Well, have you seen her?  Have you seen me? ”  

“Hunter…”  Camila began, but Hunter shook his head before she could get too far.

“There may have been some–hints– from her, that she might share my feelings.”  Hunter drew invisible designs on the table with one finger.  His scars looked dull in the darkness.  “But I know that at some point that somebody is going to come around who actually deserves to be with her and I don’t want her to feel conflicted about leaving me behind.”

“ Hunter ,” Camila said, more forcefully this time, and something about her voice made him look up from the table to look at her as she spoke.  “What I am seeing in front of me is a smart, capable, beautiful young man and I don’t want you to go through another day thinking that you don’t deserve to be loved.  Do you hear me?”

“I…”  No part of Hunter believed any of that, but he decided not to argue with her.  “Yes.”  He said without conviction.

“I mean it.  Anybody would feel lucky to have you as their partner.  You have so much to offer and I really need you to see that.  Look me in the eye and tell me you understand.”

Hunter looked her in the eye but then found that he couldn’t hold her gaze.  He looked away again.  “Can I go to bed now?”

“Not yet, Mijo.  I know this is a hard discussion to have.  I had it with my papá once, and I thought I would die of embarrassment.”  Camila chuckled at some memory of a time long past and then shook her head as if to clear it.  “And now we’ve come full circle.  It’s your turn.”

“Okay.”  Hunter said blandly.  “What’s left to say?”

Camila suddenly looked as embarrassed as he felt.  She squirmed in her chair a bit without meeting his eyes.  “Now we have to talk about the mechanics of it.  You know, boundaries, communication, respect, consent…sex.”

A wordless squeak emerged from Hunter’s throat.  He sat up straight in his chair and shook his head.  “No.  Absolutely not.”

“Absolutely yes.”  Camila said.  “I warned you it would be a hard conversation, remember?”

Hunter squirmed.  “I know all about sex.  From books!  I mean.  I haven’t…I mean.  I’ve read books on it.  From here and in the human realm.  You have one on your shelf in your house and I was curious.  Not that kind of curious!  I just read it because…”  He finally clamped his mouth shut, aware that his face was beet red.

“It’s okay.”  Camila looked pleased with herself.  “I put that book there hoping that the six of you would find it.  It’s the oldest parenting trick there is.  Do you have any questions about it?”

“Not unless you know something about Grimwalkers that I don’t.”  Hunter said miserably.

“Mijo?”  Camila asked gently.

Hunter took a breath and shook his head.  “I just thought… that since I’m a clone of a human, maybe some of the stuff in the human book would apply to me.  There’s not really much out there on Grimwalkers you see.  I read it, and the books from the Demon Realm.  I feel like I’m a mix of both human and witch, but it’s hard to tell until I actually have to… you know.”

Camila looked stricken.  “Wait, they’re different?”

“Yeah, a bit. Why?”  Hunter looked sideways at her.

“Oh mija, ten cuidada.”  Camila muttered to the air.

Hunter was momentarily confused as he tried to remember his Spanish lessons.  Child, girl…daughter…something…careful?   “Camila, are you alright?”  He asked.

Camila shook her head ruefully.  “I’m fine, Mijo, thank you.  I just realized I might have to have another one of these conversations with somebody else very soon.”

Hunter didn’t envy her at all.  “I’ll lend you the book about witches if you like.”

Camila smiled at him.  “Thank you.”

“Camila I…”  Hunter said, staring off into the distance.  He cleared his throat and continued.  “I’m not going to lie, I’d rather be at the bottom of the boiling sea than having this conversation with you, but I do understand why you thought it needed to happen.  Willow and I… we’re not…she’s too…there’s nothing…”  He groaned and ran one hand over his face.

“It’s okay, take your time.”  Camila said gently.

Hunter took a deep breath, aware that he was blushing.  “Willow, well she’s amazing.  She’s smart and powerful and pretty and…”  If possible he blushed even harder, all the way up to the tips of his ears.  “...but I feel like I don’t have her permission to think about her this way, if you know what I mean.  It feels disrespectful to have thoughts about her that she didn’t agree to.  Maybe one day she’ll give me permission and that would be great.  Or maybe she won’t and that will be fine too.  But I promise you that I would never say or do or even think anything that might put her in harm’s way and I’d really like to go to bed now so may I be excused, please?”

Camila looked like she might have more to say, but she must have decided to take pity on him instead.  “Of course, Mijo.  It is very late.  And I’m glad that I got to have this conversation with you.  Thank you.”

Hunter nodded and started to clear up the now lukewarm tea.  When he turned back from the sink she was standing there watching him.  Without a word she opened her arms.  With only a short hesitation he stepped forward and allowed himself to be enveloped in a hug.

“Te veo, querido.  Estoy muy orgullosa de ti.”  

Hunter didn’t understand most of the words she just said, but they felt warm and maternal.  They made him feel safe and cozy.

At last Hunter stepped back and smiled at her.  “Thank you.”

“Good night, Mijo.”

Hunter watched her go back upstairs.  Only once he was sure that she was well out of earshot did he reply “Good night, mamá.”