Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“The human world is dangerous.”

That’s what Amity had been told her entire life.

Humans. Weird, horrifying creatures, apparently. With gnashing yellow teeth, weird, tiny ears that were apparently round(!), and gills on either side of their neck. Dangerous, unhinged creatures, that made up for their lack of magic with sheer brutality. The only witches who had a favorable opinion of them were dangerously incompetent, like Willow and Augustus. 

And then she found the key to the human world.

But she was getting ahead of herself.

Her name was Amity Blight, and she was a witch. That was her most important identifier. She was a whole witch. Not half a witch, like Willow, or idiotic and incompetent, like Augustus, or a minion to step on, like Skara. She was a witch. And that meant something to Amity.

Her second most important qualifier was Blight.

She was a Blight. That didn’t mean as much to her, though it still meant a lot. It meant she was held to a higher standard, to paraphrase her parents. It meant she couldn’t just be a witch - it meant she had to excel.  

She was Amity Blight, the witch. The top student. The ice queen.

She ruled Hexside. She didn’t just run it - she ruled it. Principal Bump saw her as the star pupil - which she was. Every teacher adored her, and every student feared her. She was queen.

And this queen ruled alone.

She walked the halls of Hexside with hands folded primly behind her back, steps deadly precise. Amity Blight did not strut, and Amity Blight did not stumble. Amity Blight walked like every step was calculated.

Her face was an ice-cold mask, devoid of all emotion. If she was surprised, she did not show it. If she was confused, she did not show it. Emotion made one weak - and it was not something a Blight expressed, unless it would aid her somehow. For instance, in talking to a teacher. Letting a bit of diffidence and worship seep into her mask never hurt when asking an adult for something. In the same way, she was allowed to show thoughtfulness and anger, at certain opportune moments, to her minions and schoolmates. She needed to show some emotion, if she wanted to manipulate people. Which she did.

On the day (that’s how she thought of it now - the day), she’d brought Boscha, Skara, Amelia, and Cat back home for a sleepover.

Amelia was a minion, of the highest order. Amity had very little respect for her. She was in the plants track, and was what Amity couldn’t help but think of as a parasite. She latched onto whatever was most popular, and did her best to take some of that clout and popularity for herself. She had every opinion that was popular, until they became otherwise. She leaped onto the biggest, loudest, flashiest bandwagon and clung on for dear life.

Once upon a time, Amity would’ve dismissed Skara as being the same as Amelia. A minion. And, for practical purposes, she was. But Blights were observant. So Amity knew there was just a little more under the idiocy and desperation - though not much.

A little bit of hidden possessiveness here. A bit of courage there. Some smarts in odd places that didn’t really make much sense, and a desperation to hide said smarts. Some quirks that were hard to completely squash out. A bad habit or two. She was… well, she had more personality than Amelia, anyway, which earned her a bit of respect from Amity. And she was very loyal to those she considered her actual friends, like Amelia.

And Cat.

Cat had been the third part of the bandwagoning group, though she didn’t seem anywhere near as interested in appealing herself to Boscha and Amity as Amelia and Skara had been. Cat had her nose buried in a book more often than not, and often scoffed at Boscha’s little outbursts and her friends’ pathetic attempts to placate her at every turn. This earned her more than a bit of respect from Amity, who couldn’t help but smile a little to herself every time Cat made a little sarcastic remark under her breath.

And then there was Boscha. Amity’s war dog.

Whenever Amity felt like she needed to intimidate someone, she sent Boscha to do it. Whenever she made a disparaging remark about someone, Boscha would instantly despise them. Boscha was loyal, fierce, and dangerous. And more than a bit volatile. 

Amity wasn’t sure why she had attached herself to the ice queen, but she certainly wasn’t complaining. Boscha was very useful - even if she had to be reigned in more often than not. And Boscha was the only person Amity would even come close to calling a ‘friend.’

Students said that Amity Blight didn’t have a soul.

Amity was very proud of this description of her.

But she’d been talking about the sleepover.

Amity had brought her little cavalcade over to the house, for probably around the third time. Boscha had raided her fridge, and found some orange sodas squirreled away somewhere in the back. She’d come in and tossed one casually to Cat - who lifted a hand and caught it without looking up from her book. She handed one to Skara, who took it gratefully with a wide smile.

She knew better than to offer one to Amity.

There was a chorus of cracking aluminum, and a light fizzling.

“Your place is really big, Amity!” Skara chirped, glancing around.

It was. It was really big. The living room - which they were all lounging in now - often gave Amity a feeling like she was sitting in the middle of a cave. Or a temple. The massive wooden columns along the sides of the room didn’t help. The only pieces of decorum were the chairs, the couch, a massive towering chimney, and a painting nailed on said chimney. It was of one of Amity’s ancestors - a man with high cheekbones and long, green hair tied out of his face. He looked like Father.

Amity raised an eyebrow at Skara. “You’ve been here before. Twice.”

“I know! But it just seems bigger and bigger every time, you know?”

“No. I don’t,” Amity said, looking right through her.

Skara wilted.

Cat glanced up from her book. “Blight.”

Amity turned to Cat - and didn’t let her surprise show. Cat rarely, if ever, addressed her directly.

“Maybe you could lay off?” she said, softly. “It’s a sleepover. Relax a little.”

Instantly, it felt like the temperature of the room dropped ten degrees.

Cat didn’t seem to realize her mistake.

“...Relax,” Amity repeated - voice deadly blank.

Cat nodded.

“...Do you like that chair, Cat?” Amity said. Her voice had gone from blank, to very soft in an instant.

Cat blinked. “...I suppose so. It’s very comfortable.”

“Good.” Amity smiled coldly at her. “I’m glad you like it.”

There was a moment of heavy silence.

“Did you know, Cat,” Amity said, smile still frozen on her face, “that these chairs were specially enchanted by my ancestors?”

Cat paled a shade.

“...No. I didn’t.”

“Well,” Amity said, smiling a little wider, “they were. Enchanted to eat anyone who was against the family.”

Cat went as white as a sheet.

“Of course,” Amity went on - and the smile dripped off her face like tar. “You aren’t an enemy of the family. Yet. But a simple keyphrase, and the house would decide that you are. And those chairs, after so many years without food, are very - very - hungry.”

“...Oh,” Cat breathed. “Well - of course, you would never have to use that keyphrase, Blight.”

Amity gave her another icy smile. “I would hope not.”

A heavy silence fell over the room.

Amity Blight had never been lonely. Not because she always had friends - but because that part of her just didn’t work properly. She didn’t crave social interaction. She didn’t need anyone. She didn’t know what it even could be like to be lonely.

A monarch couldn’t be lonely. The throne was only for one, after all.

She stood up.

“I’m going to the attic,” she said, folding her hands behind her back automatically. “If anyone needs me, differ to Boscha. She’ll do what I normally would.”

Boscha offered her a proud, viscous smile. Amity walked away, and up the stairs.

Her hand gently ran along the barrister as she did.

This wasn’t quite calculated. Her parents had never told her to do it. But she’d done it anyway, and they’d never told her not to, either.

It was tiny things like this that she clung to, whenever she felt like she really didn’t have a soul. Like she was a vessel for her parents’ desires. Tiny ticks, that her parents hadn’t taken the time to breed out of her.

And reading. Whether it be Azura books, or reading aloud to the children. She clung to both of them.

She let her mind go mostly blank as she went up to the attic.

If anyone had asked her, why she went up to the attic that day, she would’ve told them a vague lie about there being something she wanted or needed up there.

The real reason was that she liked being alone.

She never felt lonely, but she did feel… accompanied, from time to time. Like she had spent too much time with people. A monarch needed their time alone on the throne. To think. To sift through the wastelands - the hours upon hours of social interaction. To make decisions. To stew.

Amity needed this time, too.

She could never understand how people like Skara and Amelia functioned. Always accompanied by someone, or multiple someones. Never alone.

Was sleeping their alone time? They couldn’t function without any, surely, and that seemed the only likely candidate. 

Who knew. Not Amity, surely.

...Sometimes Amity didn’t feel like she knew anything.

Her hand closed around the doorhandle to the attic. It was ice cold beneath her fingers. 

It was as dusty as usual. Every surface was draped with dust, or cobwebs, or both. No spiders managed to survive for long up here, though - hence why they were all dead and on the ground. Amity had to sweep one or two spider corpses to the side as she walked. Blights did not step on bugs, after all. It would dirty their shoes.

She needed her time alone.

And she needed to make her diary entries.

She ran her hand along the wall - and pulled out the loose brick she had found all those years ago. When she was fourteen, she had hidden her diary at the school - but then Emira and Edric had found it, so. That option was off the table.

They wouldn’t look up here, though. They had deemed the attic ‘boring’ a long time ago. Which, she supposed, it was. Hence why it was such a perfect hiding spot.

Her hand closed around her diary, and flipped it open.

Dear diary,

I’m sorry I haven’t written in a while. Things have been hectic at Hexside recently. After I fought Grom last year, everyone scrambled to be my date this time around. Nobody was dumb enough to ask me before, but I suppose they’ve gathered some confidence.

My schoolwork is as stellar as usual, of course, and all the teachers seem to find everyone pursuing me absolutely adorable. It’s the tiniest bit frustrating, not that I’d let anyone but you know that.

Skara, Amelia, Cat and Boscha are over for a sleepover. Cat made a stupid remark for the first time since I met her. It was almost interesting, in a grotesque kind of way.

Was she trying to reach out? Be my friend? Get me to ‘relax,’ in her words, so that we could all get… what? Buddy-buddy? Did she want to ask me to the dance? I’m not sure. Whatever the reason was, it was stupid of her.

I don’t relax. Blights don’t relax. Relaxation is not in my blood.

It’s Autumn, which means less rain. Which is good. No more shield spells just to walk into school.

With that, Amity closed the diary. She didn’t need to write much to feel fulfilled. She just needed that little slice of time to herself.

Even monarchs needed some time for themselves.

She put the small book back in its hideaway, and secured the brick in place again.

One of her hands wrapped around her wrist, and gently twisted it. A nervous tick that she had picked up just this year.

Her last year at Hexside.

Even though the year had just started, she was already beginning to stress out, just a little. Because if she didn’t get into the Emperor's Coven, Mother and Father would be very disappointed.

Her foot shifted a little - and hit a pile of junk.

It shifted.

She glanced towards it, startled - just in time for a small object to clatter to the floor next to her.

She blinked.

Her hand reached down to scoop it up automatically, and her thumb swiped across the surface.

It was a key.

A very dusty, very old, very weird key.

It was made of what looked like wood - though the texture was almost closer to leather, or some kind of thick skin. The end of it that would go into a hypothetical lock widened a bit, which made it look more like a handle - if not for the bit of geometry sticking out of the side, which looked like a lopsided circle made of squares. That was missing a side. The top of it might have been the weirdest of all, though. It was shaped very oddly - like an upside-down hairdo, with two spirals on either end and an odd shape on top that almost reminded Amity of a hair clip. It was mostly a dark brown colours, though thin highlights of a lighter brown were drawn - or maybe carved - into the top part of the key. And, in the middle of that top, was a single bright yellow eye, with a deep, black slit of a pupil right in the middle.

She stared.

The key stared back.

Her thumb came up, and touched the eye curiously.

She had expected it to be hard plastic, or maybe ceramic - which is why the almost fleshy texture of it caught her off-guard.

She lifted her thumb again.

The key stared through her.

A shiver dripped down her spine - and, in a moment of pure, raw spite (an emotion that Amity rarely, if ever, experienced), she jabbed her thumb right into the slitted pupil of the eye.

And it pressed down.

There was a sudden chorus of clattering noises from the pile to her side.

She startled, body shifting instinctually away from the pile as it began to shift violently.

And something seemed to… unfold, for lack of a better way to phrase it, from the top of the pile.

Then the shifting stopped, rather suddenly.

Amity blinked.

Slowly, and very, very cautiously, she began to walk towards the pile. When nothing jumped out and attacked her, she mustered up her courage, and began to shove junk out of the way.

Until she encountered a door.

Now, Amity knew what doors looked like. She had grown up with them, after all, and lived with them for sixteen years. And they were pretty much all the same - with handles off to one side that turned, allowing the door to open. Simple, easy-to-understand technology.

This door was staring at her, though. Which wasn’t normal.

It looked very similar to the key. But bigger. Much bigger - bigger than Amity, by at least a few feet. A single, massive eye peered right through her from the top of the door - with that same black slit pupil. And the doorknob was at about the level of Amity’s waist - which was lower than was normal, considering how big the door was. Where most doors have their knobs around the midway point - maybe a little lower - this door had its handle at around a third of the way up. Oddest of all, the handle, despite being a simple circle, was along the center line of the door, instead of off to one side.

Intricate patters were traced into the door, in a way that gave Amity a headache when she looked at them too long. And all the lines, eventually - led to that massive, yellow, staring eye.

Amity stared.

People liked to think that Amity didn’t have a soul. That Amity just did what others wanted of her. She fulfilled her parents wishes, to be good and obedient enough to get into the Emperor’s Coven. She fulfilled the teacher’s wishes by getting great grades. She followed the wishes of any authority figures, without fail - which made those authority figures think of her more as a… kind puppet, than an actual child. With wishes, and wants, and most of all - failings.

Amity got great grades because she was clever - and, more importantly, because she was inquisitive. She wasn’t obvious about it, but curiosity gnawed at her stomach whenever she saw something she didn’t understand. Whenever a question wasn’t answered. Her parents biggest issue with her, when she was young, was that she never shut up - that she never stopped asking questions. Any time they asked Amity to do something, Amity would say, why? It drove her parents, and her twins, up the wall.

Amity was a curious soul.

So - instead of going to her parents about this obviously dangerous and strange doorway - Amity simply stared at it for a long, long moment.

Her hand closed gently around the handle. It was oddly warm.

Her stomach stewed with nerves and curiosity. 

She twisted.

Chapter Text

Her first impression of the human world was darkness.

The door opened, and she stepped through into a pitch black night. For a moment, she couldn’t see a thing, but as her eyes adjusted shapes became clearer and clearer.

The human world was…

Very grey.

The ground was all grey. She’d seen concrete before, of course, but most of the ground in the Boiling Isles was still grass or dirt. The ground in the human world seemed to be all concrete - cracked, patterned concrete divided into squares for some reason, but concrete nonetheless. The sky, too, was very grey. Not all grey - but clouds were hovering in the sky and draping over the stars in thick sheets. Even where there weren’t clouds, she still couldn’t see any stars. Were there not stars in the human world?

The only light in the place where she stepped out - which looked like a concrete hallway, with walls towering up towards the sky - was rectangles of light in the sides of the buildings.

The buildings were the oddest thing. They weren’t houses - at least, not like any Amity had ever seen. She knew windows, of course, and these buildings had plenty of those, but that was about the only thing familiar about them. They were made of something that looked like concrete, but… granier, for lack of a better word. Like knock-off concrete. There wasn’t a roof - not a triangular one. And there was no shape to the houses. They were just massive rectangular monoliths that seemed to tower up forever.

How did people live there? It looked like it was only big enough for about two rooms - though, to be fair, it would be two incredibly tall rooms. Maybe they split it up into multiple floors? But that would make a whole lot more rooms than any one family would ever need… did massive groups of people live in those buildings? Like how a lot of students went to Hexside? That would make sense.

But that was still a lot of stairs to climb. Amity winced at the idea of having to climb to the top of that building before getting to sleep every day.

She glanced to the side.

Oh. There was something not grey. A pile of garbage, next to some kind of big green bin filled with black bags stuffed with something.

She held the key up in front of her face, and peered at it.

It peered back.

She pressed the eye out of curiosity - and heard the door slam shut behind her.

She yelped, and leaped back - before glancing over, and seeing that the door was starting to fold up.

No, no, no! Don’t leave me here!

She pressed the eye of the key again in pure panic - and the door instantly began to unfold again.

She blinked.

Pressed the eye of the key one more time.

The door began to fold up. This time, she let it - hoping desperately that the door wouldn’t just vanish into nothing if she let it.

It didn’t. Instead, it folded up into what looked almost like a briefcase - except with that single, awful, bright yellow eye peering right through her. 

She reached for the case, and wrapped a hand around its handle. It was warm beneath her fingers - like heated leather.

It stared through her.

She shivered again - unable to shake the feeling that the pupil was locked right onto her soul.

Okay… where am I?

The portal was obviously magical, so it could’ve transported her anywhere. But this certainly didn’t look like any place in the Boiling Isles, and it was too big to be an enclosed space, like a house or a school… where else could she be, though?

Well, I guess I could be in the human world, but that’s ridiculous. This isn’t the kind of place a group of savages would live, much less thrive - and why would Mother and Father have a portal to the human realm in their attic?

But… it did seem like the only possible option. It wasn’t the Boiling Isles, it wasn’t the inside of a building… what else could it be, but the human realm?

...There must be some way to prove it.

Well, if she could find a witch, they would probably tell her happily what realm it was. Only problem was, if it was the human realm… Amity wasn’t sure how they would react to finding a witch. After all, the human realm and the Boiling Isles had cut ties a long time ago - what perception might humans have of witches now?

...It couldn’t be the human realm. Why would there be a functioning portal to the human realm in the Boiling Isles? Much less in Blight Manor, of all places. If any family didn’t interact with humans, it was the Blights.

She glanced again to the pile of trash - and a bright page caught her eye.

She walked over, and hesitantly reached down to grab the bright roll sticking out of the pile. The corner of it was stained - but it was clearly the cover of a magazine. 

On the front cover was a pretty woman in a red dress.

With round ears.

Amity blinked.

She… didn’t have gills. And her smile was wide and pearly white. She didn’t look like a savage. But there was something artificial and unsettling about her expression, and a general air of cheapness about the shot. And… she did have round ears. Amity had never seen those, outside of drawings and diagrams of humans.

So… 

This was the human realm.

But this didn’t look like the realm of savages. The concrete monoliths surrounding her weren’t the result of a race desperate for shelter, without the ability to use magic - they were the work of someone… efficiency-driven. Someone who wanted to cram things into a box and not think about it too much. Someone who didn’t care what their shelter looked like, as long as it functioned efficiently and cheaply. That might be argued to be the work of savages - but the structures were too large and complex for savages. They more seemed to be the work of intelligent beings desperate for efficiency. Or intelligent beings focused on other things.

...Interesting.

She shifted the briefcase in her hand. Well, technically, the portal in her hand, but she preferred to think of it as a briefcase for now. She had other things to occupy her headspace at the moment.

Suddenly, she heard a soft rumbling noise.

It grew louder and louder as time passed - louder and louder until Amity felt she needed to shift back from it, away from it, from whatever obvious predator was going to kill her-

A blur of black and chrome flew past the alley, and vanished.

Amity blinked.

The rumbling sounds of it retreating grew softer and softer - as she gingerly stepped out of the alleyway, craning her neck to look after whatever had just flown past.

And then it was gone.

Amity blinked.

Alright, the human world was… more odd than expected.

What was that thing?

She set the briefcase back on the ground, and fished the key out of her pocket.

Her thumb jabbed into its staring eye.

The case unfolded into a door again. She wrapped a hand around the handle - it was still warm, despite the slight chill in the wind of the human world - and opened it.

When she walked out, it was back into the attic. The door hadn’t moved an inch.

...Hm.

She pressed the eye of the key again. The door folded up.

She picked up the briefcase, and moved it to the other side of the attic.

Opened it again. Walked back into the human world.

The side of the door in the human realm hadn’t moved an inch from where she left it.

Okay, so if I move the door in one world, the doorway on the other side doesn’t move with it.

That was… very good to know.

She pressed the button of the key again. The doorway folded up again.

The biting wind of the human world nipped at her nose.

She looked up again. Past the alleyway. Into the concrete pathway, through which that blur of black had flown.

And she considered.

On the one hand, I could explore a little. Find out what the human world is like.

But Skara, Boscha, Cat, and Amelia are all waiting for me. And besides, if a human was out at this time of night, they would be able to tell I’m a witch at just a glance. It would be best to come back with a hooded piece of clothing, so I could hide my ears. Other than that, humans seem to look… very similar to witches. According to that page in the trash, anyway.

And, even if Amity was curious - she was also cautious.

Her hand closed around the handle again, and she twisted.

Back into the attic. She pressed the eye on the key, and the door folded up again.

She considered the case.

After a moment, she tucked the key into her pocket, and tossed the case back into the pile of junk. Even if someone wanted to take it - which they shouldn’t, considering this place was so old and the door had looked nearly untouched when she found it - it would be useless without the key.

She walked out of the attic and back towards her little cohort.

The key burned a hole into her pocket the rest of the night.

Chapter Text

The door was a rotating turnstile as everyone left the sleepover. Cat was the only one who didn’t look impeccable - her hair was still a messy nest above her head, and her eyes were soft and hazy in the early morning light.

Once everyone else was gone, Boscha’s hand paused on the knob.

She turned back.

Amity blinked.

Boscha was her most loyal, sure - a real war dog - but she rarely broke rank like this. Rarely approached or interacted with Amity outside of the rest of the group.

She stepped back into the house, and reached back to adjust her bun.

“Amity?” she said, raising an eyebrow. “You gonna fill us in on what’s been bothering you?”

Amity raised an eyebrow right back. “Nothing has.”

Boscha seemed to stew with that thought, for a moment.

“...We’re here for you, y’know,” Boscha said, suddenly and with a certain awkward note to her voice. “If you’ll have us.”

Amity blinked.

...Well, that was good. It was an assurance of loyalty. Always important among the ranks - a better, if more fragile, motivator than fear. 

And it made her feel very… warm.

“Thank you, Boscha,” she said, voice stiff and cold still. “I’ll keep that in mind. Have a good day.”

Boscha went to leave. She glanced back briefly as she did, and let out a soft,

“Bye, Amity.”

The moment the door was closed, something tense unravelled in Amity’s spine.

She was alone.

There was something about being alone in a big room. She wasn’t alone in the house, but. There was something just about… this place. It seemed to provoke loneliness. But, since Amity didn’t get lonely, instead the place just… tugged at something in her stomach.

She sat down in one of the chairs - and, even alone, she didn’t quite manage to flop. Or collapse.

Blights don’t slouch.

She gathered her hands in her lap, and tried to think.

Eventually - she reached into her pocket, and pulled out the key.

It was warm in her palm.

She spun it in her hand thoughtfully. Flip, flip, turn. Flip, flip, turn. She laced it through the gaps between her fingers, and let her nail trail along the lines of the engravings.

She thought.

Cat didn’t care about much.

Her friends ferried her around. And that was fine, because she didn’t care about where she was, or who ferried her. She had made friends with the bullies, and gotten into the top of the social hierarchy - who cared. Not her. She was in a perfect position to backstab the Blight family and steal information from their home? She’d rather think about books.

It simply wasn’t in her nature to care about important things. Things like where she was, or the state of the world, or if she graduated school.

She cared about small things instead.

She cared about the beetles and snails on the side of the road. She cared about the stories she read. She cared about those little smiles that she managed to provoke from Ice Queen Amity, whenever she thought nobody could see.

She cared about people being bullied.

That was how she had ended up friends with these two - four, now, she supposed. Before Skara and Amelia had learned to stick themselves onto the popular kids, they had stumbled through their days, and gotten hassled - and often beaten - along the way.

That was when Cat had come in, swinging the thickest dictionary on hand right into some wannabe tough guy’s face, and solidly squashing their nose into what best resembled a stepped-on grape.

She had begun to walk away right after, but the teachers had caught up with her and given her detention. Which was a new experience. It was certainly interesting.

After that, though, Skara and Amelia had clung themselves to Cat. Maybe that had been the start of their bandwagoning instincts - make friends with the girl who had defended them. Maybe it wasn’t. Who cared.

Boscha wasn’t around. She had a different walk home than the rest of them.

“So,” Skara said, giving them a wicked-looking grin, “come on, spill. Who are you girls asking to Grom?”

“It’s not for another month,” Cat said, voice tired and blank.

“I think I’ll ask Boscha,” Amelia said, sighing dreamily. “She’s so hot when she’s mad…”

“But you don’t want to ruin your friendship,” Cat said robotically, having heard this rant a million times. “Or make things really weird between you. And you don’t want Boscha to hate you for asking her out. So maybe you shouldn’t.”

She leaned over slightly, and did her best Skara impression, “but you’ve wanted to ask her out for ages now! I say just go for it, sister.”

She did Amelia again; “But what if I mess everything up? I already really like what we have. It would be best just to let it go.”

And, finally, she let her voice go flat and blank again. “I agree. So let’s move on.”

Skara turned to her, and grinned. “Who are you gonna ask out, Cat?”

Amelia, instantly, turned to her - like a hounddog when sniffing out gossip. “Yeah, Cat! Tell us!”

“We won’t tell,” Skara said, with a lip-zipping motion and smile. “Promise.”

“Alright, fine, I’ll play,” Cat said, lifting her hand and drawing a circle with her finger. A bunch of flowers appeared in her palm, and she turned to Skara. “Skara, would you accompany me to Grom?”

Skara gasped.

“As friends,” Cat tacked on, just in case. She wasn’t interested in having any romantic relationships. Ever.

“Of course I will!” she exclaimed, scooping her into a fierce hug.

Cat blinked at suddenly finding herself in an embrace.

Slowly - she reached to put her arms around Skara.

She was… warm. 

Skara pulled back, without warning, and Cat was left standing there with her arms out like an idiot for a moment, before letting them drop.

Amelia giggled. Cat glanced over to glare at her.

“Well, I guess that’s settled,” Cat said, grimacing and walking forward. “Let’s get home. I’ve got some weekend homework to finish.”

“Ugh, weekend homework’s the worst,” Skara groaned.

“Yes. It is.”

Chapter Text

Boscha was completely secure in herself.

She knew who she was. She knew what her life meant. She accepted every part of her, and let her life live itself.

She was the bad girl.

Standing by Amity’s side. Enforcing her rule. She was the war dog. She was the ruthless one. She was the maniac. The general. The brutalist. The survivalist.

Boscha knew herself.

She could be hated. She deserved to be hated. As long as she was feared, she could be hated. As long as she was feared, she would be hated.

It was alright. She was the bad girl. The general. The brutalist.

The war dog.

It was alright for her to be feared.

Psychopath? Not quite. Not her. A sadist, maybe. Probably. But not a psychopath. She wasn’t emotionless - again. Not quite.

She cared about things, even. She cared about being hated. She cared about her power. Her position. She cared about knowing herself, inside and out. Know thyself, and all that.

(And she cared about Amity.)

Her eyes wandered aimlessly as she walked home.

This was… the odd part of the day. The part where she didn’t know how to feel.

Not knowing how to feel was, often, scarier than anything she had to do during the day. Because not knowing how to feel meant that her sense of self was slipping away. Being scared meant her sense of self was slipping away, too. And yet, she rarely found herself scared during these walks. With only her shadow to keep her company.

During the school day, she always knew how to feel. Depending on what she was doing, of course. She felt an endless power-lust and greed pumping through her, when she spun fear into her enemies - like a spinster of terror. Boscha, the arachnid. It had a nice ring to it. Bubbling pride and glee, when Amity said her work was good, and gave her one of those oh-so-rare ice cold smiles. She even knew, in theory, how to feel during sleepovers. Apparently some camaraderie was expected - a warm, soft feeling in her chest. Or so she’d been told. She’d never actually felt that one.

And then, there were these walks. Where she… didn’t know how to feel.

How were you supposed to feel, walking home alone? Bored? Satisfied? Tired? Boscha had no idea - and she didn’t want to ask. If everyone else knew, and she didn’t, she’d look like an idiot. She couldn’t look weak.

So she just… did her best to not feel anything at all.

Her gaze drifted to a nearby tree, and she rolled her eyes. Even after two years, those wanted posters were still up.

She ripped it off the tree, stuffing it into her pocket. Those things were incredibly annoying - they got blown off their trees and walls, and left on the streets in piles. Clogged everything up. Made the roads look ugly and unkempt. It was really bothersome.

She was nearly home. And she’d successfully distracted herself from feeling anything.

Yay her.

It was only when the sun had long since disappeared over the horizon that Amity risked crawling out of bed - an insatiable curiosity bubbling deep in her stomach.

Her steps were light and quick as she went through the hallway and down the stairs, towards the closet she knew contained her thickest, most durable jacket - the one she used to protect against the rain when she couldn’t manage a shield spell.

She slipped it over her shoulders.

The jacket was one of her favorite possessions. Her parents had wanted to get rid of it - it was, according to them ‘unwieldy,’ and should be ‘discarded, if you want to keep your reputation as a respectable Blight.’ But the twins had nearly gone on a personal mission to get this decision retracted - pulling out their debate acumen and putting it to good use. They spent at least weeks, getting the parents to hold off on making their decision, ambushing them with sudden changes in topic back to the jacket, using every excuse in the book to keep it.

All because Amity had, in passing, mentioned that she kinda wished she could keep it. She felt safe when she wore it.

And, now that the twins and all their possessions were gone, it was one of the last things she had to remember them by.

She slipped the hood of the bulky thing over her head, and slipped on some shoes. 

Mother and Father shouldn’t wake. It was past midnight, and they always slept soundly. Usually with a sleeping spell to help out. If they did, for some reason, get up, there should be no reason to check on Amity. 

In short - there was little to no risk in going to the human realm again tonight.

Her shoes padded along the rug in the hallway. And then up the stairs - quiet and smooth.

It was only once she was nearly to the attic that her steps began to take on that light patter patter of someone speeding along a carpet. Her footsteps became a little uneven, too - taking on a gallop-like rhythm. Pitter-pit-patter. Pitter-pit-patter. Pitter-pit-patter.

And, finally, her hand wrapped around the knob of the attic door - behind which laid the answers to all her idle curiosities for the last hours laying in her bed.

She twisted.

Once again, once she stepped into the human world, the first thing she saw was darkness.

Amity smiled.

The moment she stepped onto the granite-grey sidewalk, she pressed the eye of the key again - and the door slammed shut behind her, before beginning to fold up.

She considered the case sitting on the ground.

...After a long, long moment, she decided it was best to leave it here. A case with an eye like that might look a little odd in the human world, and might thus draw unwanted attention to her. So she wedged it, under one of the dark green bags next to the massive green box, with her foot.

Good. It was hidden well enough that she could hardly tell it was there. Anyone who wasn’t looking for it would never notice it.

And, in theory, nobody should be looking for it.

This time, when she started walking, out of the endlessly tall stone hallway, her steps echoed out into the night.

Her eyes wandered to the floor underneath her - until she noticed that she’d walked out of the alley, and that she was now standing on the edge of an indent in the path.

So far, what she’d been walking along was the same shade of light grey as carved stone in the Boiling Isles. But, at the edge of the walkway, it dropped off about an inch - into a much darker, granier grey walkway. This walkway was wide as a river, with dull yellow dashes traced along the center of it. Presumably some kind of marker - perhaps dividing the walkway into two. Perhaps an indicator of which way you were supposed to go. Maybe something else.

Did humans even speak? If they did, was it the same language as witches? Could they see yellow? Did they perceive things like witches?

Amity’s eyes glittered with the endless pit of curiosity that was boiling in her stomach.

Suddenly, the image of a screeching blur of black and chrome flashed through her head.

...That had gone through this part of the walkway, hadn’t it?

Maybe it had carved this indent in its wake? Was that thing normal in the human world? They made wide walkways just to prepare for one to come?

Suddenly - Amity heard the light ringing of a bell to her right.

She turned.

The lighter grey part of the walkway continued to stretch out along the darker trench - and, in the near distance, next to the walkway, was a… corner building.

That was the best way Amity could describe it. The buildings were piled up in such a way that they all seemed to blend together, into one massive cube - and this building was on the bottom corner of that cube.

It had windows - windows that were spilling out orange light. Just enough light that Amity could make out some details of the building. The walls were a shade of brown, instead of the normal shades of grey and white that suggested stone. Was this building made of wood? Maybe.

There was a strip of green, that stuck out slightly, at the top of the corner building. It separated the bottom of the corner from the rest of the towering building. Perhaps every building was separated like this - with full houses or buildings stacked onto each other like children’s alphabet blocks.

And, on the green strip, were letters.

That formed words Amity could read.

...Okay. So, humans spoke and wrote the same language as witches. That was good.

It seemed like the first word was a name of some kind, judging by the fact that the second word was bar, which was at least intelligible. 

And a silhouetted form was walking out the door of the place. Amity could just barely spot a bell on the inner side of the door - which was an explanation for the ringing sound, at least. Though why you would put a bell on a door was beyond her.

And the form was walking towards her.

She froze - automatically reaching up to check that her hood was on, and one hand darting to her pocket, where she still had her training wand. She didn’t need it except for really hard spells, these days, but it would come in handy if this figure - a human, presumably - proved to be dangerous.

“See y'all tomorrow!” the figure called towards the door. There was a slight waver in their voice - almost a slur. Perhaps it was just the palpable relaxation and cheer, though, that made their voice shift like that.

When they turned away, and towards Amity, she automatically shifted out of their way, tensing slightly.

But they just walked past her like she didn’t exist.

Amity blinked.

...Alright. So she didn’t have to worry about being seen as different, presumably. That was good.

She glanced up again.

Still no stars. It was safe to assume by now that they didn’t exist in the human world.

That was… kinda sad. Amity couldn’t imagine living without the company of the stars.

She glanced again at the corner building. The ‘bar,’ she supposed it was called - assuming the sign was some kind of indicator of what it was. Which it might not be.

This whole ‘different world’ thing was very confusing.

...Hm.

There was only one way to find out about the human world - outside of finding a library, which she couldn’t help but think was pretty unlikely.

And that was asking people.

And there were people in that bar, right? Judging by the way that human had acted as he left, anyway.

Amity took a sure step towards the building.

Chapter Text

Erwin was content.

It had been a slow night in his bar. An easy night. The piano player plunked out a lazy, spiraling tune.

Morticia, her name was. The piano player. A real looker of a woman - she had plenty of drunk guys hitting on her throughout the day. She mostly ignored them.

Only Erwin knew how much it bothered her.

Angus nursed his shirley temple.

Erwin leaned over, and gave him a lazy faux-glare. “You gonna drink that any time today, pal?”

“I’ll get around to it,” Angus bit out - more irritated than anything.

Erwin lifted his hands in front of his face, like he was surrendering. He gave Angus a lazy smile. “Alright, pal. No need to get snippy.”

Angus came over most nights. He was a bit of a… fuddyduddy, for lack of a better term.

Erwin had never quite been able to abandon the vernacular of his grandma. She’d raised him, after all.

Morticia finished her tune, and there was a quiet round of polite applause.

She was too good for this place. Erwin didn’t pay her nearly enough. But she couldn’t get any other job these days - so she came here instead. And Erwin paid her as much as he could. Tips from horny drunk guys helped too.

She started a new tune, and the applause died out. Another slow one.

It was nearly closing time, after all. Once this song was over, it was last calls for the night.

Eve rushed to deliver some demanding asshole his drink. She was a good kid - too young for all the shit she got. Not a very clever girl, though, and she didn’t have enough cash to get into college - so she worked shifts here whenever she could. Erwin let her, despite his better judgement.

Bryer silently slugged back another shot of whiskey. He was here every now and again - boy, could that guy hold his liquor. Erwin had never seen him talk to anyone, unless it was to ask for another shot. Of course, as the bartender, Erwin didn’t push. That wasn’t his job.

The doorbell rang quietly.

Erwin didn’t even glance up - much less hear the quiet footsteps approaching his bar.

“Hey, hun! Another round for me and the guys!”

“The guys and I,” Erwin heard someone mutter quietly.

That was when he glanced up.

His eyebrows raised.

Great. Another snot-nosed twerp, looking to get a drink with a fake ID.

This one was a girl. Sixteen or so, if he had to guess. Her hood was pulled up - presumably to hide how obviously young she looked. No acne. Dyed hair, with brown roots showing. She was clearly popular - probably had never been told ‘no’ in her life.

Well. This would be the first time, then.

“ID?” Erwin said flatly to her, sticking out a hand.

The girl raised an ice-cold eyebrow. “Pardon?”

He blinked.

None of the other kids had been this obtuse.

“Identification,” he clarified. “To show you’re of age. Eighteen. So I can serve you.”

This didn’t seem to be as clear as he wanted it to be - because the girl simply looked more confused.

“...You lost or something, kid?” he asked, only half joking at this point.

“...I suppose you could say that,” she said thoughtfully.

He raised his eyebrows.

“Where am I?” the girl asked, more calm than Erwin expected.

“You’re in my bar,” he said, not quite sure where this was going.

“No, more broadly,” she said.

“...In America?” he offered. This conversation was getting more confusing by the moment. “New York?”

“...’New York’?” the girl said. “As opposed to Old York? Is this a common naming convention in… America?”

“...Is this a prank or something?” he asked, nearly done with this girl. “Listen, doll, if you want a drink you need a valid ID. I can call the cops, or your parents, if you need me to. But you can’t stay here. This ain’t a place for kids.”

The girl’s eyebrows raised. “It isn’t? Why not?”

“...You do know what a bar is, right?” he asked - shocked that this was a question he, a bar owner, would ever have to ask someone sitting on one of his bar stools.

This girl acted like she… didn’t have the firmest grasp on the english language, or something.

The girl was silent, for a moment - seemingly sifting through some thoughts.

“...A place where you serve drinks with impairing qualities, thus meaning they can only legally be provided to consenting adults,” she said - though it sounded almost like a question.

“Good,” he said, with a nod. Not sure why he was still humoring this girl. “Now, do you need me to point you somewhere?”

“...There doesn’t happen to be a library somewhere nearby?” she asked, glancing up at him.

...Ah. She was homeless.

“Ah. Sure, kid. Go out the door, turn right, and take the third turn to your left - should be somewhere on the left side of that lane, if I’m remembering right. They’re closed by now, though - only open from 11 to 6, most days.”

She took a moment - appearing to commit the information to memory.

“...Alright. Thank you,” she said. The words sounded unnatural coming from her mouth.

She started to get off the stool.

“Hey,” he said - she stopped. “If you need a place to stay - I’ve got a room open. Can’t guarantee it’s comfy, but it’s got a warm bed. I can get you some food in the morning, too.”

“That won’t be necessary,” she said - and there was something about her tone that was almost… offended.

And, with that - she left.

Erwin took another moment to wonder about the girl - and then, shook his confusion off.

“Last call for drinks, all!”

He didn’t think about her again.

...Eleven to six.

How was Amity going to manage that? She couldn’t be gone at any point in the day - too risky.

She could break in… 

But then she might get taken in by the law. Or this world’s equivalent of it. She couldn’t have that. They might make her remove her hood - show her ears. And that would ruin too many things to count.

So…

How could she get into that building?

Chapter Text

Cat sometimes wondered just how faulty she was.

She was walking to school with Skara. It was Monday. So. Many cheers.

It was her last year at Hexside. Which meant soon enough, she’d have to choose a coven track.

Which also happened to be what the topic of conversation was with Skara.

“Y’know, sometimes I have to wonder why we have to be in just one track,” Skara said - with that special kind of shy, stumbling bravado that was so unique to her.

“Like,” she went on - clearly having to justify herself somewhat, “I get that we have to contain our magic, because practicing wild magic is what savages do - and we’re meant to be civilized, and all that. But I don’t get why we can’t, like. Do two or three tracks. Maybe.”

Cat bit her lip.

She knew the real reason they couldn’t do more than one track. It was because, if witches could do all kinds of magic, they’d be more able to threaten the Emperor. Only his loyalest few could be allowed the power to use all magic.

But saying that would be treason. And - even if she and Skara were friends - Cat wasn’t completely sure that it was safe to say anything treasonous. 

So, instead, she just didn’t respond.

“Why are you in the healing track, anyway?” Skara said, suddenly, looking over at her. “You don’t seem very… nurturing.”

“Mm. Good word,” Cat said.

“Seriously, Cat,” Skara said - and tried for a smile. “Work with me here, hm?”

Cat looked over at her. “Y’know, you’ve never really seemed to care before now.”

Something shifted in Skara’s face. A little light glimmered in her eyes, that was almost… embarrassed.

“Well - you make it very easy to just talk about myself,” Skara said, quietly - and gave a tiny, fake-sounding laugh. “You make a good… what’s the word?”

“Sounding board?” Cat offered.

“Yeah, that,” Skara said, looking at her. “But… I’d like to know a bit more about you.”

“Well - what would you like to know?” Cat asked - and almost instantly regretted it.

She didn’t like talking about herself.

“Well - why don’t you tell me why you’re in the healing track?” Skara offered, with an easy smile.

Because I want to make people whole again, Cat thought but didn’t say. Because I like seeing people be better. Because I like helping others - and I want to stop their pain.

Cat, outwardly, shrugged. “I like healing people.”

Skara groaned. “C’moooon, Cat! I need more than that!”

“Really,” Cat said, shrugging again. “That’s all there is to it.”

“...Okay, well,” Skara said thoughtfully - “do you want to do mind healing or body healing?”

“Mind,” Cat said. “Though I wouldn’t mind doing body, either. ...That came out wrong.”

Skara giggled. Cat stomped down on the smile stirring in her chest.

Sometimes, Cat wondered just what she would be like. Without the flaws. Without the horrible, stirring awfulness in her chest - that seemed to seep into everything and everyone. That made it so hard just to get out of bed in the morning. That sometimes made her want to be anyone but herself.

“...So,” Skara said. “Grom.”

“Yes,” Cat said, as blankly as possible. “Grom.”

“You think we should get dressed up?” she asked - and then, suddenly, gasped. “Ooh - we should go clothes shopping! Get you something decent to wear. What you usually wear is…”

“Is what?” Cat bit, glaring at her.

Her normal clothing choice was as male as possible. Pants and all. Skirts weren’t for her.  On top of that, her clothes were usually torn up in some way, and had that slight bleached quality of something that had been hit with a cleaning spell one too many times.

“Fine!” Skara said, instantly - Cat couldn’t help but find it a little funny that she actually seemed a little intimidated. “But, y’know - it would be nice to see you in something else. For once. Y’know?”

“...Yeah,” Cat said, looking straight ahead again. “I know.”

“So does that mean you will go shopping with me?” Skara said, grinning at her.

Cat sighed softly.

“...Yeah. I’ll go shopping with you.”

Skara squealed softly. “Awesome! Tomorrow, alright? We’ll go after school.”

“Okay,” Cat said, quietly.

“...Hey, uh.”

Cat glanced over at her. “Yes?”

“Isn’t there a way to cover that?” Skara asked - once again, with false bravado.

Cat went deadly stiff.

Skara, instantly, had a shift from stumbling bravado to pure panic - and then, guilt and shame.

“I - I’m sorry, we don’t talk about it, I didn’t know it was a touchy subject-”

“No,” Cat said, turning away from her. “There isn’t a way to cover it.”

Skara didn’t respond.

“Magical birthmarks can’t be undone or hidden by magic - it could cause extra damage to the face,” Cat elaborated, voice blank of all tone.

“I… I’m so sorry, Cat,” she said, quietly.

“Don’t be,” Cat said, simply. “Plenty of witches have it a lot worse off than me. And it’s not your fault.”

“...Still. I’m sorry.”

Cat, for a moment, was silent.

“...Don’t be,” she repeated. Quieter this time.

The rest of the walk was silent.

Chapter Text

People told Amity that she was smart.

She was, of course. Very smart. She considered herself to be so, anyway. And people told her that all the time. Especially teachers. That she was gifted. A prodigy, even.

That included Madam Lillith.

Amity liked to think she was smart.

But she was completely stumped.

There was no way to get away. Out into the human world. Not during broad daylight like that. Too risky. And Blights didn’t take risks. At least, not big ones. Not unless there was no other option.

She had to get into that library, though. Had to. It held the answers to all her questions. Everything she could ever want to know. About humans. Their history with witches. What their world was like. What they thought of witches now.

If she could just find a way to get into that library…

Mom and Dad left home every day when she went to school, but they were always back by the time she got home. She couldn’t skip school, that might come back to bite her - plus, she had a reputation to uphold… playing sick wouldn’t work, there were spells to detect illnesses, Mother and Father would use them…

Edric and Emira would know what to do.

...I wonder if they’re awake.

Oh. Oh, no. No, she was not thinking about this. She couldn’t even do the spell, last time she checked, and she didn’t have any other long-distance communication devices.

...

...But she had to give it a shot.

(She tried not to think about exactly why. Tried not to think about how this was pretty extreme, just to sate her curiosity.)

She took out her training wand - she’d need it for this one, especially with how long-distance this would be - and closed her eyes.

She began to draw the circle.

Her teeth clenched. The awful, nauseating sensation of attempting an incredibly difficult spell filled her - her bones felt like sandpaper, and her skin prickled with painful pins and needles.

She bit her lip. The taste of blood touched her tongue.

The circle ended.

For a moment, there was an awful, but deadly quiet sound in the air - like static drowning out screams. Or maybe heavy sobs.

But then, it went away - replaced with the sound of a distant bell.

Amity felt pride for the first time in months.

The distant bell kept ringing.

Ring-a-ling-a-ling…

Ring-a-ling-a-ling…

Ring-a-ling-

Finally - the rings stopped.

There was shuffling on the other side of the circle.

It was unfortunate that the spell was verbal only - Amity would’ve loved to see her siblings again. But she supposed just hearing them would have to do.

“...Hello?”

It was Edric. Emira had probably forced him to pick up on her behalf.

“Edric?” Amity said - and bit her cheek, forcing back the tightness in her throat.

Blights didn’t let themselves feel vulnerable.

“...Mittens?”

Amity sighed. “That is not my name.”

“Emira, it’s Mittens!” she heard Edric call out - sounding not completely exhausted for the first time since picking up.

“Wait-” Amity heard, more distant. “Amity? Really?”

Pattering, staticy footsteps filtered out of the spell circle.

“Amity, is that - is it you?”

“Yeah…” Amity murmured. “Hi Ed. Hi Em.”

“Mittens, it’s - it’s past midnight, what’re you doing up? ...Did you start making trouble without us?!”

“Are you alright? Do you need something? Are you safe?”

“I’m… fine,” Amity said, quietly. “I just… needed your help with something.”

“...You called us past midnight because-”

“What do you need?”

“...How would I get out of the house between 11:00 AM and 6:00 PM on a school day?” she asked - and then added a quick, “Without skipping, or playing sick?”

“Ooh, good one,” she heard Edric say - apparently done being incensed about the hour. “Hm. Well, you’d have to close the school down, right?”

“I don’t know if you’d have to, but that is an obvious option,” Emira said - Amity could almost see her scratching her chin thoughtfully. “Amity’s in the abomination track, so it would be slightly harder for her to take down the school - but maybe if you got a power glyph from the construction coven, you could-”

“Make a massive abomination that could terrorize the school!”

“But what if I got caught?” Amity countered, “I can’t risk my reputation.”

“Well, you’ll just have to take someone else’s wand and frame them,” Edric said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Or get someone to lend you their wand and willingly take the fall,” Emira added, “preferably a known troublemaker. That way they wouldn’t claim that they were framed and throw suspicion onto students who had access to their wand at that time, you wouldn’t have to risk being caught taking the wand, and the crime wouldn’t seem out of character.”

“...Bocha,” Amity murmured.

Boscha wasn’t in the abomination track - but she was a known troublemaker, who would willingly take the fall for this crime, and the school couldn’t expel her because her parents were so influential. And she wouldn’t ask questions.

“Thanks you two,” Amity said. “It’s perfect. ...How is the Illusionist’s coven?”

“Everything we hoped!” Edric chirped.

“And more…” Emira muttered. “How’s school? This is your last year, I guess?”

“Yeah. It’s… nice,” Amity said.

There was an awkward pause.

“We miss you, Mittens,” Edric said, suddenly. “Sorry we haven’t had the chance to visit. It’s just so busy here.”

“We’ll come over sometime soon, alright?” Emira said. “Promise.”

Amity bit her lip. “...Okay.”

“Love you, sis.”

“Love you Mittens!”

“Yeah… I love you guys, too,” Amity said, quietly. “Bye.”

A simple stab of her wand burst the circle - and, instantly, a heavy weight left her chest, and a watery feeling cleared from her head.

She closed her eyes.

...It felt much better to have a plan.

She knew what to do. She’d talk to Boscha tomorrow, at school, and get her to lend her wand to this plan. Get a power glyph - she didn’t know how she’d manage that, but she could figure it out. And then make an abomination large enough to do significant property damage, and get them off school for at least a day.

...Easy.

Chapter Text

Boscha blinked - genuinely confused for the first time in a while.

Amity was standing over her; a spectre of some incoming reckoning, she was sure.

Sometimes… Boscha was almost afraid of Amity. Those days when her best friend instead seemed like some… harbinger of destruction. Those days when her magic seemed, not like some simple A+ grade or bit of homework, but instead a stirring gorenado of chaos and power. Those days when Amity’s eyes bubbled with so much strength that even Boscha was impressed.

Today, clearly, was one of those days.

Amity’s hands were folded primly behind her back. Her eyes glistened a special shade of yellow, that was like honey - the last taste of it before the incoming sting.

“Amity,” Boscha bit out, setting down the quill that she’d been taking notes with and focusing all her attention on the ice queen.

Amity’s lip curled. “Boscha. Would you follow me?”

“Of course,” Boscha said, standing and sticking her hands in her pockets.

She still remembered when Amity put her hands in her pockets, too. Until, one day, when Amity was fifteen, she’d just… stopped. And instead, started folding her hands behind her back.

It certainly made for a more impressive facade.

Amity simply jerked her head towards the door - and started walking off.

Boscha followed her, with a lot less tension in her posture - despite the fact that she was probably about ten times more tense than Amity.

“I need your help.”

Boscha blinked.

And then, grinned savagely. “With what?”

“I’m going to destroy the school,” Amity said, as if it were self-evident. “I need a power glyph from the Construction Coven, and, once you get that, your wand. And you’ll need to take the fall for the crime.”

Boscha didn’t even blink. “A power glyph? The Covention is a few months away. Hm.”

Amity nodded - and, gently, laid a hand on Boscha’s shoulder. “I’m trusting you to manage this somehow, Boscha. Don’t let me down.”

Boscha, for a moment, was uncharacteristically quiet. Her three eyes glittered, and stared up at Amity - clouded with some emotion hidden behind walls of steel.

And then, she grinned another feral grin. “I’ll get you that glyph.”

Amity, after a moment - offered her an oh-so-rare soft, approving smile. “Good.”

With that, she left again.

Boscha still - barely - remembered what it had been like, right after Amity beat Grometheus.

The way that floor had opened. Seeing Amity wield a blade like it was second nature. The way she had meshed sword fighting with magic. The way she had dodged and weaved between Grom’s attacks, managing to avoid letting the thing scan her brain - for most of the fight, anyway.

Her fear - which Boscha still didn’t really understand. Amity wasn’t afraid of mirrors, as far as Boscha knew, and the reflection hadn’t been that horrifying.

But, whatever it meant - it had clearly confused, and terrified, Amity.

She’d gotten past it, though, and muscled through the rest of the fight.

And, most of all - Boscha remembered what she had looked like when she climbed those stairs again, after winning the fight. Back onto the dance floor.

Her torn, burnt dress revealing patches of pale, smooth skin. The flames that crawled across the stone floor behind her. The black-stained sword held loosely in one hand, and eyes bubbling with danger.

That was when Boscha realized what Amity Blight was.

She wasn’t just a queen. She wasn’t just a bully. She wasn’t just a top student.

She was a goddess. A fledgling one, granted - but a goddess nonetheless. A spectre of ice and brimstone. A reaper of black and cyan.

She didn’t have power. She was power.

And that revelation was as scary as it was intoxicating.

That was when Boscha had stopped hating Amity, a little - and, instead, all that loathing and envy became admiration.

Her fist curled.

She didn’t know how quite yet - but she was getting that glyph.

“Cat. Skara.”

Cat jumped like Boscha had put a live wire to her. Skara just whipped around sharply, with a quiet gasp.

“Boscha!” Skara said, angling for a smile. Cat didn’t even try to fake happiness, and instead leveled a thinly-veiled glare at her.

Boscha gave them her usual feral grin. “Where’s Amelia?”

“She, uh, lagged behind,” Skara said, smile wavering dangerously.

“You two wouldn’t happen to know where Mattholomule is?”

“The psycho kid who runs the Human Appreciation Society?” Cat deadpanned. “Why, yes, I’ve been stalking him. He should be at his locker at the moment.” 

It was clear, after a moment, that neither Boscha nor Skara knew if Cat was joking.

Cat rolled her eyes. “It’s a logical deduction to make, but no, I haven’t actually been stalking him. He’s locker number 202.

“...How do you know his locker number?”

“I know everyone’s locker numbers,” Cat said.

Once again, the resounding silence that followed this made it clear that they weren’t sure if Cat was joking.

“Oh, c’mon,” she muttered. “...He’s just a few down from me. I couldn’t help but notice.”

“Thanks,” Boscha said, with one last wide, unhinged grin.

Skara sighed as she left.

“Oh, be quiet,” Cat said, walking towards their next class with the clear expectation of Skara following her. “You need to get over that, Skara.”

“I caaaaan’t,” Skara whined, flopping over Cat’s shoulder dramatically. “She’s just so prettyyyyyyyy.”

“She’s really not all that good-looking,” Cat said. “Her smiles are creepy.”

“Why does she smile so much at you?” Skara demanded, giving Cat a faux glare.

“Because she knows it annoys me,” Cat said, scowling off into nothing. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to take her from you. Not interested. Plus, nobody would…”

“Would what?” Skara said.

The suddens shift in tone to something genuine contrasted heavily with the way that Skara was still draped over one of Cat’s shoulders.

“...Would be attracted to me,” Cat finished. Her voice wasn’t filled with self loathing, or malice - it was just… dead. Like it was a fact of life that nobody could be attracted to her.

“What?” Skara spit - and gave her a genuinely shocked look. “You’re attractive, Cat!”

“Oh?” Cat hummed - and turned to her. “Are you attracted to me?”

Skara flushed red. “W-well, uh-”

“That’s what I thought,” Cat said, turning away from her again. “I’m simply not attractive. It’s fine. I don’t need to be - it’s literally the least important thing in the Boiling Isles to me.”

“...You didn’t let me answer,” Skara said.

Cat blinked.

“You don’t think I said yes to your Grom invite just because you’re one of my best friends, did you?” Skara said - and gave Cat a soft smile. “I think you’re cute, Cat.”

“...Oh. Well. Thank you,” Cat said. “But I think you’re part of the very small minority. Point was, Boscha just enjoys… ‘pushing my buttons,’ for desperate want of a better phrase.”

“...What do you think she wanted Mattholomule for?”

Cat considered the question for a long moment.

“...I have no idea,” she said, eventually. 

“I just hope she cleans up any mess she makes.”

Chapter Text

Boscha rummaged through her jacket for her wand.

The dark was pervasive, but not absolute. She could just barely make out the individual bricks of the walls in front of her.

Her hand found its way around her training wand, and her teeth glinted in the dark.

The spell circle cast a low light on the face of the door.

A white-hot jet of flame melted right through the door’s lock.

Her hand gently pushed the door open. 

She’d never been in Hexside at night.

Mattholomule had melted under just a bit of pressure. Like she’d expected. He’d always been a cowardly sort - a slippery bastard, granted, but still a little rodent running from any sign of danger. He coveted power because of his never-ending cowardice. After all, if he was powerful, he’d never have to be afraid again.

So, obviously, he was completely pathetic under a suitable display that he was prey, and she was predator. A part of him was angry - was egotistical - was offended, that anyone would dare stand up to him. But he was too fearful to really be defiant, much less arrogant.

He’d admitted that there were power glyphs in the supply closet of the construction classroom. For demonstrations, he said.

She’d expected it to be harder - to break into Hexside in the middle of the night.

Turns out it wasn’t very hard.

The hinges didn’t creak.

Her footsteps were light, but easy, as she traipsed into the classroom. She’d never been inside, but it wasn’t very interesting. At least the plant track classrooms were something, appearance-wise, even if you didn’t learn anything useful in them. The construction classroom was just… a room. With some red accents.

Honestly, the most interesting part of it was probably the closet, once Boscha found it.

It was locked. More thoroughly than the classroom door was, interestingly enough. Had a deadbolt and everything. She had to melt the entire knob before the door gave in - it took nearly 2 minutes, and drained her more than she expected.

The glyphs were in a tiny plastic container with a blue air-tight lid. The noise it made when she popped it open was louder than she would’ve liked - but no matter.

She carefully put just one of the glyphs into a tiny pouch by her waist, so that the sticky back of it didn’t touch any of the cloth.

And she just… left.

It was almost unsettling, how easy that had been.

Chapter Text

Slam.

Amity glanced up.

A trio of eyes glittered down at her - manic and proud.

“Power glyph,” Boscha said, setting a small leather pouch on the table in front of her.

Amity loosened the lid of the pouch, and glanced down.

Hm.

She looked up again - and smiled softly at Boscha. “Well done.”

Pride marred Boscha’s face like a burn.

Amity secured the pouch by her waist. 

She glanced down at her watch.

It was nearing the closing of the school day. She didn’t have much time to pull this off, and then visit the human library. Maybe an hour to study those books at best.

...She should really wait until tomorrow.

But curiosity burned low in the pit of her stomach, and pried up into her mouth-- drying her throat and scraping against her tongue, tasting like rust and iron. Her fingers twitched slightly, as they hesitated over the lid of the pouch. Her need for quick answers waging a bloodless, but brutal war against her desire to play it safe.

Her sharp ears twitched.

She had the portal/briefcase and her jacket in her backpack. She just had to wait until all the students were running from the school, so nobody would notice she was missing.

“...Your wand,” Amity said, simply. Holding a hand out towards Boscha.

Boscha didn’t even hesitate before complying.

She’d been ready for that order.

“I’ll run from the scene once the abomination is created,” Amity muttered under her breath. “There can’t be any witnesses, and nobody can notice I’m gone. Here-”

Amity weaved an illusion around Boscha. Luckily, illusions that just made you look like another person weren’t very difficult to pull off. Doing something like distorting your size or creating a double of yourself was harder.

Amity could only manage to make Boscha look vaguely like her, though. Luckily, they were about the same height, their hairstyles were fairly similar, and Boscha only had one noticeable deformity - her third eye. Amity wasn’t good enough with illusion magic to cover that up, though. She was barely good enough to change the style, length and colour of Boscha’s hair.

She’d never been more happy about having siblings.

“You’ll have to keep your head down,” Amity muttered. She also wasn’t good enough to maintain an illusion on herself. Hence - no witnesses.

Ugh, if only Boscha was in the abominations track. Or, hell, even in the construction track. But no - she had to be in potions.

Amity couldn’t trust her to pull this off.

Luckily, Boscha had the perfect excuse to keep her head down. After all, before the last class of the day, there was a break to study.

Boscha was reading a book - of course her head would be down.

Honestly, the bigger concern than someone seeing her eye - people knew not to bother Amity while she was reading - was someone noticing the colour of her uniform. Hopefully nobody paid to much attention to her arms and legs.

If she could keep up more than one illusion at a time, she’d change the colour of both of their uniforms. But it was too difficult, especially with how little training she had. Maintaining even just this simple illusion at a distance was stretching it.

She couldn’t go too far. But she had to get far enough that nobody would suspect her - tucked away in the library like this.

Courtyard was probably her best bet. Nobody should be out there during this block.

“After the abomination starts destroying the school,” she murmured to Boscha - as quietly and quickly as possible. She had to leave before the librarian noticed them. “Run with everyone else. I’ll be in the courtyard. I’ll unravel the illusion and give you back your wand. The teachers will check the spell histories of everyone’s training wands first and foremost - once they see that yours was used to create the abomination, you’ll confess to the crime. Got it?”

“Got it,” Boscha said.

She took her backpack from beside the table, and quickly took her jacket out of it - slipping it over her shoulders quickly and quietly. She hitched her backpack onto her back, and slipped her wand into her pocket.

She set an alarm on her watch as quickly as she could.

It would bite her when the study block was over. The abomination had to be attacking the school before then. And she had to remember to set an alarm a bit before when her parents would come home, before going into the human realm.

She had seven minutes to pull this scheme off.

“And make sure to keep your head down when you’re running for the courtyard,” Amity added.

She started running before Boscha could answer - pulling up her hood and checking to make sure her alarm was running as she did.

Six minutes and fifty-six seconds.

Willow was breaking the rules.

Not that she was very concerned with that, these days. She broke the rules a lot. After all - she had to practice magic somehow.

Her smile was soft and easy.

Augustus was on the grass next to her. He was breaking the rules too - it mattered a lot more to him, though. After all, he had a whole future ahead of him. He didn’t want to get put in the detention track.

But he came out to the woods anyway. Because he liked studying with Willow.

A lot of days, they’d invite the others, too. Viney loved the woods as much as her. It was kinda hard for her to tell what Barkus thought of it - but Willow liked to think he enjoyed their hangouts. And Jerbo was wonderful. Always had been.

When he’d heard that she was put into the abomination track, but wanted to do plant magic - well. They’d instantly had a lot in common.

They were all going to graduate this year. And Willow couldn’t be happier. Because, apparently - Viney had found something for them.

Viney was a year older than Barkus, Jerbo and Willow. But she’d intentionally failed her tests and gotten held back a year - because she was desperately looking for some way, any way, for them to either stay out of the coven system or get into the emperor’s coven. They all knew what happened to covenless witches, but… they didn’t care. They couldn’t take not being able to do the magic they wanted to.

Willow had expected to enjoy the detention track well enough, after meeting the troublemakers. But… she hadn’t expected to develop a passion for other types of magic. Hadn’t expected to discover just how beautiful not just plant magic was - but healing magic, and oracle magic, and beast keeping. She’d learned it all - and she’d had some of the greatest tutors in the school. 

Viney could calm any beast, wild or tame. Her pet had spider breath, for God’s sake, but she took perfect care of it anyway. And it took care of her back. She was better at beast keeping than healing - but she was no slouch in either subject. 

Barkus knew more of the spirit world than any witch Willow had ever met. His silence managed to always communicate far more than his words - and with him, Willow had felt truly at peace with herself for the first time in years.

And Jerbo, while he didn’t have quite as much raw talent in his chosen subjects as Barkus or Viney - or hell, even Willow - he made up with it with sheer persistence. He would never tire while tutoring her. He would never get frustrated over her inability to do a spell. He took failure with simple acceptance, and success with pride. And so, despite his lack of deep magical power or natural-born skill, he’d managed to be just as good a witch as Viney or Barkus.

They all brought different things to her tutoring. Viney brought deep enthusiasm, Barkus brought talent and understanding, and Jerbo brought patience and determination.

And Willow - with their help - had flown leagues above her peers in every subject.

...Except the one she was actually taking.

So nobody knew but her.

She was still called half-a-witch Willow in the halls. She was still mocked and resented by her classmates. She was still considered a blemish on the Hexside record.

The only people who knew how talented she was were her fellow troublemakers.

...And Augustus.

Augustus… didn’t like her plans.

He didn’t really like her friends too much either.

He didn’t like anything about how Willow had changed.

But he stuck by her. They were still best friends - despite the rift that had slowly grown between them and their differing philosophies. And, no matter how close she grew to the troublemakers, Augustus would always have a special, untouchable place in her heart.

And he fidgeted restlessly next to her. Clearly uncomfortable as he read.

“You don’t have to stick around,” Willow muttered, offering him a smile. “I can study on my own.”

Augustus hesitated, for a moment.

He’d always been on the shorter side. Still was. But it had been interesting to watch him grow. Augustus hadn’t gone through that awkward phase that Willow had. Nowadays, the girl had grown well into her new fashion sense; with slightly longer, messier hair and a deep love of puffy sweaters. It gave her a ‘scruffy academic’ look that Viney always praised her for.

Augustus, on the other hand, had only grown to look more clean and easy-going as he had aged. Willow could still clearly see that happy-go-lucky youth she’d known just a few short years ago. But now, Augustus made it look less cute, and a lot more academic. His hair looked mostly the same, though he’d abandoned the undercut at some point and let it grow out a little more at the sides. His soft, chubby-cheeked face had smoothed and shifted. Willow’s had too - giving her a strong jawline and wicked smile. But Augustus had sharper, thinner features. It made his face look less childish, and more simply happy. On top of that, it made him look distinguished; and his eyes seemed most at home when they were latched onto the page of a book.

He sighed softly, shutting his book and setting it aside.

“Willow-” he started; and, instantly, she knew that he’d been holding this in for a while. “You… what coven are you going to join?”

Willow hesitated - grappling between a simple lie and the complex, twisting truth.

A lie would be easy. And it would be a very simple one. One that Willow wouldn’t feel too bad about. ‘I don’t know.’

But therein lied the problem.

She did know.

Because Willow couldn’t stand not being able to do all the types of magic she’d learned to love.

And Viney had found something for them. 

A possible teacher - a powerful witch that was completely covenless. Maybe it was even Lord Calamity themselves; the one who had began the great troublemaking tradition that they’d all upheld.

The truth was, she wasn’t joining any coven.

The truth was, she was going to actively break the law to follow her passions.

The truth was, she was going to be a fugitive from her society and a committer of treason.

The truth was… she was going to be forced to almost entirely abandon Augustus. And everything.

The truth was that she was going to destroy her entire life, in a desperate pursuit of the beautiful magics she’d learned to love so much over the past two years.

But a lie would be so much easier.

Luckily, though - her hesitation was answer enough for Augustus.

“You’re not going to join a coven, are you.” His voice was distant - and she heard, somewhere buried deep inside, an untouchable sadness.

“Augustus, I…”

She fumbled for the right way to say it. To express to him just how much she’d learned over those years - just how much getting caught doing simple plant magic had changed her life. To make him see just what this meant to her. To make him open his eyes to the beauty all around him - to all that he could do, if only the Emperor would let them.

But there were no words. No proper ones. Not any that she was capable of finding, anyway.

“...I have to,” she said.

And it was there, somewhere. In the words. In her tone. In the small gesture of her hands and the way her eyes glittered. Somewhere, in that desperate plea, was an expression of everything that this meant to her. An expression of how, yes - in the most simple, basic, deep way possible - she had to do this.

But Augustus didn’t understand.

Maybe he couldn’t.

“Willow, please. Please listen - you’re throwing away your life, don’t you see that? You have a good future, a good heart! You’re a great witch, Willow, and you’re going to waste that. Spending your whole life running from the law, practicing savage magic… it’s not who you are.”

She stiffened.

“Augustus,” she said - and the desperation in her voice was gone, replaced with a sharp warning. “You’re my best friend, so don’t take this the wrong way. But don’t tell me who I am.”

Augustus, for a moment, looked almost angry.

And then any offense collapsed, into an apologetic look.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “That was poor phrasing. But still - you’re wasting your talent, Willow. You have a bright life ahead of you, don’t squander that.”

Willow, after a moment, just shook her head. “I’m sorry, Augustus. I really am. But… I can’t join a coven.”

Augustus stared at her. Eyes still pleading.

And then, he shuffled to his feet.

“Think about it?” he said, picking up his book and giving her a soft look.

She sighed. “...Okay. But it won’t change anything.”

“Get inside soon,” Augustus said, as he started off towards the school again. “Class starts again in six minutes.”

“Will do.”

Amity was running.

She never ran. Blights didn’t run, after all. 

But right now, she didn’t feel too much like a Blight. With someone else’s wand in her hand, a heavy jacket over her shoulders and a portal in her backpack. Right now she felt a lot more like… well, like Em and Ed. Going to make trouble for personal reasons. 

A hundred rules echoed through her head - a hundred rules that she was breaking.

Blights don’t run.

Blights don’t take chances.

Blights don’t make trouble.

Blights don’t pull up their hood.

After all - hoods mussed up your hair.

But everything about this plan involved breaking the rules. The line had been crossed long ago, really - she was in too deep at this point.

But this moment still felt important.

The moment where, for the first time - she truly didn’t feel like a Blight.

She glanced at the watch.

Five minutes left.

Willow did think about it.

For just a minute or two, she truly wondered if this was the best course of action. For just a minute or two, she questioned what she really wanted from her life. For just a minute or two, she examined herself, and asked what was most important to her.

In the end, though, she was right. It didn’t change anything.

Because, at the end of everything, the choice was simple. Be allowed to do healing magic, and care for her beasts, and nurture her plants, and read auras - or being forced to choose between them.

And she couldn’t choose.

She couldn’t let any of her magics go.

And so - in spite of how much she wanted for Augustus to be right - nothing had changed.

No covens for this half-witch.

With that, she pondered going inside for a moment. She had to get back pretty soon. She didn’t want to stay out too late.

But it was a really nice day - and she could always use the shortcuts.

May as well just spend a little longer out here.

She glanced at her watch, just to make sure she had the time.

Four minutes.

Amity knew the halls of Hexside like the back of her hand.

The problem was, she didn’t know the back of her hand very well.

The side of school that the courtyard was on also happened to be the one she was less familiar with. Closer to the baby classes, and greenhouses. She’d never had much cause to go back here - and thus, she wasn’t completely sure where she was going. She had been in this part of school. But that didn’t mean it was easy to navigate.

She was losing precious time.

...This way.

She’d just go this way. It was too late to abandon the plan.

Her eyes found their way to her watch almost without thought.

Three minutes.

Willow - with great reluctance - shuffled to her feet, and stretched.

It was about time she started heading back to school. She didn’t have infinite time, after all.

Oh, but she had a little time. No need to take the quick route - especially with a shortcut right to the abomination classroom so close.

Might as well go to greenhouse one and use the secret room of shortcuts entrance there. It was her favorite greenhouse, too.

Plus, she got to wander through the courtyard. It was pretty nice this time of year.

She glanced at her watch.

Oh yeah. She had enough time to take the scenic route.

Two minutes.

Amity could’ve cried with relief when she saw the doorway to the courtyard. This had been the right way. She’d thought so - no, she’d hoped so. 

Her hand fumbled for the doorknob.

The sunlight impacted her skin with relish - like a burning white wave, sloshing up from the grass and enveloping her.

She glanced at her watch.

And with a minute to spare, no less.

She stepped out onto the courtyard - hood up, anticipation bubbling in her stomach, already reaching for the leather pouch with the power glyph, and triumph too close to double-check that the most important part of the plan had been fulfilled.

No witnesses.

Willow stopped just before stepping onto the courtyard.

Someone was already there.

Now, normally, this wouldn’t have been an issue. Even considering that everyone should be inside studying - if it had been just any old student, she wouldn’t have stopped. After all, they would both be breaking the rules. No need to worry about ratting the other out.

But something told Willow that this was more important than that.

Maybe it was all that oracle training. Maybe it was the thick, muted green coat with a flipped-up hood that the person was wearing, completely concealing their face from Willow’s view. Maybe it was the slight jitteriness to the person’s movements as they reached for a strange leather pouch at their waist - like they were too excited to move normally.

But, no matter what it was; it made Willow stop, and watch.

The figure pulled something from the pouch. They were too far away for Willow to make it out very well - but it was clearly a sticker of some kind, from the way they peeled it off a plastic backing and stuck it on their wrist.

Their whole body shuddered slightly when the sticker touched their skin.

After taking a moment to collect themselves, they began to draw a spell circle.

A big spell circle. At least a foot in radius, maybe a full yard in diameter - big enough that the figure had to lift their arm over their head to draw it.

It glowed bright purple, crackling with magical power.

It snapped into place - the spell closed and completed.

There was a moment, where the whole courtyard seemed to hold its breath. The wind stopped blowing. The flowers stopped snapping at nothing. There was a thin ringing noise, like someone was whining in the distance.

The bell rung.

Studying time had ended.

A giant began to emerge from the ground in front of the jacketed figure.

It was broad - broad as the central bell tower of Hexside; broader than that, even. Broad enough that its hands could fit at least four hexside students each, and at least six could sit comfortably on one of its shoulders.

Its eyes pierced the daylight. Pupils as bright as burning candle flames, orange and piercing against its face. There were three of them. But not in the way that Boscha had three eyes - rather, with two set as they normally would be, and one placed above the right eye. Like it had been meant to have two rows of eyes, but one had been lost in the shuffle.

And its body was a massive, lumbering purple-and-magenta mass of thick, dripping semi-solid goop.

An abomination.

And, indeed, when Willow glanced back at the figure - barely able to tear her eyes away from the largest being she had ever seen - they had magenta-coloured leggings.

“Abomination.” The voice was sharp and commanding, but a little triumphant too - like it hadn’t quite expected this to work. “You are not to hurt any witches.”

The abomination stared down at its creator.

The figure pointed to the school.

“Destroy.”

The abomination stepped over the figure in one large, lumbering step - and its fist fell upon the roof of the school with a speed and precision that was deeply alarming.

Willow stared in abject horror. Unable to do anything - unable to move. Unsure whether she should do anything, even if she could.

She wasn’t sure what was happening.

She wasn’t sure what to do.

And so, she simply… watched. Watched as the abomination began to tear through the bricks, mortar and roofing of her beloved school. And watched as shocked screams began to ring out.

Nobody is getting hurt, she told herself - over and over as the screams grew louder and more shrill. They can’t. The abomination will follow orders - it won’t hurt any witches.

The figure, meanwhile, just… waited.

And - eventually - Willow saw why.

But not before she was forced to run from the increasing havoc the abomination was causing. By the time she got it in her head to get somewhere safer, she was already coated in stone dust and chunks of brick.

When she finally set her eyes back on the mysterious figure - they had been joined by someone.

The gentle, light blue aura of a disassembled illusion surrounded them. Probably a glamour, if Willow had to guess.

She recognized them at a glance. After all - how on earth could she forget Boscha.

The jacketted one handed Boscha a wand. The same wand they’d used to make the abomination.

And with that - Boscha ran again.

The figure then ran - towards the woods. The remote, empty, silent woods.

Willow, for a moment, struggled with what to do. Run away, or follow them.

Sometimes, the difference between the life of a hero and the life of a victim comes down to one simple decision. Sometimes, the difference between being a participant and being an outlier narrowed to one single moment.

Sometimes, a whole life can change just on the flip of a dime.

After hesitating for just an instant - Willow decided to follow.

Chapter Text

Amity set the briefcase in the middle of a clearing, deep inside the forest.

She was fairly sure by now that, when the portal folded into a briefcase on one end, the other end of the portal disappeared. After all - surely at least one human would’ve found the portal if it was just left in that alley the whole time.

So, as long as she closed the portal on the human side pretty quickly - nobody should even have a chance to see her.

(She ignored the wriggling thought in the back of her head, that this was a gamble. If a small one.

Blights don’t take chances.)

The leaves were a shade of red that made them look like liquid in the light. It roofed over the forest, and gave Amity a feeling like she was below an ocean. All the sunlight was dimmed. All in all, it made the single clearing feel… cavernous. Too bright and too lively. All the grass was taller than it was in the rest of the woods. The trees curved inward, trying to soak up the sun. Yearning branches shaking in the slight, biting wind.

Amity drew her jacket closer.

She was unable to shake the feeling that she was being watched.

After a moment - she whipped around.

The shadows danced below the bloody, quivering lake of leaves.

She dared not speak.

A beat.

She turned back to the portal, and took a deep breath.

Her hand found its way around the key. It was hanging from her neck, just below her uniform. Just below her jacket. Beating against her skin.

Her thumb jabbed into its eye.

The door clattered as it unfolded. Like an empty can of spray paint when shook.

Amity’s hand found its way around the handle. She didn’t try glancing around again - maybe she was afraid of what she might see.

Like the tiny, pale hand curled around the trunk of one of the trees, and a pair of glittering green eyes watching her vanish into the light.

Amity blinked.

...Huh.

Apparently, the human world had a sun.

She’d thought as much, but it was still good to know for sure.

Everything looked different in the day. Well. If the humans called it ‘day’. All the washed-out shades of concrete and stone glittered and shone with speckles of light. The cracks in the pavement were less noticeable, and the windows glowed like gateways to pools of pure light. She heard pounding footsteps outside of the alley, and the near-silent laughter of distant voices.

For the first time, she felt this was a place she could happily live in.

She fumbled for her watch - and set an alarm again. This time, for when she’d have to start rushing home.

She gave herself an hour.

Library. She had to get to that library.

Left side of the lane, that person in the ‘bar’ had said. Third turn.

Shouldn’t be far.

She jabbed the eye of the key quickly, and kicked the briefcase under the massive green bin in the alleyway - before starting off for the library.

It wasn’t far.

Thank Titan.

It wasn’t an incredibly impressive building - but, notably, it was more interesting than most of the things around it. It was made of a white stone of some kind, with an awning in front of the entrance. Well, entrance s, more like - there were three double-doors on the face of perfectly cut white stone, peering out at her like eyes.

On the boiling isles, it wasn’t uncommon to find houses that were literally alive. Hence - face of the building.

That particular vernacular always bothered Amity - because it implied that the interior of the building was its mouth. That every moment she was inside, she was at the mercy of the building’s every whim; and that all it would need to do to be rid of her, was bite down.

And that would make the doors… the building’s jaw.

Or perhaps its teeth.

Of course, you could also dissect the building by room. Giving each room the title of an organ.

She wondered if buildings in the human realm were alive. Maybe one of those books could tell her.

Her hand closed around the ice-cold door handle.

The mouth of the library reminded Amity of the cavern of some beast. She felt like, at any moment, some horrible creature would pounce from around one of the bookshelves, and go straight for her throat.

That didn’t happen, of course. But she still felt some light, stirring dread, that she couldn’t quite manage to convince herself was irrational.

She glanced around.

Her eyes latched onto the check out counter - and she sneered slightly, at the sight of an intern instead of a librarian.

She seemed to be about Amity’s age. Probably a librarian-in-training; maybe a fledgling writer. Her skin was sun-kissed and caramel, and she had a small head of dark brown hair in a pixie cut.

Amity approached the counter with some reluctance, and waited for the girl to notice her.

She was busy at… uhm… something. Amity couldn’t quite tell what. She was clacking away at what looked like a larger version of the keyboard on a penstagram scroll, and staring at a thick, black-backed board of some kind, that lit her face with a harsh white light.

After just a few moments, though, she glanced over - and startled slightly when she noticed Amity standing there.

And, suddenly, the girl grinned at her; like seeing Amity just absolutely made her day.

“Hello!” she chirped - and Amity, for a moment, had a shockingly vivid flash of a memory. Willow’s voice. Sitting in the sand out in their little hideaway, laughing and trying to ignore the pressing anxiety of disobeying Mother’s rules.

“How can I help you?” the girl said; and Amity shook off the memories like a dog after a swim.

Without their influence, Amity was able to hear just how different the girl sounded. Her voice was more cheerful - but less soft. Happier - but not necessarily kinder. And it lacked that unfitting maturity that had always surrounded Willow like a stormcloud.

Quite the opposite; this girl sounded a little immature, if anything.

“Where is the human history section?” Amity asked - glancing at the girl’s tametag as she did. Luz, it said.

“Just over there!” ‘Luz’ said, pointing around a corner and never loosing her easy, cheerful smile.

“Thank you.”

Amity walked off towards the history section, and got ready for an hour of eye strain.

Luz chewed her pen thoughtfully - peering off towards the would-be empty history section.

She glanced down at her notebook.

Theories:

-Alien? (most likely)

-Demigod

-Fae

-Demon

Mama wouldn’t be very happy with her.

She didn’t like it when Luz did this. She’d always disliked Luz’s obsession with fantasy. She’d sent her off to that awful Summer camp to try and, at least partially, rid her of it. 

It hadn’t worked.

Her life had never been easy.

Everything she’d ever wanted, had been wrong. Everything she liked was dumb, or nerdy, or weird. Everything she cared about - all of her passions and ideas. All of her excitement and creativity. Her hopes and dreams.

Nobody had ever approved of them.

Not even Mama.

And Luz, oftentimes, had wished that she could just be normal.

…

But she wasn’t. So. Moot point.

Instead, she found herself wishing she was in a fantasy novel more often than not.

Hence; her theories.

Because when a weird pretty girl with a big, dusty green jacket asked for the human history section - well. How was her first thought not supposed to be ‘alien?’

You need to learn how to separate fantasy from reality, Mama whispered in her head.

Luz shook the warning off.

Luz wished that she could see the mysterious probably-alien from her counter. Maybe she could go put some books back on the shelves in the history section, and try to subtly study the girl.

She didn’t think the probably-alien was actually an alien, of course, but. It was more interesting to think about than just doing her intern work.

So. Time to investigate a little further.

Her hands found their way around the light grey ice-cold metal of the book cart. She pushed it gently towards the history section - the wheels rattled fiercely with every turn. She felt the eyes of students trying to study around her; their glares judgmental and fierce.

Nobody liked her here. Mainly because the only ones who knew her were the ones who were very annoyed by her.

The cart rolled to a stop.

She had to kneel down to get the first history book off the cart-- and, while she did, she glanced over and looked for the alien girl.

There she is.

And, since she was kneeling, Luz couldn’t help but notice the girl’s leggings for the first time.

They were a bright magenta colour - perfectly form-fitting. She had a dark grey dress on over the leggings, with a very small tear on the hem. Her boots had elevated heels and lighter-coloured cuffs.

Luz also couldn’t help but notice a small mist of some dark purple stain on her boots.

She shuffled back to her feet to put the book on the shelves - and glanced at the girl’s face again.

Glittering butterscotch-coloured pupils set inside a deadly pale face. Chin sharp and nose small. Small tufts of mint-green bangs visible from the edge of her hood.

Her hands were splayed against the page of a book. It made an interesting contrast - between the plagued pale of the girl’s skin, and the milky sheet pale of the paper. Her fingernails were painted black.

Luz quickly slotted the history book where it belonged, and took another book with her before hiding behind a shelf - outside of the girl’s site.

Notes:

Weird purple stain on her clothes. Alien blood?

Mint green hair. Dyed, or natural?

Her nails are black and I am very gay could be painted but could be natural too

Yellow/hazel eyes - is she a predator? Is this a sign of her being a fae, maybe?

Luz glanced around the shelf at the girl.

The fae - or alien - or just plain hot girl - glanced up, and Luz instantly darted back around the shelf; heart skipping several very important beats.

She continued to feel eyes prying through her for at least a dozen seconds afterwards, before it began to subside.

She checked her watch.

Great. Alien/fae girl had only been here fifteen minutes and she probably already hated Luz.

Chapter Text

Hey guys.

Yeah sorry maybe you're a bit taken aback by that opening. Uhm. Hello guys and girls and nonbinary friends of all shapes and sizes. This isn't an actual chapter. I'm sorry. This is an update that's going to be deleted in a few weeks probably.

So. For the next few weeks - maybe longer - this fic won't have a schedule. That might mean I don't publish at all. That might mean I publish 3 chapters in 2 days. I don't know.

This is not just an excuse to get you to subscribe, though if you do it would be appreciated. Something very big has happened in my life and I don't know how long it will last. And it means that the amount I write will probably... shift. Perhaps very rapidly.

I don't have a full chapter for today, but. Who knows. I might have one ready tomorrow.

Thank you everyone for reading. Please stay safe, and drink lots of water.

Sincerely,

-Howard R.

Chapter Text

Amity was being watched.

This wasn’t a problem, exactly, but it was very annoying. 

She glanced up from the indecipherable history textbook. There was some oddly familiar details here and there, but for the most part this was complete nonsense; and it constantly used terms and referenced people that Amity didn’t know.

Luckily, what she was dealing with right now was something she knew a little better.

Annoying teens.

The feeling of eyes on her vanished instantly, and the only sign that she was being watched was the little tuft of brown hair that instantly vanished behind a shelf.

Amity sighed.

“Why are you watching me?” she muttered, unimpressed.

“Whaaaat?” said the girl - Luz? - from behind the shelf, voice muffled and faux-confused. “I’m just a lonely bookshelf! I’d never watch anyone.”

“I will burn this place to the ground,” Amity said, voice matter-of-fact, “if you don’t leave me alone.”

There was a pause.

“How about I ask you just one question?” Luz said, peeking around the bookshelf. “And then I’ll leave you to study, okay?”

“...Fine,” Amity said, pushing her book to the side and leaning her head on her hand. “Ask away.”

“What are you studying for?”

“A test,” Amity lied smoothly. 

“Really?” Luz squinted suspiciously. “You don’t go to my school, I don’t think.”

Amity took a moment to be confused.

Sure, she was from another world - but Luz didn’t know that. Why was she so suspicious?

Was there some other way to distinguish witches from humans?

“Maybe we go to different schools,” Amity said, voice showing no hint of her growing nervousness. “Or we just haven’t caught each other around.”

“How old are you?” Luz demanded.

“Sixteen,” Amity said without thinking - and paused. “Wait. You said just one question.”

“You should be in my grade, then,” Luz said, leaning forward. Like she was interrogating Amity.

Amity shied away automatically.

What was up with this girl?

“Do you go to a private school?” Luz said.

Amity blanked.

That was a harder lie. Because if she said yes, Luz could catch her in a trap. She knew it well - the question, then the reveal that the question was just a ruse to prove that she was lying.

Or Luz could press the question.

And if Amity said she didn’t, it could force her into a trap, too.

She’d been caught in a web. Where any lie would cement who she would pretend to be from here on out - and possibly make Luz even more suspicious.

So instead, Amity dodged.

“You said you’d leave me alone,” Amity said, expression and tone not showing a single hint of the storm brewing inside her. “One question. You’ve asked three. Let me study.”

“What?” Luz demanded, slamming her hands on the table. “Afraid of the question?!”

A harsh shhhh! echoed from some other corner of the library.

“Sorry,” Luz muttered harshly, before glaring at Amity demandingly again.

“Annoyed by the question, more like,” Amity said flatly. Locking her emotions in a cold, black box in the back of her mind until she could analyze what the hell was going on here.

At this point she was starting to suspect that Luz was just crazy.

“Please leave me alone,” Amity said, looking down at her textbook again.

Luz slowly stopped glaring, and glanced away. “Uhm. Sorry. I get a bit excited sometimes. I just like learning about new people.”

Amity glanced up at her.

She looked believably bashful.

Amity wasn’t buying it. Not that she was going to say that.

“Right. Well. Why don’t you just try introducing yourself next time, hm?”

“Alright!” Luz chirped - and waved at her. “Hi - I’m Luz! Luz Noceda!”

“Charmed,” Amity deadpanned.

“And you aaaare?” Luz said, with an encouraging smile.

Amity hesitated for a moment, before deciding that using a fake name wasn’t worth the trouble.

“Amity Blight.”

“Ooh, cool name,” Luz said. And the way her eyes darted and glittered, it almost looked like the name delighted her, for some reason. As if Amity had just fulfilled some soulful desire Luz had.

Amity gave her a flat look. “I know. Now can I study?”

“Oh. Right. Sure!” Luz said, stepping back easily and waltzing to her counter again.

Amity stared after her the whole way there.

Amity Blight. If that isn’t a fake alien name or the name of a fae, I don’t know what is!

Luz stepped behind her counter, and made sure Amity wasn’t staring after her anymore before jotting down her new notes.

-Knows what tests are

-Sixteen years old (according to her)

-Refuses to talk about her school

-Named Amity Blight (according to her)

Anything that was according to her was up to suspicion. After all, she couldn’t be trusted to be telling the truth if she was an alien.

…

-Probably shouldn’t ask about her school again. If she’s uncomfortable talking about it, maybe she’s not doing very well. Or she’s expelled and/or dropped out, for whatever reason.

Not nearly as glamorous as the possibility that she was a lying alien, but. Still worth noting.

Just in case.

Chapter Text

Willow had always been the troublemaker.

Her kind smiles and easy giggles found their way around dirt-blackened fingernails and the sharp grin of someone who enjoys seeing the chaos spiral. She didn’t want anyone hurt, but there was no mistaking - there was fire bubbling in Willow.

Willow. Like the tree. In the human world, they were harmless. On the boiling isles, their leaves were sharp and thorny, and they drank up your blood like a lifeline.

She didn’t remember incidents. But her parents did. They knew better than to put her in the plant track.

But it just made the fire bubble faster. Just made the boiling steam build pressure in her ears and force its way out, in sparks of magical power that nobody else on the isles could hope to match, sometimes.

Willow dreamed. Dreams of magic. Dreams of power. Dreams of fire, brimstone, and bubbling insanity.

Nonsense. That was all they were.

The images of fingernails greyed out with streaks of lead, of blood dripping down cheeks, of thorns littering the prone forms of animals in the forest. Black chalk scattered against stone. Green eyes behind glinting spectacles.

She tried to convince herself that they were nonsense.

Willow. The troublemaker.

Willow had always been the troublemaker.

She’d pushed Amity into fun things. Chaotic things. Drawing shapes in the sand before letting them be washed up by the waves. Vines strangling trees in the forest. Running from responsibility. Alone together.

Grins like knives glittering in darkness.

And then it was over. And Amity’s arm was around her shoulders, abomination goop searing on her forehead.

I bet even you could get a passing grade some day.

Seeya in class, superstar!

It’s like mine. But much smaller and meaningless.

Smiles like tearing chunks from Willow’s walls. The despair, the desperation, the anger.

And when she blinked away the magic, she was surrounded by veins of green. Spiraling out like a labyrinth. Twisting and circling. Tangling. Strangling.

She’d reached up, and only then realized she was crying.

Willow had always been the troublemaker.

She’d mixed magic that day. The abomination professor had called her up, and she’d been finished. Finished with it all.

Her abomination had been made of strangler vines, the colour of Autumn leaves.

She hadn’t even gotten to see Principal Bump. She’d been sent right to detention.

She’d wasted so much emotion. So much despair. All on someone who wouldn’t spare her a second thought.

It had all ended well though.

But she couldn’t let go.

Willow was the troublemaker. Always had been.

And as she stared after Amity - stared at the spot that had housed a staring, strange wooden door just a moment ago - she knew that she couldn’t let this go, either.

She was the troublemaker.

It was time to make some trouble.

Amity glanced at her watch.

Fifteen minutes left.

She sighed, closing the history book. She’d barely scratched the surface of human history - she knew that for a fact. She’d barely gotten anywhere.

...She didn’t have a library card.

She didn’t have a library card and she was a fucking IDIOT.

Fucking fuck.

Amity ran a hand into the hair hanging down by her ears. Just to occupy them. The frustration seeping out in the way her long, pale fingers curled.

What was she going to do.

The school wasn’t going to be closed tomorrow. They’d repair it and get rid of the abomination by then. They were quick. She couldn’t check out this book. Stealing it was too risky - getting caught could draw all kinds of unwanted suspicion to her, and she wasn’t exactly the world’s greatest thief. Hence why she’d given the stealing job to Boscha.

She was so fucked.

...Unless she could get someone working at the library to help her.

No. NO. I am not doing this, I am not doing this, I am NOT DOING THIS-

But oh, was she. Her curiosity had already decided for her. She couldn’t let the library go. She had to do this.

Walking up to Luz was simultaneously the easiest and hardest thing Amity had ever done.

When Luz glanced up, she was not ready for Amity to be there.

(If that WAS her real name.)

She quickly paused her music - she was on a CHVRCHES kick right now, but that was quite secondary to Amity approaching her (VOLUNTARILY) - and gave Amity an easy smile.

“What’s up?”

She was supposed to say ‘how can I help you,’ or something, but who cared? ‘What’s up’ was better anyway.

“...Listen,” Amity said - and there was something about her voice that made Luz perk up, raising an eyebrow suspiciously. “I. Do you have a key?”

Luz furrowed her brow. “Like… to the library?”

“Yes.”

Luz gave Amity a silent look. Piercing and curious. “...Yeah, I do. Why?”

“I was wondering if you could leave the door unlocked tonight.”

Amity’s face showed no hint of nervousness. Scratch that - it showed no hint of emotion. It was creepy, honestly; a face being as expressionless as an elbow, or a finger.

“...I can’t,” Luz said, simply. Not quite regretful. “You might steal or something.”

Amity’s expression didn’t change. Or, more accurately, lack of expression. “I won’t. Why would I? All that’s here is books, and I could just check one of those out.”

“Still,” Luz said. Because by now she knew better than to agree to a girl’s request just because she was pretty. “I really can’t.”

Amity seemed to stew with that, for a moment.

“...I’m homeless.”

Amity’s tongue curled around the words like they disgusted her.

Luz’s eyes widened.

“I just need a place to sleep tonight…. Please?”

And again. Amity’s voice felt thorny around the syllables. Like they were a personal affront.

Luz stared.

...Of course she was homeless. Duh. The oversized jacket, the strange stains on her tights, weird clothes, not wanting to share about school. She wasn’t in school - and the reason she was here wasn’t to study for a test. She just needed a place to stay.

(Luz would worry about the thorny, strange details later. The pieces that didn’t quite fit. Like her perfect nail polish. Or the fact that she seemed well-groomed and washed. Or the hair dye.)

And - suddenly - Luz’s face broke into a sunny smile.

She knew just what to do.

“Well, you can stay with me!”

For the first time - Amity’s face showed emotion.

Just a hint of shock. And a mild spark of something that Luz couldn’t read.

“Pardon?” Amity said, raising an eyebrow.

“Duh!” Luz’s smile was so wide it hurt. “There’s plenty of space in my room, a spare sleeping bag in the closet - and Mama volunteers at homeless shelters in her free time, she’d be happy to take you in for a little while!”

Plus, Luz thought, she won’t turn Amity down if I just show up on the doorstep with her; without any warning.

“Uhm; you really don’t have to-” Amity protested mildly.

“Just until you get back on your feet!” Luz assured her. “And it’s our pleasure. Really. Why not?”

“...Well, when you put it like that.” And Amity’s voice was so dead and emotionless that Luz might’ve noticed, if she wasn’t overcome with excitement. “How could I refuse.”

Luz grinned even wider. “This is gonna be awesome!”

“...Yep. Awesome.”