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Bramble Spitzfyre sees dead people.
For anyone else, his condition would’ve been considered something supernatural, significant, or the main plot point of a thriller film from the 90’s, but to him - a teenage boy and a resident of the Boiling Isles - it was just a small footnote in the 14-year-long narrative that was his life. He had other things to worry about: like the fact that his grades in Potion Basics were slipping; that he could easily get eaten by a hungry monster on his way to school, or that his moms always acted like his little sister hung the moon and he wasn’t putting in any effort at all to succeed. Which he wasn’t, but it wasn’t because he didn’t care. He and his moms just had different ideas about what “success” meant.
The ability to see ghosts and commune with the dead wasn’t unheard of in the Demon Realm- it was a practice usually done by witches and demons with proficiency in Oracle magic. However, what made him different from the average witch was that mediating between the living and the dead took years of practice, and always had a chance of failure.
Bramble always saw ghosts, whether he was using magic or not. And they could see him too.
It wasn’t scary, though. Most of the time the ghosts he saw were just checking in on their loved ones, watching them fondly from beyond the veil. If they had particularly violent or sudden deaths, their spirits would reflect it, but it wasn’t scarier than anything the Isles could offer on any regular day. He was living on the carcass of an ancient Titan that, 24 odd years ago, was possessed by an evil witch hunter that declared himself emperor as a ruse to commit genocide- And that guy was a human .
They’d wave and say good morning or afternoon, ask him how his day was, inquire about the news of the day, and he’d respond in kind despite the odd looks from other witches around him that couldn’t see that he wasn’t just talking to no one. Visible ghosts were one thing - the kind trapped in crystal balls used by Oracle witches that still practiced “traditional” methods - but the ones only he could see were a different story entirely.
His mom probably didn’t appreciate that people would talk, either. Her boy, going around town, talking to nothing and seeing things that weren’t there- it was a bigger embarrassment than her failure to play professional Grudgby after getting injured in the Day of Unity fallout. His Mama wouldn’t say anything negative about it, but that was because she never took anything he said seriously. She’d pinch his cheek or pat his head, maybe say something about his “vivid imagination” and how he should use it to write a book- put his ideas to “good use” so he could get ahead of his peers.
His sister. Well. She believed him, but he was sure her feelings about it were more centric to pity. She’d look at him with big blue eyes full of concern and he’d just feel embarrassed. It wasn’t like he wanted to talk about it with her either- she had a habit of asking questions that he didn’t feel like giving answers to.
He didn’t dare share anything about his personal life with his family, because past experiences had taught him that his feelings would either be criticized or held over his head- And, while Briar was nice enough, she just wouldn’t understand that he couldn’t completely trust her.
So, as one could infer, seeing dead people was the least of his worries.
Aside from the Owl Lady’s late mother who would come talk to Bramble about her daughters and how he should try and work things out with his own sister, his most frequent ghostly visitors were a gaggle of beat up blonde teenagers all in similar outfits.
He knew who they were - he was good at history and Hexside vowed to be honest about the horrors of the old coven system - but the group of fallen child soldiers never really seemed to be as morose as he first assumed they would be. The Grimwalkers all had different personalities and names, all under eighteen, and were more friendly than any other kids his age. They’d float alongside him as he went about his business, chatting with the young witch about his interests, giving their opinions about whatever, always with a joke or two.
While there were countless fallen Grimwalkers - and the memorial at the Chin could prove it so - there were five specific ones that seemed to most frequently make an appearance.
Reverie was young, about thirteen. He had curly hair that was more of a strawberry blonde, a scar across his nose, and he wore his cloak with a deadwardian style ruff around his neck. He was a jokester, always coming up with a quip to bother Bramble with and encouraging him to break the rules. The ghost that kept Rev in line was named Patience. He was tall, wiry, and by all means a bit of a nerd. He was the one that Bramble could most see the resemblance to Mr. Park with, if he could imagine Mr. Park with red eyes and a sadder face.
Eve was nice- She was a girl, one who decided to be one sort of how Bramble decided to be a boy. He had a hard time believing the emperor would’ve been that lenient, but Eve had mentioned that her uncle strangely didn’t care. She would always ask Bramble if he had eaten enough or if he had gotten enough rest, always worrying and trying to take care of him like a mother despite being stuck at sixteen. She would still act like a child in some respects though- smiling when she noticed any witch or demon Bramble may have had a crush on and asking all sorts of romance-related questions to which he would roll all three of his eyes.
Kismet was a character . If any of them were most fitting of the term “soldier,” it was him. He was fifteen years old and never seemed relaxed a day in his afterlife, always glaring and on edge. Any time Bramble would be in class and they’d mention the old Emperor, he’d grumble or interject with a biting comment, full of unfiltered hate and scorn.
He didn’t talk or joke around as much as the others. Whenever Bramble’s moms would start up with a complaint or a passive aggressive comment, Kismet always gave his two cents and followed up by asking Bramble if he was going to let them talk to him like that.
Unfortunately for the both of them, he was.
The most frequent and well mannered ghost was named Victory- Vic for short. Bramble had asked him once about when he died and why he wandered the realm of the living so much more than everyone else, and as it turned out, he was the last Golden Guard to die before Mr. Park made it out.
He was seventeen. His eyes were kind, his hair wild and his voice was always somewhat sad.
Bramble could have long conversations with Vic. They’d sit together and go back and forth about their studies, parental expectations, their own goals… apparently he had been made with a bile sac and was able to use magic, but it frequently caused him problems when he was alive. Bramble could relate- after all, he was only able to see ghosts in the first place due to a spell phlegm issue in his heart.
He considered him a friend.
The group of fallen guards could be a bit annoying sometimes, but Bramble could admit that he would be lonely without them. Being fourteen was hard enough, but Hexside was easier to navigate with their chatter.
For example, he was currently in between classes and looking for a book in the library that he had no idea where to start searching for. He found himself faced with a literal wall of text, and worse, it was in the potions section.
He hated potions.
He groaned, feeling himself get a headache from trying to understand the numerical system of book organization that he still didn’t understand.
“Whatcha lookin’ for?”
Bramble glanced to the left, seeing Eve apparate next to him.
“Hey, Eve… uhh… do you… know anything about potions? Specifically the difference between a brew and a blend? They all seem so similar but I need a book on an intro to blends… ”
Eve shook her head.
“Mm-m. Potions was an area of study Belos didn’t let me pursue despite being one of the main nine covens… but I am great at finding things! What’s the title?”
Before Bramble could respond, he was interrupted by a familiar gruff voice on his right.
“Belos didn’t let you research potions because he knew it was something you could’ve excelled at without magic… Titan , Eve, we’ve been over this…”
“I didn’t forget! I just don’t want to talk about him when Bramble was asking about something else! Geez Kismet, you’re so negative… ”
Bramble’s ears flattened, slightly more bothered than he already was.
“Anyway… It’s called Blending for Beginners by Barcus Wolfsmane.”
Eve put on a polite smile and nod and floated from where she was over to the other side of the bookshelf, Bramble and Kismet watching on.
“Well here’s your problem, you’re looking over in the B’s. The nonfiction stuff is organized by the author’s name, not the title.”
Bramble furrowed his brow, his third eye squinting.
“But his name is Barcus.“
“ Last name! The book would be under W for Wolfsmane. Right here!”
Eve pointed to a set of ochre toned textbooks on the high right corner of the shelf, multiple copies set up plain as day.
“… Oh. Well that’s stupid…”
Bramble walked over to about where she was and made a small spell circle under his feet, using a basic construction spell his Mama taught him to lift him to the height of the shelf. (Eve couldn’t grab it for him, as she was incorporeal and would simply phase through.)
“Thanks.”
“No prob, kiddo!”
He absorbed the cover of the book- it was bound in a dark yellow leather jacket with an aesthetically pleasing swirl coming together between two cauldrons on the front. By all means, it was very pretty. Maybe he was just sleep deprived, or truly got lost in the designs etched into the spine, but he realized he was zoning out the moment his side collided with what felt like a tower of books.
“ACK-“
Startled, he instinctively jerked, and when he attempted to regain his footing on the elevated block, he stepped halfway on the corner and halfway onto nothing. His stomach flipped as he fell, yelping and flailing for anything to grab onto, only to land-
He slowly opened his eyes as he realized he wasn’t in a world of pain. He hadn’t landed on the floor, but onto a large abomination blob that broke his fall. He looked to his side in the library corridor to see a large ambulatory abomination holding an immense stack of heavy-looking textbooks, picking up the ones on the floor that had collided with Bramble, and next to it was its master.
They were a short, brunette witch with shoulder-length hair held back by a pair of industrial-looking goggles. Their expression was slightly panicked and in their palm was an extended staff, the curved end being the perch for an activated bat palisman.
The witch relaxed once they saw that Bramble was - for the most part - unharmed, and unceremoniously deactivated the spell holding Bramble a few inches off the floor. He landed with a soft “oof-“, taking a moment to breathe again. But before he could voice a single complaint, the abomination witch spoke first.
“Sorry about that! Guess I didn’t see you there… Please be more careful next time!”
It was curt, quick, and despite the smile on their face, the comment stung. Not an offer to help him up, nothing about if he was okay, just a bare minimum apology that felt like they were saying it was Bramble’s fault for being in the way. Before Bramble could even finish realizing just how pissed off he was, the witch was already on their way. The frustration that Bramble did his best to lock away on a daily basis began to bubble up in his throat.
“EXCUSE ME?”
The witch paused and turned around with a “hm?” seemingly unaware of what they had just done. Bramble stood up from where he was on the floor, feeling his face get hot and his heart beat faster as he got closer to the interloper.
“YOU CAN'T JUST- BLAST THROUGH THE LIBRARY WITH A GIANT ABOMINATION AND ACT LIKE ITS MY FAULT WHEN YOU DAMN NEAR RAN ME OVER!! TITAN, WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM?!”
His fingertips twitched as he felt the telltale spark of magical bile flowing through his veins.
Surprisingly, the other witch backed down. Their bushy eyebrows knotted as they realized their mistake. They still had a small smile, but it was less of a pretentious expression and more of a nervous grin.
“Ah-! I never meant to imply that by my statement!! I’m sorry! You just seemed to be busy so I figured I’d keep my apology brief and be on my way; see i'm actually in the middle of something myself and you know how it can be when you’re in the zone-“
Bramble, now less irate as they began to nervously ramble, had realized that not only were his ghosts quiet- but this witch had dark magenta eyes.
Coupled with the unique bat staff and the abominations, it dawned on him that this was none other than Hyacinth Park. The “Mad Scientist of Hexside,” and more importantly, Mr. Park’s kid.
He heard rumors about Hyacinth- he was an upperclassman, but a weird one even by Boiling Isles standards. He was blunt, a bit asocial and incredibly smart. Somehow his two closest friends were Bronwyn Clawthorne- a musical celebrity on the isles, the younger sister of both the Titan’s Son, King himself, and Mrs. Noceda , the Savior of the Isles and the Titan’s Chosen, not to mention the daughter of the famous Owl Lad y - and his boyfriend, Alek, who was the most popular kid in their graduating class and a total smokeshow.
Some other students thought he was scary or mysterious, but Bramble didn’t buy it. If anything, he had personal experience with being different, which Hyacinth was.
The main thing Bramble had on his mind was what it was like being Mr. Park’s son. He was probably one of the few witches on the Isles that knew about the Grimwalkers on the level he did, and Mr. Park was the one Golden Guard who made it out alive when he was only sixteen. He was there when the Emperor and the Coven System fell. Now he’s just a nice man who lives outside the city in a tiny cottage with his wife and son who carves Palismen for everyone. Since Bramble was, in the most positive sense, haunted by his predecessors, the concept frequently came up in his train of thought.
Bramble sighed after all this ran through his head and Hyacinth continued to ramble, trying to figure out what to say next.
“Look- you’re- you’re okay. Hyacinth, right? I’m sorry. Just- watch where you’re going, especially here. The hallways are smaller than you think.”
Hyacinth smiled softly - quiet now after his ramble had paused on something about “abomination viscosity,” released the tension in his shoulders and wrapped both hands around the middle of his staff.
“Right, right! Again, my apologies. That’s some impressive magic, by the way. Does it always flare up like that when you’re upset? I’ve seen it happen before but never on that level.“
Ah, so he was blunt. And a bit invasive, but Bramble could tell it was just curiosity.
He fidgeted with his fingers. “Uh- yeah. Yeah, the healers said I have an issue with my bile sack, so… I didn’t think it was all that crazy, though?”
Hyacinth, now grinning, lit up like a light glyph.
“Oh no, it’s totally crazy!! Usually like, when my Mama gets super mad at something for example, she just gets the glowing eyes - like you did - and grows a few plants around her, but you were like- I heard your voice echoing from like three different places around me and your spell circles had sparks! Do you know how much effort it takes for the average witch your age to do that? I’m sure that if you got even more pissed you’d start floating, which would’ve been so cool to see.”
Bramble, now at a loss for words, wasn’t sure how to respond. His magic had only ever been an inconvenience, not something… cool .
“I- uh- I wasn’t aware, no…”
Without prompting, Hyacinth grabbed one of Bramble’s hands and observed his fingers like he had never seen a digit before. Bramble assumed this might happen, but was still a bit stunned.
“Your proficiency- it’s Oracle based magic, right? Usually witches inclined to a certain area of spellcasting will have an aura that corresponds to that spell’s color. That, and the echoes clued me in. How accurate are your predictions?”
Bramble did not want to tell this guy that he sees ghosts, but he was sure that he’d find out soon with the direction he was going in. He pulled his hand away and grabbed the book he came for with both hands.
“I’ve uh- never tried! But hey I willlll let you know later if I have time; I gotta go study for a test!“
Hyacinth smiled, still bright as ever.
“Of course of course, don’t let me keep you! I still wanna see what you can do at some point thoughhhh… Sorry, what was your name?”
“Bramble.” Bramble said, and nothing else.
“Bramble! Ha, look at us with our plant names! Anyway, nice to meet you! Byeeeee!”
Hyacinth waved and continued on his way, his abomination assistant with all the books following shortly behind.
As soon as he was gone, all five of his frequent Golden Ghosts slowly reappeared from the bookshelves. Bramble took notice.
“Okay, what was that?”
Reverie was the first to respond.
“What was what?”
Bramble looked around at the translucent crowd.
“Usually whenever I try to talk to anyone at least one of you has something to say, but for the first time you all decided to shut up. Is there something I’m missing about Mr. Park’s kid?”
Eve whined, a smile on her face, Bramble swearing that he could see her tearing up.
“He’s getting soooooo biiiig!! And he’s so smart too!!”
Patience sighed, and Victory moved closer to where Bramble could see him.
“We just… ah, geez. This is hard to explain… Hyacinth- he’s… well. His dad, Mr. Park- he’s like a little brother to all of us, you know?”
Kismet, for once, had a softness in his voice that Bramble hadn’t heard before.
“He made it out. Got to grow up. Be happy.”
“So… seeing Hyacinth just exist is like. He’s family. He’s like a nephew to all of us,” Patience responded. “Which is ironic, considering he’s-“
Kismet interrupted him before he could finish. “DON’T. Don’t tell the boy about that. It’s not his business; not his family, and if Hyacinth wants to tell him it should be his choice.”
Patience went silent, as did everyone else. Bramble sat down with his back to the bookshelf and knees to his chest, not caring about whatever the big secret was. He felt a tightness in his stomach- a familiar feeling that came with the sensation of barbed wire in his throat.
“So if Hyacinth and his dad are so important then- Why- Why do you guys stick around with me? You don’t have to get involved with my issues just because I can see you , you know.”
All five ghosts immediately got closer, Vic being the first to speak.
“No no no no, Bramble, kid- “
Bramble threaded his fingers through his bangs, trying not to tear up to no avail.
“I’m not smart like Hyacinth, o-or even related to you, and you guys are dead! You could be doing so much more than just following me around and listening to me complain, so I don’t- I don’t get it!! I don’t! I don’t understand why you’re being so nice to me… You don’t have to be here dealing with me!!”
And now, he was crying like an idiot.
He felt the air drop a good twenty degrees around him as the ghosts surrounded Bramble where he sat.
Eve put a hand on his knee as best she could without phasing through.
“Bramble… We hang around because you can see us, sure, but also because we like you…”
Reverie looked down. “We didn’t really get to be kids, and talking to you, it’s like- we can just be kids with you , you know?”
Patience leaned against Rev’s shoulder. “The afterlife gets lonely after a while, even when you’re with other people. You don’t like being reminded of everything that happened all the time.”
Vic gave a soft laugh. “We think you’re pretty cool… Yeah, we could watch over Hyacinth and the Parks silently from the sidelines, but that’s not everything we want to do. You’re fun to be around! Besides, we don’t mind “dealing with your issues,” as you put it. If you need someone to listen to you, we’re here. Just like how you do for us. Okay?”
Kismet said nothing, but he gave a nod of agreement.
Bramble wiped his tears on his sleeve, still not sure where they came from in the first place, but feeling better than he did before.
“Okay… Thanks… I guess. Sorry I freaked out there for a bit…”
“Hey, you had a lot on your mind, yeah? Don’t worry about it. You’re okay.”
For the first time in a while, Bramble felt like he was heard- even if to anyone else, it looked like he was talking to no one.
Strangely, despite the five ghosts making the air around him so cold he could see his breath indoors, he felt warmer than he did before.