Chapter Text
You were falling. The air was bitterly cold, snapping into your skin like the vicious teeth of a hound as the world whistled by, rattling the wood beneath your head. You reached above you into the grey expanse of the sky, a desperate attempt to ground yourself in security, but found nothing except the indifferent moon glowing back at you. Too late. You closed your eyes, the imprint of her light seared into your lids as you quietly resigned to whatever fate might come from the patient ground so far below.
And then strong arms were around your shoulders, tugging you into something firm and safe and solid. You woke up before the impact.
Someone was shaking you, mumbling in a voice like a sigh. Their hands were deft and capable, rough with something like a cat’s tongue. You blinked drearily, trying to focus your eyes in the strange darkness of the musty-smelling place you were in- finding the familiar, fiery irises of the Golden Guard gazing back at you. It was his arm around your shoulder. It was his voice urging you to wake up.
You straightened your back, popping several sore vertebrae in the process as you regained your bearings. Right, the library. The books… the searching…
The book! You scrambled to find it- the book Hunter had assured you would be so important-
“Easy, scout.” he chided knowingly, pressing his heavy grip further into your shoulder to keep you down. “It’s right here.”
He produced the tiny volume in his free hand, setting it down before you on a small, circular table that you’d apparently been laying against.
“You fell asleep reading it.” He said with practiced carelessness. “Which you seem to do a lot, by the way. Have you considered sleeping in your own room? At night? I’ve heard pretty good things about that.”
You scowled at him. As if he wasn’t the reason for your constant exhaustion in the first place. And he was really one to talk, with those bags beneath his eyes.
“Hilarious. Maybe you should take your own advice. Sleepin’ and all. Looks like you haven’t had any in years.”
Oops. Your mouth got loose when you were drowsy. Maybe a little too loose. You braced yourself for the sting of his anger, but it never came. His face did a funny thing where it crinkled in a way that gave the impression he was struggling between laughing and scoffing. He settled on laughing, his grin instantly softening his scarred face.
“Y’know, scout, I think I like you better with a personality of your own.” He said, shoving the book into your chest and standing. You turned the pamphlet, marveling at how such a small thing might be capable of changing your world- or at least, shifting it.
“Didn’t think I was allowed one of those, in the Emperor’s Coven.” You muttered scornfully, avoiding his gaze.
“Sure, you are.” He said brightly. “As long as it doesn’t interfere with your work. Or annoy the emperor. Or distract anyone around you. Then you can have whatever personality you want!”
You shook your head almost imperceptibly, bewildered by his depth of entrenchment into the ideals of his uncle. That wasn’t personality- that was just some facade to put out to the rest of the world, hoping it wasn’t inconvenient for them. You wondered how many aspects of Hunter’s personality were deemed too ‘distracting’ to be revealed. “Right. Whatever one I want.” You echoed, tracing a finger over the glittering title of the book. It winked like stars with each turn of the hand, catching violet light you didn’t even know was there. Strangely, it reminded you of someone.
“I… should get going.” You stood from the wooden chair you’d collapsed into, realizing it must be getting late. “Can I take this?”
Hunter paused, something unreadable flashing in his face before he finally nodded, letting you keep the book clenched tightly to your chest. “I don’t think anyone will miss it. Just don't be stupid.” He jerked his head towards the doorway, and you moved to climb back up into the darkened tunnel exit, turning back to bid him one final goodbye.
“Uh- thanks. For helping me. You didn’t have to do that, but… you did.”
He smiled wryly, eyes pinned to the book in your hands before flicking upwards to meet your own. “I know.”
You left before you could puzzle out what that meant, crawling down through the cold abyss of the night into the throne room, book in hand. You tried to recall reading the passages the night before, drawing a blank as to their exact contents. Well, it was alright. You could reread it when you returned to your room, assuming it wasn’t too late. Catch up on what you had missed.
You managed to get back without being spotted by any scouts- though you kept the book tight to your chest despite the surefire emptiness of the hallways, just in case. It was cold in your quarters, with the candles long burned-out, so you relit one and brought it over to your desk to illuminate the mottled, time-worn pages staring back at you. You read as much as you could stomach.
It was coming back to you, now, as you scoured the first page. Yes, you remembered these words. You skipped ahead, down the introduction, through the paragraphs of winding exposition, searching for an answer that culminated in one simple truth: there wasn’t one.
The book was useless. As useless as all the others had been. Waxing poetic about how nobody really knew how illusions came to be, and ancient witches probably used it for entertainment or something, but hey at least it’s a neat party trick!
You flipped through the entire little novel in a rush, then slammed it shut. What the hell? This stupid author got your hopes up with that fancy title for nothing. And worse- Hunter had actually thought this would be useful to you! That was an offense all its own. You breathed in a deep, rattling breath through the heavy air of the castle, trying to calm yourself. This was fine. There were other books to read through- ones that you wouldn’t leave up to Hunter’s advice this time. Besides, it wasn’t nearly as important as finding a book on mind-reading. That was going to be so much more difficult, and you’d have to be so much more secretive about it.
Hm. Secretive… you fiddled with the library key in your pocket at the thought, the rough edges grating over your fingertip in that hurts-so-good way. Looking out into the open night, the moon was low. It must’ve been only 10 o’clock. You could still figure this out- no need for the Golden Guard’s watchful eye. What use was a library key if you only used it when he was around? He didn’t need to know everything you did.
This felt very sneaky, despite the fact that you were technically doing exactly what he’d told you to do- Educating yourself. But you knew deep down that this was not what he had meant. It certainly wasn’t an invitation to keep secrets from him, but you couldn’t allow yourself to dwell on any guilt. He would do the same thing to you in a heartbeat.
So back went your feather-light feet down the hallway and into the dusky throne room, braving the darkness with all the determination you could muster. You would find something about mind-readers, even if it took you all night. You had to.
The floating candles in the archives, too, had been doused, dropping you into a cold and uncomfortable emptiness as you entered. You raised your hand, drawing a small enough spell circle to see by, and went about lighting the nearest desk lamp. Things looked different here, when you were alone. The rows of shelves didn’t seem to jump up in glee at the sight of someone to organize them. The books no longer rustled their pages in some unseen breeze. The cold, indifferent stillness pressed into you like the piercing gaze of judgement, chastising you for doing what you knew was wrong- for violating this sacred place all over again. But something greater than your moral integrity was calling you towards that shelf marked with a shuddering ‘M’.
Mandrakes, Marches, Maps, Magic… You skimmed further down. Mending, Mental- oops.
You paused to tug out the book of interest, which looked shinier and newer than the rest. Mentality and Magic: How Your Emotions Affect Your Spells.
Huh. Okay. Not something you’d expect to find in Emperor Belos’ library- the single witch who you would probably feel pretty secure claiming didn’t have any emotions at all. Maybe this was one of Hunter’s finds, brought back from a mission. It seemed like something he might be interested in.
But it wasn’t what you were interested in. You placed it back beside Mending Wounds and continued your search, getting about halfway through the much more voluminous shelf of ‘M’ titles before another one caught your eye.
Mythos of The Isles: How Wild Magic Shook the World
You weren’t sure why you were drawn to it. Maybe because of its thunderous title- though it seemed like the same old propaganda you’d heard a hundred times before. You reached for it tentatively, peeling open the sticky first page with a sound that suggested this old looker hadn’t been opened in a long time.
Wild magic. Infamous for its prevalence in the Savage Ages. Scorned as the wrath of the Titan. Outlawed by an iron-fisted dictator. Yes, there is no question that every witch in the isles has had the mantra of what happens to unchecked power burned into their bile sacs from birth. Yet, the true crime being committed against our great Titan is not the practice of its kindly-bestowed magic, unrestrained, but the restriction of its true history. I doubt that this novel will ever be published, but for the few that may happen upon these words: Read, and read well. This may be all that is left of my life’s work…
Wild magic is not what we thought it was. It was a harmony- a symphony of sects working in tandem to create the crux of witchkind. Diverse groups of demons wielded summations of ancestors' past to exist peacefully within their environments, keep themselves hidden, and ensure that their young ones passed on the spells that would guide them through their lifetimes. This- all of this was taken from us b-
“Snatched that one from the collection of a crazed author after some of our scouts raided his house.” Mused a voice behind you. “He was arrested for Treason against the Throne after trying to sneak some horrible dissertation about wild magic into the public library. Can you believe that?”
You turned with a start so violent it shook the bookshelf, struck into terror by the sound of that endlessly pleased, velvety susurration behind you. Quick hands shoved you back into the wood with a force that didn’t match the warmth of the conversational tone as heavy weight pushed down onto your shoulders. Pinned in a blink.
“Ah, ah, ah~. You didn’t really think I wouldn’t catch on eventually, scout?” the Golden Guard caged you from behind, his grip so tight you thought he might break your bones. You reached for an answer in his mind- for guidance, but it was horribly silent in there, focused with a predatory capability on subduing you and nothing else.
“The falsehoods… the secrecy… I knew there was something off about you,” he continued, delighting in your bewilderment as he lowered his now-masked face to your ear. “But I juuuuust couldn’t place it. And, I mean, not like I can go around accusing my new cohort of unsavory deeds without any proof. Nah, that would just look like petty jealousy. At least, not until now.”
You fought his grip. “-I really don’t know what you’re-”
“Save it. You’re a terrible liar.” he snarled, squeezing your wrists a little tighter. “I knew that the moment you tried to tell me you were just some hapless illusion student who- whoop-dee-doo! Stumbled across a book of ancient spells. Find it in your grandma’s attic, maybe?”
He laughed hysterically, that jangly sound you’d once found so endearing now extraordinarily haunting. You couldn’t even begin to unravel the root of your fear of him; only that you knew there was something deeply misplaced in his soul- something that made him capable of doing anything to please the person who he thought made him special. He’d unraveled your web before you could begin to resist him. But still, what about this moment had tipped him off? How was your visiting the library some kind of clue?
Your lack of reply was more than enough of an answer. You didn’t have an excuse. Even if you came up with the most foolproof argument, you knew he wouldn’t believe you. He was smart. You’d known it before, with his quick-thinking on the battlefield, but this was the first time he’d made you feel so exposed, like he was pulling you apart with sheer willpower.
“That's what I thought. Not much to say now, hm? Shame. I enjoyed the game of cat and mouse. You put up a good fight- if it weren’t for your slip-up tonight, I probably wouldn’t have come upon any solid evidence that you were conspiring against the emperor. But, well, here we are.”
Slip-up? Conspiring? What the hell was he talking about?
“I- What??” You asked, genuinely bewildered. “I’m not conspiring against anybody! And I have no idea what you mean by ‘slip-up’!” You wriggled pitifully in his grasp, and he sighed.
“I thought you were gonna make this easy. C’mon. You didn’t really think I’d just hand over the key to a proprietary collection of magical information without an ulterior motive, did you?”
He paused to take in your expression when you fell silent, then doubled over a second time. “Oh my Titan, you did!” He wiped his eye slats dramatically. “That’s adorable! And so misguided. No, no. I wanted to know what you’d get up to when you thought I wasn’t looking. Since you seemed awfully interested in all of the inner workings of the coven, I graciously elected to give you the backstage pass.” His fingertips moved over yours, drumming them on the pages of the open book below you thoughtfully. “I figured- hey! Give ‘em a key and a false lead, and make them desperate enough to go to the library without me. That way I can see what they’re really looking for when the cameras are off. But I’ll give you this, you took longer to take the bait than I’d anticipated.”
So that was it. That was why he’d entrusted you with everything. Suddenly, his seemingly random moods were beginning to fall into place. His bouts of inexplicable kindness-turned-annoyance. He’d been playing you for a long-con, just as he’d been plotting since that first day in this library, and just as you’d been stupidly preparing for- oblivious to the fact that it was already happening. All of this… just to lure you into the archives when you thought he was gone. So he could catch you red-handed in what he considered an act of treachery- lying to him about your intentions. To him, it probably seemed like you were an inside job.
How could you slither out of this one, little snake? You were caught right between the talons of an owl, his sharp beak ready to rend you into pieces. Whichever path you chose, both would conclude badly. One, with you potentially locked away for the rest of your sad days, and the other? Petrified for high treason. There would be no happy ending for you in this lifetime. No hope to live in peace like a normal kid.
The Golden Guard was expecting you to speak. He was patient- commendably so, when you could tell all he wanted was to sink his teeth into you and drag you to the foot of his uncle’s throne. Well, you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of struggling prey.
“I… guess you got me.” You conceded, lamely. Fighting back was a waste of your energy. You’d never been able to beat him in sparring practice. “You’re right. I wasn’t honest with you. Not entirely. But you’re wrong about me conspiring against the crown. I couldn’t give two bullfrogs who’s in charge of the coven, or what it does. I just came here for information.” That was mostly true. You didn’t love Belos, but it wasn’t your job to dethrone him. And all thoughts of staying around to keep Hunter safe had pretty much flown out of the window of ‘things you cared about’ at the moment.
He scoffed. “You expect me to believe that when you’re reading books on wild magic?”
“As if you haven’t read it yourself.” You spat back, knowing with certainty that he knew the book before you very well.
“And if I haven’t?” He challenged.
“You have. You got it after you stole it from the author’s cottage, like you said. Except what you forgot to mention was that Belos forbade you from taking anything he’d written home. In fact, he’d asked you to burn the entire cabin to the ground, books and all. But you didn’t listen. You smuggled one home and stayed up all night pouring over each page, searching for a way to fix your uncle’s illness. You felt bad, for a bit, but in the end, you told yourself you were doing a good thing. Did I get that all right?”
The world seemed to freeze for an instant as Hunter went still, no longer applying that bruising pressure to your wrists. He struggled a moment between disbelief and anger, but settled on the latter.
“You think you’re so clever, scout.” He hissed, but inside, he was roiling with confusion. How could you know these things? That had been almost a year ago- far before he even knew you existed. His logical mind refused to abide it. “But you don’t know anything.”
“Look, I don’t mean any harm to you or your uncle. I just want to find out more about myself. That’s it. I’ll even stay in the coven, if that’s what you want. But I need answers.”
He let out a clipped ‘Hah!’ “Stay in the coven? Oh, no, no, no. You’ll be lucky to see the sun after this! I’m taking you straight to the emperor, and he’ll decide your fate, how about that for knowing everything?!”
You blanched, trying to breathe through his pressure. “Guh- would you stop being difficult? I already told you, I’m not being treasonous. Don’t you even care why I’m really here?” You didn’t want to say it, but it could buy you precious time, and you knew another lie would not cut it. He was far too observant for that. If it was between unveiling your secret and certain petrification, you’d choose to reveal yourself every time.
“Oh, sure.” He said in a high-pitched singsong. “Let’s hear your best lie! I hope you’ve improved since last time!”
You grumbled and rolled your shoulders, trying to dislodge his returning grasp for the mere sake of comfortability.
“How about this? I’m a mind reader, and I’m the only one I know. I want to figure out where my powers come from so I can figure out how to be as normal and unimportant as possible.” You droned, pressing your cheek into the cold wood. Silence. He shifted behind you, his cloak rustling.
“…Sense of humor, even in the most dire situation of your sad life?” The Golden Guard laughed at length, though his usual jangle was absent. Nervous. “Real cute. Glad you’re having fun. May as well enjoy it before you’re executed.”
“I’m not joking. I’ll prove it. Think of a number.”
You could actually feel him wrinkling his nose. “Seriously? This is your last hurrah? Keeping up the charade?”
“That’s not a number.”
Offended, he huffed. “Wha- Fine. Whatever.”
“36.”
“Lucky guess.”
“Okay. How about something only you could know?”
He shook his head in befuddlement at your absurdity. “This is stupid. How about… I just vaporize you right here instead?” He huffed, producing his staff from his pocket and unfolding it in a bold display of glittering metal. The cold wingtip-edge seared at your throat, pressing a glowing conduit right under your jaw. You swallowed, reaching out for the closest memory to the surface you could find. The details were weary and drowned in his conscious rubble, but you managed to grasp one tightly enough to hurriedly recite what you saw before he took you out for good.
“You-You’re standing in front of the emperor on the day you were initiated into the coven. You’re wearing a uniform two sizes too big. The youngest scout ever, at just twelve years old. You ask your uncle why he would appoint you into any job in his palace, given that you’re-“ you tripped, surprised by the following words just as much as he was.
“Powerless.”
His grip softened. His staff tilted downwards, as if he was on the cusp of simply… dropping it to the floor.
“Belos tells you that everyone has a purpose given to them from the Titan himself. He tells you that you’re destined for great things, and gives you that staff.” You jerked your head to his drifting weapon. “He ruffles your hair, and it’s the first time in your life that you feel like your differences don’t matter. That you’re whole-“
“-Stop! Stop- I believe you, just stop...” Hunter interjected in a voice hoarse with emotion. He broke into a coughing fit, clutching his chest as he backed away from you slowly, allowing you the freedom to remove yourself from the shelf. You turned to watch your assailant stumble, holding one hand to his dull, scratched-up mask, his face downcast.
“…I believe you.”