Chapter Text
A grimwalker, not unique in itself, but unique in its upbringing and looks.
Instead of being a friend to the newest creature, Belos had taken a more…parental approach. The results were not entirely disappointing, though the being was quite a bit more needy than the others.
Hunter, he had named it. A little joke only he understood. He had raised the beast from ‘birth’ and had it trained early on, making it useful for endeavors. Concerningly, though, it seemed to be attempting to find a more suitable cure for the ‘curse’ Belos harbored, which wouldn’t have been a problem, had it not turned to forbidden tomes of Wild Magic.
He thought he’d installed a more powerful fear of the stuff, but Belos didn’t care all too much about the small rebellion. It did come from an earnest place, after all.
Just in case…
Belos took precautions anyway. It never hurt to be cautious, especially so close to the Day of Unity. He stored a few ingredients, but left the last for Hunter to fetch itself later on.
“Soon, Caleb. Soon we will be free.”
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Hunter was having a day.
First, he has to deal with the bumbling bard head finally biting the dust. Suffice to say, he would not be missed by many, but the way it had gone down left Hunter with a boat load of paperwork to do.
Then, he had to deal with a wild witch named Scorpio who, apparently, had no qualms about causing chaos on one of his busiest days of the year. They had broken out of the conforimitorium for the fifth time!
Other than the fact that it made both the guards and the place itself look weak, it was also a pain in the ass to rouse enough scouts who could actually do their jobs well to capture the witch. As far as wild witches go, Scorpio was a level 8 on Hunter’s self-made danger/power list. This meant he needed competent scouts to capture them and reinstate them at the conformo.
He was very proud of the power system, actually. It took into account the witches' proficiency in three main categories; Brain, Brawn and Bile. He just analyzed their fights and gave a ranking out of 50 in each category—
He was getting off track. His system was not important. What’s important is what happened after Scorpio went awol.
The Emperor had called Hunter into the throne room. Hunter knew whenever he was called into the throne room, it would either turn his day sunny side up, or leave him in pain for the next week. Considering his day thus far, he suspected the latter.
As he was taught, he kneeled at the foot of his Emperor's throne, bowing his head until he was given permission to speak.
“Do you know why I’ve called you here today, Golden Guard?”
The Emperor questioned, voice as soothing as a hive of firebees (take it from Hunter, firebees are NASTY pieces of work.) Hunter couldn’t pinpoint a specific moment of fuckuppery, but he considers he would be punished for the overall course of the day, with the prison break and the death and all.
The Emperor didn’t wait for a reply, just paused long enough for Hunter to rifle through his thoughts.
“You are here, because I require your help, Hunter.”
The Emperor sighed, slouching in his grand, golden throne. His posture screamed ‘tired’, and the wet coughs that came from under his mask sounded bad. Hunter was concerned, to say the least, but he didn’t know if he was permitted to ask or stand. A distracted wave of The Emperor's hand let Hunter know he could voice his concerns.
He immediately got to his feat, going to the side of his Emperor's throne and hovering there worriedly. He didn’t dare touch the Emperor, but he offered his slight closeness as a gesture of support.
“Whatever you need, Emperor. I am at your service.”
Hunter repeated the words that had been drilled into his brain since childhood. The Emperor heaved a sigh, grabbing Hunter’s forearm with surprising strength. It was painful, how tight the Emperor squeezed (*that sounded wrong…or maybe it’s just me*), but Hunter didn’t even flinch. He was used to this by now. It was practically impossible for him to not be in pain at every moment until sleep, and even then the occasional ache would shock him awake.
“I need you to be better, Hunter. I am weakened by the day, and as such, I need someone to carry out my will. You have been doing adequately so far, but I know—“ The ragged tone the Emperor spoke in was interrupted by more coughs. Each one sent another spike through Hunter' s chest. His uncle needed help, the curse must be getting worse.
“I know you can do better. Train more, take on more missions. Please don’t disappoint me.
Why, with all his knowledge of magic, could he not find a cure? Why was this what his Emperor—his uncle— was reduced to? It wasn’t right.
“I-I will do better, Em-Emperor.”
Hunter cursed the waver in his voice. His chest felt so constricted, like vines were wrapped around him and they just kept getting tighter. He needed to be the best he could be. He needed to do more. Screw having a bad day, he needed to be better about himself. He couldn’t let things trouble his Emperor. That just wouldn’t be fair, what with his current condition. He shouldn’t have to worry about anything. Hunter would make sure everything was ok.
The Emperor suddenly hunched over, and Hunter had no chance to react before gooey green tendrils captured his arm, waving through cloth and skin. It was only Hunter’s pain tolerance that kept him from crying out. It reminded him too much of a past event, and he hated thinking about the past. It was always a pain when it randomly invaded his consciousness.
———————
Vines, snaking up his arms. Thorns piece the skin. Blood mixes with tears as flesh is ripped from bones. Hunter falls, looking up with big eyes at her.
“Oh, dear. Auntie didn’t mean to, Sprout. But it seems like it likes you. We wouldn’t want them to feel sad, right?”
But Hunter only heard the wet squelch of muscle and skin ripping apart, teared but he plants as they weaved further up his torso toward his neck. Suddenly he couldn’t breath as the vines pierced his skin and got tighter. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t breathe. He coouLDN’T BREATHE—
———————
Hunter stumbled backward, clawing the tendrils off him as he struggled to breathe. The Emperor was back to normal, the sudden uncontrolled outburst squandered for now. He took a shakily inhale, then waved a hand to dismiss his guard.
Hunter was ashamed later, but he couldn’t bring himself to simply walk out. He sprinted out of the throne room, shaking away the memory. It still felt like phantom plants were twisting around beneath his skin, and the mass blood his arm was producing didn't help matters.
He had just turned the corner to his private corridors when he slammed into someone. Hunter, being as light as he was, was surprisingly easy to push over if he wasn’t prepared. He wasn’t prepared.
He went tumbling to the ground, catching himself rather poorly as he was still mid panic attack mid freak out. The other he had bumped into went down as well, losing a large pair of round glasses in the process.
Hunter would later recognize them as Raine Whispers, newly appointed head of the Bard Coven, but in the moment; he couldn't bring himself to care. He simply handed their glasses back to them (his hand was shaking like a leaf, another fact he would realize and curse himself about later) then took off running once more, not even apologizing in the slightest.
—
He hardly remembered reaching his room.
All he remembers is collapsing in his closet, madly clawing at his injured arm as he imagined slimy tendrils tearing them apart, worming their way under his flesh. It changed to vines every so often, which caused him to scratch his throat until it bled.
His breathing hadn’ t calmed down, causing his chest to wheeze with every breath and black spots to dance in his vision.
Whether it was the blood loss or lack of oxygen that got him in the end, Hunter wasn’t sure.
But he invited the inky blackness of unconsciousness consume him, taking with it the horrors of the day.
:3