Chapter Text
The first thing Hunter noticed about the Boiling Isles was the air. The thick, warm atmosphere that wrapped around him, the smell of damp earth and strange plant life, the buzz of magic in the air—it all felt so different from what he’d known. So much… lighter. He hadn’t realized how much the oppressive weight of Belos’ castle had buried itself in his chest until it was gone. He didn’t have to see the towering spires of the Emperor’s Coven or feel the sharp, piercing gaze of the Collector’s eyes. He didn’t have to hide his every thought and feeling just to avoid being punished.
But that didn't mean he felt free.
He sat on the edge of a large rock, staring out over the distant, lush forest stretching before him. His hands were clasped tightly in his lap, his fingers brushing the frayed edges of his sleeve. It had been weeks since he had escaped the nightmare that had been his life, but the remnants of that life still clung to him.
Hunter had heard about the Boiling Isles, the strange and beautiful world where magic ran free, where there were people who didn’t just survive under the oppressive rule of someone like Belos. He had hoped, at first, that coming here would be like stepping into a new chapter—a place where he could heal. But so far, it felt more like a masquerade. The bright colors of the world around him, the chatter of othiskids at the school Luz had brought him to, felt so alien to him. He wasn’t sure if he belonged.
There was also something else. Something deeper. Something that he hadn’t even begun to understand.
It was a feeling that tugged at him every time he looked in the mirror, every time he tried to get dressed in the morning. He could barely look at his reflection without wanting to tear it apart, but when he did, there was an unease gnawing at him. He saw his face—the same one he had looked at for years, the face that had been scarred by so many things he wished he could forget. The face of the "Golden Guard," the puppet of Belos. The face that didn’t belong to him.
And then, there was that feeling. A tug in his chest. A sharpness to his thoughts, like something was being rubbed raw from deep inside.
Hunter wasn’t sure when it started, but now, as he watched the othiskids at Hexside walking past, laughing, he realized that he felt different. More than just the weight of his past or the fear of being found out. He felt like his skin didn’t fit. He didn’t just hate the scars or the trauma—it was him. His body. His name.
It wasn’t right.
He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block the uncomfortable wave of confusion. He didn’t want to think about it. Not here, not now. He had spent years hiding his true self under layers of Belos' demands, trying so desperately to please the man who had treated him like an experiment. He didn’t need anothisthing to worry about.
But no matter how much he tried to shut it out, that feeling came back again. It was there when he looked at himself in the bathroom mirror in the mornings. When he tried on a new shirt and hated how it felt. It was the way his chest always seemed too… soft, too alien. The feeling that the reflection staring back at him wasn’t who he was supposed to be.
Hunter gritted his teeth, pushing the thoughts away. He didn’t want to deal with this. He wasn’t ready. He had enough on his plate just surviving. He couldn’t handle figuring out who he really was. What if he was wrong? What if it was just some leftover trauma, some self-hatred from everything Belos had put him through? He didn’t need more pain, more confusion.
He didn’t need anyone to know.
He’d spent so long being molded into the perfect soldier, the perfect mask for Belos, that the idea of opening up, of letting anyone see the raw, unguarded Hunter beneath all that, terrified him. He couldn’t risk it. He’d had enough of people prying into his life. The last time someone tried to understand him, it was… well, it had been a disaster. And that had been Belos—someone who was supposed to care for him. He could never let anyone else get too close again.
But there was one person who didn’t seem to take no for an answer: Luz.
The first time they met, they had been insistent. they had seen through his act in an instant, always ready with a smile or a joke, trying to break through his walls. He hated how easily they saw through him. They treated him like a person, not a weapon. It felt so different from everything he had known, and it terrified him. There were days when he wanted to pull away, to shut hisout, but then there were the small moments when they made him feel human again, even if it was just for a second.
Today, he was feeling especially vulnerable. Luz had asked him to join hisand the others for a walk around town after school, a small, innocent request that felt like too much. He had wanted to refuse, to disappear into the shadows, but something in his bright eyes had kept him from saying no. And now, as they walked along the cobbled streets, Hunter tried his best to keep up with the conversation, even though he was lost in his own thoughts.
Luz noticed immediately. “Hey,” they said softly, walking beside him as the others chatted ahead. “Are you okay?”
Hunter felt his heart lurch, and he immediately looked away. “I’m fine,” he muttered, trying to brush off his concern. “Just... thinking.”
“Thinking about what?” Luz asked, his voice gentle but persistent.
Hunter shrugged, his jaw clenched. He couldn’t tell her. He couldn’t even begin to explain. How could he tell hisabout the mess inside his head? About the feelings he had no words for? About the fear that kept him locked in his own skin, unsure of who he was or where he fit?
“I’m just... tired,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He hoped they would drop it, but Luz was never one to give up so easily.
“You know you can talk to me, right?” they said, his eyes softening. “If something’s going on, I’m here. You don’t have to hide.”
For a split second, Hunter thought he might break. his kindness, his warmth—it almost made him want to spill everything, to let the weight off his chest. But then the walls went up, as they always did. He couldn’t. Not yet. Not when he didn’t even know what to say to himself.
“I’ll be fine,” he replied quickly, a little sharper than he intended. “I just… need some time.”
Luz didn’t press any further, but Hunter could feel his eyes on him, his gaze lingering with a mix of concern and understanding. The silence stretched between them, heavy with unsaid words.
As they walked in silence, Hunter’s mind wandered back to that nagging feeling. His chest felt tight, his heart racing, but not from the familiar fear of Belos. This was different. This was something new, something raw.
He just had to keep pretending, he told himself. He wasn’t ready for anyone to know, especially Luz. they were his friends, but that didn’t mean they could understand. And if he let hisin, if he let anyone in, it would just make everything worse.
But as they continued to walk, and Luz threw anothisone of his bright smiles his way, Hunter couldn’t help but wonder... maybe, just maybe, this place wasn’t as bad as he thought. Maybe, somewhere deep down, he wasn’t as alone as he feared.
For the first time in a long while, a small, fragile hope flickered inside of him. But it was still buried, hidden behind walls of fear. And Hunter wasn’t ready to break them just yet.
Hunter had always been good at hiding. He’d learned that skill at a young age—being the “perfect” soldier, the obedient tool for Belos’ every whim. It was second nature to him now, to smile when necessary, to keep his head down and his mouth shut, to be everything everyone wanted him to be… without ever being himself. The trick was knowing what people wanted to see, and then showing them just that, nothing more.
But here, in this strange new world of the Boiling Isles, where the rules were different, where magic and monsters roamed free, Hunter wasn’t sure how to play the game anymore. The people here—especially Luz—didn’t seem to care about the walls he put up. She’d seen him for who he was before he even realized it himself. They’d barely known each other for a week, but somehow, Luz had managed to chip away at those walls, little by little.
It started with his kindness. his inability to see Hunter as anything othisthan a person, not a weapon or a project. they didn't try to fix him, didn’t try to make him forget. they just let him exist, and that was the strangest thing of all. Hunter wasn’t used to being allowed to exist without the constant pressure of someone wanting to change him.
But it wasn’t just Luz. It was the whole group—Vee, Amity, Matt, Gus—all of them made him feel like there was something more to life than just surviving.
That’s why the pain was so much harder to bear.
Hunter was lying in his bed late that night, staring up at the ceiling. He could hear the faint murmur of voices downstairs, Luz and his friends laughing together, probably talking about something ridiculous. He tried to ignore it, but it just made him feel more alone.
The weight of his own thoughts settled heavily on his chest, and for the hundredth time that week, he felt the sharp, gnawing sense of wrongness creeping under his skin.
When he looked at his reflection in the mirror in the mornings, his stomach twisted. He still saw the same face—scarred, haunted, tired—but something deeper was off. It was like his body didn’t belong to him. The curves, the softness of his chest, the way his voice still cracked when he was tired—it was all wrong. And it wasn’t because of Belos. It wasn’t because of the scars. It was deeper than that, something he couldn’t name. Something that made him feel like a stranger in his own skin.
He felt disgusted when he looked down at himself, but he didn’t know what else to do. He didn’t have a name for what he was feeling. He didn’t have the words.
But there were times, like tonight, when it all became too much. When the thoughts crowded in and he couldn’t keep them at bay. He buried his face in his hands, squeezing his eyes shut as if he could will the feelings away. I can’t be this. I’m not this.
But the more he tried to shove it down, the louder it grew. The pain in his chest—like someone had taken a knife and twisted it, over and over again—wasn’t just emotional anymore. It was physical. The tightness in his chest felt like a constant weight, and every time he moved, it only got worse.
He remembered something Luz had said the othisday, something that stuck with him: “You don’t have to hide who you are. You can be whoever you want here.”
He had looked at her, forced a smile, and said nothing. But the words had stayed with him, echoing in his mind like a challenge. He wasn’t ready. Not yet.
Not when everything about him felt wrong. Not when he had no idea how to even begin understanding it.
There was a knock on his door, and he sat up, quickly wiping away any stray tears before anyone could see. “Hunter?” Luz’s voice was soft, like they were trying to give him space but still make sure he knew they were there. “You okay?”
Hunter’s throat tightened, but he didn’t answer right away. The silence between them stretched out, heavy and thick, until he finally whispered, “Yeah.”
Luz hesitated for a moment. “Can I come in?”
“Sure.” His voice was rough, but he didn’t want to push hisaway. Not when he felt like he was falling apart inside.
Luz opened the door slowly and stepped into his room. They looked around for a moment before his eyes landed on him, sitting on the edge of his bed, his posture stiff and closed off. they stood there for a second, as if unsure what to do, before walking over and sitting beside him.
“I… noticed you’ve been quiet lately,” they said, his voice soft but filled with concern. “Is everything okay? You don’t have to talk about it, but if you want to, I’m here.”
Hunter didn’t know what to say. He had learned to shut down, to hide what he was feeling. But now, with Luz sitting next to him, his warmth and kindness reaching through his defenses, it was harder to keep everything locked inside. He couldn’t even explain it to himself, let alone anyone else.
Instead of answering, he stood up, walking to the window and staring out at the night sky, trying to calm the storm inside him. “I just… I don’t know what’s wrong with me, Luz.” His voice broke, and he swallowed hard, fighting to keep his composure. “I feel… like I’m not supposed to be this way. Like everything about me is… wrong.”
Luz was silent for a moment, and then, cautiously, they asked, “What do you mean?”
Hunter stared out into the night, his hands gripping the window sill like it was the only thing keeping him from falling apart. “I don’t know how to explain it. I feel like… like I’m not who I’m supposed to be. I look at myself, and I hate everything about how I look. My voice, my body… it’s all wrong. But I don’t know how to change it. I don’t even know if I can change it.”
Luz was quiet for a long time, and Hunter couldn’t bring himself to turn around. He was ashamed of the way his chest tightened, the way he felt like he was suffocating under the weight of his own feelings. He didn’t want Luz to see this.
But then, they stood up and walked over to him. hishand hesitated for a moment before they placed it gently on his shoulder. “Hunter,” they said, his voice quiet but steady, “you don’t have to have all the answers right now. You’re not alone. I’m here, and you can take your time.”
Hunter shook his head, tears welling up in his eyes. “But what if I’m just… broken?” he whispered, his voice cracking. “What if I’m just… not meant to be who I want to be?”
Luz’s grip on his shoulder tightened slightly, and they leaned in, his voice soft but full of warmth. “Hunter, you’re not broken. You’re you. And who you are is enough. You don’t have to figure it all out right now, but I’ll be here. Whatever you need.”
He finally turned to face her, his face flushed with embarrassment. He wanted to pull away, to hide, but the raw sincerity in Luz’s eyes stopped him. they weren't looking at him like he was some damaged thing to fix. they were just looking at him—Hunter—and that was more than he ever expected from anyone.
For the first time in a long time, he felt like maybe he could breathe. Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to keep all of this inside. He wasn’t sure how to move forward, but having Luz there, in that moment, made him feel like he could take the first step.
“I don’t know what to do,” he said quietly, his voice small, as though admitting it out loud might shatter something inside him. “I don’t know who I am.”
Luz smiled softly, his hand still on his shoulder. “You’re Hunter. And that’s enough for now.”
Hunter’s heart fluttered at his words, but there was still a weight pressing down on him. The weight of something he wasn’t ready to say, not yet. But as the silence stretched between them, he felt like maybe—just maybe—he wasn’t as alone as he had thought.
Maybe, with time, he could start to figure this out.