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1.
Manuel ‘Manny’ Noceda came from a family with a gift. Many thought that meant his family was skilled in a task or destined to go down a certain career path that many others in the family did as well. The family gift was nothing like that. It was more than that, long ago his family was a bridge that connected two worlds. The bridge was forgotten but, much like the family line, stands strong against an unforgiving world.
Manny and his family could see that which was gone, having expired like all living things did. His family, for a long time, lived alongside the unseen spirits and deities. They had libraries full of what was known about such beings, opened to all who wished to learn about their unseen brethren. But the world stopped caring and the books gained layers of dust. His family kept their knowledge and moved about the world, waiting for the chance to share.
Manny learned to hide his ability to the outside world while still helping those who needed it. Spirits craved contact and had no need to follow the rules set by society, so Manny did his best. He spoke to them when he could and in return they shared their stories. He became well versed in the matters of the old world, able to tell both sides of a tale long forgotten. He knew that which many tried to hide and what stalked from the darkness.
He met Camila and it felt like he was given a new world. His life was all but consumed by her and Manny could do nothing about it. He wished to do nothing but be by his love’s side, caring for her. He would fight all who tried to stop him, even the Brutal Devourer. Their love culminated into the light of his life, his little girl, his Luz. But she was weak and sickly, the doctor said that they couldn't find a problem but he knew. Manny could see the way it seemed like her soul was trying to leave its body and he could do nothing. He prayed for ways to save her and was answered by the Gentle Hunter.
Camila never knew and Manny never told her what they had nearly lost. Nor did he mention how the ghostly specter of a wolf trailed behind their daughter, protecting her. Luz would talk about them but his wife brushed it off as an imaginary friend and played along. Manny, meanwhile, made sure Luz knew about the being who saved her life. Tales of the Kindred became her bedtime stories, lulling the child to sleep as Wolf seemed to glow with pride. Manny couldn't wait to see what his Little Light would do with her second chance.
He would never see it come, even as he clung to life with each gaping breath. Wolf’s claws would soon dig into him or perhaps it would be those sharp fangs that would end it all. Never mind how his child cried, the Brutal Devourer would take him in time. Luz wept herself to sleep and Wolf turned to him.
“A boring chase.” The specter said in that rough voice of his.
“But a long one, no?” Manny brushed hair out of Luz’s face.
“Barely a hunt.”
“Take care of her.”
“You may be Lamb’s to take.”
But Lamb was gone, all that remained was her mask and Luz.
“I’ll still fight to remain.”
“Most do.”
Manny didn't make it to see the sun rise.
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2.
The palace seemed to attract all kinds of things, some living and some less so fortunate. Ghosts lingered, continuing tasks long forgotten. Being a part of the Emperor’s Coven was a dangerous choice and that was shown with every spirit. Hunter grew surrounded by those living and dead, unable to tell the difference at a mere glance.
Hunter could see and talk to the dead but they couldn't talk back. So he learned how to read body language and interpret gestures. He learned about some of the Golden Guards that seemed to follow his uncle at all times. Uncle didn't seem bothered by them, he didn't even acknowledge their existence.
A young Hunter had been walking down an empty hall when a ghostly Guard stepped through the wall. They had a mane of platinum blonde hair and had their face hidden by the iconic blank golden mask. Hunter jumped back with a yelp, hand grasping where his heart should be.
“Don't do that!” He chastised. The past Guard’s shoulders shook with silent laughter. Hunter scowled and crossed his arms, waiting for the ghost to finish. He shouldn't indulge the dead but the castle got lonely and they were always there, lurking.
The Guard calmed and made the motion of ruffling the child’s hair. Touch was not an option for the spirits but he enjoyed how each found workarounds. They drifted down the hall and waved for Hunter to come.
“You want me to follow you?”
They nodded. Hunter wasn't doing anything so with a shrug he let the old Golden Guard lead him. The ghost seemed to choose hallways that were as empty as the one they started in. They took him to a balcony which faced the skull, where a man stood alone. The Guard stepped forward and hushed winds echoed around the boy. He could only assume it was the language of apparitions such as them. The man turned and Hunter felt the air get stuck in his throat.
The man had pale skin, brown eyes, thick black eyebrows, and ash-blonde hair tied in a ponytail with a hanging forelock. He had a hooked nose, eye bags, sunken cheeks, and Hunter could make out some ribs under the torn shirt. The man looked so much like Hunter it would have been like looking in a mirror if not for the rounded ears and brown eyes. Well that and how the man wore different clothes and was taller but those seemed like minor details.
Uncle Belos had said their family always struggled with magic, some defect that manifested in many ways. For his uncle it was in the form of less pointed, almost rounded, ears. It wouldn't be a stretch to assume it could have given one human-like ears.
The man knelt before Hunter, his mouth moving too quickly for the boy to try and read. He shivered as harsher winds attacked his poor ears.
“I-I,” if Uncle Belos was here he would tell Hunter to quit stuttering, that it was unbecoming for the future Golden Guard. “I can’t understand you.”
The man frowned. The old Guard placed a hand on the man’s shoulder and let out more soft winds. The man nodded and Hunter felt as if he was missing something, he hated such feelings. The older blonde pointed at Hunter, then himself before linking them together.
Hunter tilted his head, “We’re… related?”
That much felt obvious given how similar they looked. The man looked as if he was going to make more movements when the old Guard leaned closer. They whispered to the man, not that the boy would know what was being said anyway. The man’s shoulders sagged and he nodded while looking Hunter in the eye. He somehow knew it was towards his question so he asked the next.
“Are you like my father?”
The man seemed to hesitate but nodded once more. Something unexplainable filled Hunter. He had wondered why it was just him and his uncle, where his mother and father had gone. He supposed he had his answer now. His father had died, of what the boy didn't know, and now haunted his home. His eyes stung with unshed tears. He should be happy, he could see his father and somewhat talk to him but he would never know his father’s embrace. He would never hear his father’s voice, never get to speak with him like he could with his uncle.
The man stared down at the boy, his gaze filled with grief and regret.
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3.
For a very long time, Amity Blight didn't know the difference between an unbound spirit and the living. They spoke and acted the same, had thoughts and feelings, had seemed so alive. The first time she learned she had been talking to an apparition was when she was young.
She had just been forced to end her friendship with Willow Park and the twins decided to take her to the slayground. They were still young and cared for their little sister. They were mischievous but hadn't crossed the line into devious. That changed in time but Amity cherished the memories of the time when Edric and Emira were kind.
Amity didn't want to be near all the kids that chased and screamed and laughed. They made her heart ache for the friend she lost. So she went to the sandbox, where there was only one other child, drawing in the sand. She watched as they drew a family, two adults and a child. Her eyes widened as they began to disappear before the young witch could finish. They pulled at their hair in annoyance and Amity felt bad.
“Do you want help?” She asked, wringing her dress nervously. They seemed shocked, looking around as if she would be talking to someone else. She giggled and sat next to them. “Well?”
They nodded. “If you trace it over, they should last longer.”
It was shaky at first. Circles became imperfect, and lines either grew or shrunk. The other witchling didn't seem to mind, even laughing as Amity tried to get the circles right. Soon the sandbox was a tapestry, telling a tragedy, the loss of a child. The final image was of two masks, one of a wolf and the other of a lamb, or so the witchling said. The picture of those masks stuck with her for a long time after, doodled in the margins of her diary and the corner of her work.
“Thanks…” They paused and Amity realized she never told them her name.
“Amity.” She smiled.
“Thank you, Amity. I’m Yotin.”
“Amity, time to go!” Edric called from the gate.
Amity frowned and turned to Yotin. “I have to go but maybe we can do this again?”
Yotin smiled brightly and nodded. Amity ran to her siblings, who spoke of some new prank they could pull. She grabbed Emira’s hand and let them lead her back home. She looked back to the sandbox to wave goodbye but Yotin was gone. The only evidence anyone was there were the drawings they made together.