Chapter Text
“Oh, there is thunder in our hearts. Is there so much hate for the ones we love? Oh, tell me, we both matter, don't we? You, it's you and me. It's you and me, won't be unhappy. And if I only could, I'd make a deal with God, and I'd get him to swap our places. Be runnin' up that road, be runnin' up that hill, be runnin' up that building.” - Running Up That Hill, Kate Bush
Darius didn’t feel wholly attached to his body. He stared uncomprehendingly at Lilith. He watched, dazed, as Eda scooped King up protectively in her arms. He looked blankly at Alador, only to be met with a weary gaze and nod of confirmation.
“On the Day of Unity, Kikimora led King to The Collector,” Lilith said in a stilted voice, her hands tightly clasped. They’d already known that, and Darius had wanted to interrupt then, to ask why she’d sounded so urgent over information they already had. “But,” Lilith had continued. “That’s not all. Hidden in the Titan’s skull is…Is…” Her eyes watered. She swallowed heavily. “There is a pit. Of skeletons.”
Her eyes met Darius’s, full of apology.
“It’s the skeletons of the Golden Guards.”
It felt like the floor vanished from under Darius’s feet.
Nearly seventeen years ago now, Creed disappeared. Or he was killed by wild witches. It depended on what story you believed.
(The true answer, that he was murdered by Belos, should have been obvious all along.)
He’d been acting odd, unusually tense and irritable, for days. More than once, Darius had found him utterly decimating dummies in the training grounds. Lilith remarked she’d run into Creed in the castle library at insane hours; hours that only Lilith usually kept. Eberwolf muttered about the scent of anger and despair radiating off Creed.
Then Creed approached Darius and said he was heading on a mission. A dangerous one.
“If this goes right, everything will change,” he’d said, sounding more like his usual confident self. He’d smiled, a little wistful, a little melancholy. “It should have changed a long time ago.” His smile grew, a surprisingly shy edge to it. “If this goes right, there’s someone I’ll need to introduce you to soon. But if this doesn’t work out…Well, I’ll be blunt, Darius. There’s every chance this won’t work.”
“You make it sound deadly,” Darius had tried to joke, unnerved. Creed hadn’t laughed.
He’d looked Darius in the eye for a long moment and pulled him into a surprisingly tight hug.
“Trust your instincts,” he’d hissed right in Darius’s ears. “Trust only your own heart.”
He’d left in a hurry then, before Darius could think of an answer. With a stiff nod, that melancholy smile and a swish of his cloak, Creed was gone.
The next morning, Belos announced there’d been an attack on his family. Wild witches, of course. He’d sent Creed to rescue them and there’d been no word since. Belos, who never left the palace, announced he was personally making the journey to find Creed and his family. He’d left Lilith in charge, to Kikimora’s despair and rage.
Belos returned hours later, a tiny baby cradled in his arms. A tiny baby with pale blonde hair, like Creed’s. A baby boy with big magenta eyes, like Creed’s.
“My nephew,” Belos said softly. In the silence of the throne room, his voice echoed. The false Titan’s heart (not so false after all) beat overhead. Belos sat on his throne, gazing down at the Coven Heads and gathered scouts, guards and servants. There’d been frightened murmurings and whispers throughout the room; everyone had their eyes on that tiny, squirming baby.
“His name is Hunter,” Belos said. He did a good job of sounding mournful. “And, as of last night, he is the last of my family’s line. It is with deepest regret that I must inform you all that the Golden Guard is dead.”
Darius didn’t remember anything after that. He didn’t remember the rest of Belos’s speech; the mournful tones and vows of vengeance against wild witches.
Eberwolf told him later, much later, when Darius dared to ask, that Belos did not give details on what happened to Creed. He just said he’d been killed by the wild witches, sacrificing his life in defence of their family and the Isles.
Right away, the whispers began that Hunter was Creed’s son. Darius couldn’t believe it. Creed would have told him if he had a child and-
“If this goes right, there’s someone I’ll need to introduce you to soon.”
Was that in regards to Hunter, or Hunter’s mother?
Why didn’t you TELL me!? Darius wanted to scream. Why didn’t you take me with you!?
Darius had been one of the first to stalk out of the throne room, ignoring the pitying glances thrown his way. Everyone knew the Golden Guard had been his mentor.
None of them knew how much Creed really meant to him.
In the weeks to follow, plenty of wild witches lost their lives to wannabe-vigilantes and over-enthusiastic Coven scouts. The Golden Guard had been a popular figure with the public: brave, powerful, dashing and steadfast. Everything young witches dreamed of being. The kind of witch that made everyone around him feel safe.
Darius attended the memorial and didn’t say a word. As Creed’s student, perhaps it would have been expected, but he wasn’t asked. The only one to speak was Belos.
Darius didn’t listen to a word he said. He stood there and let his grief turn into anger and resentment; he stood there in silence and let it fester.
(Hunter, five-years-old and so very giggly, tripped over his own feet. He jumped back up and continued to run down the corridor, only stopping when he spotted Darius. His childish amusement faltered into something quieter, shyer. He lifted a little hand in an awkward wave hello.
Darius sniffed in distaste and stormed past. Eberwolf huffed and didn’t look at the child.
Trust your instincts, Creed had said. Trust only your own heart.
Well, Darius’s instincts said this was all bullshit. There was no way that scruffy, powerless little thing could possibly be Creed’s son. Some sort of relative, yes, there was no denying the resemblance. But Hunter? Living up to Creed’s legacy?
Never.
He wasn’t a successor. He was a convenient replacement.)
Darius sat at the dining table in Blight Manor with his friends. Even Perry had been called in; he’d been at the skull, albeit outside. He’d seen the effects it had on the kids.
“I’ve never seen Hunter that bad,” he said, shaking his head. “Not even while he was staying with me and Gus.” He drummed his fingers against the table. “Gus is worried sick.”
So was Darius. When this impromptu meeting was over, he’d be calling Hunter. Failing that, he’d call Camila.
Lilith looked haunted.
“How many?” Eda asked, stiff as a board.
“I don’t know,” Lilith admitted. “I didn’t count. I couldn’t. But there were so many of them. And-” Her voice wavered. “Not…Not all of them were adults.”
Darius closed his eyes, forcing himself to take deep steady breaths. Eda swore loudly, Eber growled and hissed. Raine gave a pained groan.
Darius got up and began to pace. If he sat still any longer, he’d surely break apart.
“We need to get them out of there,” Lilith continued. She exchanged glances with Alador, bringing back years’ worth of memories. In Hexside, those two seemed to know what the other was thinking with just a few glances and quirks of their eyebrows.
“We have some ideas,” Alador picked up where she stopped. He tapped the small stack of papers in front of him. It looked like more than some ideas. “We’ll need a team, of course. But above all, we need a place for a proper burial. Somewhere far from the skull, preferably. And if there’s any chance Belos left notes about them- their names, or ages, anything- we need to start looking.”
“And where do you suggest we start?” Darius asked tiredly. He tried to sound commanding and just sounded like he was pleading.
As always, Alador avoided eye-contact with everyone. He glanced around at them all quickly and returned his gaze to the papers.
“Anywhere, really,” he said. “Whatever remains of the castle. Any locations that Belos was known to frequent. Eclipse Lake, or anywhere the portals between here and the Human Realm would have connected; anywhere connected to Titan’s blood. And…” He fidgeted with his hands, picking at the skin around his nails. Lilith reached out and gently pulled his hands apart. It was almost enough to make Darius forget they weren’t at Hexside, discussing an upcoming exam.
“And?” Raine prompted. They were holding Eda’s hand.
“Well,” Lilith said with a forced smile. “We’ll need to talk to The Collector.”
“Belos lied to that kid for centuries,” Eda pointed out. “He didn’t even know what death was. ”
“But they may know something about Grimwalkers,” Lilith said. “Or where Belos left his notes. If Belos made the Golden Guards in the palace, we would have found evidence by now. Maybe The Collector knows where they were made, or maybe he knows their names.”
“It’s worth a shot, right?” Perry asked.
“I doubt Belos let him talk to them,” Darius said and began to pace again.
“Definitely not,” Alador said. “Not if he wanted to keep them all under his thumb. But Hunter and Luz said The Collector was lurking around, from what they saw in Belos’s memories. He’s told King some details; that child heard a lot. Surely they’ll know some of their names.”
Darius hated how it made sense. He didn’t particularly want to talk to the star child.
“I’ll talk to ‘em,” Eda offered right away.
No one argued.
Eda went upstairs to get King, to ask him to call on The Collector. Perry, Raine, Alador, Lilith and Eber poured over the list that Lilith and Alador had compiled.
Darius marched out of the dining room and called Hunter.
(For so many years, Darius had ignored and insulted Hunter. He’d made every effort to push the boy away.
The tables had turned. Now, Darius was pushing through the crowd in the Archives, desperately looking for the kid.
Eberwolf sniffed the air. “There!” he cried, racing ahead, ducking between people’s legs and even leaping over their heads. Darius was left to squeeze through gaps in the crowd, hurriedly muttering “Excuse me,” as he forced his way through.
He faltered when he saw Hunter. Those scars…Titan help him, why did Hunter have so many scars?
What is he wearing? Darius thought, as inconsequential as it was. Anything to not focus on those scars. Anything to not wonder at Hunter’s lack of a palismen, or his strangely brown eyes.
Hunter was standing alone, head bowed and shoulders hunched in. He looked exhausted and so very small. Painfully young.
He was alone. Darius was done with ignoring that.
He walked forward and ruffled the kid’s hair. Hunter whirled around, scowling, preparing to shout. His glare vanished when he saw Darius, replaced with surprise. Eberwolf climbed onto Darius’s shoulder, smiling at the kid.
“Darius?” Hunter blinked. “Eberwolf? Um…Hi.”
“Hey, kid,” Darius said, no longer trying to hide the fondness in his voice. He gestured to Hunter’s shirt, plainly homemade and covered in strange furry creatures. “Your stitches have improved.”)
Darius had been a thrice-damned fool for years. Even when he grew suspicious of Belos, even as he wondered if Belos had killed Creed, he’d never wondered about the past Guards. He’d just accepted the old line: killed in the line of duty, killed protecting the Emperor, killed in a rock slide, killed in an explosion, executed as a traitor, accidentally drank poisoned wine meant for Belos, killed in the line of duty, killed in the line of duty, killed in the line of duty…
Darius had never heard of a single Golden Guard living to old age. He’d always told himself Creed would be different; Creed would live to reach retirement and he’d spend the rest of his days in Palm Stings, reading those terrible romance novels he was so fond of and adopting every small fluffy animal in sight.
He should have known better.
His scroll dinged as he waited for the call to connect. After a moment, the face of the last Golden Guard filled the screen, eyebrows furrowed and hair falling in his brown eyes.
“Darius!” Hunter sounded relieved. “You’re back.”
“Hey, kid,” Darius said. He sat down on the nearest armchair. “We need to talk.”