Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The school field trip to the castle was... colorful. Hooded coven members passed hastily around the little group of nervous Hexside students, murmuring shaded, amused things behind their gleaming masks at the sight of the milling crowd. Even in their hurry, their gazes felt appraising- even demeaning, as if they were whispering, 'none of you would last a day here. Get lost while you can.'

Despite the less than warm reception from the residents, the palace was decidedly beautiful; views that went woefully under-appreciated as your tour guide- a stout female demon with an interesting choice in hairdo- seemed to be in quite a rush to be rid of her shadowing witchlings. As the halls passed, ancient ornamentals of vibrant glass flitted by, depicting scenes that you couldn't even begin to decipher. They shone in the early evening light, the sunset outlining their facets perfectly. Everything seemed to be made of pristine, shining materials. All manners of whites, golds and silvers. Did the emperor have a thing for getting light inconveniently reflected in his eyes? Maybe that was why he never took his mask off. He'd built such a glittering empire that he had to enforce coverings to keep himself and his constituents from being rendered blind by his own palace. Yeah, that seemed a reasonable conclusion.

You had managed to tuck most of the mental murmur back into the corners of your brain. Mind-reading wasn't all it was really chalked up to be. People's thoughts were vague, boring and repetitive, for the most part. And it could be quite overstimulating to listen to them for too long. Better to ignore them- just as one might ignore the hubbub of a crowded room and zero in on more important things, like how interesting their lives were, obviously. Hah. Years of quiet listening had taught you two things about people. One: they were a lot less morally inclined than they liked to believe, and two: They were utterly, incomprehensibly obsessed with themselves.

"-And here is the emperor's throne room, of course." Kikimora (whose name you had learned from a passing guard's bitter thoughts about her) tittered, passing by a pair of enormous double doors, carved from a deep, red-stained wood. With some barely disguised difficulty prying them open- Kikimora led you all in, ushering the crush into a mostly empty, dingy room. It was heavy with the feeling of... loss.

"You're all very fortunate. The emperor won't be joining us, naturally-" she said obsequiously. "But, his right-hand man, the Golden Guard, has graciously allowed us a peek inside of his throne room."

The students murmured with excitement. She spoke with a weird kind of barely disguised contempt in her voice, as if she kind of wanted to strangle the graciousness out of this aforementioned Golden Guard herself. You turned your head, doing a sweep of the room, taking in the vaulted ceilings and wall of furious, hissing flames, which backlit an impressive metallic throne. The ostentatiousness of the seat was only outperformed by the sheer, underlying terror that was suspended above it. A fully beating, fully exposed, and fully disgusting heart.

Tha-thump. Tha-thump.

The pulse of the grotesque organ above you did not have the calming effect most heartbeats did. As a matter of fact, it felt like a ticking time bomb. Every thrum of movement through each ventricle and each atrium felt more ominous than the last. It seemed to say 'I know you. I know when you will take your last breath, and how, and where. I'll be counting every second. But when you're gone, time won't stop to mourn you.'

"Isn't that right, Golden Guard, sir?" Kikimora interjected pointedly, tearing you back to reality. A flash of irritation flamed in her mind, and you caught a mutter of 'Incompetent boy' and 'Immature viper' roiling in her simmering brain- too furious to completely tune out. It was not pleasant in there.

At the title, a cloaked figure you'd completely overlooked cocked his head, golden mask creaking gently. He was situated perfectly and completely still beside the shaded throne, his staff settled in symmetry at his side, supported by an unshaking arm. Of course you hadn't seen him- he was practically a statue. So, this was the Golden Guard?

He looked steady. Powerful. Certain. What kind of life must he lead? Being the Emperor's own right hand? Surely, a grandiose one. You let yourself slip into his mind, noting how guarded and sharp it was; Prickling as you probed the outer edges of it, as if his hackles were raised. You could tell your intrusion was disturbing something deep inside him, even if he didn't know what. But finally, he yielded just enough for you to skim his conversational, casual thoughts.

'Don't know why I'm doing this.' He grumbled to himself, doing a weird kind of mental yawn. 'Toting about useless students and wasting my time overseeing guided tours like some underling.' A flash of embarrassment, smoothed over by a velvet inner voice. 'No matter. It'll be over soon.'

"Certainly," he said aloud with a wry, sharp amusement. His voice sounded exactly like it had in his brain, which was rare. He must've really liked himself. "It is mine and the emperor's honor to educate... potential recruits."

Wow, this guy had a serious complex. But you couldn't seem to get his thoughts untangled from yours. His brain was infectious, all his feelings, thoughts and worries creeping up to twine against yours like cold, smooth scales along your skin. You shivered, but couldn't bring yourself to undo his knots just yet. He had given you almost nothing on life in the palace- only his intense, self-important thoughts.

'Hrmmm. Nobody promising, as usual.' he chirped as he glanced about at the crowd of students. Half of his brain was focused on a particularly annoying crick in his back, and the other was lamenting about how sweaty his hands were- and another part was tracking the pacing of a certain student in his periphery who'd strayed a bit too far from the group, and was dangerously close to touching some of Belos' personals- and the guard was toying with the idea of setting him on fire to make an example out of him.

His brain never stopped running calculations about any potential threats, how to counter them, how to do it most efficiently, and if it would please his uncle to take a specific course of action more.

"Well, don't just stand there." He barked, a flicker of impatience in his tone. 'Ingrates.'

"You've been granted a very generous opportunity to see inside the inner workings of the castle. You can looook..." he cooed. "But don't touch."

He directed pointedly at the stray student, who had his hands close to a dusty old tome sitting elegantly on a dais. The teen yelped and backed off, much to the barely suppressed glee of the Golden Guard. He seemed to enjoy having such an intimidating effect on people.

At his command, the students dispersed a bit from the tense group they'd been packed into, exploring and looking about the elusive throne room, their whispers filling the space with an eerie quality of endlessness. For a restricted wing, the throne room was actually exceptionally boring. A few scattered artifacts sat near the coiling throne and statuesque guard, and he seemed to be keeping a special eye on them. They must've been important, but if they were, his thoughts didn't divulge much about their purpose.

Most of the allure of the room seemed to come from the fact that Belos himself sat here, and communed with his people beneath the still-beating heart of the Titan itself. The students fixed it with stares, secretly hoping that the Titan would share its secrets with them as well. But nobody would be blessed today.

His thoughts, which had since faded into the background, spiked once again. He seemed to be putting in a bit more effort in gauging the students as they walked about, running a quick comparison of what he could observe to determine their eligibility for the coven. Apparently, he wasn't convinced any of these losers (his words) were worthy of the honor.

'Scrawny.' he dismissed. 'Clumsy. That one looks exceptionally stupid. Ew. Gross. No. No. No...'

A pause, and a glaring chill as his thoughts descended to you. What was his verdict, you wondered?

A pause as he sorted through his mind. Words slipped from him, delving into concepts and ideas and intangible flashes of feelings.

'...Creepy.' He thought decidedly. 'Don't like the way they're staring at me.' He made a weird sound in his brain that resembled a huff of air, an internal version of a sigh. 'I get it, I'm extremely impressive.'

His mental voice went singsongy at that. It was almost like he was lightening his own mood. Joking for nobody but himself. A little tremor of hilarity flickered in him, easing the discomfort of being watched so intently. Huh. So he wasn't all rough and stilted. There had been a little hint of sarcasm underlining his thoughts this whole time, but it was the first instance he'd truly slipped into outright humor.

Kikimora clapped, startling us all to attention. "Alright, students." She said, "I presume you've all gotten your fill of the throne room. Come, let us leave the Golden Guard to his... important duties." Her eyes narrowed.

'Jealous, are we, Kiki?' The Golden Guard thought, amused. 'You'll have to get better at hiding your disdain. Not all of us have the privilege of masks.'

Alright, his brain was literally eating your brain whole. You tugged away from the quicksand of his thoughts, fading them into the background once more and readjusting to the loss of senses. It was like being blinded- losing a piece of your body. For a moment, his personality stuck, and everything was haughty and judgmental and threatening and everyone looked a bit like they wanted to attack you- but his influence faded quickly (Much to your relief).

As Kikimora herded the crowd of students back out towards the door to continue the tour, the guard's final words rang out across the echoing chambers of the throne room.

"I'm sure I'll see some of you again very soon." He cocked his head. "Hopefully, it'll be on the same side. Bye bye~"

Chapter Text

"You can't be serious."

The phone tipped its yellowed beak in exasperation, tapping its foot on the packed ground below our feet.

"I assure you; I am very serious." Came a muffled voice from the receiver. It sounded vaguely like the front-office receptionist at Hexside.

"It's six AM!"

The bird-phone tilted its head, as if that was the dumbest thing it had ever heard in its entire life.

"Yes." The voice agreed blandly. "It is. How observant of you."

An exhale. The night was way too cold for you to be standing outside of your house in your pajamas. It was further annoying for you to communicate by phone, since it was impossible to read minds through one. It made things all the more daunting, not being able to predict what was coming.

"If you're done stating the obvious, Principal Bump commands your presence with haste." It said with ironic slowness.

You sighed. No use arguing.

"So, I need to report to Hexside... now?"

"Yes. He will tell you the rest." The receptionist dismissed, promptly ending the call. The phone squawked, taking off in a rush of black, iridescent plumage.

"Right." You muttered to yourself. This couldn't have waited another two hours, at least?

You put on something marginally more presentable than pajamas- you didn't really care what it was. You just needed to get this weird summons over with- It didn't quite make sense in your mind as you turned it over.

Why the early-morning rendezvous? Couldn't this be saved for a more appropriate time, like during lunch, when you could meet with the school counselors? The receptionist over the phone had vaguely said that principal Bump wanted to discuss 'furthering your academic future', whatever that meant. That was weird- because though you were a competent student, there were plenty of others who tried much harder than you did. In fact, it was a personal goal of yours to stand out as little as witchly possible in any situation. People who paid too much attention to you had a habit of becoming unnerved by the constant feeling of being watched, and you didn't particularly want it to get out that you were a mind-reader. Not that it was dangerous for you, necessarily. Just that it was much easier to read people when they weren't paranoid about being heard. A bit selfish, maybe, but people were useful. Besides, you hadn't heard of any other mind-readers in anything- even the most ancient texts you could get your hands on. It was actually rather frustrating, having no guidance on how to live with a power like yours. You'd had to teach yourself all of the basics of managing it with only your equally confused parents at your side, so finding people like you- even if they were from the distant past- would have made you feel less... broken.

...so, you couldn't guarantee witches wouldn't hunt you down and experiment on you if it ever did get out. Better to stay safe.

The cold wind of the morning air chilled you to the bone as you made the quick flight to Hexside on your palisman. The looming building was quiet and peaceful in the sleepiness of dawn- a liminal space. It was strange to see it without windows lit with the lively (and sometimes inconvenient) bustle of the resident teenagers. It was like the soul had been completely sucked from it. The feeling was especially prevalent along the endless, draping halls of the corridors, which seemed to lengthen like shadows as brisk footsteps made their way to the office of principal Bump.

The office was the only source of light in the school, thanks to a small lamp- which was carrying the weight of warding off the darkness on its remarkably tiny shoulders. At the disturbance of your entrance, watchful palisman eyes glinted above a prominent nose and terse mouth.

"Ah, there you are." Principal Bump said languidly, returning his gaze to an important-looking piece of parchment, as if he were already quite busy with paperwork.

"Have a seat."

Ominous. His thoughts gave very little indication to what the content of the meeting would be. Mostly, he was thinking about how itchy his hair was beneath his seeing-eye palisman. Not information that was particularly warranted or desired. You quickly shut down that strand of thought as you sat in a tightly bound seat.

"As I'm sure you're aware," Bump said, "Your schoolwork has grasped the attention of your instructors- and myself."

Again, a strange statement. You worked hard, but you didn't work the hardest. Passing with excellence was just fine with you- you weren't particularly interested in nonsense extracurriculars that didn't align with your goals or interests, just to impress some potion keeper at a minimum-snail job.

"Yes," You agreed carefully. "So I was told."

'Hm.' Bump thought. It was very difficult to tune him out when he was the only mind nearby. The noise of a crowd was as rhythmic as a rainstorm- it was second nature to blend it into the background; But the loud, blaring thoughts of a person in front of you, and thinking about you to boot, were a more disruptive experience.'Thought they'd be a bit more enthused. Don't blame them. Too early.'

His thoughts fizzled into drowsy preoccupation, losing their quantifiable words. For the best. It was important to focus on this conversation.

"Yes, well." He cleared his throat. "I've had a look at your transcript. Very high grades. All A's. Quite exceptional, but..."

Ah, here it comes.

"-You haven't exactly... done anything. No extracurriculars. No clubs. No community service. We may be impressed by your intelligence and the annual reports from our cumulative instructors, but if you have any hope of climbing the ladder, you must put yourself out there."

Weird. This didn't feel like something he needed to be involved in at all, frankly. A regular student with a boring resume- so what? Even if you had high grades, plenty of witches did. Why did principal Bump bother to bring you out like this, in such secrecy?

"Sir..." you edged cautiously "forgive me, but what does this have to do with, well, anything? Surely you didn't bring me all the way here just to say my resume was boring."

Bump nodded distantly. "Ah, that is an excellent question." He leafed through a ream of papers shoved hastily into his desk drawers, drawing out a fresh-looking page with an image of a coven scout completely drenched in blood, and giving a hearty thumbs-up printed on it. He slid the paper across his desk so you could read it, continuing.

"Well, we've come upon an opportunity for you, so to speak. A way to really show your mettle to the higher-ups. You have so much potential, but you waste it by not applying yourself. If you want to thrive here, it's important to stand out."

You glanced down at the poster, reading.

'DO YOU LIKE VIOLENCE? OF COURSE YOU DO! LOVE OUR GREAT EMPEROR BELOS? WHO WOULDN'T! WHY SETTLE FOR JUST ONE? HOW ABOUT BOTH! JOIN THE COVEN-SCOUT PIT FIGHT AND BATTLE FOR GLORY AND RECOGNITION BY OUR ESTEEMED SOLDIERS!

The Emperor's coven is not responsible for any injuries, deaths, dismemberments, maimings, curses or loss of limbs occurring as a result of the Coven-scout Pit Fight. If you are prone to injuries, deaths, dismemberments, maimings, curses or loss of limbs, participate at your own risk.'

The principal must've seen the look on your face, because he jumped in quickly to explain.

"Think of it as... an accelerated course! A way to prove yourself without the hassle of an extra workload. Look, it's your second semester, and next year will be your last. I'm just not sure you have the time to catch up on your resume. Besides, I hear that the Golden Guard himself will be attending the event on behalf of the emperor. If you can get on his radar, he could very well put in a good word for you at the coven. Just think- you could even be a coven scout at 16!"

Hah. You thought dryly. The Golden Guard? Recommend someone for a position? I think he'd rather let a palisman bite off his ears.

But a battle? A fight? You rarely participated in those, if you could avoid it in class. Academics were your preference, though you were quite certain you'd be proficient in fighting regardless. It just... wasn't ideal.

"Principal Bump, sir, with all due respect..." you set the paper down, sliding it back to him. "This isn't really my style. And it doesn't feel like yours, either. Is this not, er, child endangerment, of some kind?" That was probably why he was being so secretive, actually. He didn't want it to get out that he was discussing something so... controversial with a student.

Bump flushed slightly with shame. "Please, don't misunderstand! We have no intention of throwing you into the viper-pit. This is a coven-sanctioned event- the proctors would never let any harm come to a student." He coughed, conveniently ignoring the disclaimer on the bottom page. "We just don't want to see your potential go to waste. You want to become a capable illusionist, yes?"

You nodded. Illusion magic was infamously the bottom rung of tracks. But that was only because most witches saw in the tangible. They thought anything that didn't do physical harm or affect the world around them was worthless. But you were in the market of the intangible, and you knew your way around people's minds. In reality, reality was just a construct of how their brains interpreted messages. Change the interpretation, change their experience, manipulate that experience for your benefit.

"If you want to get somewhere in that track, you'll need to learn from witches more skilled than we have the funding to employ." He explained. "The best place to learn would be the centerpoint of the covens- the palace. Emperor Belos has an extensive arsenal of knowledge at his disposal, and the best practitioners of every type of magic. If you have any hope of pursuing such a... dying art, you'll need his assistance. And in your current state, the best way to catch his eye is through something big. Like this."

Hm. He had a point, but plenty of illusionists did just fine on a regular track in their schools. True, illusion-magic was tragically underfunded, but it wasn't a dying art. It just needed a bit of love.

What better way to get that love than to show everyone how useful illusion magic could be? Whispered a little voice in your head. Ugh, were principal Bump's weirdly insistent thoughts rubbing off on you? You didn't want to be noticed. Attention risked discovery. Your illusions relied quite heavily on your ability to read the mind of an individual, and someone might notice eventually.

'If one of my students wins a coven-sanctioned event, we might finally get more funding from the emperor to support our multitrack program!'

Oh, way to guilt trip, principal Bump. Even if it was just in his mind. That multitrack program... Well, it was a nice idea. You weren't sure if it was actually going to succeed, considering the emperor's inclination to enforce homogeneity in his kingdom, but even a step towards changing the status quo was better than complacency in it. Maybe you wanted to live an uneventful life, but it didn't mean other witches had to be forced into boxes themselves.

...And it was only one little fight. If it meant opportunities for others, and you only had to spare a half-day and some bruises... you'd be alright with that sacrifice. It wasn't like you'd actually be inducted into the emperor's coven at 16 years old. That was practically unheard of. And maybe the emperor would let you borrow a book or two from his extensive library on illusions, and possibly even mind-reading witches. Right- if he had all the knowledge, then surely, you'd be able to find out exactly why you were so... well, weird. Perhaps glean some tips to control your abilities along the way. No harm done.

"Well... Alright." You agreed slowly. "I guess I do want to learn from the best. And it's only one fight." Of course, there was that tiny little stipulation- That you had to win. You could probably do that, but you'd have to keep your powers as hidden as possible in the process.

You puffed out your chest. "I'll give it a shot, sir, if that's what you recommend. I trust your judgment."

'Oh, thank the Titan.' Bump's internal voice murmured. 'I was so certain they'd never agree to it. Especially not in these... circumstances. Oh, I hate this. Tossing a beloved student to the wolves! I just hope they're able to-'

Wow, thank you for the vote of confidence, dear principal. That was extremely reassuring. But his inner thoughts were curious. You knew Bump harbored a certain disdain for Belos' encroachment upon his school... But it seemed he had a genuine grudge against the coven to boot. On top of that barely suppressed anger for the situation he was forced into, he was teeming with swirling, sickening guilt about losing his dignity as an educator, or some such nonsense, because he really did need that school funding, but was it worth endangering the children he swore to protect? At the same time, though, he was really doing you a favor, considering the perks of winning the contest. So, he wasn't throwing you to the wolves per se, he reasoned, he was just kind of giving you a nudge toward the wolves with shaky confidence that you'd make it back in mostly one piece, and it would help everyone, really, so it was fine, and he wasn't a bad principal at all and-

You shook yourself thoroughly. His brain was too easy to get enveloped in. Unlike some minds that actively opposed being read, his was a seemingly open book.

"Ah- very good!" Bump said hurriedly, filling in the silence. "Here, you can just keep that poster. The date and location should be listed on the back if you forget, but it's penned in for Scabuary 14th, in the colosseum." His palisman flicked its tail agreeably. "The week of, we'll have more information for you, but expect me to be your chaperone for the event. We'll call it a... field trip. Hurry along now, class will be starting soon, and I wouldn't want to make you late. I'll inform your instructors to include some supplemental practice for battles this week so you can prepare."

Suddenly, he seemed quite keen on getting rid of you. He pressed you out of the office, muttering some excuse about having an armload of paperwork to get done, and you were left standing in the hallway in a rush. Back to the door, you paused, watching the sun rise from the blown glass windows.

One little fight. Just for the good of the school- and in the pursuit of knowledge.

How bad could it be?

Chapter Text

It was hot in the Boiling Isles.

This information was probably a given considering its name, but the 'boiling' bit was supposed to refer to the water, not the air. And of course, this was the one day you actually had to be doing things that would involve you getting marginally hotter and sweatier. Those things being, naturally, battling your fellow... students? Witches? Soldiers? Actually, the poster had been wildly vague about who was included in the carnage. Regardless, the so-called Coven pit-fight was today, and your teachers had taken the opportunity to work you to the bone in preparation. Thankfully, though, your physicality wasn't your only merit in this battle.

Principal Bump placed a warm hand on your shoulder, smiling paternally.

"You'll do fabulously, I'm sure." He said, looking up to the domed roof of the building before you. The two of you were standing quietly outside the enormous doors to the colosseum, where a few witches were already beginning to enter- the distant murmur of their thoughts rising with excitement for the battle ahead.

'Haven't been here since H.E.C.K.' his mind mused, flashing with a few scattered memories of a posh female witch sitting elegantly in a Venus flytrap, and two young children performing a weird, convoluted handshake. 'Hopefully it goes a bit better this time.'

Gently, he pressed you forward, into the shade that the looming structure provided. It was mercifully, beautifully cold nearing the double doors- clearly the result of some kind of magic. Maybe a bard was cooling the air by changing the vibrations of the molecules in the stadium? It didn't seem impossible. Bards were due their fair share of credit, after all. Much like illusionists, they were terribly underappreciated.

Past the open doors lay the vast space of the arena- ringed with rows of stands that stopped about halfway along the height of the building. It wasn't completely full, but there were a considerable number of audience members. Worse, the place was crawling with coven scouts of all shapes and sizes milling about. Some looked casual as they lounged in seats and spoke with their fellow witches, but others were stationed stiffly beside the entrance to the sandy arena- and at least six had formed a tight circle around the circumference of the top stands. That was nerve wracking. You had assumed this event would be a bit more... local. Being this exposed was an unfamiliar and deeply uncomfortable situation, especially when so many thoughts were shouldering up against each other for attention.

'So cold in here...'

'She'd better win. I bet good money on-'

'No way a bard is participating!'

'If that scout gets any closer, I'm punching him-'

'Where is he? I heard he was coming to watch-'

'-even shinier in person!'

The last few thoughts caught your attention, and you closed your eyes as you tried to refocus on the source of them in the crush of mental noise. A bit of searching drew you to a cluster of similar emotions blooming like sunlight over the horizon. A throng of witches and demons in the far left of the stands seemed to be quite focused on someone in their vicinity. Most of them were thinking bright, reverent things about him, but a few, quieter voices hissed their discontent about the mystery witch.

'It's  him.  The emperor's little pet.'

'-shorter than I expected. Like he's just some kid.'

'This is the Golden Guard? Pfft. What a joke.'

'-Think you're so high and mighty.'

Oh. It was him again. You opened your eyes, adjusting to the sun pouring in from the skylight. There- just where you'd heard all those terrible and wonderful thoughts about him- sat a figure poised in white and gold. His owl mask glinted as he tilted his head, looking distantly off into the arena, his thoughts muted and bored, too enveloped by everyone else to be coherent. The only thing you were able to glean was a soft, fuzzy drowsiness settled like a veil of mist over his mentality. Like usual, he didn't particularly want to be here. Well, at least that was normal. Maybe he'd be too preoccupied with sulking to pay much attention to your performance.

"This way," Principal Bump said quietly, tearing your gaze from the guard and leading you around the outer ring of the stands, skirting above the anticipatory audience. "The contestants start elsewhere." He explained, coming up onto a small, hidden door in the wall of the colosseum. It opened at his touch, allowing the both of you into a dark, quiet passageway that hummed with distant voices. The corridor looped around into steep stairs of creaky wood, emptying you both into a small cove- where a diverse group of demons, witches and even a few scattered scouts sat, chatting idly.

At your entrance, an older female witch turned, her green, waxen hair shifting heavily on her brow- tumbling over her shoulders. When she saw principal Bump, her mind bloomed with wicked delight and... greenbrier?

"Why, how wonderful." She crowed in a sharp, posh accent, approaching the dark-haired headmaster with a boisterous laugh. "It's our little vice principal! Goodness, I haven't seen you since... Since you and your redheaded troublemaker sowed chaos in my maze. What a thrilling escapade! Do you still have your job? Fausty didn't fire you after that, did he? I was very insistent that you and your student impressed me supremely." She said proudly.

Principal Bump fumbled as the woman tossed questions at him, quite flustered by her overwhelming personality.

"Ah, head witch Terra Snapdragon-" He stuttered "How surprising to see you here. No- no, Faustus didn't fire me. Though he certainly would have, if you hadn't assisted. Your intervention was greatly appreciated."

The woman waved a dismissive hand, sauntering away to rest on a curling, creeping sundew that supported her with its red-tinted, dewy stalks. "Oh, no need to thank me. You and that young sapling had so much promise. A shame she ended up where she did..." Terra's voice lowered dangerously, even as she casually examined her nails.

'Such precociousness was wasted on wild magic. If I had trained her, she wouldn't have gone astray.' She thought a bit pointedly, thorny brambles trailing in her mind. There was some kind of deep suspicion burrowed into her consciousness that had almost no direction- it latched onto anything and everything. She didn't trust that principal Bump was entirely loyal to emperor Belos. She didn't trust these contestants to perform well, and she certainly didn't trust her lazy accompanying guards to actually do their jobs and protect her if something went awry (not that she really needed it).

"A- a true shame." Bump agreed meekly.

"Well, now." The head witch clapped impatiently, her voice rising to address the room of impatient participants in the battle ahead. "That should be our final participant. The contest is going to begin very soon. I suggest you all prepare in whatever way you see fit- Just as long as it doesn't prematurely kill any of your contenders. As delightful as that would be, it is extremely against the rules."

The crowd of witches hummed disappointedly at that, a few pairs breaking off to do some sparring. You took a moment to look around the arena's "waiting area", noting that it was quite sparsely decorated. A few training dummies were propped carelessly against the dark wood of the far wall, untouched, and several lines of metal rings lay bolted into the floor and corners. It seemed like this place wasn't really meant to hold... people.

"Right, that's my cue." Principal Bump interjected in a whisper, shuffling back to the entrance of the corridor you'd come from, his anxiety licking like flames. "Good luck! I'll be watching you from the stands!"

Reassuring. You really liked the feeling of being watched. But he had good intentions- you could sense that. You were grateful for his support and kindness nonetheless, even if it was misdirected.

'I miss when the emperor used to hold public death-fights between wild witches here. Now it's just contests and rules and an annoying lack of murder.' Terra's brain sighed wistfully in the distance. Well, that explained the choice in decor. The thought of past wild witches sitting in this dark, dismal room and awaiting their inevitable execution was a bit sickening to you. You weren't a rebel against the throne by any means- but you certainly didn't have much respect for Belos, either. He was old, stuck in his ways, and needlessly harsh with lawbreakers. His rule wasn't just, but there wasn't exactly anything you could do about that. You were just a teenager- albeit a mind-reading one. But that could really only get you so far.

You elected not to approach any of the other contestants- observing their mannerisms instead. The coven scouts you had seen earlier weren't actually participating, you realized, as they formed a loose semicircle around Terra, who seemed a bit miffed that Belos had sent so many in the first place, because she could take care of herself, really, and she wasn't that geriatric.

So that ironed out a few wrinkles. At least you wouldn't actually be facing trained soldiers. Instead, you turned your attention to the remaining individuals, gauging them and letting yourself get a little peek into their minds. There were about twenty-three in total, you estimated, and almost all of them were older than you, probably even fully grown adults. You couldn't best most of them physically one-on-one, but you didn't necessarily have to. You just needed to find an exploitable weakness.

Two contestants were chronically nervous. One was overly confident in himself. A fourth was bored and unmotivated to win because his strict parents had forced him into this contest as a punishment for getting a C on his latest abomination project. You brushed all of them off. Easy.

But there were a few genuine threats amongst the crowd. People with cagey minds, erratic mannerisms, neurotic tendencies. A thin, twitchy looking brunette male with ram horns was sharpening his blade, thoughts digging a cyclical scar into his brain.

'-Have to win. For her. Anything for her. I'm nothing if I don't win. I'll be of use-'

That was concerning. There was a slew of unrepressed desperation driving his actions, which made him deeply unpredictable. You only hoped that someone would take him out before you had to deal with him.

Then, there was the humanoid, female witch that was sparring with her apparent partner. She was wrapped up in the joyful thrills of a playful brawl, dodging and tackling with ease, but that wasn't what caught your eye. No, rather... She thought in colors.

No one brain worked exactly alike, of course. Some people saw vibrant images, some people felt their thoughts more than they verbalized, and some people even thought in songs, but it was rare to see a person think entirely in shades. The colors didn't mean nothing, though. There was an undercurrent- a thrum, if you will- that bubbled beneath each impossibly dazzling hue she conjured, and it felt something akin to emotion. A burst of pollen yellow as she successfully executed a parry was accompanied by a flicker of explosive satisfaction. Sickly green stabbed upwards when a fist connected to her side, preceding a stinging pain. Swirling violets and stormy blues intertwined as the girl paused to catch their breath, a mixture of adrenaline and anticipation rising for what was to come.

Right. You could... work with that. Even if it was unusual, at least the colors gave some indication of her mental state, so you didn't have to guess what action she might take next in the heat of battle. That was the thing about people: They were beautifully unique, often to the point of being impossible to puzzle out. It was something you'd both come to despise and admire, though you knew the annoyance was unwarranted. After all, they'd never asked you to invade their minds. Their thoughts and feelings weren't made to cater to your convenience. In every person's head, they were truly and unapologetically themselves, and it was a sight you were lucky to even behold. In the end, you couldn't blame people for how they operated fundamentally, you could only adapt to work alongside it.

"Alright, my little seedlings!" Terra called suddenly from the center of the cove, grabbing the rapt attention of all the eager, bloodthirsty contestants. The noise of battle stopped sharply as every witch and demon paused in eerie synchrony to turn their gazes to the head of the plant coven.

She grinned a flagitious grin down at your flock from her carnivorous perch, raising her arms in a fiery show of enthusiasm.

'What perfect little monsters.' she thought with glee.

"Let the battle begin!"

Chapter Text

The pit-fight, you discovered, was less of a "toss them all into the arena and see who comes out alive" and more of an "actually, we're going to give this some semblance of fairness" ordeal than you'd initially expected. The battle was structured like a tournament- which organized pairs of three participants into a bracket to fight with any resources at their disposal. Whoever came out on top got to move on to fight the two victors of the previous rounds, and so on, until eventually, the best witch was left standing. Because of the odd number of witches, there were a total of eight brackets- with the final containing only two opponents. The choice of three fighters was an intriguing deviation from the usual tournament trope of pairs, but you supposed it did serve to spice up the combat. And judging by the thoughts of most of the crowd members- they wanted a good show.

A thunderous roaring from the audience sounded just outside of the thin walls of the inner colosseum, alerting you and the only remaining contestant beside you to the delightful sounds of magical carnage. The beginning sets had already completed their first and second matches- including you. It had been easy enough to win against the fidgety feline demon, that overconfident numbskull of a construction witch, and even the twin pair of beast tamers- you hadn't even had to use your magic. Furthermore, in a stroke of delicious luck, the synesthesiac witch had been taken out a round before. That meant you were coming up on the ending battle nearly unchallenged, and then you could finally be home free.

"OH MY!" Jeered a haughty, female voice over the loudspeakers "LOOKS LIKE THIS LITTLE SAPLING IS STEALING THE SPOTLIGHT!"

Uproarious laughter from the crowd, despite the terrible one-liner. You had tried to allow yourself to slip the noises of hundreds of amped minds into the background- but their excitement proved difficult to ignore, and you were beginning to come down with a headache.

"ABSOLUTELY GLORIOUS! A QUICK VICTORY INDEED. LET'S HOPE THIS UPSTART DOESN'T RUN OUT OF STEAM TOO QUICKLY! AND ON THAT NOTE, LET US WELCOME OUR FINISHING TRIO TO THE ARENA! Would somebody please clean up that blood?-"

A sharp, painful thing prodded into your back, startling you to your feet. Whirling in preparation to tell someone off, you paused as you met face-to-face with a coven scout- probably one of Terra's personal guards- her staff pointed boredly to your shoulder.

"Come on." She said, pushing you forward. "You're next."

The grumbles behind you spoke of a similar fate from the other resting finalist as the scouts herded you out into a bottleneck barred by a looming, iron gate. A pulley mechanism clicked as a burly assistant tugged on its chains, pulling up the wrought metal in slow, tantalizing increments. The screech of metal on stone was earsplitting, but it was still better than what awaited you outside.

Once the door had risen, you found yourself being shoved forward, out of the muffled, dark sanctity of the holding chamber and into blinding, screaming lights and a ravenous downpour of chanting and clamoring from the audience. You could barely see through the beams of the skylight overhead as they slammed into your irises, turning your baby headache into a raging migraine. Blinking against the heat and adrenaline, you managed to steady yourself on your feet, determined not to look weak in front of so many people. And many they were. From what you could see in your slowly recovering eyes- and the pieces your mind-reading could fill in for you- the crowd in the stands had nearly doubled in size since your initial two fights; it must've been that people had been drawn in to the sweet music of brutality, and were just taking a peek to see how it would end. Titan, had you made a terrible mistake agreeing to this? Principal Bump had made it sound like it was just a friendly competition for a bit of recognition amongst the higher-ups, not a public humiliation ceremony! But, really, the poster had been graphically clear about the risk of maiming and other associated inconveniences. Nobody but yourself to blame.

...

'Hmmm.'

...

"-AH, HERE THEY ARE NOW!" a mirthless chuckle sounded in a booming echo that rattled you to the marrow. "THREE ENTER, ONE LEAVES. AND NOT THE TEA KIND, HAH! CONTESTANTS, TAKE YOUR POSITIONS!"

You looked behind you in a daze, spotting the flitting shapes of two equally disheveled witches standing parallel to each other. One was a willowy, serpentine demon whose slitted eyes were looking around wildly; you recognized them as one of the disproportionately anxious minds you'd briefly touched over in the holding room. They were too uncertain in themselves, and too indecisive. They'd almost certainly be easy to take on- You weren't even sure how they'd managed to come this far. Standing beside them was a scrappy looking, horned brunette swathed in royal-purple fabrics- the winner of the secondary round that had just ended. He drew a leather glove across his cheek, smudging a dark liquid from it with a flicker of disgust. Right. He was the one from the holding room with the... dangerous thoughts. Judging by the stains on the sand, that danger wasn't just in his mind. Of course, you'd get stuck with the least predictable contestant in the field- That was just your luck.

Sand kicked up into dust clouds that shrouded the arena in a heavy mist as the three of you split off into separate sides of about equal distance from each other, ringing the center of the colosseum. Silence enveloped in a spreading hush when boots finally planted into the packed ground. It felt as if the entire arena was holding its breath, caught in a stasis of inaction. You stared down your opponents, waiting.

And waiting.

And...

"WELL, DON'T JUST STAND THERE, MY DARLING SANGUIVORES, WREAK SOME HAVOC!"

The head witch broke the spell in a flash, and you pushed off of the wall as your opponents bolted forward. Eyes met, teeth snapped, minds flashed in milliseconds of calculated appraisal to determine who was the best prey.

The ramhorn brunette locked his gaze onto the coiled serpent-demon, his mind making the split-second choice on who to attack first.'Scrawny. Easy to crush!' he snarled, and in an instant, a curtain of foul, purple goo extricated itself from a vial in his belt and formed a massive fist, smashing down onto the hot sand where the demon had been with an ear-splitting boom.

You skirted the side of the fist in a sprint, avoiding the danger zone and trying to keep both opponents in your sight. A flash of green wriggled its way out from beneath the abomination fist- narrowly escaping to hide in the cloud of dust the impact had kicked up- and you took the chance to dive for it. If this witch wanted to take the lizard down first, you'd help him out a bit.

'Please, not me, not me, not me-!'

Your grasping palm connected with cold, snaking scales, and you slammed down onto the frightened biped hard enough to press the wind from their lungs. Fear rocketed through their nervous system hard enough for you to feel it in your own- nearly disarming you as they twisted in a panic to shoot a blast of roaring flame into your face that you barely dodged. You hadn't seen that coming. No good. No good at all. You needed to eliminate these distractions and step up your game before-

CRUNCH! Went a bludgeoning force into your side, tackling you to the painfully hard ground. Your skull cracked against the packed floor, but you couldn't afford to wallow in your afflictions yet. Your eyes shot open, weepy and blurry from the sand in the atmosphere around you, catching a silhouetted scene as the abomination witch (who'd evidently rammed his horns into your side) duked it out with the straining serpent- who was losing. Badly. Blood trickled from a crushed piece of their tail as the male witch held them down with a suffocating blanket of abomination goop, the substance hissing and popping like it was boiling beneath the pressure of the fiery blasts the demon was spitting out in futility.

Jackass! You couldn't help but think in the caprine's direction. I was trying to help you!

You stood in a shaky hurry, trying not to draw attention to yourself as you silently backed away, contemplating pummeling the abomination guy in the head and ending the whole ordeal. Through the dusty smog, you could make out his form- standing in a heaving mess over the prostrate, squirming demon caught in his magic. He tightened his fist, constricting the liquid until the serpent gave a heavy, shuddering wheeze and went still, the screaming emotions in their mind fading to a quiet static. Shit! You had to act now, before he gathered his bearings.

'Stupid lizard!' He winced, kicking the unconscious demon in a fit of annoyance. 'Nobody escapes me-'

At the thought, a zap shot through him- a quiet, rhythmic chiming in the back of his brain alerting him to a few loose ends he'd forgotten to tie up. The abomination witch turned slowly, wild eyes meeting yours with a burning intensity.

'Nobody.'

You'd severely underestimated him, that much was clear. Heavily, he shifted his torso to face you, sliding his fingers up into the polluted air. The movement brought forth his sloshing, viscous abomination liquid from the motionless form of the reptilian demon- the image eerily akin to maggots vacating a desiccated corpse. It followed him like an obedient pet as he trotted leisurely toward your place in the arena- where you stood frozen with indecision. You didn't want to resort to this. But the look in his eyes told you he wouldn't go down without a fight. Fine, then. Maybe it was time to show everyone what your magic could really do.

'I'm going to win.' his brain chanted like a mantra as he raised his hands, forming a vile, dripping mace that he dragged forward, kicking up clouds of sandy smog. 'I'll win, and you'll finally see me. I'll finally be worth something. I'll-"

Who? Who will see you? You tried to coax out more from his mind- though it was more an instinctive response than a helpful one. Mind-reading only went one way, after all. He couldn't hear you, and even if he could, he probably wouldn't be too keen on helping a strange witch invade his mind. You only needed one little thing to exploit... Just one...

Ah! there, just beneath the thin membrane of the here and now, laid a thread of the past. Tangling mischievously around other memories, it evaded your grasp when you reached for it, fading out of focus. You stepped back. He was too guarded, too deep in his spiral of conflicting emotions as he overlaid the present and memories. But for the briefest of moments, as his cloven hooves paused before your stiff form, there was a flash of familiarity- and then, clarity.

A white dress. A wooden staff. A broken promise. A broken heart. Jealousy. Rage. Love. Sadness.

'Are you watching? This is for you, you know.  Everything  is for you.'

He raised the mace high above his head, closing his eyes.

Pale skin lit by a warm light. A soft laugh. A freckled face. Golden eyes. Fleeting, shared glances. Longing. Dark hair trailing through rough palms.

It would be enough. You let your magic run free, feeding your concentration into the fuzzy idea of a shape beyond you and allowing it to take form.

"Stop!"

Footsteps. He froze, eyes slamming open at the sound of the familiar voice.

"What are you doing, Atticus?"

A bolt of utter, crippling fear ricocheted in the horned witch's bones. Suddenly, the mace he'd created shuddered- melted in his shaking hands, sloughing onto the sands below. Trembling, his gaze rose.

Behind you stood a woman. She was tall and graceful, with ochre skin and warm eyes, and she seemed to radiate light as she took an elegant step forward, her face etched with concern. Her features weren't perfect, you noted with a grimace, but it was a rush job. You only had so many memories to work with. You just hoped your opponent would be too dazed to notice.

"S-Seraphine." Atticus croaked, mortified. He took a shaky step back.

"I don't understand." Seraphine said, looking around in a panic. "Who is this? Why are you holding a..."

She turned to you with convincing worry, hand cupped over her mouth in horror.

"You wouldn't- you weren't going to hurt them, right, Atticus? They're just a child."

Atticus went taut, as if he'd been struck. The logical part of his mind was screaming that he was being tricked- he had to be, but a deeper part of him wanted to believe it was her. He hadn't seen her in so long. How could anyone know about her? A random witchlet certainly couldn't. He'd kept this part of him tucked so safely away.

"No! No-" Atticus interjected in a rush. "Of course not, Seraphine! I would never! I was just, ah, trying to- To win. For you!"

"For me?" Her eyes lowered. "I don't want this. You know I've never condoned harming witches. Much less students!"

"Harm? Nononono, I don't want to harm anyone! I-in fact, I'm doing this to help everyone! If I impress the emperor and become a coven scout, then I can be a part of something wonderful! Just like you always talked about!" He explained in near hysterics.

Hm. That was a tricky one. Nothing in his memories indicated that she had a strong opinion about the emperor's coven. You'd have to skirt around it to avoid saying something untrue to Seraphine's character.

"This... isn't the way to do good. I didn't think this was who you were, Attie... We've only been apart for a few years, and this is what you've come to?"

A little bit melodramatic, but it did the job. Telenovela writers everywhere would be proud.

By now, the crowd was beginning to murmur in confusion. "Why doesn't he fight? Who's the girl? Is this some strange new type of spell?" Illusion magic was no unusual occurrence- but didn't most people conjure images of fierce monsters and snarling foes?

Well, usually that would be the case. But you weren't any illusionist. After all, you had the ability to capitalize on people's darkest thoughts- andThis witch's inner fear just happened to be a bit unusual; It all hinged on this one woman. It was a shame his fear wasn't snorses or jesters or something a bit less specific- because it made what you were doing all the more conspicuous, and you weren't looking forward to the whole world knowing your invasive little secret this early. But it was too late to dwell on that. Win first, consider consequences later.

"Please, I only did it to impress you! I swear. I can fix it! I- I can-" He gripped his horns as if to steady himself, warring with his thoughts.

'No, no- not this again. Don't say it. Please don't say it. I'm good! I'm trying to do right by you! Isn't this the best thing for all of us? Why are you looking at me with that face? I hate it when you make that face- I-'

"You can't fix it." Seraphine wavered slightly. You were losing your grasp on her image- it was getting difficult to tug on ever-resisting, blurry memories and keep up such a complex spell at the same time. Time to wrap this up.

"Not this time, Atticus. I..."

'No, no, no, no-'

"I'm so disappointed in you."

A flash of wretched terror and guilt struck the horned witch like a bolt of electricity, giving you a tiny window of time. Swift as the wind, you dropped the illusion and swung your leg to catch his exposed hock, punting him to the ground in a crumple. His mind registered the deception a millisecond after, writhing with fury and thoughts of retaliation as he tried to clamber to his feet. You snatched his hoof to catch him before he could right himself- slamming the abomination-wielder back into his place on the sandy floor. He struggled as you pressed your knee to his chest and grabbed ahold of his horns, his head jerking up as he tried to thrust them into your sternum, but you held on tight. Roughly, you forced his head upwards from behind, using his curved horns like handles as you calculated the force of your finishing blow...

...Then smashed his skull into the ground with a sickening thud. 

Chapter Text

He wasn't dead- you'd made quite sure of that. You could hear the telltale curtain of unconsciousness drape itself over his mind, shrouding him in a quiet nothingness that was probably a mercy for the addled witch. He would be concussed, no doubt, but it was preferable to the alternative of being dead.

You slowly relaxed your grip on his horns, coming to a shaky stand as the adrenaline of battle wore off. The sun glared into your eyes like a spotlight, sending flecks of golden ambrosia across your vision that cast a filter on the world around you. For a moment, everything was deathly still.

...And then the crowd erupted into roars of exhilaration.

You let out a tiny sigh of relief as the audience members rioted, evidently too wrapped up in their own carnage to question your little illusion stunt. Their minds teemed with the thrill of battle- as if they were inserting themselves into your place and getting high off the secondhand smoke. You didn't feel very high at the moment. Mostly, your head just hurt.

"WHAT A SPLENDID FINAL ACT!" Trilled Terra over the loudspeakers. Her voice drifted, preceding a weird 'poof' noise that echoed suddenly in the stadium. You swiveled around just in time to see the head witch wrench herself from the very ground below your feet in a flurry of rose petals.

Despite her advanced age, the woman seemed to be getting around just fine. There was no hesitation in her step as she approached you with a malevolently pleased smile, her eyes glinting.

"Congratulations, my little flytrap. You've crushed those insects gloriously!"

She took your hand and pressed it between both of hers, her skin as cold as ice and as smooth as a waxen leaf. It seemed like a matronly gesture, but in practice it felt stiff and fake. With a flourish, she raised your arm into the air, demonstrating a strength that surprised even you as she addressed the audience.

"WELL, DON'T JUST SIT THERE LIKE LAZY WEEDS! SAY HELLO TO YOUR CHAMPION!"

Another boisterous upwelling from the stadium- a menagerie of unintelligible screams and hollers mixing into an ebbing, singular entity. You tried to appear proud as you stood a bit taller, hoping you gave off a 'capable gladiator' look and not an 'exhausted and sweaty teenager' look.

A spray of colorful confetti that really did not match the gritty mood of the colosseum tumbled down from the rafters, drifting down leisurely to land on the shifting sands that were only just beginning to cover the mysterious dark stains on the floor. You caught a drifting piece from the sky, examining the scrap with interest. Sliding your thumb across the surface of the confetti, you were met with a smooth, velvety skin. Flower petals. Made sense. Terra was a little too into her magic.

'Hmph.' Her mind mused. 'A prodigious student from Hexside- accompanied by Fausty's little project, winning a competition I'm heading? Seems awfully familiar.'

An image of a grey-haired woman in red fizzled briefly into the forefront of Terra's thoughts, then vanished.

'Perhaps we should keep a closer eye on this one.' she mused. 'Can't let another promising witch go to waste.'

Go to waste? What did she mean? Who was before you? You tried to burrow deeper, but her thoughts swiveled in an instant, sweeping the crowd for someone. Her eyes narrowed.

'I know you're watching.' She thought, so pointedly you almost panicked, believing she could sense your presence in her mind. Instead of turning to you, however, the vines of her thoughts tangled up around a distant presence in the far left row.

'How about it, then? Are you finally ready to share the spotlight?'

A wry chuckle fluttered off, drowning slowly beneath a sea of other subjects that required her attention more. Apparently, that was all she had to say about that matter. She lowered your hand, smiling in a way that she thought was welcoming, but actually only served to perturb you more.

"Come on then, sapling. Let us discuss your... reward. As promised."

You followed her nearly perfect gait as she perambulated across the length of the sandy arena, gesturing boredly to a coven scout stationed beside the entrance.

"Pick up the unconscious ones, would you? Get them some... apple blood, or something." She said vaguely. The scout saluted, calling another soldier over to assist him in removing them

Terra paused in front of the iron gate, snapping her fingers. Ropes of thick vines wound their way around the base of the door and hauled it upwards, allowing the two of you back inside the holding room. It was mercifully dark and quiet now- empty of the milling contestants it had housed before. Immediately, you felt your headache beginning to soothe.

"Wait here just a moment, my dear." Terra said smoothly, rounding the flight of steps out into the stands.

"I've got someone you need to meet."

You didn't bother digging into her thoughts for more. It was unpleasant in her mind- but not in the way Kikimora's had been. No, the head witch's brain was not directly bitter or malevolent. Rather, everything inside of it was coated with nauseating sweetness, like someone who always wore too much perfume, or spoke a bit too kindly to be genuine. Like below all her geniality, there was something rotting deep within.

You settled your back against the far wall of the room- too high-strung to allow yourself to sit. For some reason, you got the distinct impression that resting around these particular types of witches would be like rolling over in front of a pack of wolves and exposing your jugular.

After a few minutes, you caught the distant signal of twin minds above you, coming down the staircase at an easy pace. One of them was obviously Terra, but the second mind was bristly and guarded, and quite predisposed to irritability. You remembered that brain.

'-Some witch wins a contest and now I've got to deal with it. I could have taken all 23 of them at the same time, with my eyes closed. But... if this is what he wants..."

Ah. So your paths crossed again. You dusted your pants off, trying to look presentable as the aged head of the plant coven descended the steps- with a shining, elegant Golden Guard in tow. His thoughts sparked up when he saw you, a little ember of recognition burning in his subconscious.

'Waaaait a moment...'

"Allow me to introduce the two of you." Terra said sweetly, gesturing a hand towards the taller witch. "Champion, this is the Golden Guard. Belos' right ha-"

"We've met." The Golden Guard filled in brusquely, pressing past the head witch with a flourish of his cape. He moved like water- quick and smooth- and before you could even blink, he was in front of you, examining you appraisingly.

Terra fumbled, clearly quite caught off-guard. You could sense that she wasn't used to being interrupted, but something about his position in the coven rank made her bite back any remark she wanted to make.

"Oh. How... convenient." She said, her jaw ticking.

"Yes," The soldier agreed vaguely, obviously not interested in her theatrics. He reached out with a gloved hand and gripped your chin, tugging your face forward to better size you up. You nearly jerked back, but his presence felt like being caught in headlights, and you couldn't manage to wrench your gaze from the endless eyes of his owl-like mask.

'I remember you now.' He thought with interest. 'The Hexside student with the staring problem. Hah. Maybe that decrepit school isn't as useless as we thought it was.'

Decrepit? A bit harsh. The school was old, certainly, but it had its own... musty charm.

"Hexside student." He explained curtly, releasing your chin roughly and returning to stand near the coven head- just a step in front of her. He'd only done it to piss her off and remind her who was really in charge. It worked.

"Kikimora happened to be touring a class on my... off day. Just a few months ago." the masked boy said.

Terra nodded along, trying to appear balanced and powerful despite her obvious subordinate status to the Golden Guard. "Ah, it must be a sign from the Titan himself." she said.

Sign? A sign of what? Her mind gave little away, so you finally summoned the courage to speak, clearing your throat. You didn't think you were cowardly by any means, but you also weren't stupid. These were two highly trained fighters who could knock you flat before you could say "coven". The Golden Guard's mind had already puzzled out at least three ways to quickly immobilize you if you tried anything, and he was contemplating a fourth.

So meekness it was.

"Uh- I'm sorry, but, what is the sign, exactly?" Surely it wasn't just the great honor of meeting the Golden Guard. He was fine and all, but prize money and exposure seemed a lot more appealing than a moment in his golden glory, and such.

Terra Snapdragon laughed a posh, haughty laugh, waving her hand as if you'd just said something absolutely hilarious and she had to catch her breath. Easily, she called forth a frond of waxen peace lily to muscle up through the cement floor of the holding cell, lounging back against it carelessly.

"That you're to join the emperor's coven, of course." 

Chapter Text

The words almost didn't process. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. It was supposed to be one easy fight for a mote of attention from the emperor, in hopes of just a little funding for multitracks in Hexside, and maybe a bit to find out why you could do what you did.

Apparently, though, higher forces had different plans.

The Golden Guard shifted uncomfortably on his feet, metal staff scraping the hard floor below his boots. His mind muttered something about standards, and picking strays out of the street as Terra gazed at you expectantly. You fumbled for a reaction, settling on the first gesture of gratitude and mollifying respect you could produce. Your patella hit the ground in a slight kneel- though you kept your head up to address her.

"Ma'am, I... I deeply appreciate the offer, but... I have no training. I'm still a student. I'm not sure I'd be right for your cause." That, and you weren't totally on board with the whole 'helping a maybe-kinda tyrant' thing.

'That's what I'm saying.' an ornery Golden Guard lamented quietly to himself.

"Oh, that." Terra examined her nails dismissively. "Not to worry, sapling, you'll be adequately trained and compensated. The position we're looking to fill is a bit... unique. You won't be held to quite the same standards as the scouts." She leaned forwards.

"And besides, your performance in that battle told me more than enough about your resourcefulness and capabilities. I have no doubt that you would thrive and bloom with us, dear."

Unique position? You hadn't considered there being many other options for 'positions' in the emperor's coven. Barring the scout ranks, the only outliers were coven heads and... him.

"I... Thank you, head witch Terra Snapdragon. I'm honored." You muttered, coming back up to your full height. Your knee ached from the harsh texture of the concrete it had been pressed into. "What does this 'unique position' involve, if I may ask?"

'So polite. I like this one.' The plant-witch thought approvingly, refreshed by the dose of respect. You really didn't intend to be a suckup. It was just the first thing that came to mind in a situation as convoluted as this one. Obedience kept you hidden and unremarkable. You needed some of that under the watchful eyes of two powerful and authoritative witches.

"Not very much, really." She soothed, honey dripping from her voice. "You just need to keep an eye on one itty bitty thing..."

That didn't sound so bad. You could protect an artifact, or something. It wasn't like objects could just grow legs and walk away.

"Oh, that's all? What would I be tasked to guard?"

The head witch tilted her head, flicking a bony finger to her right, where the tall, still form of the Golden Guard stood in perfect symmetry.

"Him."

The male beside her stiffened suddenly, his mind erupting into furious indignation.

'What?' He thought dangerously, hysterically.

'Guard me? She must be joking. I am the guard. Belos appointed me. I was raised for this- I trained my entire life to serve the Titan, and now some street vermin just comes by and gets recruited just like that?'

"Terra," He said quietly. "We didn't discuss this."

"I'm afraid it wasn't up for discussion, little prince." she sneered. "I'm under direct orders from emperor Belos himself."

Fear, betrayal, confusion, hurt. A constricting shackle of emotions wrapped around the glittering soldier like a viper, sinking their fangs into his overactive imagination.

'Uncle Belos did this? Why? Is this punishment for something? I can do better! Just not this- anything but this!'

Your brain caught on the word 'uncle.' Wait, he was related to the emperor? It did explain his elevated position at such an age. He never gave a specific number, but the tone of his thoughts did seem to indicate just the tiniest hint of boyishness.

A hissing exhale from the eyeholes of his mask as he tried to compose himself.

"I... see."

You elected to speak up again. "Head witch, Terra, ma'am, I don't believe I understand you correctly. He's the Golden Guard. Why would he need me to watch over him?"

'EXACTLY.' His mind agreed enthusiastically.

Terra paused to think, her eyes catching distractedly on the wall behind you. The peace lily below her shifted like it was shivering in the nonexistent breeze. Then, she straightened and flashed an unnerving smile.

"-Well, as I'm sure you know, the day of unity is coming up quickly." She lilted. "And our sweet little Golden Guard is integral to Belos' plan. Normally, we would trust him completely to protect himself. But the emperor can't take any chances, what with the wild witches getting so aggressive lately. He wants his top guard to be in peak condition for his part in all of this."

'Need to keep watch on this one. Getting too curious for his own good, just like the last. Better to have someone close at all times.' Her mind finished.

Oh, you understood it now. You wouldn't be a protector, you would be a spy. That changed things. Was the Golden Guard more rebellious than you'd previously suspected? His brain didn't seem to indicate a particular dissatisfaction in the way things were. He beamed with loyalty and pride for the emperor and his intentions, but there was a tiny snag- just a few pieces of him were beginning to question his uncle's methods. Well, that didn't mean much about his potential for betrayal. People had complaints about small things all the time, it didn't mean they were going to turn on their cause over a few minute grievances. So, then, why the suspicion?

...And why did Terra know about it? She was a lower rank than the Golden Guard, you gathered. It didn't make sense for her to be doing Belos' dirty work behind the back of his right-hand man. If you were Belos, you wouldn't have trusted anyone with the information that your closest constituent might've been straying a bit too far from the path- and the emperor was probably more paranoid than you were!

"Oh, that.... Makes sense." You tried slowly, reminding yourself to remain grounded in the present and not accidentally blurt out a response to one of their thoughts. You often had trouble juggling two completely different topics in your head without misconstruing them- as anyone would. "We wouldn't want the day of unity to be hindered by anything, of course."

You couldn't navigate around it- any hesitation you expressed was quickly shot down, and how exactly were you meant to deny the Emperor?

But then again... Maybe you didn't have to. As much as such a glittering role dissuaded you, the idea of having a near endless access to knowledge was promising. You could improve your illusion magic, just like Bump had said. And... Maybe there were even texts somewhere about mind-readers. You could finally understand where exactly your powers had come from. Even if it upended your life in the process, you'd actually have some answers.

But then arose another question- why search for recruits at a random competition like this? Surely they had much more loyal scouts to spare and allocate for the Golden Guard's 'protection'- or rather, surveillance. You were about to ask, but you bit your tongue. Too many questions at once. Terra was already having her patience stretched thin by the young man before her.

'I practically fight wild witches for fun. I don't need a babysitter.' The boy grumbled, not pleased by the head witch making his decisions for him. As a second-in-command, he was unaccustomed to the feeling of being ordered around. He wasn't loving it.

He cleared his throat. No use arguing with Terra- she wouldn't yield to him. He'd have to go straight to the top- his uncle, the emperor- if he wanted answers. Surely, he reasoned, this was some mistake.

"Of course." He agreed smoothly, pleasantly. "How... Thoughtful of the emperor. I'll be sure to thank him the next time we convene."

"See to it that you do." Terra replied, taking a bit of joy in annoying him further. She kept her eyes trained on you, completely disregarding any say you might've had left in the conversation and running with the notion that you'd agreed to accept the role. "Now, come along, sprout. We've got much to discuss."

She slid elegantly down the waxen surface of the peace lily leaf she'd been sitting on, landing with a clack on the hard concrete of the floor. The leaf curled in on itself, wilting as she sauntered forward towards the outer passage that led back to the stands. You tried to speak up, to protest even an ounce, but she was already gone by the time you managed to find the words.

The Golden Guard tarried a moment, watching you with an emotionless mask, his thoughts circling.

'I don't see how Belos could agree to this. We don't even know if this student is loyal. What if they infiltrate our coven? What if this whole thing is one big scheme by a group of wild witches?'

He smoothed himself over, breathing in deeply. 'No. If it is, it's no matter. I'll prove to my uncle that I'm more than capable of being alone.'

And with that thought lingering in his mind, he turned in a sweep of white fabric and climbed the steps behind Terra, leaving you to follow in their dust. 

Chapter Text

"Emperor Belos, please, I'll fix it. Whatever I did wrong- I swear by my own title that I'll fix it. Hit me again! Break my arm! Anything but this." Hunter wheezed, falling into a shaky bow at his emperor's feet. Sickly blue eyes gazed down at him like a taxidermied corpse, pinning him to the floor through eye holes as black as night. Hunter choked back a breath as he awaited the usual, stinging slap of reprimanding, or the cold silence of Belos' disapproval.

But it never came.

A genial, fatherly hand came to rest carefully on his shoulder.

"Hunter," came his uncle's gentle, accented voice. "You needn't grovel. I can assure you, the instatement of your escort is not a punishment."

The young guard took the kindly gesture as an indication to slowly stand, drawing himself to his full height on trembling legs. He didn't meet the emperor's gaze as he spoke.

"Forgive me, uncle. I- I don't mean to question your methods. But... I don't understand. Why now? And why like this? We're in no shortage of scouts. Anyone could accompany me- Anyone more trustworthy. And besides, I don't want a bodyguard."

Hunter knew the moment he let the words slip that it was a mistake. Belos' fingers tightened on his shoulder, and he bit back a hiss of pain. Under the stare of the most powerful witch in the isles, the Golden Guard felt like hiding behind his cape and never coming out again.

"Now, now." Belos chided softly. "Becalm yourself, nephew. There is a perfectly good explanation for all of this."

He removed his hand- much to the relief of Hunter's aching shoulder- turning to face a mechanical monstrosity of wires, makeshift parts, warped wooden planks, and in the centre- a hideous slitted eye. The vesicle was open so wide it was unsettling, and not once did it blink as Belos approached the door frame it was attached to. Despite having seen it so many times before, in various states of disrepair, Hunter still couldn't bring himself to look at it for too long. It was... creepy.

Belos placed his hand on the doorframe like it was a particularly charming pet. "I know that you aren't in any need of a bodyguard. The title is... for appearances. The people need a show of strength- of numbers. This close to the day of unity, we can't have any concerns about the security of our coven. As for the occurrence of induction, the event I had you attend was a sort of... experiment. Do you remember the program I discussed several months ago with the coven heads? About testing young witches as a benchmark to determine their skills?"

Hunter vaguely recalled something like that. He'd heard Darius mumbling once about the recruitment process being a bit too rigorous, and how they were losing scouts faster than they could replace them, which he'd found a bit ridiculous. There was nothing rigorous or lengthy about being placed on top of a mountain and being forced to descend with nothing but the clothes on your back- It was a classic!

"Yes."

"Well, consider that contest the first draft. A process of elimination to weed out the best of the best. I'd like to more closely observe the most promising witches on the isles. That way, we can begin to... nurture their abilities early. We don't want a repeat of the Owl Lady incident, do we?" He turned to his nephew once more.

"Oh," Hunter said meekly, suddenly embarrassed by his outburst. "No."

"Good." The emperor cooed. "Then you understand why I have elected to assign this apprentice to you, don't you? It is integral that the coven maintain its standard of recruiting only the most capable of witches into its ranks, and that they be trained as early as possible. I expect you to teach this inductee everything you know- And ensure that they are not led astray in the way Lilith's... sister was. Hm?"

Hunter swallowed heavily, a bit mollified. "Absolutely. That makes sense."

Belos hummed, giving the distinct impression that he was smiling below his mask. "Of course it does. Everything we do is part of a greater plan, Hunter. I'm only the messenger of the Titan's will. Remember that, the next time you have any doubts about my methods."

The guard dipped his head reverently. "Yes, Uncle Belos. It was- foolish of me. To question you. It won't happen again."

The looming emperor began nodding in approval- but a shudder enveloped his frame in an instant, and he suddenly doubled over in a violent fit of hacking that seemed to reach deep into his lungs. His frame wracked with the effort; A black, viscous slime sloughed from the eyeholes of his mask, dripping onto the stone floor with an ominous hiss. The smell of rot stung the air, acrid and nauseating. The royal snarled to himself, clutching his palm to the mask to staunch the flow.

Hunter reached out in concern, but his hand was slapped harshly away.

"Leave me," Belos spat, turning his back on the soldier and supporting himself against the nearest wall.

Hunter wavered a moment between helping his uncle and obeying, but his ingrained training won over. He bowed with a flourish of his cape, resettling his heavy mask onto his scarred face.

"Of course, lord Belos."

And so the Golden Guard left his sickly kin, his emotions on near lockdown. If he felt, it would only be loyalty to his emperor. To the Titan. He couldn't hesitate anymore. There wasn't room for mistakes or complaints- even if he harbored some resentment for his new protegee.

He would accept his duties, and he would train this 'recruit' as his uncle wished. He would keep up appearances- be strong and teach his escort to be strong too. It all culminated in this one, final spell.

It would all work out. How could it not? His uncle had never failed. Neither would he.

Chapter Text

Your move into the castle had been a blur. Terra had arranged almost everything, telling you not to bother with packing any furniture or items that wouldn't fit into a suitcase. Clothes wouldn't be necessary either- you were to be provided with a tailored uniform. Luxuries were to be sparse, if at all, and absolutely no palismen were permitted on the grounds. That had been a bit of a slap to the face- though it wasn't like the information was surprising. Most witches knew that the emperor's coven was strict about items made indirectly from wild magic, but you hadn't even thought to consider it when you'd agreed to the position. So there went your palisman, who you'd entrusted to the care of your flustered parents. Terra assured you that they'd be amply compensated for the absence of their only child, and not to worry, but that really didn't assuage you from missing them, or them from missing you. You promised to call every week.

Before you could even process all the sudden changes, you were fully settled in. The castle was a strange place to live. It was militant and always felt eerily empty and quiet, despite how many scouts you knew walked the grounds at any given moment. Perhaps it was the size of the structure that gave it the liminal aspect it had; the hallways were endless and high reaching, with a thin width that gave the impression that they were about to close in on you. The few people you did see went by in a hurry, and never once looked directly at you, as if you were a specter haunting their hallowed halls. Gold and silver slowly became the only colors you felt you'd ever see again.

You'd been stationed in a spartan room on the second level of the palace, which appeared to be more intended for residentials. A twin bed with a thin mattress and two griffin-feather pillows sat quietly in the far corner beside a yellowed glass window, which cast a warm light onto a nearby desk of carved wood. It seemed like someone had tried to make it look cozy, but it really only served to perpetuate the monochromatic fatigue you'd accrued throughout your stay.

The first few days were long and uneventful. You'd attempted to find your way to the library, or at least some archival installment- but you were hopelessly lost amongst the homogeneity of the halls, and there wasn't exactly anyone around to ask for directions. A part of you began to wonder if the coven had forgotten about you in all their hustle and bustle, but on the fourth day of nothingness, an important-looking masked individual approached you in the halls as you were admiring a tapestry.

"Pardon my interruption." They said curtly in a voice you couldn't discern the gender of. They raised their hand in a stiff salute. "Chief Warrant Hadley, sir. Your presence has been requested by the emperor with haste."

Oh, that was the other thing. Anyone who'd spoken to you in the last few days had referred to you solely as 'sir'. You must've been assigned some sort of rank, you surmised, but nobody had informed you of exactly where in the ranks you were. Judging by the salute, though, you were probably decently elevated in the hierarchy already.

"Oh," You replied, suddenly nervous. You'd only ever seen the emperor from afar, and even then, the man was intimidating. Tall, lithe, hidden from head to toe. You didn't know what to expect in meeting him face-to-face. "Uh- Thank you. Where is he?"

'Thank you?' their mind questioned, evidently confused by the kindness, but they breezed forward. "The throne room, sir. Would you like me to take you there? I understand you've only recently joined us." The chief offered politely.

"That won't be necessary. I... already know." You replied offhandedly, recalling your first trip here, so many months ago. Despite the passage of time, you still recalled the route as vividly as if it were only yesterday.

The chief nodded and stood there for a long moment, watching you intently. You cleared your throat, waiting for them to say something more, since their silence seemed to imply an unfinished message. They tilted their head at you slightly, their pockmarked mask somehow inquisitive.

Right. You were their superior now. "You can go," you said, the authoritative tone uncomfortable and unfamiliar on your tongue. "Thank you, again." You added, more gently.

"Certainly, sir." They righted themselves into another salute, boots clicking away heavily upon the smooth-worn stone floor, leaving you to yourself once more.

The air was crisp and cold as you sucked in a deep breath, steeling your nerves. The walls around you suddenly felt as though they were watching your every move- an extension of the emperor's reach and will. The golden accents of the windows crawled into your mind, brushing frozen fingers along your brain. Was this how others felt when you entered their heads? If it was, you resolved to never do it again.

Despite the discomfort the near-sentience of the castle brought you, the knowledge that Belos might be growing impatient was enough of a motivator to move your legs forward, down the scarlet carpet of the main hall, past the elegant sconces of eternal flame that would forever light these passageways until the walls around them crumbled to dust. You stopped before the looming, dark-stained doors of wood, placing your hand to the grain. It seemed to shift like a cat's tongue beneath your touch, urging you onward as you tugged the metal handle. The doors groaned, a clunk echoing from somewhere within their structure as they swung open in a wide arc, providing entrance into the dimly lit expanse of the throne room.

It was different now, without a group of students around you. Your instincts flared up like that of a herd animal, screaming that entering alone was wrong, but you pressed on through the darksome expanse and into the flame-lit circle that seemed to surround the golden throne of the emperor.

There he sat, silhouetted in brimstone, his mask glinting with tongues of fire as he stared, motionless, tracking your approach. Beside him, poised and glowing, was his golden right-hand.

You dropped into a bow, placing yourself low to the floor.

"Lord Belos," you said softly, afraid to disturb the stillness of the room, like it might awaken in an instant. "You summoned me?"

"Yes," came the whispering, hissing tones of his voice. It sounded like a thousand other souls were speaking through him at once, layered over one another as if trapped in an echo chamber. "I did."

His countenance was frightening, but what was all the more terrifying was the fact that his mind was utterly, completely silent. You could glean neither emotion nor thought from behind the guise of his bronze, horned mask. Only nothingness reached back when you tried to probe deeper, the emptiness reaching lukewarm tendrils outwards to blur out your own thoughts, as if nothing existed within him at all- as if he was a puppet to a higher power.

You swallowed heavily, your throat dry. Nobody had ever managed to block you out before. You hadn't thought it was possible to exist in such a purgatory of the consciousness.

A soft, mild rustling of fabric as the emperor tilted his head, gesturing a long, thin finger to the statuesque guard standing beside him like a carved slab of stone.

"Hunter," the royal lulled "You are dismissed."

Hesitation, tension from the mind of the young guard. The use of his name was so casual, so aloof you almost didn't register that it was the Golden Guard's. Hunter. It felt appropriate, somehow. It felt like a name Belos would bestow to the scourge of his enemies- A hellhound trained for his bidding. A boy conditioned from birth to track, dominate and kill.

His dithering wasn't taken kindly. A soft, warning tapping of fingertips upon the edge of the golden throne reverberated across the vastness of the chamber, causing Hunter to stiffen. His hesitation was quickly disregarded for fear as he lifted his staff slightly from the floor and slipped from his place at his lord's side, vanishing with swiftness into a small, hidden door on the far left wall. It closed with a muted click, leaving you to the mercy of Emperor Belos. Leaving you in the absence of any usual mental clutter.

"I gather that Terra has informed you of your intended position in this coven, correct?" Belos said smoothly, a hypnotizing tone of confidence and ease in his words.

"Yes. I know my role."

He seemed pleased. "Excellent. There's just one thing she neglected to mention. Rather, something I prefer to impart to you myself. Understand that this information is not to be made known. Especially to your... charge."

You didn't understand his motives for telling you any vital information this early on, when it was impossible to test your loyalty- and his mind was as nonplussed and unforgiving as ever, providing you no explanation.

"Of course."

A pause. His fingertips picked up their drumming, a rhythmic pattern upon the solid material of his throne.

"Alongside accompanying and training with the Golden Guard at all times, you are expected to ensure he maintains a certain level of decorum in his duties. I would expect nothing less from my trusted protegee, but you can think of it as a... precaution. Any unsavory behavior or verbalization of such should be reported directly to me." He tilted his head, prompting a reply.

You stiffened, your position on the hard stone floor becoming a pain in your knees. "I understand."

His gaze pinned you to the ground, and you shrunk further under the intensity. "Make no mistake," Belos continued, lower. "This is not an expression of trust. As a new recruit, quid pro quo, you will be required to prove your loyalty to the Titan and this coven, just like any other. I will make certain of that. Should you fail to do so, you will not be exempt from receiving the highest caliber of appropriate punishment. Is that clear?"

You nodded. So, then, you'd also be training under the Golden Guard. Terra hadn't mentioned that- probably so it wouldn't dissuade you from accepting the role. He was rather notorious in the coven, you'd learned, for being an unforgiving and supremely disliked soldier. From the thoughts of a few passing underlings, it had become obvious that most in the lower ranks believed he didn't deserve his position, and that his relation to the emperor was the only thing keeping him in power. Both you and Belos knew that his nephew didn't need protection. The title felt like a shiny label slapped onto your unique task to avoid public confusion.

The pieces were beginning to come together as it pertained to your impromptu hiring. Win a contest to prove your strength, appear to have a loyalty or minimum respect for the emperor, be willing to join the coven, be trained under the one person who was closest to the top. Now it was clear; He wanted to snatch you up before anyone else could. He was afraid to risk powerful young witches being drawn to his opposition, so he was keeping them in his sight and under his wing, so that nobody could control them but him. Clever. Manipulative. You didn't always need mind-reading to discern someone's intentions, after all.

"Good. You will start tomorrow, as Hunter will be attending to a mission I have assigned him. Be prepared to depart from the castle entrance at sunrise. Do not keep him waiting."

Belos waved his hand as if warding away an irritating gnat around his mask. "That is all. You may take your leave."

You dipped your head, then slowly rose from your bow, legs aching. You stepped away, hand clasped to your chest as if ensuring you didn't turn your back on a vicious ambush predator. Letting the emperor out of your sight felt intrinsically wrong, but you forced yourself to shift your weight, training your gaze to the cracked doors of the throne room and slowly, cautiously slipping out.

As your shoes breached the tile of the grand hallway, you braced your back against the door, trying to catch the breath that was stolen from your lungs. You were so distracted by your fearful tension that you didn't even notice the scout beside you until he spoke.

"First meeting with the emperor, huh?" Came a scratchy chuckle, muffled behind the eternally frozen avian guise of the soldiers.

You turned sharply, nearly jumping out of your skin as his voice startled you from your musing. You came face-to-face with a cloaked figure, and were about to panic, but something stopped you. The dude looked weirdly casual for a scout. He held a bag of Hex-Mix in his gloved hands, and was gnawing leisurely on it from below his mask as he spoke.

"Uh- yeeaah." You intoned, relaxing slowly and readjusting your uniform. He didn't seem very threatening. It was probably okay to talk to him.

"Yeah. Happens to the best of us. You get used to the general spookiness after a while." he yawned, then seemed to remember himself. "Oh, sorry. Kinda ambushed ya there. I'm Steve." He extended a hand- thankfully one that was not covered in Hex-Mix crumbs. You took it awkwardly. There was absolutely no malice in his brain- In fact, you actually didn't think he was even capable of malice. His thoughts were about as menacing as a baby sloth's.

"I'm-" You began, but he cut you off.

"The Golden Guard's new ball and chain? Yeah, I know. Everyone's talking about it. You've got him mad, dude." he said, as if it was the most hilarious thing in the world that you'd managed to piss off one of the most authoritative witches in the isles, who could probably vaporize you if he felt even the slightest bit inclined to.

"Mad...?" You edged nervously.

"Yuuuup. Like, spitting mad. A few of his platoon were talking about it in the break room the other day. Apparently, he's been extra tough on them this week, which is pretty hard to be. What did you do to him? Insult his creepy mask, or something?" Steve joked.

Oh, that was wonderful news. The man you'd be stuck with for the next presumable eternity was out to get you. It wasn't really surprising, accounting for his disposition, but it was certainly disheartening.

"I've literally never spoken directly to him. I'm afraid he hates me on principle." You explained. Steve nodded in understanding.

"Ahhhh. That guy loves his principles. Don't worry, he won't antagonize you directly." 'Probably' "He'll just... give you the silent treatment for a few months. Maybe a year. Nothin' crazy- Especially if Belos instated you himself, like the rumors say."

Rumors? You'd been here four days, and you already had rumors going around? News sure traveled fast in the emperor's coven. You just hoped you wouldn't have to live up to any of their surely unrealistic expectations about your performance.

"Uh- yeah, he did, actually." You confirmed, feeling sheepish despite yourself.

Steve tilted his head owlishly. "Wow. I owe Jacob a couple snails. Didn't think Belos handpicked anyone anymore. He usually leaves recruitment to the coven heads or principals."

"Well, I mean, I guess Terra recruited me- technically." You explained hurriedly. "It's kind of a confusing story. They really had me run the gauntlet."

"They usually do." Steve said warmly.

He seemed to say everything he thought, in more or less words. It was refreshing to meet someone with such unabashed candor when you were accustomed to people's quiet nitpicks about you in mid-conversation. This Steve fellow was an alright guy.

"Welp, gotta get to my patrol." Steve whistled, raising his hand. "Else Darius'll have my horns. I'll probably catch you around soon. Seeya, ball and chain- good luck with babysitting duty." He said affably, making a half-circle around you to saunter his way down the far corridor. 

His cheerful tune slowly grew quieter as he turned a corner, his white hood the last thing to go behind the wall that obstructed your view of wherever it led. It was only when the fuzz of his mind faded that you realized you'd forgotten to give him your name. 

Chapter Text

The next morning dawned like any other, the sun paying no mind to your distress about the events of the day and rising anyway. You hadn't slept a wink- you were too scared you'd miss your alarm and be chastised on your first official day on the job- so you'd just laid in your bed and watched the ceiling, spinning yourself deep into the nearby dreams of others and their whispering minds.

And then a pink-and-orange dawn was breaking out over the horizon, coloring the clouds with painted hues. Though you wanted to stop and appreciate the view from your new window, your first priority was meeting up with the Golden Guard. Or- Hunter? What did you call him, now that you knew his name? You'd have to ask.

So, you swiftly donned your uniform, which consisted of a skintight black shirt and pants, armor-like vest, and a cloak to cover your form. Once you'd deemed the arrangement presentable, you pushed open the heavy wooden door of your room, stepping out onto-

Something metal?

You looked down in surprise at the ground, removing your foot with a clatter and kneeling to the object you'd unintentionally trampled. It was a mask. A simple sheet of hammered bronze that vaguely resembled those of the coven scouts, but with an elongated beak and sharper eyes. Sort of... Ravenish.

You supposed this had been placed outside the door for you. Gently, you raised the straps and hooked them around your pointed ears, letting the mask settle into place over the bridge of your nose. It was a little heavy, and a lot cold, but you didn't bother to dwell on your complaints. It was almost certain that you'd have to wear this mask as long as you were in the public eye- just like he did.

The reminder of the Golden Guard kicked you into high gear. It was already sunrise; you didn't have time to waste on admiring your new clothing. Knowing the masked soldier, he'd probably leave without you if you were even a heartbeat late. You hastily descended the ornate, carpeted stairs, nearly tripping on your cape as you went. How does anyone get around like this? You thought in a grumble, finally alighting upon the ground floor with more of a thump than you'd expected to make.

Light was pouring in from the high-vaulted ceilings of the entryway, reflecting in little shards of color as the stained-glass murals upon the walls glittered. It was the only respite you ever seemed to get from the constant golds and silvers of the castle, so you'd spent more time looking at the stories they told than you might normally. Today, though, you couldn't slow down to admire their meticulous shaping. There would be other days. You continued briskly down the length of the main hall, passing old sigils and glyphs on the way to the entrance- which consisted of two heavy, wooden doors hinged with dense iron. You placed a palm against the grain and pushed them firmly. They swung open with a burst of warm air and a hearty groan, leading you into the near-blinding brightness of the warm dawn. You blinked, getting accustomed to the outdoors after four days cooped up with nothing to do but wander the endless, chilly castle halls.

Your appreciation didn't last long, however, as your gaze fell to the elegant form of a cloaked figure standing quietly against the sunrise, gazing intently at the eyeholes of your mask, his arms crossed.

You watched each other for a long moment in tense silence, your hand perched motionlessly on the open door, waiting for one of you to make a move.

"Sir, I-"

"You're late." He barked, the first words he'd ever actually directed at you. How uplifting.

You opened your mouth to argue that actually, you were not late, and that Belos had only specified sunrise, but he turned his back on you in an instant, his cape smacking you squarely in the face- sending a rush of his scent upwards. Metallic, woodsy, male in a musky way. Not unpleasant, but you would have preferred it under better circumstances.

"Uh- sorry."

You weren't even given time to recover before he was off, marching briskly from the entrance steps of the castle with his staff in hand, muttering tired, annoyed things in his brain about the punctuality of newbies.

'Slowing me down already. Of course. I expected nothing less from a recruit. Scared some kid off with illusion magic and now they're a hero? It's laughable.'

He stamped past the guards at the gate who attempted to greet him, ignoring their nervous waves. You waved back in his stead, feeling a little bad for the coven scouts who were only trying to stay on his good side. They gave each other helpless glances, pulling a small mechanism beside their stations that extended a long, concrete drawbridge over the spiny pit that surrounded the palace like a moat. The bridge spit the both of you off the island and onto a dismal, shrubby mainland forest that looked severely overharvested. The Golden Guard continued into the woods for several silent minutes, and just as you'd begun to wonder if he was planning on walking the entire way to wherever this mission was, he came to a dead halt in front of you- causing you to promptly slam into his back.

The guard grunted in annoyance at the impact, swirling to shoot you an acrimonious look from behind his mask that you obviously couldn't see as he unrolled something from his belt. He raised the item to his chest, allowing you a glance over his shoulder. It was a piece of parchment- supported by two beams of wood on either end. When he smoothed the paper, grasping the top and bottom with his hands, a warm light glowed gently from the surface, spreading out in a spiderweb across the page. Annoyance wormed briefly through him as you so obviously tried to take a look, but he forced it down beneath a shroud of professionalism.

'Focus on the mission.' He reminded himself in a mental voice that briefly sounded like emperor Belos.

The map twitched under his touch. Curling fingertips of luminescence crawled up in nearly organic patterns, tracing curves and roads outward until they'd reached the edge of the paper, then shuddered, flickering dimly, and went dark. In the place of the lights lay bleeding patterns of black ink that branched off one another, making shapes that almost looked like... mountains?

You refocused your vision to take in the full parchment, realizing that your initial assumption had been correct. Crisscrossing arcs of lines made up the looming shapes of distant mountains and trees, bisected by winding roads and little towns that culminated in a small, dark dot. A map.

Hunte- the Golden Guard raised the map appraisingly, tracing a gloved finger across one of the paths as if following it to its destination. Evidently satisfied with whatever he saw, he rerolled the scroll and tucked it away into his cloak, tugging his staff higher so that the ruby gem at the tip brushed the sky. An electric red pulsed from the conduit as he raised it, sending bolts of white-hot magic down the golden handle of the staff, slowly enveloping his hand in an aura of scarlet.

"Grab my arm." He said curtly. You hesitated, wondering if he was planning to incinerate you with his magic or something.

"Sometime this year, please." The soldier said from between his teeth, startling you into reaching for his forearm. You grasped firmly, curling your fingertips around the fabric of his undershirt and squeezing hard enough to feel the shape of his brachioradialis below. Huh. Scrawnier than you'd expected.

Once the Golden Guard felt that you'd grabbed ahold of him, he let the sparking magic spread outward from his hand, sweeping out to settle over the two of you like a blanket. You'd expected a shock- maybe pain, but the sensation was more... tingly? Sort of warm. Fuzzy. Not so bad.

Then, in a blip, the two of you dematerialized, and the world seemed to turn upside down in a dizzying rush of movement. Colors burst across your vision, as if in a vibrant Timelapse, melding and mixing until they finally settled, and you got the strangest feeling that you weren't in the same place you were before- and you couldn't get a feel for what was up or down any longer.

Suddenly, something solid slammed into your feet, unbalancing you and sending a jolt through your knees all the way up into your brain. The fuzzy feeling and swirling colors faded, leaving you with a stabbing headache and a nasty bout of motion sickness in its place.

'Hah. Must be baby's first teleportation.' Your accomplice thought with amusement, not bothering to help you remain steady. You managed to gather most of your bearings without his assistance, taking back enough sentience to observe your surroundings. It was dazzlingly bright all around you- like the ground itself was made of sparkling gems that refracted the sunlight above right into your retinas. That, and it was bitterly, terribly cold. You shivered, curling your cloak around yourself, suddenly grateful for the clunky fabric. You'd be fine tripping over your own feet if it meant you wouldn't have to freeze to death.

Cold, bright, white. You knew where you were now. There was only one place that was quite this severe- even in the midst of the Boiling Isles' sweltering summer.

The Knee.

Your eyes adjusted slowly, the sparkling whiteness of the ground coming into focus enough to discern what it was. Fluffy mounds of everlasting snow coated every surface, falling softly from a dark, cloudy sky. Before you stood the Golden Guard, surveying the land from atop the mountain he'd teleported you to like it was his kingdom. He produced the map again, shaking out his shoulders to dislodge some of the white flakes that had begun to collect on his cloak.

'Hm.'

Well, Steve had been right. He was certainly giving you the silent treatment- or, at least, the utmost extent of silence he could possibly manage to display without leaving you behind. But something was nagging at him- a bit of discomfort that contrasted with his desire to remain stoic and aloof. He'd promised his uncle he'd train you. His ignoring you wasn't exactly conducive to that. But his mysterious and angry persona!

'Be decent, Hunter.' A small voice of logic chided him.

"Alright, scout." He sighed in that airy voice he used when he was trying to sound unbothered. "Our mission is very simple. It should be impossible to mess up, even for you."

A bit presumptuous of him to assume you were prone to mess-ups. After all, he'd never seen you in action on a real mission before. You very well could have been extremely capable.

...But compared to him, you probably weren't.

"Alright," you braced yourself against the nearest tree, then jumped back with a slight hiss. The bark was frozen solid.

The young man in front of you ignored the slip-up, returning his masked gaze to the map in his hands.

"Just... follow my lead." He said, deftly hopping down the slope of the snowpile he'd been standing on and landing gracefully a few feet below, beginning a purposeful trot due north.

So much for him explaining anything about the mission. It wasn't like you really needed him to- what with his mind being so completely unguarded, if not a bit icy- but you might've appreciated a bit more effort from him. You hopped down from the snowpile with a much less dignified landing, scrambling up to follow behind the trail of his cape. There wasn't much else to do in the silence, so you allowed yourself to slip into his thoughts to fill the time.

'-Must be underground. Or in some kind of cave.' He mused in a fragment as you grabbed onto a train of thought that had already been running. 'Glacial formations aren't common on the surface. Especially not the ancient ones. Let's see... The Hecktaceous Period. Lots of volcanic activity then. So it's probably smart to start in the Patellar Cave System, since it aligns nicely with the location Uncle Belos marked.'

Oh, so he was a capable and intelligent soldier? If only his attitude was more agreeable- you might have actually taken a liking to him.

You were searching for an ancient glacial formation, if you'd read him correctly. That was an intriguing direction. What use could the emperor have for a slab of ice? Then again, perhaps the use was not the ice itself- but what was inside of it. It wasn't uncommon to find relics of a distant past encased in a frozen coffin. Such preservations of history could very well be a valuable asset to have.

Boots crunched softly in the still winterscape, serving as an almost soothing background to your trek down the mountainside. The Golden Guard let out a doggish huff as he maneuvered down a particularly steep slope, doing more acrobatics to navigate than was really necessary. You slid down beside him, watching intently. He almost appeared to be taking the scenic route.

"Why not teleport us closer?" You blurted as he dusted himself off. It had come out much ruder than you'd intended it to, but it was too late to retract now. The soldier looked up distractedly, as if he hadn't expected you to actually speak to him. For a moment, he stared expressionlessly at your mask.

"...I can't." He answered, his mind strangely quiet and vulnerable. 

"Can't?"

Hesitation, for the briefest of moments.

"My staff draws on the power of the Titan. It can only hold so much energy." He explained, simmering with something like shame. "Bigger spells require more magic, which drains it faster. If I'd tried to teleport us closer, it wouldn't have worked. Or... the spell would have gone awry."

He shook himself suddenly, as if remembering he was supposed to be stoic and angry with you.

"But that information is irrelevant to the mission."

Flightiness and avoidance muddled his emotions, like he was pouring cement over anything that tried to creep up to the surface of his thoughts. There was an underlying mantra of poised, perfect, presentable that seemed to be wearing a canyon into the ridges of his mind. Plenty of people were insecure and nervous about the way the world perceived them, but his insecurity felt different. It felt like it was being tamped down- like he wasn't even comfortable in his own brain. Did some small part of him sense that you were listening in? Or was this anxiety simply too deeply ingrained?

...And why couldn't he use his own magic alongside his staff? Why did he need to draw from the Titan itself? Was he weaker than you'd expected? Or was it only to bolster his abilities? Something about his behavior told you that would be a touchy subject. Best not to pry for now.

"And what is our mission exactly- uh, sir?" You tried, uncertain if the honorific was appropriate. Nothing in his mind seemed to be perturbed by it, so you decided it was probably fine to address him with the title.

'Did they tell this scout anything?' He touched his head briefly. 'Not used to this. Needing to explain stuff all the time. Can't see how it's good for my productivity.' 

"Emperor Belos has ordered that I uncover the body of a stonesleeper he believes to be cryofrozen somewhere in this area." the young guard finally divulged.

A frozen stonesleeper? Weren't those creatures ancient? And extinct? That must've been why he was reviewing his knowledge on the hecktaceous period earlier. How interesting. You'd seen a few petrified remains of the beast in various museums, but never a complete fossil, since stonesleeper apparently had the ability to encase themselves in a shell of rock (if the textbooks were accurate). Because of that unusual adaptation, most of their bodies had crumbled away from erosion centuries ago, leaving little but their bones behind. A completely preserved specimen would be valuable indeed.

"Ah, I see." You said, attempting to purvey a sense of confidence and capability. He'd probably be more agreeable if you played the part of dutiful escort than hierarchical equal.

"Good. Then I imagine you'll have no further questions for me, correct?" He asked tersely, crossing his arms over his plated chest.

Right, still sticking with the cold shoulder. You did a half-bow. "Certainly, sir."

He seemed pleased with that as he swiftly moved ahead, trudging through the ever-thickening sheets of snow that were collecting upon the ground. It was no longer painfully bright outside, which could be attributed to the looming collection of dark clouds that were beginning to collect in the distant silhouette of the Ankle. It promised a storm, and a powerful one. For once, the severe conditions on the peak of the knee were advantageous to be caught in. Though the rain of the isles was as boiling as the surrounding sea, the snow was a merciful respite from the burns that plagued most woefully unprepared travelers. This was a rare opportunity to witness the unforgiving whims of nature up close and not risk oneself in the process.

The Golden Guard, however, did not seem to be awed by the roiling mass of furious clouds on the horizon, or the scent of scalding petrichor in the air. He took silent note of the low-pressure system that was brewing, but elected to press forward, deciding that the threat of a blizzard was not perilous enough to curb his progress. It wasn't that he had a one-track mind, exactly, because that was far from the case. Only that, once he'd been assigned a task, it was like a spotlight shone down onto that task until he'd completed it, and anything that didn't further its completion was secondary. He really did play the part of the perfect soldier. Though his motivation seemed less like obligation and more like... fear. 

Chapter Text

The journey across the knee was slower than it needed to be, due in part to the amassing of several more inches of snow on the cliffsides and ground. Normally, this would've been less of an inconvenience, but you were traveling downhill in search of an entrance to a system of underground caves, and the runoff from the slopes was proving an exceptional obstacle. Twice now you had taken an unfortunate tumble into a snowbank, and twice the Golden Guard had exerted an enormous amount of effort into not mocking you for it.

But the effort had its reward. Pausing by a windswept mountainside, the soft, worn leather of the Golden Guard's gloves brushed across the harsh surface- dotted in jagged niches and points.

'It should be here.' He thought, a flicker of confusion and uncertainty clouding him like the drifts of snow overhead. 'Did I take a wrong turn?'

"Sir?" you asked into the stillness, the wind nearly stealing your voice from his ears.

He didn't turn to face you as he drew a fingertip downwards, as if searching for a give in the rock. He was revisiting an old route in his mind- a place he'd discovered on one of his first missions unsupervised. The entrance to the Patellar cave system. He had been so certain it was here. But, then, where was it?

"Step back, scout." He said suddenly, moving a foot backward himself to look up at the steep face of the orogeny above. You did as he said, trying to discern his intentions as he palmed the handle of his staff. There were moments with him where you couldn't seem to predict what the guard was going to do next. Times when his thoughts fuzzed out- as if he were running on pure instinct alone and couldn't tell what he was planning either.

The ruby gem cresting his staff shone, its facets catching flecks of light that seemed to come from nowhere, with the sun so completely hidden. Slowly, he knelt, lowering the golden weapon to the ground. After a moment, lazy tendrils of steam began to curl up from the snow, but the curve of his back blocked your view of what exactly he was doing. A loud, angry hissing and crackling picked up a heartbeat later, enveloping the young soldier's form in a plume of vapor. It was then that he rose, holding his staff out like a dowsing rod to the banks of frozen rain as he casually waved the smoke from his mask.

With your view unobstructed, his intentions became clear. The snow beneath his staff was slowly curling in on itself, melting away from the tip of the conduit like scared prey from its pursuer. Helpless to the advances of his magically produced heat, the ice was dutifully clearing from the base of the jutting mountain, and below the melting drift appeared the dark edge of a cavern that was beginning to expand as the entrance came into view.

'There you are.' The Golden Guard thought, pleased with his own innovation. A crackle of warm, scarlet energy bolted up his arms, increasing the warmth his staff projected. The burst of magic seemed enough to melt a patch of snow around the mouth large enough to allow two teenage-sized people to squeeze in- which, thankfully, you were.

When he was satisfied with the width of the revealed cavern, he lifted his staff back against his side, then settled on his back to slip his legs and waist through the cave entrance. With a slight huff, he jumped down into whatever awaited below, landing out of your sight with a hard thump.

You tarried a moment, eying the spot where he'd been. You didn't know how far the drop down was, and you weren't certain your legs were quite as reliable as his were at not collapsing under the impact of a long drop.

"I'm not dead," came a bored voice from within the dark expanse of nothingness, echoing out into the whipping wind.

Very reassuring. You took that as an indication to follow in his footsteps, lowering yourself to the ground, the rock scraping at your mask slightly as you wormed your way through the freezing grotto. Releasing the lip of ledge you'd been hanging onto for support, you landed with a twin thump on solid stone. Behind you, the yawning mouth of the cave lay buried beneath a grave of ice, the new blizzard already beginning to fill the entrance.

And before you, there was an endless stretch of blackness, pierced only by the dim and weakening light of the makeshift entrance the Golden Guard had melted. You raised your pointer into the air, tracing a small, glowing circle that penetrated the ink around you. It materialized gently into a compact orb that came to rest in the palm of your hand, warm and a bit tingly. You raised it, letting the light spell wash over the walls and chase away the tendrils of shadows which clawed at every niche in the encasing tomb.

Reflected against that light was the half-turned mask of the Golden Guard, who appeared to be staring into the tunnel ahead. You didn't know how he could discern any detail here, but he seemed to be deep in thought. He swiveled when he noticed your light, turning to catch your gaze- or at least the general direction of it- from beneath the slats in his mask. You swore you could see a quirk of expressiveness in it, even though it was illogical. Perhaps his body language was giving you the impression of emotion, instead.

Wordlessly, he turned away once more, sweeping through a looping passage ahead with his hand pressed firmly to the left wall. His cape had the effect of making him appear bigger than he really was; it encompassed the hallways ahead, fluttering with his locomotion and seeming to take up the entire space in front of you. You followed behind it, watching the plain grey of the caverns fizzle in and out of view before your eyes. It was considerably warmer within the primary system than it was in the biting outdoors, but you didn't get much time to enjoy the temperature as the two of you found your way into deeper coves. The milquetoast balance of coziness was shortly interjected by a burst of cold air- originating from a cranial bottleneck vaguely illuminated in the formation of the walls ahead.

Feeling the draft, the guard shifted, grasping at the textured stone for a moment until his hand pushed through a small gap that vertically bisected the partition to your right. He conjured a quick memory of the map emperor Belos had given him to aid in finding his prize, referencing the juxtaposition of himself to the new discovery. A little burst of triumph bloomed in his mind as he felt around the hollow space behind it, then removed his fist.

'Well, well, looks like the Titan has blessed us with a shortcut.'

He tapped his staff once, lightly to the floor, sending a spider web of cracks dragging through the rock. Something shifted below the disturbed chunks of stone, shoving its way up into the open air and revealing a sliver of a dark-green stalk. The little plant righted itself, shivering upwards until it twined a thin stem into a visible fault-line, slowly rending the wall apart with its pressure. As the eroded foundation crumbled, a few sturdier sprigs of vines grew up from the exposed dirt, propping themselves underneath the frail formation to keep it from collapsing. Innovative. You wondered if he'd learned that from Terra. Did he even get to speak to the coven heads? If he did, he didn't think about them much.

When the vines had cleaved the crack open enough, the emperor's right-hand began to squeeze through it with you in tow, shoving aside stray rubble with his staff. The gale from beyond the wall picked up, sending a stinging chill winnowing into the holes of your mask. Titan, why did every coven member have to wear metal?

You slowly emerged on the other end of the broken bottleneck, the draft clearing into a stagnant stillness, rising to meet the bitterly cold air that lay beyond. Your eyes met with the darkness of the newly uncovered cavern before you, and you raised your light spell into the twilight to illuminate your surroundings. The cave was vastly more expansive than the cramped and ever-winding inlets you'd scoped your way into thus far; the ceiling alone must've been at least 60 feet high, and the width even more than that. The mammoth cathedral bristled with icy-blue stalagmites that were host to patches of stubborn lichens butting in from every crevice, wrestling their hardy neighbors for space- and as you craned your neck, you saw that the eastern part of the structure vanished behind a curve in the walls, leading even deeper into the unwelcoming frost below. Most striking of all, though, was the formation of countless, glassy projections in the rock, which glittered and warped in blue and white and black as you shifted to study them. Glaciers. Then, you must've been close to your destination.

The complicated young man beside you elected to grace you with acknowledgement once more.

"This'll go a lot quicker with two pairs of eyes. I suggest we split up to search for the stonesleeper."

You nodded slightly, taking an echoing step forward and onto the slippery ground below, which was frozen over by a constant drip of moisture from the tips of several stalactites overhead. Peering into the nearest icy catacomb, you were met with only a daunting, malformed image of the rock beyond it; like looking into a cracked mirror.

"Oh, and scout," He added, tone light as a feather. "If you find it, you call for me. You do not touch, understand?"

"Ah- yes, Golden Guard, sir."

A pithy nod was your reply, the sound of his boots against the sheets of permafrost below you were the only noise to break the near-maddening repetition of water dripping, dripping, dripping, dripping onto the floor and reverberating across the spectral graveyard. Everything was deeply, uncomfortably motionless, like time had simply... stopped here, suspended in an era before eras, and your presence was the first disturbance of this ancient place in many centuries. The looming glacial formations above and around you commanded a sort of wizened respect, warped facets shining in a near approximation of amusement, as if they were charmed by the two tiny witches who'd ventured so daringly into their foregone haven in search of meaningless and trivial things- to please a meaningless and trivial ruler. Your organic softness, your fickle survival couldn't transcend the ages they'd seen, the dynasties that had come and gone in the blink of an eye; only they could pause the progression of rot in your silly, living body.

It was, admittedly, rather intimidating to feel so many patient gazes as you cautiously slipped through the hallowed cavern, peering into every chunk of ice that passed by. No grinning faces stared back at you. No prehistoric creatures bared their fangs from behind the mirror of water. All was empty, all was silent. You ventured further to the eastern side of the cavern, rounding the wide curves of the worn walls until you met an incline that dipped lower into the belly of the beastly cave system. Hesitating at the gaping descent, you contemplated calling for your golden accomplice over to investigate.

...No. He was already annoyed enough with you. You didn't intend to make it worse by bothering him with updates on what you were doing at any given moment. You'd just take a small peek to ensure there wasn't anything interesting below, and then you could get on with the mission. No harm done.

The wide mouth of the offshoot stretched onward conically as you entered, narrowing with your cautious progression until you had to duck slightly to avoid scraping your head on the frostbitten ceiling. The claustrophobia of being in such a winding tunnel was beginning to affect you, and just as you started to consider that this was probably a dead end and you should turn back, a glimmering fleck of electric blue shifted across the ice, catching your attention. Light that wasn't from your spell? This far underground? How was that possible?

But the sight spurred you onward. Perhaps the light indicated an end to the tunnel you were traveling- or a ravine from the surface that opened aboveground. Maybe it was even conjured by some ancient, buried magic. There was only one way to find out. One very illogical and potentially dangerous way- but you weren't some helpless infant. And if anything went wrong, the Golden Guard was nearby to assist you. You sort of hated that you were eased by that.

So, you squeezed forward, electing to drop into a half-crawl to save yourself some space in the cramped shaft. The jagged edges of the ice below your stomach scraped roughly against the padded armor of your uniform- and you once again found yourself appreciating the versatility of the garb, even if it was wildly uncomfortable.

After a few moments, while exiting the crest of the most restrictive bend, the mouth of the tunnel suddenly widened, spitting you out in a rather unceremonious and very sore heap onto something solid and smooth. The cold of it sent a shock through you, and you jumped up in a start, soothing your numb cheek with one hand. You weren't able to linger on your affliction long, however, as movement caught your eye. In your periphery, pale light was beginning to whorl and dance across the walls, scampering playfully before fading just out of reach at your fingertips. Brows furrowed, you traced the wobbly diamonds they made, trying to discern the source. Perhaps a skylight?

You looked up slowly.

No, not a skylight. Above you shone a dazzling expanse of stars, twinkling in misty blues and soft ceruleans. Stars? No- that couldn't be right. It was surely still daytime outside, and stars didn't produce luminescence quite this potent. You peered closer, focusing in on the distant collection of lights. Not stars, you realized, but creatures. Long, sluggish things that clung to the hanging stalactites of the cave and cast everything in an otherworldly, fantastical shroud. They seemed to be secreting some kind of tacky slime which moved like cold honey, falling in trembling threads to the blooming rink of ice below.

Not verglas, or compacted permafrost, but a true, genuine, frozen-over lake. The glow produced by the odd, larval creatures overhead caught the surface of the waters that lapped below the cocooned body, sending strange, oceanic reflections glancing off the walls. These were the source of the lights that had led you here. Not magic. Living things. The first ones you'd encountered since your adventure into the caves. You extinguished your light spell slowly to take it all in. This had to be a good sign.

And it surely was. Because as you lifted your gaze from the captivating pool of colors at your knees, you realized that the lake wasn't the only thing catching the light.

There, mere feet across from you- suspended in a glacial grave, lay the body of the stonesleeper.

Chapter Text

Your first instinct was to investigate. Your second was to call the Golden Guard over, considering you’d been instructed to do so. Sticking your nose where it didn't belong was tempting, but you hadn’t gotten this far by being stupid and reckless- so, as usual, you took the route that would end in the least trouble for you. Whirling, you shouted back into the cavern.

“Sir!”

The tunnel you’d entered from echoed your call. Referring to the soldier as ‘sir’ did admittedly feel a little wrong- but his title was such a mouthful, and you didn’t intend to disrespect the guy on your first day. 

“I’ve found the stonesleeper!”

Silence. Not even the prickly brush of his mind to alert you of his general position in the caverns. Would you have to crawl out of the tunnel once again? Now that you’d found it, you were almost hesitant to let the petrified stonesleeper out of your sight, as if it might vanish into thin air the moment you looked away. Frustrated, you called again.

“Golden Guard!”

Once more, no reply. You growled in annoyance. These caves were absurdly acoustic- how could he not hear you? The emperor’s right-hand man really needed to invest in some audiometry. You stepped forward to crouch beside the entrance tunnel, peeking your head through the hole and into the chilly air. At least the passageway wasn’t too long. You squeezed back into it, trying to get close enough to hear the glimmer of his mind. About halfway through the tunnel, you called a final time.

“Hunter!”

A flicker sparked to life in the muddled distance, recognition and familiarity. It was him. The Golden Guard was just out of reach of discernment, so you could only catch an ebb of emotion that gradually moved forward, like he was pausing in uncertainty to make sure he wasn’t losing his mind. His hesitation didn’t last long, though. The clatter of ice against boots reverberated over the chambers as he hurried across the cavern, nearing the tunnel entrance. Confusion, wariness. The focus of his thoughts narrowed, allowing you a few scattered glimpses of words.

‘Where-?’

“In the tunnel!” You interjected, forgetting for a moment that you weren’t supposed to respond to his thoughts. Oh, well. You hoped it would be believable enough to pass as you having simply sensed his indecision- if he asked. For now, there were more important things to worry about. A scuffling, scraping noise above you indicated that he’d found the small offshoot from the main cave to your location and was venturing inside. Reassured that he was coming, you retracted yourself, shifting backwards until your foot planted onto a patch of slippery ice- extricating from the cramped space hurriedly to return your attention to the ossified stonesleeper. It was right where you’d left it, quiet and peaceful in an unending, cold slumber. You let out a slight sigh of relief, though you weren't sure why.

The frozen creature was an odd mishmash of beastly features. It had fanned, batlike ears that topped a bulky reptilian body- bristling with large spines and an impressive avian beak. At the right angle, it almost looked like a boulder with a few unfortunate, icy growths encasing it. You stepped closer, skirting around the frozen pool until you were standing just in front of the glittering body. Through the warping facets of the glacier, you could make out cobbled cracks in the creature’s exterior. Then, it wasn’t a trick of the dim lighting. The stonesleeper was actually made of stone. You weren’t sure why that was surprising- it was a pretty well-known fact about prehistoric demonology. Only that, well… The Golden Guard had said it was preserved in ice. As if the ice was the only thing keeping the body from rotting. As if the specimen was in exactly the state it would’ve been in if it were alive. Did the stonesleeper being in stone form affect the freezing process, you wondered? Was it the petrification or the temperature that was keeping it untouched? Both? You extended a finger in interest, nearly brushing your skin across the swathes of glassy crystal for a clearer view, when-

“...I thought I told you not to touch it.” Came a smooth, commandeering voice from behind you.

You jumped at the sudden interruption, curling in your hand with the barely repressed guilt of a dog who’d been caught gnawing on the couch. There, just in front of the tunnel’s entrance, glittering in the haunted light of the glowworms above, stood a snowy Golden Guard. He inclined his head subtly, taking in the frozen piece of history you’d nearly disturbed.

“Sir- Uh, I wasn’t- I just wanted a closer look.”

He chuckled in a tone that was impossible to discern, moving forward in a confident stride and pausing just behind you. 

“Of course you did.”

Despite the seemingly constant aura of smugness his voice exuded, you could sense that he was actually quite pleased. You’d found the stonesleeper much quicker than he could have on his own, so he wasn’t really up to yelling at you for insubordination, since you’d been so helpful. The soldier brushed past you, hand to the edge of his mask like he was holding his chin in consideration. His good mood apparently made him more amiable to idle chatter, because he decided to speak once again.

“Well, that was quick. I’m surprised you were able to sniff it out, scout.”

It seemed almost like praise, even if it was backhanded. You’d take his weird, avoidant approval anyhow. After another moment of silent observation, the soldier clapped his gloved hands together in a startling way, sending a muffled thump thrumming across the cavern.

“Right. Let’s get this thing melted.”

The statement was so absurd you almost thought he was joking. But there was a certain tinge of self-satisfaction that coated his brain when he was being humorous, and it wasn’t present now.

“Sir…? You want to melt it?”

“That is what I said.” He agreed, sweeping his staff forwards, the ruby-tipped crest humming faintly with energy.

His mind glanced over any explanation you tried to glean. You’d have to ask the old-fashioned way. “Won’t that compromise the specimen?”

He gave you an incredulous sideways look amidst the charging of his staff, like you were the one being unreasonable.

“I don’t give a griffin’s feather what happens to the specimen.” He deadpanned. The guard paused to take in your body language, then laughed a high, mocking laugh, clutching his chest.

“Do you think we're here to bring this thing back to a museum, or something?”

His giggling fit was so uncontrollable that it shook his arm, sending his staff rattling in the air. Bolts of dangerous-looking magic roiled furiously outwards from the movement.

“Sort of! Why else would you need a preserved body?” You asked, a bit defensively, forgetting to keep up your serious-guard-voice around him.

“Pfffft. Yeah, no. Not this time, scout. Emperor Belos has requested that I bring him the lungs of the beast in perfect condition.” A shrug. “After that, it doesn’t matter.”

Oh, dear. You had severely misunderstood the intent of this trip. You’d come all this way to find an ancient and immaculately frozen stonesleeper- only to harvest its organs? It was a little barbaric. And a waste of an extremely rare aspect of history. For someone so interested in knowledge, the Golden Guard didn’t seem very conflicted about desecrating this creature. Then again, the urge to follow his emperor’s orders seemed to win over everything, every time.

“I… see. Apologies for the confusion- Nobody briefed me on that specific aspect of the mission.” Actually, nobody briefed me at all.

‘Hahah! Okay, I misjudged this recruit. They’re hilarious.’ He thought with the malicious glee that came from having the upper hand on his new ‘escort.’

“Consider this your briefing.” 

The young prince drew a quick circle in the air and tapped it once, casually with the tip of his staff. The focal point erupted into a burst of roaring flame, torching the glacier he directed it to with snarling tendrils that licked along every crevice. A furious hiss tore from the ice, sending up a flume of steam that was surely too hot to stand in. But he seemed unbothered by the heat, planted firmly in front of his staff, moving it as easily as though he was taking a blow-dryer to damp hair.

You hesitated for a moment as you watched him essentially flame grill a piece of a lost decade- but finally elected to assist him. The glacier was already melting, pooling in a bubbling puddle on the floor and soaking the Golden Guard’s boots. He would uncover the thing whether or not you helped him do it; best not to get on his bad side by dithering about the morality of pillaging a long-dead corpse.

You moved beside him and drew a twin circle into the air, letting your billow of fire magic support his, shifting your target along the posterior of the ice to ensure it was thawing evenly. As the first layer of frost thinned, the two of you lowered the intensity of the fire you leveled at the surface, ensuring you didn’t completely engulf the rocky form of the stonesleeper within once it was fully revealed.

Finally, a chunk of watery ice sloughed off the side of the larger glacier, exposing a scaly, curved back riddled with cartilaginous spines. You focused your fire more intently on the spidery cracks that were beginning to puncture through the cold tomb, managing to dislodge another sizable hunk. When most of the dorsal region had been defrosted, the Golden Guard dissolved his spell circle to save some magic, wedging the hilt of his staff into a larger crevasse in the ice. With some leverage, he cracked away the remaining pieces of ice that were serving as your obstacle to the stone below. You paused, gazing down at the still form of the ossified beast. It looked unfairly unaware of what was happening around it, poised in the carefree expression of an easy nap.

“Now, scout, help me lift this thing out. We can’t reach the lungs if it's lying on its stomach.” He said haughtily, kneeling beside the fossil and hooking his gloves around it.

Yeah, he was strong, but he wasn’t that strong. You decided to save him the embarrassment of failing to single handedly lift a prehistoric monster seven times his size, calling up a spell circle to reach deep below the permafrost.

In the frozen earth, a few tiny seedlings lay dormant. They would do. You focused your magic through their pods, sending a riot of spiny dogwood stalks bursting from beneath the frozen ground, easily wrenching the rest of the stonesleeper from the remaining clingy ice and into the air. Startled, the Golden Guard jumped back, planting his feet tersely on the ground a few steps behind you. He quickly righted himself when he realized it was your magic, a little mollified, attempting to pretend he hadn’t been surprised. Funny, how the moment he was out of control, he didn’t know what to do with himself other than fight tooth and nail to get that control back.

You lowered the limbs of the dogwood slowly, setting the delicate fossil down on its side against the floor with a muffled scrape. It lay suspended in a sort of feline position, tail to its beak, its scaly head resting quietly upon its hooved appendages, displaying its stomach like a content dog. The beast almost looked peaceful- unbothered by the centuries passing around its preserved form. A shame you were so distastefully disturbing that hard-earned tranquility.

A shuffling beside you alerted you that your companion had recovered from his little episode.

“Ahem, that- is also sufficient.” The Golden Guard coughed, stepping briskly back into place just an inch in front of you. He placed a hand on his staff, fingers drumming the hilt rhythmically, as if deciding the best way to go about chiseling into straight rock without damaging the valuables inside. It would be annoying to get the lungs this way, but he reasoned that they didn't have many options aside from mining into the thoracic cavity. With that, he lazily raised his staff into the sky and conjured an ornate, gold-plated pickaxe that seemed to grow outward in filaments from the air- like it was being made of… organic matter.

Evidently, he was going for the tried-and-true method of ‘hit it really hard and hope that does something’- which you could respect, though it did seem somewhat barbaric for a grandiose member of the Emperor’s Coven like himself. Palming the handle, the young guard wound up a test swing, bringing the sharp point of the pickaxe down onto a small portion of the tail to determine its efficacy.

The blade bounced off the beast’s flesh so vehemently that the Golden Guard narrowly avoided a walloping smack to the mask. He managed to duck out of the way, but the ricochet of the collision sent his conjured pickaxe flying, hitting the far wall and skidding across the cavern floor with a painfully shrill shriek. For a moment, you and him stood in silence, processing that unexpected reaction.

He was the first to clear the air, standing up straighter and dusting his glove.

“Well, it can never be that easy.” He brushed off casually, moving in a twirl of cream-colored fabric to retrieve his tool from the ground. You watched him crouch beside his fallen instrument, ears pricking to the sound of the ice crackling beneath his feet.

“Perhaps they’re impervious to normal forms of harm when petrified?” You offered in speculation. There wasn’t much confirmed about stonesleepers- since they were quite ancient, and very few viable specimens had been unearthed, so you couldn’t really ever be sure. But adversely, if they were impervious to breakage, then why were so many fossils found eroded and cracked? Was it possible that your failure had been some kind of fluke? Or were normal witch weapons simply not enough to get the job done?

“Perhaps. Though I’d expect the heat from our fire to create steam-pressure in the cracks of the stone and weaken it, since moisture from the glacier undoubtedly seeped in.” He added, too distracted by the mission to act holier-than-thou. And there was a tiny part of him that actually enjoyed sharing knowledge non-egotistically, for the simple pleasure of putting all his late-night reading to good use.

Whoa, reading? The Golden Guard was interested in books, too? You weren’t surprised by that- he was clearly intelligent- but it occurred to you that if he was a bookworm, he might be able to help in your predicament of finding the royal archives. After all, you’d agreed to join the coven in part so that you could better understand your powers and study the recorded history of illusion magic. Couldn’t accomplish that if you weren’t able to find the library in the first place.\

"Naturally."

You’d ask later. Hopefully, he’d be amenable to assisting you, since you’d been (in your objective opinion) a very respectful and useful escort. And it couldn’t hurt to get on his good side, since he was probably as close to the top as you could get without buttering up to a man about 400 years your senior.

The crackling noise echoed again, drawing your musing out from your thoughts. The Golden Guard hadn’t moved; he was examining his pickaxe critically, as if trying to intimidate it into working right- or, more likely, determine why it might’ve been ineffective in the first place. Wait-he hadn’t moved?

You swiveled your head quickly, trying to discern the origin of the ominous splintering sound in the air. If not his footsteps, what had made it? The echo chamber of the hollow caverns made it difficult to tell what direction it was coming from- but your immediate thought was that the impact of his pickaxe on the far wall had caused enough damage for it to begin to crumble. Yet, when your eyes alighted upon the wall, it was untouched- the solid face glittering teasingly at you, as if to say, 'not quite, try again'. 

The Golden Guard had brushed off the first few occurrences of the sound, but upon hearing it once more he stood irritably, assuming you were causing trouble and swiveling to chastise you.

“Scout, I told you not to touch anythi-”

The soldier cut himself off. He suddenly went stiff, staring at the space beyond you before slowly reaching for the compacted staff on his belt. You could see it in his mind long before you even looked, but some deep instinct compelled you to turn your head anyway, foolishly needing confirmation that what you gleaned in his thoughts was real.

And it was. There, laying on the frozen floor and tangled in the weepy dogwood branches, the stonesleeper was stirring. 

Chapter Text

It wasn't happening fast by any means, but the easy pace in which the stony cocoon began to unravel from the stonesleeper's body might have been worse than any ambush. Beginning near the base of the tail where the Golden Guard had struck it, the rocky silicates surrounding each delicate scale shifted, sliding back beneath the skin like they were a viscous liquid. The movement spread outward in increments, revealing the shining glimmer of purple scutes along a thorny spine. The newly unpetrified appendages began to twitch horribly, like an insect that was battling the throes of death. And, in a sense, it was.

You took a step back, unsure what to do. The Golden Guard was whirring, his brain moving a hundred miles a minute- a thousand, searching through all of his options as the new predicament arose. Running, he knew, would be foolish. These tunnels were surely too unstable to move hastily through- and if the stonesleeper tried to give chase, it could easily bring the walls down on them. Then, fight? He didn't know how to face a foe like this. He'd contended with many a demon, but all of those he'd been able to study- to predict. This prehistoric monster wasn't your everyday biped; there weren't exactly novels dedicated to its complete anatomical deconstruction that he could go off of. Maybe it wouldn't be aggressive? No, that was fool's thinking. 

But he knew better than to back down. Especially with Belos in such wavering humor these days. If he didn't come back with those lungs, the Golden Guard might as well have dug his own grave.

"You- get behind me." He said snappily, shoving you backward and brandishing his staff as the stonesleeper's resuscitation reached its ears, its eyes, its beak, and then...

The world seemed to hold its breath as the stonesleeper finally took hers. A rattling, shaky inhale hissed through its nostrils and wheezed out of hazy lungs, pausing in a heavy silence before it exhaled- like the action was painful and laborious. Its tail curled out sorely, scraping across the permafrost below it, stretching its muscles one at a time.

Then, with a rumbling growl, it slid one yellowed eye open, pupil constricting blearily at the glaring light of the glowworms overhead. To the stonesleeper, it must've looked like the glittering of the night sky; Perhaps something it hadn't seen in a very long time. The Golden Guard bristled, taking a step back as the creature slowly rose- forcing you to do the same to avoid bumping into him. The bipedal, reptilian beast shook itself out, eyes flickering wildly from the glowworms to the frozen lake, to the entrance tunnel, and finally to the two of you.

A staredown ensued between the armed and capable creatures, so intense you felt a bit like you were intruding upon them. The stonesleeper lifted a cautious hoof, setting it down an inch closer with a soft clip. Neither it nor the Golden Guard broke the eye-contact as it leaned closer, snuffling. When it had gotten its lungful of the both of you, it snorted, stamping one foot, apparently not pleased with what it had discerned. It raised its head, opening its beak to let out a throaty, raw warble- tail thrashing in mounting aggression.

"I think... we attack it now." You said quietly.

"I think I agree." The Golden Guard replied, wasting no time in thrusting his staff forward, sending a burst of red magic arcing toward the demon. It found its mark, slamming into the beast and sending up a bloom of fragmented ice crystals with the impact. The stonesleeper shrieked furiously at the assault, destabilized and blinded by the cloud of frost. It toppled into the sturdy form of a nearby stalagmite hard enough to send cracks inching along the rock. You rushed up to follow the young soldier's strike, punching through a hasty spell circle to urge the motionless dogwood tree back into action. Its tangling stalks shot out, wrapping around the form of the stonesleeper who was just beginning to find its footing again. The beast protested as it was restrained, kicking with its unbound appendages at the nearest branches, spikes of muted fear beating like a drum in its mind.

"3 o'clock!" Came a hurried call from behind as the Golden Guard shoved past you, summoning a wall of iron to block a bludgeoning hit from the stonesleeper's spiked tail as it swung in from the right. You didn't have time to thank him before the reptilian beast clawed out of its bindings, snapping the dogwood branches like ropes- now a whole lot more furious with the two strange creatures before it. It pawed at the ground, winding up to charge the pair of you. Your companion dropped his barricade, diving out of the line of the stonesleeper's stampede. You, however, didn't quite have his militant instincts; bruising pain burst through your shoulder as the hard bone of the prehistoric beast's head narrowly clipped your frame, sending you slamming into the bitterly cold rock of the cave floor. The starry ceiling above spun like you were in orbit, dizzying and unfocused. You tried to struggle up- better standing and unstable than helplessly recumbent- but a heavy pressure bore down on your chest and forced you back down.

Gasping for the breath that had been squeezed from you, you opened your eyes to focus onto the face of the ireful avian beast that was holding you to the floor. It dug one cloven hoof into your sternum, leaning closer as if sizing you up. It almost looked malicious, but you knew that wasn't the case. This was an animal; it did not know the meaning of the word revenge or mercy. It only knew that you had harmed it, and it needed to harm you in return if it wanted to come out alive. Blaming it for its nature was folly- after all, you weren't so different.

Hot, rancid breath blustered across your face as the stone sleeper opened its maw, vocalizing in a low warble. The wicked point of its beak shaved the tip of your nose, so sharp you couldn't even feel the pain of it. You closed your eyes, trying to summon any spell you could think of, hoping something could save you, hoping-

A sudden clatter sent the stonesleeper whirling its head around with a hiss. Behind you, the Golden Guard stood confidently, juggling a pebble in one hand.

"Y'know, I really don't like being ignored." He said with an exaggerated boredom, lifting his arm and promptly slamming his staff into the ground- sending a shockwave of rock upwards to pierce the hide of the stonesleeper. The beast twisted away from you in an attempt to avoid the guard's magic, but it was too slow. You rushed out of the danger zone just as two spears of fractured shrapnel penetrated an arm and punctured the meat of its left thigh- several more poising themselves millimeters away from its scaly chest, making it impossible for the creature to move without stabbing itself. It cried out pitifully, but its struggle only brought it closer to lethal impalement. The Golden Guard lifted his staff slowly, approaching the stonesleeper and looking up at it, as if daring the creature to escape his ever-tightening clutches.

"Okay, that was fun," He said lightly, "but I don't have time to play with my food. Scout." He barked, addressing you abruptly just as you'd recovered enough to stand on your wobbly feet.

"Yes... sir?" You tried around your tongue, the taste of metal alerting you that you must've bitten it in the struggle.

"Make yourself useful. You can start by retrieving those lungs for me. I'd prefer not to get my gloves dirty."

As if the stonesleeper could hear him, it wailed once again. You felt a sudden flash of pity. Did he really want you to just... cut the things out? While it was still alive? That was a little barbaric, especially for him; The Golden Guard didn't seem like a man with a particular predilection for violence- in fact, you knew he wasn't. He didn't take any pleasure in performing jobs like these, but he did take pleasure in completing his delegated duties. He'd spent his whole life fighting to prove that he was worthy of the position he'd been given. Any hesitation on his part would look like weakness, and weakness was a death sentence.

You'd never met someone who could make so much sense and still manage to be so confusing.

"Are you certain that's the wisest choice, sir?" You asked boldly, not sure you were entirely comfortable mutilating an animal while it could still feel everything that was being done to it.

A pause, silence as he inclined his head towards you. 'Oh?'

"...Do you have a problem with the way I do things, scout?" He finally murmured, emphasizing the 'scout' as if it were the name of an offensive species of insect. Alright, he was still scary. Good to know you were testing your limits here. Despite your fear of his polarizing moods, you pressed onward.

"No- no, sir, I just... wonder if it might be judicious to bring the beast directly to emperor Belos himself."

The Golden Guard scoffed, amused by your insubordination. "Why? He has no use for it. Belos ordered me to bring back the lungs, not a lizard."

"-But just think, it's alive and well. I'm sure even Belos couldn't have predicted that. He probably ordered you to take the lungs because he assumed it would be dead when you found it."

"And? What's your point?"

You moved a bit closer to the creature. "Well, a living specimen can teach us a lot more than a dead one can. For instance, perhaps we could improve petrification magic by studying how stonesleepers manage it. And if Belos needs their organs for something, like you said, it would be useful to have living cells, wouldn't it? He's the most powerful witch in the isles- maybe he could even clone them- bring the species back." You muttered, realizing with a bit of embarrassment that you were quickly moving into speculation.

This time, the Golden Guard's silence was a surprised one. He... hadn't thought of that.

"Very clever, scout," he said through gritted teeth, "but it doesn't change the fact that I have orders."

His mind was pushing back hard against the idea of any deviation, no matter how small it was. This was going to be more difficult than you thought; all you'd intended was to buy the stonesleeper some precious time, since you were certain that killing it here and discarding all of this opportunity was a waste. That, and you felt sorry for the thing, as much as you hesitated to admit it. It was afraid. You could relate to that.

"Of course, sir, and I have no intention of trying to convince you to disobey them. Belos will still have his prize either way, right? Even if we bring it back and he doesn't want to study it further, we can always take the lungs out and discard the corpse. But if he does end up seeing some use in it, then we'd be in his good graces, don't you think?"

"I am in his good graces." The soldier hissed, but he knew it wasn't true. His uncle was trusting him with less and less about the coven's inner working these days. It probably wouldn't be long before he found a replacement, and the Golden Guard went bye-bye for good.

He hesitated a moment longer, then sighed a bit, the tension in his shoulders loosening slightly.

"...But I suppose if it has the potential to further coven knowledge, I'm obligated to entertain it."

You actually started to feel a little bad for him, being driven by this unease all the time. Everything he did was hanging in a tightrope-balance over a steep drop; one wrong move, and he'd tumble into the ravine below. It was certainly no way for a person to live- he was supposed to love his job and take pride in doing it- which he did, in a sense, but his concept of love was extremely twisted. Love was conditional, and it could be taken away in an instant. Love was the cold sting of a backhanded slap to the face. Love was responsible for every scar on his body. Love was fear. And didn't his uncle love him? How could that be wrong?

"Thank you, sir."

He didn't reply, tapping his staff on the ground to summon a tight, constricting length of steel chain around the stonesleeper. It crowed once, shrilly, trembling in its fright and pain. The rocky pikes that had been stabbed into its flesh to immobilize it inched back slowly, as if they had been craving a bit more violence and were disappointed with what they'd gotten. Without the pressure of the skewers to hold it up, the stonesleeper collapsed onto the icy floor, closing its eyes woefully and curling into its injured forelimbs.

The Golden Guard didn't bother to keep the beast comfortable. He lifted it up with little effort, using his staff like a magical towline to keep it suspended in the air. Droplets of blood trailed gruesomely across the floor as the wounded creature was tugged along the glowworm cavern- making sad, chirruping noises through its beak. You tried not to feel too bad for it. Things probably wouldn't be getting any better for the poor thing.

Apparently, the soldier wasn't enthused about the idea of shoving the stonesleeper through the yards of cramped tunnels you'd entered through, because he paused at the entrance to the passageway out of the cavern and pushed past the ominous flickering of his staff's conduit to cast a final spell.

"Grab." He ordered snippily, and this time you didn't hesitate to reach for his wrist, unwilling to test his patience. He flicked his hand, inciting the familiar feeling of warmth and tingling of his magic. It engulfed the three of you in a near instant, transporting you in a dizzying zap through the isles. Despite being prepared for it, you squeezed your eyes shut. Pleasantly, it was a bit more bearable this trip- at least you didn't feel like you were about to vomit- and it felt quicker, too. By the time you'd even fully registered the motion of the teleportation, it was over, landing you on something soft and lush. Grass, swaying in the gentle breeze. You looked up, finding that the sun greeted you with blinding light, shining down upon your form and bringing some blissful warmth to your frozen extremities. Then, you were no longer at the knee. That saved you a long trek back through a raging blizzard.

"We're about two miles from the nearest town. Another five from the castle." The Golden Guard estimated distantly, already several steps ahead of you as he made his way down the swaying hills he'd dropped you in- dragging the defeated stonesleeper behind with a bloom of red magic. Seven miles felt... farther than before. He'd managed to teleport you closer to the caves when you'd first begun the mission- but you imagined that the rapidly oscillating light of his staff had something to do with this new obstacle. He had mentioned that spells like teleportation drained it, and he had likely already pushed his luck in fighting, capturing and transporting the stonesleeper all the way here. The young man was almost certainly being prudent in electing to save his remaining magic for the trip ahead, rather than waste it on one larger teleportation. You righted yourself quickly, ignoring the pounding of your head and the ache in your shoulder as you hurried through the weepy grasses in an attempt to catch up to him. You'd take care of those later- when you had the time and resources to think about it. For now, you had to focus on returning to the castle without managing to inconvenience the Golden Guard more than you already had.

You really hoped this decision wouldn't backfire horribly.

Chapter Text

The journey back to the castle was uneventful and characteristically sweltering. You’d reverted back into silent hatred of your militant garb, cursing the thick fabric of your cloak for trapping so much heat. You might’ve taken it off, but the young, glittering guard several paces in front of you wasn’t complaining, even in his mind. He still upheld the highest manner of professionalism, and you supposed that you should follow in his lead, lest you appear to be wavering in your commitment to the emperor’s coven.

It had taken the pair of you about two and a half hours to cross from the nearest town, working your way about the outskirts of the markets to avoid people’s inquisitive glances. It wasn’t unusual to see bounty hunters hauling their latest catch through the streets, but most bounty hunters weren’t carrying presumably extinct species. Closer to the palace, the towns were more heavily guarded, but even the extra security couldn’t completely eliminate shady dealings when heads were turned; best to stay as hidden as possible. Thankfully, none of the lurking witches in the shadows gave you any trouble on your way back- though, you knew by the feeling of watchful eyes that the only thing keeping you safe was your visible affiliation to the emperor, and the Golden Guard’s reputation. It was unnerving, suddenly being in the spotlight after so long standing behind the curtain. Worse, knowing much of that spotlight came from festering jealousy and fear.

The Golden Guard moved with a purpose, holding his staff slightly aloft to produce the spell that caged the pliant stonesleeper- who had descended into an almost catatonic state of despair, quietly resigned to being a prisoner. He ignored the various catcalls of peddling side-alley vendors, shooting the more unsavory ones dangerous glances and quietly filing away their faces in his mind for later. But at his brisk pace, the two of you managed to break free of the town suburbs and continue down what you surmised to be the upper Xiphoid or lower sternal body of the Titan. Despite being closer to the emperor’s castle than the arms, the sternum and lower pelvis were actually rather unoccupied. This was mostly because of the harsher conditions and notable lack of vegetation ringing the lateral hip ravines- making for difficulties in the production of lumber, tonics and thatchings. Instead, it was the best district for mining, stone working, and blacksmithing, since the pelvic gorge uncovered a host of minerals to be exported to various consumers: the most prominent being, of course, the palace itself. Few places used quite as much metal and stone as the castle did- many witches were uncomfortable living in more unnatural homes, so even the construction workers that did import steel for structural reinforcement tended to use it sparingly. The inhospitality of the landscape worked in your favor, though, because there were few obstructions to slow you down on the abandoned, soot-stained roads up the sternum. After only another hour of hauling the stonesleeper, the two of you had made it to the castle entrance.

When the accompanying guards saw you coming, they gave you a wide berth, the presence of the Golden Guard unnerving them more than usual, lately. A few gave you pitying looks from behind their masks, secretly glad it wasn’t them. Everyone in the coven wanted status- but the intensity of the Emperor’s nephew was a bit much even for the most motivated of scouts. One of them signaled the two sentries manning the gates- who slowly cranked out the metal drawbridge into the palace. The Golden Guard took one long, elegant stride forward, his foot making contact with the bridge just as it made landfall. He twitched his staff, urging the stonesleeper behind him along. The beast had curled itself into a compact ball, resting- but not asleep.

“Sir,” the gate sentinels saluted stiffly as he passed. He hummed a very slight acknowledgement, breezing into the barred entrance with you in tow. You ascended the steps, pausing as the Golden Guard stepped back, letting you push the door open for him since his hands were occupied. The inside of the castle was darker than usual- perhaps that storm from the knee was beginning to blow in; and the eerie blue light cast long shadows upon the grand entrance hallway, heralding your melancholy return. Your accomplice made a beeline for the throne room, cautiously cracking the door open to peer inside. He shifted his weight, then opened it fully, allowing you to see that Emperor Belos was nowhere to be found. Instead, a simple trainee was milling about, dusting some of the pipes and items on display. The throne looked freshly polished.

“Recruit,” the Golden Guard addressed quickly, his voice echoing into the chambers. The little biped- who’d been reaching for an ancient looking lyre- jumped slightly, her tail trembling. The sight of him, in all his scuffed glory, sent a tiny string of terror through her.

“...Yes?” She squeaked.

“Where has the emperor gone? I have urgent business with him.”

She looked around for a moment, as if hoping she could melt into the walls. “I- I believe I overheard him discussing a routine check on the Beast keeping Wing, sir.”

He nodded in understanding. “I see. Thank you.”

You were pretty sure that girl was about to pass out, but she nodded frantically as the Golden Guard let the door snick shut. Hm, so he did have manners, after all. You knew he didn’t intend to be cruel; the young man just seemed quite oblivious as to the effects of his attitude on other people. He said exactly what he meant- why wouldn’t others be the same way?

He was an enigma, that was for sure. You were thankful for your ability to pick his brain- it really was a fascinating one. You weren’t sure what you’d make of him if you didn’t know what went on in his mind, but you hoped you’d get to see the more humorous side again in the future. That was your favorite.

Twin pairs of boots clunked down the hallway as you walked in silence down the eastern wing, splitting off from the primary corridors. The stonesleeper lay in silence as the Golden Guard dragged it along, and you took a moment to gaze inside its red-tinted bubble, watching the lonesome last-of-its-kind rest its head upon its hooves and huff out a burst of air. You might’ve put your hand to the cage to comfort it, but you were a bit worried the strange magic might zap you.

“So, uh, does the castle have wings for every coven?” You asked slowly, trying to make conversation with the man in front of you.

“Yes. For the eight accompanying covens, at least. They’re usually where the coven heads conduct most of their business.” He replied, “Emperor Belos likes to keep the most capable witches close, so that they can share any new findings with him.”

“I see.” You said, actually intrigued by his answer. “New findings? Do you… get a lot of those?”

He shrugged. “Sometimes. We have much to learn about magic. And… every piece of information helps.”

Something about that fact made him sad. You searched for the focal point of the little ache in his chest, but you couldn’t place it exactly. The only thing you could glean was a small flash of a memory- a broken palisman, a sense of helplessness. 

Before you could pry further into the workings of the coven, he had stopped before an enormous wrought-iron door with an embossed symbol that looked like a hissing snake. The Golden Guard reached for his belt, producing a set of keys and rifling through them until he found the one he wanted, inserting it into the lock and twisting. The door gave way with a metallic groan, ushering you into a dimly lit room lined with rows of small cages and ripe with the smell of staleness and must. The floor was periodically punctured by small drains, and it was entirely linoleum- not stone, wood or carpet. In the distance, you could make out two voices engaging in stilted conversation- and you knew immediately that one was Belos. You couldn’t mistake the smooth lilt of the emperor’s accent for anything.

“I expect better results than this, Eberwolf.” He said in a tone that was deceptively light. “Your members have been studying these creatures for months, and you have nothing to show for it.”

A strange chattering noise followed his words, rising in volume as you and the Golden Guard stepped further into the large room, rounding several corners until you finally caught sight of the origin of the voices. One, expectedly, was the emperor- who you realized with a bit of surprise was unmasked. Behind the cold metal, he looked almost unnervingly grandfatherly; a coiling mane of flowy, off-blonde hair reached down to his shoulders, slightly obscuring his face with its streaks of grey. One strand was tucked neatly behind his ear, revealing points that looked… mutilated, like he had sliced the edges off. In front of him was a tiny biped with a shock of red fur cresting its catlike face, its arms gesticulating rapidly like it was telling a riveting story. When you focused your gaze on the conversing pair, however, its movements paused- and with a twitch of the ear it whirled, hissing threateningly.

Emperor Belos took note of the disturbance, shifting to greet his new visitors. As he did, his hair fell from his face, revealing hideous ropes of bubbling, green scarring across his left cheek that seemed to be eating him alive. When he saw you standing there, he held out a commanding hand to the snarling demon, smiling. You tried not to look nauseated.

“Becalm yourself, Eberwolf. It is simply my guard.”

He turned, then, to face his nephew, giving you a kindly passing glance with startling blue irises. “Ah, Hunter.” he welcomed, clasping his palms together. “You’ve returned in good time. Successful, I assume?”

As he spoke, you watched his eyes travel in interest to the bubble of red magic that the stonesleeper was stirring in. The commotion of voices had spurred a bit more life into it, and now the beast was pacing in a weary half-circle across its tiny confines. Silence from the royal’s mind, as usual, though his brow twitched once, minutely.

“That doesn’t look like a pair of lungs.”

Fear rocketed through the Golden Guard’s whole frame, sending him into a near-robotic state of paralyzing uncertainty. He cleared his throat, shifting on his feet as he explained himself.

“Well- No, Emperor Belos, not exactly. The stonesleeper unexpectedly… woke up.”

“Woke up?” Belos said with slight amusement in his voice. “Is that so?”

“Yes, my lord.” Hunter tried to steady his voice, hoping yours and Eberwolf’s presence would discourage Belos from dealing out a punishment too harsh. “And my accomplice, er, suggested that we retrieve the entire specimen… so you could study it, if you saw fit.”

He hadn’t said that to blame you if things went wrong- You could see that the young man was simply too uncomfortable lying to his uncle to skimp on the details, no matter how small. A long, tense silence as Belos shifted his attention to the stonesleeper, then you, then back to Hunter, his countenance giving the distinct impression that he was deciding between rewarding you and having you as a snack. Finally, he spoke.

“How astute of them.” He said, gesturing to Eberwolf vaguely. The little biped fell onto all fours, scampering toward the encapsulated stonesleeper. Hunter lowered it dutifully, letting ‘Eberwolf’ snuffle around the beast for a long moment, observing it with an almost surgical intensity. The stonesleeper groaned softly at the demon, who narrowed its eyes and turned to chitter something to Emperor Belos.

“Ah, an excellent point.” He agreed cordially with the stout creature. “Very well.”

With a jarring clap of his hands, he summoned three coven scouts from a side door you hadn’t even noticed before. They walked in expectantly, gazing up at Emperor Belos with the reverence of zealots as they awaited their orders.

“Transfer this demon to the research facility- and do be careful with it.” He said, signaling at the forlorn stonesleeper as it curled against the far wall of its prison, ears flattening. The scouts approached it, and the beast wailed, thrashing its tail against the Golden Guard’s magic in futile resistance. One of the scouts produced a large, metal collar, unlocking it with an echoing clank.

Hesitantly, Hunter lowered his staff, dissolving the magical enclosure so the scouts could restrain the stonesleeper- fixing the heavy iron ring onto its neck before it could scramble away. Hunter actually seemed a little conflicted, seeing it like this. Felling a prehistoric monster that was actively trying to kill him was a lot easier than sending a pathetic animal to its inevitable experimentation- how could he take any pride in his victory when his opponent looked like a kicked puppy? 

One of the guards held the living fossil’s beak tightly shut, clamping a thick chain to the slot in the collar. Another pair grasped the far end of it, wrenching the trammel forward heftily. Hooves slipped against the linoleum floor, struggling to resist as they were tugged across the dim, cold room and into the door the scouts had initially entered from. The stonesleeper bellowed in fearful protest, scrabbling to pull away, but to no avail. It swung its head around, meeting your gaze for a fleeting moment, and all you could see was fear as the scouts shoved it through the side room, taking the frightened creature into the darkness beyond- where its cries abruptly cut off against the slamming of the barred door behind it.

Belos watched in serene, mildly intrigued silence as his guards enacted his orders, letting the discomfort in the air linger just a beat too long. Finally, he turned back to face the Golden Guard, smiling warmly.

“I admit, this was not the outcome I expected.” He said. For a moment, the room went silent in anticipation of his anger.

“-But I must thank you both.” He swept his arms out to encompass the two of you. “A living stonesleeper will be of great use to the coven. The Titan is pleased.”

Hunter stood a little straighter, relief crashing over him like a wave. His shoulders relaxed just a bit out of standard position.

“That being said,” The emperor continued, quieter, spiking another burst of panic. “In the future, I expect that you follow your orders. No matter how reasonable the... ideas of new recruits may seem." He passed over you pointedly. "Everyone has a responsibility within the coven; do not stray from yours.” Belos chided.

Hunter quickly dropped into a kneel, nudging you in a hurried reminder to do the same. You scrambled to fall to one knee beside him, wincing as the force of the tile knocked against your bone. He breathed out a heavy, muffled sigh into his mask.

“Yes, Emperor Belos.” The Golden Guard said reverently, laying his staff down on the ground. “Thank you.”

The older man lifted the corner of his mouth subtly, his crow’s feet crinkling. You felt his eyes move to your back for a moment, appraising you with the patience of a man who had all the time in the world.

“Has nobody branded you yet, scout?” He asked, suddenly. You lifted your head to glance at your unmarked wrist, recalling the identifying practice of the nine major covens. In your initiation, nobody had done much of anything.

“No, Lord Belos, not yet.” You replied, swallowing hard. Branding gloves always looked horribly painful. You weren’t exactly looking forward to the feeling of a sigil being burned into your flesh. Belos nodded slightly.

“Hm. Eberwolf, see to it that this new recruit is branded. I believe they’ve earned it.” He instructed before turning in a flourish of robes and striding leisurely to the black-iron door the stonesleeper had been dragged into. Eberwolf glanced your way, nodding back at the emperor. It leapt up onto a small shelf on the side of the wall, tugging itself a level higher until it evidently reached whatever it was looking for, clasping its hands around a scrap of brown leather and fabric imprinted with a worn yellow triangle.

Belos paused in the doorway, looking over his shoulder to consider you one final time, something like delight glinting in his icy blue eyes.

And then he was gone.

Chapter Text

The branding was not as painful as you had been anticipating. Eberwolf had been mercifully no-nonsense- smacking the emperor's sigil onto your wrist with the fingertip of his branding glove so quickly that you didn't register the searing sensation until it was already over. He growled something at you as he stowed the glove to a nearby drawer, and the Golden Guard moved to answer in your stead- letting you pause to examine the geometric, winged seal burned into your skin.

"It was frozen," he said, tapping something on his staff that made it fold itself in and contract into a manageable pole- which he tucked into his pocket. Eberwolf made a face and hissed, gesturing to the supposed laboratory entrance.

"How should I know?" The soldier shrugged, apparently willing to be a bit more testy with this particular demon, for some reason. It was hard to make out much in Eberwolf's mind; it was messy, furry, and loud- and he didn't seem to think in the common tongue at all. But still, based on the Golden Guard's subconscious thoughts- and the beast keeping sigil on the biped's wrist- it wasn't very difficult to figure out that Eberwolf was a Coven Head. It made sense; you were pretty sure you'd heard the name before, in passing. Beast keeping rarely made front-page news in comparison to the flashier groups like the abomination and plant coven, but it had its own merits and spotlight, to be sure.

You were still a little confused about how the Golden Guard could understand the tiny mutt, though.

"It's not my business what he does with it," Hunter said defensively, apparently engaged in some argument with the coven head, who looked unimpressed as he hissed. "Questions like that make you sound awfully traitorous, Eberwolf."

Eberwolf snarled back. You could discern the general idea of what was being said in the Golden Guard's mind as he drafted a response- but it was blurry and fragmented. Something about Eberwolf saying he saved Hunter's ass back there, and then an accusatory 'why would you bring that thing here when you know what he does to them?' sort of scolding.

"Yeah, well it was my job on the line." The young man said exasperatedly, adjusting the band of his gloves. "If you wanna be an activist, feel free to go frolic in a flowery field with a thunderbird."

Eberwolf began a retort, but the Golden Guard pulled his rather notorious 'I'm-gonna-pretend-you-aren't-here' move and brushed past the coven head with a swirl of his cape. "Come, scout." He said as if you were a dog, motioning for you to follow him to the door. You made a slightly uncertain frown, faltering for a moment to awkwardly wave at Eberwolf.

"Uh- thanks." You said, getting the feeling it was the right thing to say, even if you didn't know what exactly you were thanking him for. The wild-eyed biped grinned a bit, exposing tusky fangs jutting from his lower lip, then waved back, clearly entertained by your gesture. Huh. Okay, at least Eberwolf seemed to be amicable enough, if not a bit strange. But you often found that the people whose minds made the least sense were the most entertaining and interesting witches of all of them.

And on the note of nonsensical minds...

"Come oooon." The Golden Guard called impatiently, his hand bracing open the metal doorway out of the beast keeping wing. You flashed a nervous goodbye smile at Eberwolf, then hurried after your charge, easing the door open a bit further so you could slip out of the dank, off-putting chamber and into the eastern hallway. It was much more pleasant out there, which was something you'd never expected to say about the emperor's castle- but it was true. You were mostly thankful to get that horrible, putrid smell you couldn't quite place out of your nostrils.

Your male accomplice was already beginning a march down the hallway, heading to who-knows-where and grumbling to himself about the state of his robes as he dusted them obsessively. Apparently, he was not too fond of the sanitation and hygiene practices of the beast keeping coven- but really, what did he expect?

You followed him, uncertain where to go now that your mission was over. It was about late-afternoon now, but the storm rolling in over the castle made it feel like a dusky evening that cast everything in a twilit blue. You'd always been fond of storms. They shrouded the sky with the everlasting quilt of rumbling darkness, obscuring the overbearing nature of the sun and providing a quiet, tranquil respite for those lost souls who didn't quite fit into the sunny days and warm mornings of the civilized. It was the one thing that made you feel accepted, normal, seen. In the rain, you could hear your own thoughts. In the rain, everything else faded away.

"Sir, Eberwolf..." you jerked your head behind you and into the hallway, gesturing to where you'd come from, though he couldn't see it.

"Is he the-"

"-Head of the beast keeping coven?" The Golden Guard interrupted evenly. "Yes. Smaller than you'd expected?" You could hear the smirk in his words.

"Hah, you could say that." You agreed sheepishly. "Not a very talkative guy, huh?"

The soldier scoffed. "Oh, trust me, he's talkative. He just thinks few people are worthy of talking to."

Worthy? Well, that was a novel idea, but you respected it. You often found yourself wishing that you could ignore annoying people by simply pretending you couldn't speak the common tongue. Maybe Eberwolf was doing something right.

"That's..."

"Innovative? Jealousy-inducing? Making you wish you'd thought of it first?" He chuckled mirthlessly. It was hard to tell if he was genuinely being sociable, or if he was secretly taking joy in your nervousness and electing to torment you a bit for entertainment.

"-It's interesting." You allowed, keeping your tone light to avoid directly corroborating his assumptions- because he was totally right, and you didn't want to stroke his ego more. Maybe he was the real mind-reader, here.

"Hmm." He said noncommittally, taking a turn down a hallway you'd never seen before (or at least, you were pretty sure you'd never seen before) and following it through until the walls opened into a yawning ogee archway. The design of the cutout felt different than the usual hard edges of the palace decor- a curving, chapel-esque entrance as opposed to the simplistic metal squares of the wings you'd already passed. It was more brightly lit, too, which gave the impression that someone had added a personal touch to it, probably tired of the constant gloom. The Golden Guard clipped elegantly past the archway, his footsteps echoing against the polished wood below his heavy boots. The room ahead of the grandiose threshold was expansive and vaulted, held up with sturdy beams and rafters at least 60 feet high. A chandelier swinging gently above your heads cast the place in a warm, golden light, which complemented the rich browns of the forested mahogany accents. It was the first chamber in the palace that felt like it was actually made to be comfortable for its residents, as opposed to just practical. You liked it immediately.

When they heard his stern pace, a few milling coven scouts lifted their heads, startling at the sight of the young coven leader.

"Oh, Golden Guard, sir." Said a deep-voiced female, surprised. "You've returned."

She set down a small quilt that looked half-torn, pinching something sharp between her fingertips. A few of the scouts behind her were crowding an enormous tapestry- so large it draped fully across the banquet table it was placed on. "Can we help you with anything?"

He nodded, pausing before the female scout to unclasp the triangular brooch that held his cloak together. He tugged the hood from his shoulders in a flutter of fabric, revealing a lithe, willowy frame as he folded it neatly and offered it to the soldier.

"This needs repairs. Give it to Darius, please." He said, running a hand through his newly exposed hair. He was facing away from you, but you could still see the sleek, sheared undercut going from his pale nape to about his temples- where it split off into a fluffy crown of wavy, ash-blonde locks.

Blonde. He was blonde. That fact shouldn't have surprised you; he absolutely had the attitude of a blonde. But attaching any kind of traits to the Golden Guard beyond his uniform appearance almost felt wrong. Like a part of him you weren't supposed to see.

"Of course, sir." The scout replied, reaching out to take the parcel. "I'll ensure it gets to him. Are you sure you want to wait, though? I'd be happy to mend it myself." She added.

"Thank you, but that won't be necessary. I'd like his expertise for this case." The Golden Guard said, holding out a gloved hand in mollification.

"I understand." She said, passing the cloak off to a scout in waiting beside her, who took it with a bow, pivoting to go and find whoever Darius was.

"Your work is appreciated." He dipped his head, pointed ears lifting slightly from behind the edge of his mask. They were a bit larger than average, with a sweeter curve to them than most. His left ear looked to have a notch taken right out of it. You wondered how that had happened.

His armor clinked as he turned to you expectantly, staring from beneath the dark slats of his eyeholes. His movement revealed an unruly blonde forelock that hung over his face in a way you were certain was annoying- But it made something about him seem less... militant. A hint of personality below the title and the close-cropped, efficient haircut.

"Your cloak. Is it damaged?" He asked.

Oh. That. You looked down to examine the fabric draped over your own shoulders, grasping at a handful of it to pull the back into your line of sight. The cream-colored swathe looked largely unharmed, if a little dusty.

"I don't think so. It seems to be pretty untouched." And, honestly, it better have been- because the thing was brand-new.

"Lucky you," the coven scout said kindly. "The Golden Guard has to come to us often. His missions are very arduous."

You weren't sure why that felt like such an intimate detail. It seemed to betray a bit more about his relationship with his fellow coven members than you'd seen previously. Especially when- rather than replying in a snappy manner- the boy chuckled.

"Good, scare them away. Less work for me." He replied sardonically.

There was something melancholy about the way he said it, despite his outward amicability. A sense of wrongness that kept him from making any real conversation with the scouts outside of work matters. He seemed... lonely. But he quickly crushed that feeling before you could find the root of it. There was a certain paranoia in his subconscious- a feeling that something was watching him, that everyone knew what he was thinking, and that someday Belos would see these traitorous feelings and replace him in an instant with someone more capable. And then what? Who was he if he wasn't useful? Who else could love a powerless witch? His uncle saw something in him, something real. He couldn't jeopardize that for anything, especially not something as trivial as making a few more connections in the coven. This obviously went a lot deeper than you'd realized- these feelings of fear and helplessness. It almost didn't make sense to you, how someone so confident on the exterior could be so completely jittery on the inside. And what did he mean by powerless? He was the Golden Guard, one of the single most powerful witches on the isles. How could he ever think otherwise? Had something happened in his past to make him feel like he had to prove his capability to his uncle? But what? He was impossible to understand.

"I'm sure we'll be seeing you soon, sir." The scout nodded politely to you, as if the statement wasn't mildly unsettling- like she was already certain you'd sustain a severe amount of damage in the coming months or even years you were stationed here.

"Ah- Hah. I look forward to it?" You tried. It seemed to amuse her. The Golden Guard coughed, feeling a little uncomfortable with the camaraderie.

"If that's all, scout, we should be going." He said, cutting off any further chance for conversation. A few of the stitching coven members dipped their heads in respectful goodbye.

"Of course, sir." You bowed a bit, snapping back into a more serious demeanor as he turned to brush past you and out of the looming workshop. You followed behind, noting how much less... intimidating he was without his flowy cape. With his neck and build partially exposed, it was easy to see the signs of youth that still graced his body; The characteristic, softer ear shape that most teenage witches had, and the awkward gait of someone who hadn't quite figured out his legs yet. Usually, these features were well hidden when he was in action, but in the quiet darkness of these long halls, he felt like a real boy- forced into a daunting situation, the same way you had been.

You walked in silence for a few long minutes, until he finally broke the ice, clearing his throat.

"Adequate job today, scout." He said begrudgingly, like the words tasted sour. He didn't seem to want to admit that perhaps his initial anger at your recruitment had been a bit melodramatic. But he was still mad about it.

"Obviously, you'll be expected to perform better in the future. Your combat is sorely below standard." He pointed out, overriding his previous compliment. "But that will be mended quite quickly, I imagine. Now-"

He stopped the movement of his boots, pausing in the eastern corridor that led back to the grand hallway and throne room.

"I will be attending to some palace duties. Alone. You may return to your quarters, or... whatever it is you do." He dismissed.

You hesitated. Weren't Belos' orders quite expressly clear about remaining at the young soldier's side, no matter where he was? Could he really release you just like that?

"Sir, I... I can't do that. Emperor Belos has made it very clear that I'm to stay with you at all times."

A weird mixture of annoyance and approval flashed through him. He couldn't decide if he was upset at your insubordination to him, or if he respected your dedication to your orders. He mostly just wanted you to leave him alone.

"I assure you, there's no need for you to accompany me." He waved it off. "This is very basic procedure. A maintenance checkup."

That didn't reassure you much. It didn't matter if it made logical sense for you to be with him, you weren't about to disobey your orders on the first day. Seeing you frozen there, Hunter sighed, a little sympathetic.

"Look, your commitment is charming, and all, but I can handle myself. I don't need some... escort. Belos only recruited you to keep an eye on you, get it?"

Actually, he only recruited me to keep an eye on you. You thought, a bit miffed at his attitude. Both were true, in a sense. You knew Belos wanted to keep potential threats close, but he was also paranoid enough to think that his own nephew might betray him. This partnership was a two-way street.

"All due respect, sir, I don't take orders from you." You replied firmly. You didn't know much about your place in the coven just yet, but you knew enough to reasonably guess that orders from the emperor overrode anything this unstable guard could tell you.

A pause, a shiver of interest in his mind. Nobody had ever defied him like this before. At least, nobody in the coven. He was used to avoidance, fear, careful treading from his subordinates to ensure they never inconvenienced him- but you were pushing back. Did he hate it? He couldn't decide.

"Hm." He leant down slowly to your level, stepping closer to appraise you. "Not entirely true. I am your superior, but..." an amused silence. "How bold you are."

He returned to his full height, stepping back once more, as if his proximity had simply been a test to see if you'd crack.

"I'll see you tomorrow, scout." He said simply, his owl mask seeming to shift- as if in a cold smile.

"Be ready in the courtyard by 6. Leave your cloak. You won't be needing it."

You opened your mouth to protest his complete non-acknowledgment of your concerns, but he was already gliding away, deaf to any further persuasion. Well, it wasn't like you really wanted to be around the guy, but it was sort of your job to be. Hopefully you could blame him, if you got into any trouble. Something told you he wouldn't snitch, though: he wanted some alone time, you could respect it, even if he was being a complete ass in the process. How could he still have an attitude with you, anyway? You were starting to think that being ornery was simply in his blood. 

Even so, the mission had gone well, hadn't it? You hadn't failed on your first day. That was a step in the right direction, now, you just needed a leap.

Chapter Text

You spent all of your time looking for the library.

It was starting to become a little absurd, actually, how impossible the castle was to navigate. Like all the doors and passageways had decided to play a little game without informing you, and were set on seeing how long they could avoid your eyes. Well, not today, doors. You were determined to make use of your time here- especially if it was potentially the last of your time here. You didn't really think Belos would exile you over giving the Golden Guard a little free time, but who could say? The man was unpredictable. You silently vowed to yourself that you wouldn't fold so easily to the blonde soldier the next time he tried to order you around- because although he was your superior, you had a strange new advantage: you were also taking direct orders from Belos. That shifted the dynamic into something a lot more complicated. Something that made you feel a bit more confident pushing back on him.

But in spite of your newfound social confidence, your spatial confidence was still suffering. Every door you passed was either locked or ominously empty of anything- why even have so many rooms if you weren't going to use them? Was it just to make your life harder? All signs pointed to yes. And by the way the light was beginning to warm and wane upon the walls, you could tell it was late-afternoon, nearing dusk. Had that much time already gone by? You were certain it was mere minutes ago that you'd found the stonesleeper at the Golden Guard's side, and that you'd only just returned to the palace. Maybe it was best to give up the search, for now. There would be other days, and besides, you could still ask the Golden Guard to show you around the next time you saw him. It would save you a lot of suffering. Right, then you ought to rest, and tend to your wounds instead; you'd nearly forgotten about your bruised shoulder and bitten tongue until the pain began to throb once more- reminding you of the unfortunate fruits of your labor. Would it be impertinent to visit the healing coven for a little bruising? Did they usually tend to things like severed limbs? If so, would they laugh at your mild abrasions? You didn't particularly want to test your luck any further- what if the coven members saw you without the Golden Guard and assumed you were skirting your duties? Perhaps it would be judicious to return to your quarters now, before someone came around to find you. Yes, maybe that was the smartest thing you could do.

So, you found your way up the main staircase in the grand hall, following the velvet carpeting into the residentials. It was a bit easier to navigate here- the walls were wider and brighter, with more distinguishing features, so you could find your room again fairly easily. When you'd closed and locked the door behind you, you allowed yourself to take a seat for the first time that day, taking in just how sore you were after the sudden burst of activity you'd put on after months of lounging around. You tugged off your dusty cloak and draped it across your headboard, settling down to sit against the mattress and remove your heavy armor. It came off in pieces as if it were peeling from your body, making you realize just how sweaty full body sheathing could be. How could you be in the coldest place on the Titan and still accrue so much sweat? It seemed unreasonable. Still, it made removing the armor that much easier, since you weren't enthused about the idea of sitting in your own grossness for another several hours. That, and you could finally examine your shoulder. You tugged back the skintight navy undershirt that every coven inductee was provided, checking what was underneath with some trepidation. You were pleasantly surprised to see that it wasn't nearly as bad as you'd predicted; the skin was certainly black-and-blue, but there weren't any visible breaks or wells of blood. It seemed your armor had taken the worst of the blow, and you were thankful for it. The blunt force hurt, but not nearly as much as a stab through the shoulder might've.

You drew a tiny spell circle in the air above the contusion, letting the magic flow out into the ruptured blood vessels below your skin. You were no healer- in fact, you sort of sucked at healing anything more than a few minor scrapes- but the spell was a simple first-aid necessity for treating pain that most young witches were taught before they were branded with a coven sigil. After that? Well, tough luck if you didn't join the healing coven. Better hope you'd stocked up on bandages.

But you wouldn't have to worry about that, would you? You glanced down at the mark burned into your wrist, turning it in the waning blue light. The sigil was certainly the most complex of the nine coven's iconography, but that complexity only contributed to the ominous melancholy of it. Perhaps it was the perfect, impossible symmetry of the patterning, or the severed wings that bisected it, or the sword that looked to be poised right over your veins, but looking at the shape for too long only served to make you feel sick. The emperor's coven could use all types of magic; you'd never have to worry about yours being sealed away. So, then, why did you feel more trapped than before?

It was too early to sleep, so you decided to shower and make use of the free time you had to polish up your armor. Strangely, you weren't hungry enough to find the dining hall and search for an early dinner- perhaps due to the poor quality of food they served at the coven kitchens. You'd always assumed that the coven scouts were sitting pretty in their gaudy uniforms and their elevated attitudes, but thus far, the opposite seemed to be the case. Most of the soldiers you'd passed by were tired, underfed, and disillusioned from their previous notions of grandeur. They were still desperately loyal to their emperor- but in the way that a kicked dog might lick at its master's hand in hopes of some scrap of approval. Belos seemed to have that effect on people, didn't he?

The armor in your hands was a sharp contrast to the Golden Guard's, in such a way that it almost gave you the appearance of matching; of being two parts of a pair. The heavy-plated fauld that protected your hips was made of a sturdy, silver metal as opposed to his gold, and it was inlaid in lines of bolted, parallel patterns that almost resembled scutes. You ran a fingertip beneath the loose edge of one, lifting it to better observe it in the low light. It scraped, meeting sudden resistance that prevented you from raising the thing higher, as though something was wedged beneath it. Curious, you wiggled your finger, rattling the plating around to loosen it. There was definitely something stuck between the strips. You upended the fauld, hoping for gravity to work in your favor and dislodge the foreign object easier than your fingertip could. After a few more tries, and a bit of shaking, the plating gave way, sending something cold and heavy clattering to the floor.

You leant down, setting the armor aside so you could grasp the object. It had the torpedo shape of a spearhead, but it looked organic- not like someone had carved it. When you turned it over, its purple surface caught the light, glinting teasingly. Not a spearhead. Spearheads didn't glimmer iridescent blues and violets. A scale- the kind you'd only seen once before, in the scales adorning the body of the stonesleeper. It must have gotten caught in your plating sometime during the battle without your notice. And now it was here, in your hand, in this quiet, empty room. Was it a gift from the universe? Or a malicious reminder of what you'd allowed to happen to that poor, frightened creature? You couldn't tell. But maybe a reminder was a good thing. You didn't want to fall into the same fight-or-flight apathy that the Golden Guard had. You didn't want to shut off your heart to survive. Maybe having this little piece of the stonesleeper would anchor you to your sanity and kindness; maybe it could keep a part of your soul safe from whatever strange, terrible things this palace did to people. You cupped the small, glimmering scale in your hands, tracing its raised bilateral ridge, feeling the coldness seep into your fingertips- as if sharing in its sadness for what had happened to its owner.

I'm sorry. I thought things would be... different. You thought, standing slowly and moving across the wooden floor to the small desk you'd been provided as sparse furnishing. Carefully, you set the vibrant scale in a small niche in the wood so that it wouldn't rattle or unbalance if the desk were ever disturbed. It was the first thing that was placed in your room entirely of your own volition, and there was something... morose about that. About your only personals being the spoils of battle and war.

Maybe you'd have something that truly belonged to you, someday.

— — — —

The next morning was brisk and blinding. The storm that had darkened the palace halls had blown in overnight, and from the heavens it struck a raging blow upon the earth, searing the forests with its boiling rains before vanishing almost as quickly as it had come. In its wake was a dewy, sunlit dawn, cooled mercifully by the mists the deluge had since wrought. Though you usually found sunny days to be unfavorably blinding, this one was peaceful; the air smelled of petrichor and the waxen secretions of the hardy trees that were built to survive in the harsh environment of the Boiling Isles- a pleasant divergence from the usual choking smog that the castle seemed to perpetually emit from its pipes.

The Golden Guard was waiting for you in the courtyard at exactly six, just as he'd said he would be. He was still as he watched you approach from the open-air entrance at the north end of the castle, his arms tucked neatly behind his waist and his cloak absent from his frame. 

You'd left yours as well, per his instructions. It seemed that today was going to be a bit different than before, judging by the assortment of spears and daggers laying neatly against the wall that the young soldier was standing beside. You approached until you were a few strides in front of him, stopping to mimic his statuesque position.

"Good morning, sir." you dipped your head slightly. The Golden Guard hummed.

"It's certainly a morning," he agreed with dry sarcasm, moving to pick up the hilt of a hooked, curved spear. He held it aloft for a moment, gauging its weight and balance, before tossing it to you without any warning. You scrambled to catch the weapon without getting stabbed, much to his quiet amusement.

"Now, then." he said, hoisting a spear up for himself and steadying the point towards you. "It's time you be trained in the proper manner of combat. Lord Belos expects nothing less than perfection from his scouts."

Proper manner? Oh, dear, did he expect you to go about the fancy motions of choreographed battle every time you had to fight something? Wasn't that horribly inefficient? The only thing you needed to do in combat was win, not look poised.

"I understand, sir." You agreed, reticent, planting your boots in the dripping grass. The guard before you hunched down, clamping one hand in front of the other across the smooth wood of the spear he was wielding. His forelock fell over the eye slats in his mask- but if it obscured his vision, he didn't show it.

"Really? Then come at me." He replied, cocky, tilting his head in invitation. You hesitated, getting a feel for the lightness of the spear in your palms. It was a bit quicker than you were used to, and a lot more unwieldy, but you could manage it. The only question left was if you could manage him. But waiting would win you nothing. If you wanted to understand anything about this boy's mind, you had to start somewhere. You lunged to the right, aiming the spear to catch him in his armored hip. He casually sidestepped the blow, landing you on unbalanced feet in the frictionless grasses. You almost didn't even sense the action register in his mind- he responded so quickly. How was that possible? How could you predict any of the moves he'd make if his thoughts were that swift? Before you could recover from the landing, he slammed his ankle into the back of your knee, buckling your legs in an instant and swirling to brace the tip of his spear against your nape.

"Sloppy." He criticized, voice hard and a bit superior. "You have no sense of your body. When your strike misses, you're left off your guard. Anticipate things not going your way, scout."

As if to emphasize his point, he pressed the spear point a bit harder into your skin, prodding it painfully. You winced, but nodded quickly, trying to comprehend his advice under the adrenaline pounding through you.

"Get up," He spun his weapon, standing behind you with his stance open. "And do it again."

You struggled to your feet, huffing slightly at the way they protested, as if frail and weak. If his brain had been whirring during the fight with the stonesleeper, it was moving at lightspeed now. He was analyzing which leg you favored as you walked, the dominant hand supporting your spear, and the way your body shifted when you returned to standing. He was amused, a little thrilled by the promise of a battle, and sated by how easy it was to take you down. Your annoyance mounted at his satisfaction- how could he be gloating already? Now you really wanted to knock him down a peg.

You gripped the spear handle a bit tighter, trying to focus on any weak points he was showing. His legs were spread wide, centering his frame to the ground, holding the spear in a diagonal to protect his chest. You could go for the groin, or the calf, since he was armored rather intensely on his torso. This time, you wouldn't throw your body weight into the swing; you hated to admit it, but his advice was sound. You relied far too much on your attacks working, and didn't prepare for the situations where they didn't. You took a step to the left, bracing your weight as if you were about to launch yourself once again, then swiveled and veered right with the momentum. You registered a bit of surprise from the Golden Guard- not at the trick itself, but at the fact that you'd had the sense to enact it in the first place. He took it in stride and swiftly blocked your spear with the hilt of his own, the sound of metal on wood thunking hollowly across the wide-open courtyard. You'd anticipated that, however- you were quickly realizing this young man was a strategic genius. If you couldn't beat him, you could at least try to impress him. You tilted the sharp end of your spear up, catching the hooked blade around the sturdy wood of the handle he was using to block you. With one swift motion, you flicked it heavenward, throwing off the balance of the weapon just enough that he had to scramble to grasp it once more. As soon as his stance faltered, you went for his left shin, hoping to catch him off-guard enough to knock down his balance. For a moment, he stumbled at the blunt-force blow but recovered by retrieving his weapon and driving the sharp end into the soft dirt, using the haft to redirect his momentum to face you- an almost terpsichorean performance. 

He wrenched the spear from the ground when he was stable, staring you down, the amusement tinging his mind suddenly quite absent. He wasn't angry- no- just focused. He actually quite liked it when people took his sparring seriously; nobody ever wanted to have a playful battle anymore. Mostly, Hunter had assumed that it was because people were too afraid to challenge him, but lately he'd begun to suspect that the avoidance came from a place of silent mockery and exclusion. The looks the coven-heads gave him in the halls sometimes, it had spread outwards; he knew it from the whispers- people didn't think he deserved his title. He was too young, too brash, too eager to do exactly what Belos wanted. Treacherous things! Belos would never have instated him if he didn't think Hunter was capable. Well, fine, the coven could act like petty children, but he had a job to do, and he would do it with or without their support.

The anger that sparked from the reminder of his infantilization gave the Golden Guard a sudden burst of energy. He was the one to rush you this time, lofting the spear up into a forward thrust as he came into range. You ducked, trying to slip out from between his legs, but he pivoted his momentum and clocked you with the lowered butt of his lance, hitting you squarely in the nose. You clamped a hand over your face instinctively, muffling the yelp of alarm that extricated from your throat. That hurt.

The Golden Guard knelt in front of you, leaning against his spear casually, though you could hear his heavy breathing beneath his mask.

"A spear," he huffed, looking down at you critically. "Is not a sword. So stop trying to use it like one."

This was not the sparring lesson you had initially anticipated- filled with flowy movements and elegant poise, and no real strategy at all- but you were actually glad for it. It seemed, strangely, that he was finally taking you seriously for once, and for the first time, he was putting real effort into acknowledging your position. There was something refreshing about seeing his mind open up to new information instead of returning to old and familiar habits, like he so frequently seemed to do. Your boldness had caught his eye in some morbid way- as if he enjoyed the challenge of breaking you the way he had been broken: tough love.

"I am using it like a spear." You protested. It was hard to not use a spear like a spear, actually.

"Wrong." He said, "you're slashing. Which is fine, in some cases, but it shouldn't be your default. Slashing leaves your organs vulnerable." He poked you in the stomach to demonstrate.

"Plus, it's just inefficient. Spears are made to stab at long range, and that makes them unwieldy in a swing. Slash to recover the center line, never to make a blow. Here, I'll show you."

He stood, walking a few paces in the windblown grasses to stand before you, holding out his spear to the space between your bodies.

"This is basic sparring. It's a little more scripted than a regular battle will be, but it can teach you the fundamentals." He motioned for you to hold out your spear to meet his.

"Grip the end with one hand, and the center with the other. Make sure it's balanced." He instructed, demonstrating with his own fingertips. You mimicked him, adjusting your right hand a bit lower onto the butt of the lance.

"Keep the tip raised to protect your face. Our masks are useful for that, but they can still be dented and pierced. A spear is a defensive tool, as well. Don't be careless with its placement. The handle is just as important as the blade." He explained, raising his spear tip to eye-level, watching you follow his lead.

"Use it to deflect and parry thrusts. Now, block me." He said, stepping back on his right foot to brace himself, then promptly pushing his spear forward in one quick motion. You dutifully met his attack with the handle of your spear to intercept it, hitching his blade up into the air slightly.

"Better. Now you look a little less like someone trying to cut a Palistrom tree with a kitchen knife." he mocked.

His approbation was... weird, and complicated. It was like he tried to be genuine, but couldn't bring himself to allow it when he'd kept up his tough act for so long. Thus, he resorted to diffusing that uncomfortable vulnerability with a quick jab- not unlike the spear he was wielding so expertly.

"Maybe I repurposed it." You shrugged, trying very cautiously to return his energy. "You know, thinking outside the box. Getting the jump on the enemy with the element of surprise."

'Hmm. So there is a personality under all that blandness.' The Golden Guard mused quietly.

Okay, ouch, a bit hurtful. But you realized that, to him, your replies had mostly been 'yes sir's and 'no sir's and a few logical comments. Sometimes it was easy to forget that, although it already felt like you knew him so well, the mind-reading didn't go both ways. He had no clue who you were, outside of the two days you'd been in his presence, and the instilled dislike of your intrusion into his predictable world.

"They will certainly be surprised. But only by your ineptitude." He agreed smoothly, positing his spear for another jab. You followed with a quick parry, then went for a thrust of your own when he was recovering. He tossed his head, flipping his blonde, curly forelock away from his eye slits as he parried your blow.

"Is the student not a reflection of the teacher, sir?" You asked, a bit more willing to step into touchy territory. His anger had faded a mote since the day before, and he no longer directed most of the remaining irritation at you. After all, it wasn't your fault you'd been recruited so suddenly; he could blame Terra instead. She was a smug old witch who deserved it anyway. He paused for a moment, as if deciding between scolding you and giving you an award for terrible witty banter. The soldier quickly recovered from the silence, however, when you lifted your spear to make an advance on his exposed chest.

"Teacher, hm?" He tasted the word with interest, lifting his hilt to block. "Hardly. More of a babysitter."

"Funny. That's exactly what I feel like." You grinned beneath your mask. Your spears crossed, colliding in the epicenter between your parallel forms to form a perfect letter X. A standoff for a moment, and then the Golden Guard swung upwards to dislodge the hilt in your grasp, sending your lance tumbling away from you. It landed with a soft thmp in the grass a few feet out.

"Don't egg me on when I have a spear pointed to your face." He warned, spinning his weapon performatively. Secretly, he was a bit pleased by his victory, and the fact that you actually seemed to be listening to his advice. Hunter didn't think he'd ever spoken to someone for this long before- certainly not members of his own coven.

"My sincere apologies." You dipped your head slightly, moving to retrieve your spear and smiling to yourself.

"Hm," he agreed mildly, setting the blunt end of the weapon down into the soil to balance his frame, much like he habitually did with his staff. He watched you move slowly back into position before him, steadying your grip in preparation.

"Attack me again. This time, use the spear like you're supposed to." He advised, backing up a few paces to ensure there was room to battle in the misty grasses. The two of you fell into defensive starting positions, raising your spears to aim between your opponent's eyes.

"Try to go easy on me, sir." You beseeched, still recuperating from your unfortunate crack to the nose.

He laughed.

Chapter Text

You’d lost the fight pretty badly. And the next, and the next. It wasn’t like you’d expected anything less, but Hunter’s gloating way of doing it certainly didn’t help your self-confidence. You spent the entire day sparring with him, learning the basics of lances, training staffs, (which he’d said were the royal man’s spear- whatever that meant) and even swords. And even though the air had been cooled significantly by the light rain, you were naturally sweating buckets by the end of the day thanks to the strenuous exercise he put you through. The Golden Guard was not going easy on you by any means- but he did allow you to take several breaks, because he ‘didn’t want you dying on his watch’ since it would be ‘very inconvenient for him’- which you appreciated, with some level of amused reservation. You took a thirty-minute recess for lunch, which was as plain and bland as ever, then returned to your losing streak. Despite the consecutive failures, you were given many opportunities to employ your newly learned skills in the battlefield, so the embarrassment wasn’t for nothing.

The hours stretched on, and it was only when the afternoon sun was waning across the sky, casting the courtyard in a lazy, golden light that your capable accomplice finally released you from training. You were sweaty and exhausted- but somehow satisfied with the feeling that you’d made real progress in your fighting abilities, no matter how small; and he was satisfied that you’d listened to him- really listened to him, instead of nodding along obsequiously to everything and taking absolutely nothing from it in the end. He had planned to train today anyway, said his mind, so he hadn’t lost any time teaching you.

“Alright, that’s it for today.” He said lightly, sheathing the sword he’d been instructing you with and motioning for you to do the same. You handed him the parcel, watching as he stowed the weapons in a large chest beside the spears. “Go shower so the whole castle doesn’t have to smell you.”

You laughed a bit to yourself. As if he wasn’t just as sweat-soaked as you were; the back of his neck glistened with moisture, exposed only by his lack of a cloak. Maybe that was why you wore them in the first place- to conceal how gross everyone got on the job. Still, you weren’t willing to leave him unattended, lest he try to slip away again.

“Certainly, sir, when I return to my quarters.” You agreed. “For now, I intend to accompany you until we are off duty.”

It was a little on the nose- you knew taking a ten-minute shower was not the worst transgression against the rules that you could commit, but your insistence on following orders to the exact annoyed the Golden Guard greatly, and you secretly liked to see him wrangle his own irritation and simultaneous respect for it.

‘And I thought I was the stickler.’ he sighed internally, standing from his place before the chest of weapons.

“Ew. No. I literally refuse to let you near me right now.” he said, taking a dramatic step backwards. “Besides, I’m not going to walk around all sweaty, either, and you definitely aren’t accompanying me to the shower. You’ll survive a moment’s separation.” Hunter insisted, pushing his blonde hair out of his eyes once again. Why didn’t he cut that weird, disobedient forelock? He didn’t seem like the type who would tolerate petty annoyances- but maybe it was the only display of individuality he was allowed, and he felt attached to it, in some way. 

Alright, you were done annoying him. He could consider it payback for beating you so completely in training. “Ah, I understand. An excellent point, sir. Then, I’ll do the same.” You bowed slightly, enjoying his mental turmoil. Just a moment ago, the two of you were enjoying a sort of competitive, mean-spirited banter, and now you’d returned to the stoicism of a devoted bodyguard. Were you messing with him? Maybe.

‘You are so CONFUSING.’ his mind thought with a passion you’d never heard him express aloud before. Hah. The feeling is mutual. You thought, deriving some pleasure in the fact that you could impart a similar effect on him that his shifting moods did to you. Did he really have no idea how complicated he was? It seemed that way. He had a confident view of himself- intelligent, capable, loyal- but that vision did not take into account some of the more intrinsic traits you’d seen in him. Maybe he was ashamed of his questioning nature, or his easy attachments, or his desperate need for validation. Maybe he thought those aspects of him were wrong. It seemed that, whenever this young man was coming close to expressing who he was behind the mask, he shied away from it and retreated to the familiar all over again. Once more, you found yourself pitying this guarded, prickly young man. He was obviously far too entrenched in his loyalty to his uncle and the Titan’s plan for him to see that he wasn’t just a tool to enact someone else’s will. He knew who he was- the Golden Guard- but was the Golden Guard really… him?

“Suure, do what you want.” He finally waved carelessly, brushing past you and back into the shaded veranda of the courtyard’s outer edges. You followed behind, hoping he’d show you to wherever the barrack showers were, because you were hopelessly lost in navigating, as usual. And he did- well, sort of. He mostly just ignored you while he walked to the barracks and then disappeared into a locker room without a word. Expected. You found an adjacent locker room and went in, quite taken aback to find a smattering of occupying scouts already inside- tugging on their capes, rifling through weapon stashes, and talking amongst themselves. When they saw you enter, they slowly went quiet, exchanging worried glances from below the dark holes of their masks. They seemed wary of you- were you like your grumpy cohort? Would you ignore them, too? Should they bow?

Their questions were quickly eased when a familiar, laidback voice sounded from a scout who’d been in the midst of tying his shoelaces.

“He-ey! Ball and chain!” He laughed, abandoning his task in favor of a friendly punch to the shoulder you’d bruised in your fight with the stonesleeper. Ow. “How’s it going? I mean, you’re alive, which is definitely a good start. Is the golden stick-up-the-ass giving you trouble yet?” He asked. You chuckled awkwardly, rubbing your shoulder and taking a step back. Evidently, Steve’s approval held some kind of authority within the hierarchy of the scouts, because several of them flashed you shy waves of greeting. You raised your hand in return, smiling at them before turning to address the man beside you. It was true, something about Steve’s attitude was contagious.

“Well- kinda. Mostly he’s just been ignoring me when he can.” You admitted, moving further into the locker room so the door could shut behind you. Steve gave you an expectant look, so you continued.

“He’s- uh, interesting?” You offered. The scout laughed. “Temperamental.” You added.

“Yeah, sure, he’s definitely… that.” Steve edged. “Between you and me, I think the kid’s acting the way he is because he’s worried you’re gonna replace him. I mean, it’s not every day a witch is handpicked for the emperor's coven.” He pointed out.

Replace him? You definitely didn’t want that. Being in a position that close to the emperor would be, frankly, terrifying. And besides, Hunter didn’t deserve to be disenfranchised, even if he was ornery sometimes. And you knew from what you’d seen in his mind that his placement in the coven was his whole identity- you couldn't righteously take that from him when it was this bad.

“He definitely doesn’t need to worry about that.” You corrected, pausing beside a bench to let Steve tie up the rest of his laces. “I’m nowhere near his level. And I don’t want to replace him, anyway.”

“You don’t?” Steve looked up, interest sparking in his mind. “Huh. You know, I get it. The emperor is scary enough as it is, and I barely even see the guy. Can’t imagine being around him every day.” He said, chuckling dryly. It seemed he really didn’t like his place in the coven much, which was a sentiment you’d noticed a lot of in the lower ranks.

“Yeah. And- well, he’s not horrible. The Golden Guard.” You clarified. “He’s just intense. And kinda… snarky? But I can never tell if he’s mad at me or not; it’s like one minute he hates my guts and the next he thinks I’m his personal entertainment.”

“Yeah, he’s got a sense of humor. As long as it’s at someone else’s expense.” Steve agreed, finishing up his laces with a neat double-knot. “Kinda makes you wish you knew what he was thinking, yknow? What he expects of you. What it must be like, being the Golden Guard at 16.”

“Ah- ahaaahhh...” You looked away sheepishly, suddenly feeling very exposed by his off-handed comment. “Yeah. Definitely wish I could pick his brain for a day."

But what was it that Steve had said? 16? So, he was your age, after all. It made sense, just as you’d suspected. It explained the attitude, and his appearance without the cloak. But it also made things a mote sadder. He ought to be in school, studying magic and playing grudgby with his classmates, not being a soldier.

“Anyhow,” Steve said lightly, placing his boot back onto the floor. “I’m sure you’re real busy babysitting. I gotta get the troop into the conformatorium for a guard shift. See ya around?” He flashed finger guns.

“Oh- uh, yeah.” You said, returning the gesture, trying to match his cool biker-dude vibe. “For sure. Don’t get… murdered?”

He barked a laugh, motioning for the other scouts to gather their things and follow him out of the door. “I’m definitely gonna try not to do that. Don’t get snarked to death by your prisoner.” He retaliated, slipping out through the doorframe with the others beside him, who were silently enjoying the show.

“I won’t.” You said, watching his cloak and mask vanish as the heavy door of the locker room closed softly. It was quiet, now, save for the slight dripping of a leaky faucet in the corner, which was for the best. You just needed a quick rinse, and a change of garment. Thankfully, your underclothes were the same as those of the coven scouts, and they seemed to have a large closet full of spare uniforms for you to change into- so you wouldn’t have to put the clothes you’d trained in back on. You showered quickly and efficiently, not bothering to wash your hair since this was for brevity and not vanity. You were surprised to learn that the stalls were not the usual open-space prison showers you’d expected, but sided with all four walls, tiling, and even a niche for a bar of soap. Simple, yes, but glorious compared to the lackluster quality of some other amenities in the castle.

When you’d dressed yourself and fixed your raven mask back onto your face, you exited the lockers with a heavy thump of the wooden door, carrying your old clothes in a heap. You were surprised to see a slender figure poised against the wall, leaning back in a glitter of gold and bronze upholstery.

When he saw you, he held out his palms in an imitation of jazz hands. “Surprise. I didn’t sprint in the opposite direction as soon as you were out of sight!” He said sardonically. You shrugged, as if the instance of his not-running was a fluke as opposed to a reflection of his regular behavior. You were pretty certain he was rolling his eyes.

“Where do I put these?” You asked, gesturing to the dirtied clothing you’d draped over your arms. He pointed silently to a woven bin on the far right, at the wall of the dead-end hallway. You tossed your uniform into the hamper, looking back to him expectantly. It was late afternoon, as it had been since you’d finished training, but that didn’t mean the day was over. Usually, the scouts woke at six AM and continued their duties into at least sunset. You weren’t sure what the rule was for you and him, though. Did Hunter get to make his own hours?

“Thanks.” You said in reference to his helpfulness, and he flicked an ear in surprise.

“Yeah, was a real chore.” The soldier said, crossing his arms over his chest, sighing. His hair looked fluffier now, as if he’d tousled it of its accumulated sweat, and it shone in almost the same brilliant, golden hues of his placid mask.

‘Hope they don’t expect me to study with this one, too. That’s where I draw the line.’ He thought, touching on an engagement he’d planned in the library to study some of the older healing magic texts.

Library. He was going to… the library. It took a moment for the idea to fully register. The word library felt almost fake; you’d searched so hard for it in the palace walls.

“Y-" you bit your tongue quickly, realizing that was not an outside thought of his and you most certainly shouldn’t respond to it. He gave you a weird look, tilting his head in mild suspicion. You coughed suddenly and poorly, pretending to have a respiratory fit to distract from the misstep. “Sorry." You wheezed, "Swallowed a bug.” You gave one more hack for effect, to which he gave the distinct impression of wrinkling his nose in disgust. Even with the mask, he managed to be extremely good at purveying his distaste. You quickly filled in the silence, trying not to act too hysterical. “So, what now? I mean, since we finished training for today.”

“Well,” he looked out onto the fading sunset, briefly letting his thoughts melt away into the colors of it. Gold. Warm, beautiful gold- the color that bathed his life in prodigious perfection. The color that signified everything he wanted to be. “I usually study when I have free time.”

The admittance was hesitant, as if he wasn’t really sure he wanted to share that intimate detail with you, lest you intrude upon the only measure of enjoyment he had left. Unfortunately, though, you planned to do exactly that.

“Oh- study.” You said, pretending to be surprised. “Like what?”

“Magic.” He answered vaguely.

“Well, yes. What kind?”

“The magical kind.”

Very informative. You could tell he was shying away from your prying, disquieted by your sudden interest. Still, though, you needed to keep pushing.

“Goooot it. Where do you study? Do the coven heads tutor you…?”

He seemed a bit tickled by the assumption; his shoulders shook slightly with a laugh. “Titan, no. I’m self-taught. If I need to know anything, I’ll find it.” He shrugged delicately. That seemed to be true. Most everything he knew was from books and personal experience, which was quite impressive, considering how intelligent he was. He must’ve been quite the bookworm. But when did he have that much time to read? He was being a nuisance in avoiding your pointed questions, so you decided to be direct.

“So, do you study in the… library?” You asked.

A very loud, annoyed grumble echoed in his mind as you hit the nail on the head. He could already sense where this was going. “No, I study in the cafeteria, scout”

You'd take that as a sarcastic 'yes'. Alright, be normal and don’t seem too excited. Definitely do not beg him to tag along. Play it cool.

“Oh, I didn’t think the palace had one.” You shrugged. “I looked around in my first days here. Most of the doors are locked, and all of the hallways sort of start to look the same after a while.”

He placed his head against the brick wall he was leaning on, tilting his chin up as he considered that. “We obviously have a library. The palace is the epicenter of witch knowledge and magic. Everything is here.” He said with a kind of intense reverence. “But of course you couldn’t find it. You really think Emperor Belos keeps his archive of ancient, priceless manuscripts unlocked for any old coven scout to skip inside?” He laughed, scornfully. “No. He doesn’t. It’s hidden- quite thoroughly.”

Your heart sank just a bit. It made sense, you supposed, that the paranoid sovereign wouldn’t allow low-rank coven members to view the library, but it didn’t make it any less disappointing.

“Oh. I see.” You said, treading carefully, oscillating between asking if you might be permitted to enter and going silent. “Naturally.”

The Golden Guard’s mind stirred a bit, wondering how you'd phrase this next horrible attempt to not be suspicious.

“So- do I need to study as well? Since I’m no longer enrolled in Hexside?” You probed, hoping he’d reach the conclusion you were aiming for. Instead, he shrugged.

“If you like. Though I understand you’re already a capable student; I don’t see why you’d have any need for it.”

You decided to appeal a bit to his bookworm side. “One is never too good for knowledge.” 

He snorted. “Is this your way of trying to weasel into the library?” The Golden Guard asked, cutting to the chase in his annoyance with your little game of verbal cat-and-mouse.

“Want to have a look at forbidden things, scout?” He almost cooed, exploiting the new weakness he’d discovered with glee. Well, at least now that your ‘secret’ was out, you were free to be honest with him. It wasn’t like you really wanted to do anything shady. You weren’t planning to use whatever you learned to usurp the emperor, or some nonsense. It was just a small thing, to give you some peace of mind.

“No, sir.” You said, steadier than before in the certainty of the truth. “Actually, I just wanted to look into illusion magic a bit more. There aren’t many texts about it, even in the schools. And the ones that exist paint the spells as cheap party tricks. It’s… simply inaccurate. I believe that uncovering the history of illusion magic could help return it to relevancy, so to speak.”

‘Illusion magic- That’s right. Their specialty.’ He thought idly, tapping the tip of his boot to the ground. That little ember of respect for your dedication flared up again, and it brought something to the surface that had been nagging him since he’d first truly met you.

“That’s respectable, I suppose.” He agreed. “But I’m afraid I can’t let you in.”

‘I’m not even really supposed to be in there.’ He thought, deep in his shameful subconscious. What was that? A genuine admission of disobedience from the mind of the most uptight soldier in the coven? It almost felt like striking gold. Something even stronger than Belos’ will was compelling the young man to break the rules, and to bury himself in the forbidden knowledge his uncle so closely protected. You absolutely had to figure out what that thing was.

“Ah, I understand.” You said slyly. “But… even if I can’t study anything, couldn’t you let me have a look? Just for a moment? You could supervise me the entire time.” You added, disliking your resort to supplication, but knowing that he was the only way to get the answers you sought.

He mused over your offer a moment, then pushed himself away from the brick wall of the outer locker room hallway to stand before you, dipping to align the slots in your mask with his own.

“Alright, scout, I’ll make you a deal,” he said, backing up a single step to return to his full height. “I’ll let you get a tiny peek into the library. If you do me a tiny little favor…”

“…and tell me exactly how you won the fight in the arena that day.” 

Chapter Text

"Sir?" You asked, panic shooting through you at his pointed suspicion. Your desire to learn more about illusion magic had begun to gnaw at that little snag in his subconscious- the one he'd been mulling over cyclically without any sign of an answer. And a lack of answers frustrated him.

"You know what I mean." The boy said coldly. "You used illusion magic to secure your victory. But I don't know how you did it." He tilted his head, as if trying to see through your mask.

You tried to deflect. "I-It's a simple spell- "

"I'm not finished." He silenced you. "It's not the spell; it's how you did it. Illusionists conjure frightening or confusing things to disorient the enemy- that much I know. But you didn't do that; you conjured a woman. And by the looks of it, someone he knew. Explain that, and don't bother telling me you 'knew him', because he was about ten years your senior, and he seemed to have no qualms about taking an axe to your head." He prodded, annoyed by your innocent denial when he was so certain you were hiding something. 

'Weaselly scout. I knew all that obedient nonsense was suspicious. Who are you, really?'

Hm, he was more perceptive than you'd given him credit for. You'd have to lie to him, and convincingly. 

"What, you mean like, how I knew his ex-girlfriend?" You asked, trying to undermine the statement with casualty. "I, uh- overheard him muttering something to himself about winning back her approval. So I improvised."

"But you knew what she looked like," He countered sharply. "How could you get that from 'overhearing?'"

You stumbled, searching for a plausible addition to your presented argument. "Well- I mean, he'd mentioned her being in the audience in his ramblings. And near the beginning of the match, he looked into the top rows like he was searching for someone- I managed to get a glimpse of her." You excused. The Golden Guard scoffed.

"Really? He shot one look at an unspecified row, and you magically deduced which woman was his true love? Just like that? Either you've got some serious luck, scout, or you're lying to me."

He nearly growled it, the resonance amplified by the slats of his mask, which produced a threatening hiss of accompaniment.

"And hey," he eased condescendingly, holding up both of his hands as if to tell you he meant no harm. "I get it. We all have our secrets- you're more than free to keep yours, if it's that important to you. But if you won't give me an answer, then you don't get your little library pass. So, scout, what's worth more?"

Ooooh- he was evil. Evil and exceedingly good at finding things to exploit in you. What could you do? Keep your powers hidden, and lose what could be the only chance for you to learn more about your magic? Or sacrifice information that could get you tied down and experimented on like an animal? In Hexside, your stakes had never been this high. Not revealing your powers was more a matter of preference than of safety, but here, you weren't so sure. Not after seeing what happened to the stonesleeper.

Wait. Why did there only have to be two options? You'd been lying before; you could do it again. You'd just need time to come up with something believable. But you'd already exhausted most of your plausible explanations- how could you keep building up this absurd narrative if you didn't even think it was good?

...Maybe you didn't have to keep adding bricks to this wavering tower. There was another foundation that was awaiting cobbling, just out of sight. You sighed quietly- theatrically- relaxing your shoulders as if in resignation. 

"You're right," you relinquished, to his apparent surprise.

 "I did lie. But... only because you wouldn't believe me if I told you how I really did it."

His ear twitched in interest. Finally, some candor. "Try me." He said, his voice hard as he internally relayed all the strange anomalies he'd seen in his lifetime. In a world like the boiling isles, few things were truly impossible.

"Okay- well," you could tie this together nicely- the pieces were already beginning to fall into a fuzzy concept in your mind. "I already told you that I've been looking for ancient texts on illusion magic, and that's true. The thing I didn't mention... is that I actually did find one in my searching; Very recently. In fact, just a few days before the pit-fight."

He perked up at that, sudden investment sparkling to life in his thoughts. An ancient book he hadn't read yet? That Belos didn't already own? It was exciting, thinking about that novelty. Still, this could easily be another farce from you. Hunter leaned back a bit, removing some of his intimidating aura from your personal space, as if giving you a reprieve for your cooperation. "Is that so?" He asked, trying not to sound too invested. He couldn't let you take advantage of his interest.

"Yeah. And it listed a bunch of old illusion spells I'd never even heard of before- like a history of the first illusion magic. I was so excited about it that I tried to perform one of the spells right away; but most of them needed multiple consenting witches to participate, or more magical energy that I had available. So, I picked the easiest one- one I could try on someone else."

You paused, as if buried deep in a memory. 

"The book called it a... Clairvoyancy spell. Apparently, the spell is capable of connecting two witches together- the wielder and the recipient- by drawing its magical power from both of their bile sacs. And supposedly, in that connection, memories or emotions of great importance can be gleaned by the wielder. Some of the writing in the book was smudged or torn-up, but it seemed like ancient illusion witches might have used it to discern the greatest weakness of their foes and use it against them. That, and I'll bet it was employed for entertainment and exposure." You detailed, adding speculation for a touch more believability. 

Damn, you were pretty good at this. Lying wasn't so hard when you could pretend to be confident, like he did- though you were drawing on a simple conclusion of reasoning. But you really did feel bad, doing it like this; getting his hopes up in a way that was admittedly adorable for a man as bristly and unyielding as him. You just couldn't afford to let your shot slip away, when you were this close.

"So, I just needed someone to test it on. And I thought- who better than an opponent I'm supposed to fight anyway? But I didn't want to use it out of the gate, since I'd never used it before, and I wasn't sure if it was dangerous. That's why I waited till the final fight to do it; It was my last resort. But when he attacked me, I was forced to cast it. So, I used the spell, and saw her in his memories, and this horrible feeling of heartbreak. It was almost like... I was experiencing those moments, too. I can't explain it exactly- It just seemed that I suddenly knew her the way he did. But it gave me enough information, so I summoned my illusion, and..." you shrugged. "You saw the rest."

A long, heavy silence as the Golden Guard stood before you, his mask fixed steadily onto your eye slits. The gears in his mind were turning, comparing what you'd said to what he knew about existing illusion magic and ancient spells. The coincidence of you- a random witchling- finding a book in your equally random, nowhere town was very dubious to him. It didn't seem impossible, but...

"...Do you have the book?" He asked quietly.

You shook your head. "No. I left it at home when Terra told me to pack light. I figured it would be safer there." You explained. You knew he wanted to see this supposed 'ancient book of spells', but you really hoped you wouldn't have to produce it anytime soon. If you could stall long enough, perhaps you could find some kind of blank tome and cast a convincing disguising spell over it, to make it look like a history of illusion magic? But what if he tried the spells inside? They wouldn't work- Then he'd know for sure you were creating an elaborate lie to dodge telling him the truth about your ability to read minds. It was too far-fetched, and the Golden Guard was not a patient man. You'd learned that the hard way. You knew he wouldn't settle for excuses forever; soon, he'd come knocking, and you'd better have a plan by then, or you could kiss your chance at information goodbye.

The Golden Guard fiddled lightly with his forelock for a moment, clearly a habit he'd picked up while in deep consideration. That was awfully convenient, he thought, but he supposed it made sense. The emperor did not allow much outside influence in the castle, so personals were rarely welcome unless they were acquired during one's stay and were strictly monitored. Perhaps you really had simply left the priceless artifact at home, right after finding it in your grandmother's dusty attic- or whatever you hicks did. But not likely. He smelled something terribly interesting in the wind, and he wanted to pursue it, but he could wait. He could bide his time, for now.

"That's a shame." He said, looking down as he wound his wavy hair around his pointer finger. "If what you're saying is the truth, I'm certain Emperor Belos might very much like to have that book." he said slowly, carefully.

"Most definitely." You agreed.

The young soldier straightened himself, then, stilling his hands behind his back to present an air of poise. He couldn't be sure just yet about this little story you were telling him, but he could appreciate the effort. If you were lying, at least it was something you'd actually given a speck of brainpower to. He sensed, now, that if he gained your trust- if he acted like he never doubted you- he could sink his teeth into all the delicious things you were hiding much easier. If you were so insistent on playing a game with him, he could play along. "Well, scout, I appreciate your... eventual candor. But I wouldn't recommend making a habit out of lying to me. I don't take kindly to insubordination." He warned, voice low and eerily conjoined with his uncle's serpentine sounds. Suddenly, in that darkening sky, his golden tones seemed to dim to a deep, familiar bronze. Yes, now you could see the family resemblance quite clearly.

You swallowed down your nerves, reminding yourself to be way of him. Despite all his humor, he was obviously very unstable, and horribly sly, the way he was planning to garner and exploit your trust. "Of course, sir. It won't happen again. But, now that I've told you how I won..."

"-You want me to hold up my end of the bargain." He finished easily. "Don't worry, I'm a man of my word. I'll allow you into the library, but only for the duration of my studying." The Golden Guard said, gesturing with his hands towards the opening in the small, brick niche the locker rooms were tucked into. The sunset had deepened from a rusty, burnt orange to a cool purple, enveloping the clouds in a lavender mist that crept ever forward- drawing the rest of the sky into its soothing depths as the night began to swallow the day whole. Wind whipped in a howl through the twilit hallway, winnowing into your mask to unveil all your clandestine intrigues. 

'I'd like to see what this one is really looking for...'

"Come." He beckoned, moving out into the surreal colorscape and taking a harsh right turn beyond the curve of the wall. You tailed him, catching up to his brisk pace, listening to him whir and tick as he quietly fought with the urge to question you further; to order a platoon to your house and rifle through every one of your belongings until he'd found the truth to reinforce his suspicions.

But his calculated imperturbability won over in the end. The Golden Guard pushed open a pair of wooden double-doors and marched into the hallway they revealed, his gait attempting steadiness, though you noticed the tiniest limp in it that you could have sworn wasn't there before. Strange, his mind didn't seem to be registering any hurt or injury at the moment, but perhaps it was that old, familiar kind of injury that one could blend into the background if they had it long enough. Sometimes, you could feel his other pains- ones that ached faintly across his shoulders and chest and wound their way into his bones. Physical traumas he didn't dare make evident to anyone but himself in the quietest nights alone, when he could feel the pain in full, and then return to pretending all was fine. 

The two of you returned to the great hall, and Hunter slipped his head once again into the throne room doors, checking for something, or someone. He saw nothing.

"Alright. This way." He sighed, muttering something like 'Can't believe I'm doing this' in his mind. You followed him as he squeezed through the doorframe, leaving a large enough gap for you to do the same. Without the fire behind it lit, the throne room was almost more eerie. It was practically impossible to see in the blue-tinted twilight that cast over the yawning space, but despite the loss of one sense, the sound of that terrible, unyielding heartbeat was still haunting you in the darkness, unseen.

Footsteps clicked coldly in rhythm with the steady thumping overhead, and you followed the sound of them in hopes that you were behind Hunter. Even in the low light, you realized, he glinted- his mask and golden hair seeming to cast a warm glow over everything. He was so opposite to the cool colors of the castle architecture and uniform; it almost gave the impression that he didn't quite fit in with them. You kept close to his back as he moved in the emptied room, pausing against the far-left wall. You could barely make out his palm as he placed it flat against the wood grain, dragging it slowly across the rough surface with his delicate fingertips. A hum, then a glint of satisfaction as something gave way beneath his hand. He pushed into the wall, revealing what you realized was the small door he'd vanished into upon your first meeting with Belos.

Beyond the humming walls of the eerie throne room was a much smaller, dustier side room- made hastily from hammered copper and silver plates, supported by beams of wood and taut steel. You thought he would stop in the poorly constructed space, but he powered through the clearing in the centre of it, paying very slight, cautious mind to a creepy-looking door standing to the right. Whatever that door was, it was obviously important, gilded with long-arching wingtips that looked like they were partially incomplete. It almost seemed as though this place had been built after everything else in the palace, and in a terrible rush. The floor was a tangled mat of solid cables that found their roots in the hollows of the walls and made their way up to feed into the door staring distantly ahead with a motionless, welded eye. As you observed the room, you realized that several strange items were scattered across the makeshift floor- most notably, several dusty, thickly bound books with worn covers and titles rubbed away by time and a thousand hands. That was a promising sight. Then, the library was surely close.

"I must ask" the Golden Guard spoke up as he moved to the opposite wall of where you'd entered, slipping through another doorway that was lit hauntingly with fading sconces. "If you've already found one impossible book, why are you so intent on searching for another? What makes you think there are others at all?"

He pushed forward into the passageway, the flame flickering across his mask and casting his hair in bright gold. "Seems a little greedy to covet all of them." He said, a kind of warmer teasing in his tone than usual, as if he was trying to lighten the heavy, foreboding silence of the room, and the encroaching heartbeat just walls away.

You laughed a bit, just to humor him. "I mean, why not? If there's one, there are others. It's not like illusion magic is new. And it gives me something to... busy myself with, I guess. When I'm not working."

"Busy yourself..." he hummed, reaching for his belt to retrieve a small, rusted copper key. When he'd palmed it, he reached for a metal knob at the end of the tunnel, sliding the keyshaft into the lock and twisting. You tilted your head to watch, confused that the knob seemed to be attached to nothing at all, and was instead nailed right into dusty bricks. As he cranked it down, however, you realized it was connected to yet another false wall, one that swung open on newly revealed hinges with a sigh.

The smell that came from beyond the door was old, musty, and inkstained; It was the unmistakable, glorious smell of ancient secrets and whispering, unearthed magics. It was the smell of promising knowledge. Even the Golden Guard beside you seemed calmed by the atmosphere as he gently stepped down from the tunnel. You jumped down the slight ledge between the passage and floor to land beside him, taking in the darksome library before you with awe. It was by no means as ornate or impressive as the grand hallways, or cathedral-like atriums you'd seen before, but it had a cozy charm that the other spaces simply... lacked. It was stuffy, warm, and faintly lit by inviting candles that seemed to be suspended by an ongoing levitation spell. Their light spread upwards into the ceiling and down to the furnishings below, illuminating a simplistic, concave roofing structure and lines of dark wooden shelves crammed with overstuffed books that looked ready to spit out their own loose pages. Upside down, backwards and prostrate, a few seemed to be trembling- twitching as if they were alive and eager to be removed from the confines of their fellow novels. And amongst all that feeling of hubbub, there was a constant, murmured whispering of things you couldn't make out echoing from somewhere in the distance, ebbing when you took a step forward, like a hush going over a faraway crowd.

"Do people really never come here?" You asked, reaching out to brush your hand over one of the dark shelves. It was rough and warm- not waxed or shined or polished in the way the castle floors and beams were. Like it had simply been borrowed from a gracious tree for the time being and would be going back to its owner very soon. It seemed old, and so distanced from Belos' time that you could actually feel safe in it.

The Golden Guard shook his head, watching you from behind owlishly. "No. Emperor Belos is very strict about who is allowed to enter the library. The coven heads are allowed inside, with special permission, but I've never actually seen any of them bother to use it." He said that with a bit of annoyance, as if he was miffed that the only people who could freely access this place weren't appreciating it the way he could.

"Huh, you'd think they'd want to." You said distractedly, moving to poke at a voluminous textbook that was nearly bursting at the stitches with added notes from some reader before you. It fluttered in the slight air stirred by your touch, as if greeting you gleefully.

"I know, right?" Hunter said with a glimmer of novel excitement at your twin opinions. Then, he recalled he was supposed to be the Golden Guard, not Hunter. Well, at least he could begin the natural progression of gaining your trust this way.

"I mean- it's odd." He said airily, correcting himself. "And a grave misuse of resources. But hey, they're the experts."

'I could spit out more expertise than half of them.' His mind bitterly contradicted. They acted so high and mighty- treating him like some child of nepotism, when they barely bothered to study their own magic. He worked every day to prove his worth. He followed every instruction to the letter and even Darius didn't respect him! What the hell did he need to do to earn his dues- speak to the titan himself?!

Whew. Complex over here. You tried to tune his mind out and focus on the present and not his roiling thoughts, attempting an intelligible reply

"Sure, they're the experts. I guess if they don't come in here, they probably have their reasons," You shrugged, not caring much for the specific whims of the coven heads at the moment. You were too busy rifling through the books you could see, trying to glean their titles through the crowd of pages shoving up for your attention. The Golden Guard tsked slightly.

"Oh, please, go around touching absolutely everything. You're totally welcome to mess with the priceless artifacts." He sassed, flapping a hand at you. You pulled away quickly at his chiding, sheepish.

"Sorry, sorry. Got excited, I suppose. This library is fascinating. It's nothing like the rest of the palace." You noted.

"That's because it was built before the palace was." He explained, pleased at the opportunity to educate someone else. "In fact, before the palace was erected here, this library was a lot bigger. Savage-age witches stored their texts on wild magic here, along with some more specific magical areas like beast taming, potion-making, transfiguration. Of course, now, most of the wild magic scrolls have been burned..." he trailed off.

'Most of them...'

"But emperor Belos has kept the specialized ones for further magical study, naturally."

Something about that put you off terribly. Burning books? You knew Belos didn't like wild magic, but that seemed extreme. You could still glean information from ancient magic, even if it was antiquated, or dangerous. What was the point in burning it? Was he afraid that someone else might get their hands on it? Or... that someone might get ideas from it?

"Have you read everything in here?" You asked him in response, turning to glance at his masked face. You already knew the answer, but you wanted him to say it aloud, in an attempt to get him to open up to you.

"Yes. Well, mostly. Belos occasionally brings around books the scouts found from older towns on the outskirts of the Titan, so I have new material every once-in-a-while that I'm not as familiar with. I try to categorize them, sometimes, so I can keep track of what I've read, but it's kind of hopeless." He shrugged, sweeping a hand out to encompass the mess of disorganized parchment. You reached out to brush the dust from a shelving ledge, running it between your fingers.

"That's impressive. I could help you, if you want." You offered. It would be a good opportunity to read all the titles and see what was available to you in the future, and where to find it if you returned. Plus, you sensed it might make him happy, and you really needed to make up for your earlier lie. The guilt was really eating away at you. He seemed stunned into silence for a heartbeat, tucking his gloved hands behind his lower back slowly. "...Why would you do that?" He inquired, a hint of superiority in his tone. "I thought you wanted to read the books."

"I do." You agreed, turning back to face him fully. "But I think this is the best way to start. I'll get to see the titles- and then it'll be neat enough to be functional to anyone who needs it." Mostly you.

More silence. You could sense Hunter was worrying at the idea that Belos might see the tampering and confront him for sneaking scouts into places they ought not be. It wasn't entirely sensical, but neither was his uncle. Sometimes, it truly felt like the older man had eyes everywhere, on everything, and had simply been humoring his rebellious little nephew until now.

"...If anyone notices it's been reordered, blame it on Terra." You suggested with a slight smile. That tugged a muffled laugh from behind his mask, his brain glittering like the sun on a gilded sword at the realization that you'd observed his disdain for the elderly coven head.

"Am I that obvious?" He asked wryly, tilting his head to the left and finally removing his motionless hands from their structured positioning.

"Just a little," you said, taking the opportunity to connect with him on something. "But I don't blame you. I wasn't too fond of being shoved into an unsolicited job either- so her... insistence definitely didn't help."

"She's very insistent," Hunter said in a way that made it sound like he would've had much more to say about her, if he was given the chance to. He moved left, placing a hand on his plated armor and absently unclasping several buckles until the belt fell away from his hips, hoisted onto his outstretched hand so he could rest it on a scuffed table in the corner. He'd been holding his breastplate separately since his shower in the locker-room, so he tossed that, too.

"And so are you, apparently. Attempting to spoil my study plans." He added, slightly annoyed by your unpredictable whims, but not entirely opposed to the task you were presenting.

"I'd argue I'm helping you." You tried cautiously. "You can't find anything in this mess. It'll be much easier to see everything you've already read if it's alphabetized, at least. Oh, or maybe by genre? But this is probably mostly history. Okay- so, alphabetized."

"You're a whirlwind of indecision." He yawned, but he approached the shelf beside you and ran his pointer along the raised spine of a once-red booklet, which had since faded into a quiet, dusty maroon, taking it out slowly. He examined the cover, reading aloud.

"On the Subduing and Civilizing of Beasts for the Purposes of Witch Benefit: A Comprehensive Guide."

He tossed the book onto the empty ledge below the bookshelf niches and picked up another, commenting.

"Little wordy."

That seemed to be his way of saying he accepted your help. You smiled to yourself, mimicking him and tugging an overstuffed volume out of the space it was crowding, wrestling with the vice-grip the surrounding book's covers had on it. Dusting the title, you glanced over the words

The Biologie of the Species Titanius

You set it down beside you, making a mental note of the 'B' pile for later, and continued to rifle, hoping that maybe, just maybe, you could find your leap within these weary walls, and beside this strange, conflicted young man.

Chapter Text

The pair of you spent two hours at least trying to alphabetize the entire library. It was arduous work at first to pry all the books apart- considering they were practically glued together, but once you’d removed a few of the larger textbooks and histories, the shelves finally loosened enough to wedge your fingers around the rest.

Chalky dust rose into the air in plumes, painting the whole dim library in a misty veil. Even despite the covering of your mask, the culmination of particulates was enough to make you cough horrendously, and though he tried to hide it, you could hear Hunter quietly wheezing just like you.

His mind settled when he read. It was strange to see him so at peace. Not worrying about what he had to do next, or if he was acting the right way, or if he was upholding the standards Golden Guards had been held to for generations before him. Just being him, enjoying the things he actually liked, briefly settling into the unfamiliar skin of that teenage boy he’d repressed for so long under a guise of maturity. These were the moments that made you appreciate your power to see into the hearts and minds of people; they were all so much more complicated than they would ever know, but you would always know. 

You’d managed to get a little over half of the books out and stacked by their titles, making a few neat piles on the floor beside the shelves when Hunter finally stood, stretching out the elegant curve of his back.

“I think we should be going.” He suggested, looking up as if he was trying to see the sky from beneath the thickly thatched roof. “I’ve already violated enough rules letting you in here, and I don’t think emperor Belos will accept ‘blackmail’ as an explanation.”

You stifled a slight laugh, placing the book you’d been appraising over on the ‘E’ stack- about 30 books high.

“I don’t know, he might be impressed with your bargaining skills. Employ you for diplomacy work.”

A scoff was your reply as he strutted over to stand above you, crossing his arms over his vested chest. He touched you with the tip of his boot, distantly, like you were a mystery stain he'd found in his perfect cape, and he wasn't sure if you were disgusting or not.

“I mean it. Get up. I’m not about to work overtime because of your literary whims. You’ve already done quite enough on that front.”

“You didn’t have to take me to the library; I wasn’t the one who proposed the deal.” You reminded him, standing nonetheless. His ear ticked slightly in annoyance, because he really didn’t have a retort for that. He wasn’t sure what had compelled him to offer an exchange to you in the first place- curiosity? Distaste for your deceit? Amusement? It was hard to tell.

“I wasn’t the one keeping secrets.” He huffed in a poor excuse that he was well aware didn’t justify his impulsivity. He glared at you through his mask. “And by all means, move at a glacial pace. I’ve got absolutely nothing better to do than watch you struggle to your feet.”

You hurried yourself slightly to appease him, clapping your hands free of the dust that had begun to coat them like powdered sugar on a pastry. The candles in the library flickered quietly, as if disappointed to have their only company preparing for a departure, leaving them in the empty loneliness of this hidden room without any vibrant life to illuminate.

“What should we do with the stacks of books?” You asked. You still hadn’t cleared everything out, so reshelving them would be counterintuitive. But leaving them out in the open might have been a slight red flag for anyone else who entered, wouldn’t it?

“Leave them.” He dismissed. “Nobody comes in here, like I said. I’ll finish organizing them next time.” He paused, then: “Your assistance was… useful. Even if it was forced upon me.”

Drama queen. He just didn’t want to admit that he was slightly enjoying the only willing company he’d had in… well, he didn’t actually seem to remember the last time he’d had willing company. Even the more friendly scouts tended to avoid him.

“Alright.” You shrugged. “And thanks. It was self-indulgent, though.”

He pivoted on his heel to grab his discarded armor, hoisting the fauld onto one of his arms so he could refasten his breastplate- then motioned at you to follow him out of the hidden door you’d entered from. The candles waved their goodbyes across the inner passage walls, shut into quiet darkness as the door was closed behind you. It was as cramped as you’d left it, squeezing the two of you tightly together, until you could feel the warm press of his shoulder to yours. Just as last time, all you could think was how scrawny he felt. Didn’t he train every day? How could he feel so willowy? He ate, right? The discrepancy almost felt… wrong. Like something was happening behind the scenes that you weren’t aware of- something that explained a lot about this young man, though his mind seemed to refuse thinking of it.

It had become apparent that the more that you learned about him, the less you feared him, and the less you feared him, the more your duty of keeping him safe began to feel like less of a burden.

———-

The two of you split off to your separate rooms when you returned to the hallways of the main castle, which were dim with the all-encompassing night as it devoured any remnants of the day. The parting of ways was unceremonious. As usual, Hunter informed you of the next day’s plan- more training. Apparently, weekends were the only break in the usual coven routine, unless an emergency happened to come up. Weekends were for missions, much like the stone sleeper’s retrieval had been. You could look forward to an entire week of soreness for a very long time- probably forever.

You tried to get some sleep that night, but you were too busy thinking over the day, trying to find some magical way to sort out all of your problems conveniently sitting in plain sight. You knew from the Golden Guard’s brain that he was planning to ask you to produce the illusion book you’d claimed to have found- and he was toying with how he ought to do it. Send you to your parent’s house to retrieve it? Send a scout? Go himself? He wanted solid proof of the tome before he went on believing everything you told him- and if you were telling the truth, then he’d have a new little gift for the emperor and himself. But not now, not when you were so new. He needed time to hatch a good plan, first. It was a frighteningly sinister thing, to know that the man you were intended to guard was planning to cozy up to you so he could bleed you dry of your precious secrets- but you could dodge his questions, for now. Not always, but for now.

You might’ve had an easier time understanding him if you couldn’t read his mind at all- like Belos. At least then you wouldn’t be tethered to these little snags below the surface; the ripples in the pond of him. The sad, unexplainable hopelessness and insecurity that he tried so hard to file away, but could never fully dissolve. You’d have to learn how to predict him a lot better if you wanted to survive his keen, suspicious eyes- starting with preparing for every scenario you could think of involving the lie you’d told him.

You didn’t have any time to waste.

———-

The next morning went the same as the last. And the next, and the next. You trained, sparred, and found yourself losing time and time again to the Golden Guard’s quick wits and powerful blows. It wasn’t even a challenge for him, you realized after yet another sore loss. He was playing with you; a strike of lightening dancing about a lazy cloud. Occasionally, you managed to surprise him with something you hadn’t done before, but it never ended in success, only prolonged struggling. And yet, despite all of that, it was fun. He was fun. He never failed to keep himself entertained- and you in the process- with his offhanded remarks and abundant attitude. In battle, he was all confidence and assuredness. He knew he wouldn’t lose, and sometimes, that was the only thing he could count on to know. Knowledge was safety, power, and superiority, and he reveled in it. Loss or not, you always left your battles with him feeling like you’d taken away something from it, as opposed to just being battered to no end. There was a beauty in the way he so easily managed to integrate all the skills you’d gone over into his strategy- to force you into a zone of discomfort and guide you into the next logical step without holding your hand the whole way. The Golden Guard made you work to see every battle as a continuous cause and effect, and ensured with no small effort that you could train yourself to make split-second decisions with no pretty, scripted nonsense. Real opponents wouldn’t give you a choreographed ballet, he said. They would give you desperation and vicious accuracy because they’d do anything to win, and he expected the same of you.

By the end of the day, you were always exhausted, but something made you want to linger a while. Maybe a hope that he’d invite you into the library again, just to sit in that peaceful silence and make some kind of progress on what you’d been searching for. But he never did. You’d had your bargain, and now it was all business. 

He still kind of tried to ditch you, even after a week of training together and your repeated reminders that this was your job and you couldn’t exactly abandon it to go have tea with the coven heads, or what have you. He liked to be alone, you knew, but he was going to have to get used to having his alone time with you. It wasn’t like that was a very difficult ask, in your opinion; you were good at being quiet, at blending into the background. You’d done it all your life. Soon, he wouldn’t even notice you were there when he tended to his duties around the castle, and he could yell at straggling scouts who weren’t doing their job all he pleased- just like he wanted. You would be his dutiful, unintrusive shadow, if that was what kept him happy. He was much more pleasant to be around when he was happy.

And so were you, when you were fed. A fact that became much clearer as you found it more and more difficult to avoid the siren call of the dining hall, no matter how uncivilized or distasteful the food might have been. Scavenging about for a stray snack amongst the conference rooms and areas of importance was hardly sustainable, after all, so by the next Saturday morning, you had given into the temptation of a consistent meal.

The cafeteria was a mess of riotous laughter, whelping, chatter and clanging. It seemed the only place that the scouts could freely socialize and rest, mingle amongst each other even if they worked for separate coven heads or generals. The content and blandness of the food didn’t seem to bother them much- they were all so used to the unfavorable textures and tiny portions that there was little use complaining. You made your way along a glass partition on the far wall, finding your place among a short queue of soldiers in waiting for their meals. Almost everyone had their masks off, revealing a diverse spatter of bipeds, beasts and bugs all mingling together in the shared knowledge that in the emperor’s coven, their differences were meaningless. All of them simply wanted to survive their time in the palace, so there was little motivation for prejudices or exclusion. Here, everyone was equally, quietly unsatisfied with their lives. Misery was their only company, and it was a tired friend indeed, sitting idly by as they retrieved the same amalgamous portion of edible scraps they always did. If nothing changed, there was at least the comfort of continuity, right?

You reticently held out your own tray to the food counter and were brusquely served a portion of some kind of mashed, starchy substance coupled with a scoop of slimy, undercooked griffin eggs. Trying not to wrinkle your nose, you thanked the counter attendant, swiveling in hopes of finding a spot to sit and eat amongst the crowded bustle of demons. Most of the scouts had organized into cliques of gossipy friends taking up whole tables, who you doubted would be keen on moving about their arrangement to accommodate some newbie. In fact, all of the tables seemed to be packed full to the brim… except for one. Curious, you focused on the parting of the crowd, seeing that the coven scouts seemed to give it a wide berth despite there being nothing out of the ordinary about the circular island. It wasn’t covered in blood, or entrails, or any other associated coven grime. No, the only disturbance was the quiet presence figure draped in all white, still as a mouse, as if he was the only witch left in the whole world.

You knew that cape, and you knew that dusty golden hair at a glance; nobody in the castle had quite the strange, intense presence he did. It was the Golden Guard, indeed, but- more importantly- why was Hunter here? In public? It was like seeing a celebrity in the wild. You’d never assumed that he ate alongside the coven scouts; he felt too important to mingle with the commoners. Yet there he was, looking lonesome as any man could ever be, and you felt mighty sorry for him. Sorry enough to work up the courage to approach his table and try to ignore the ogling glances of the bewildered coven scouts who were watching you move in their sudden, tense silence. From the murmur of their minds, you could sense the general consensus that they all presumed to be watching an insect challenge a dragon to a duel. The linoleum below your feet was perilously waxed and slippery, nearly causing you to fumble several times and almost drop your tray of food as you made your way across the cafeteria to the Golden Guard's table. Further, it made for a very loud and squeaky announcement of your presence with every footstep, causing the young man- who’d been looking away- to turn his head curiously toward the sound of approach. Magenta eyes flashed to meet your own.

Oh. You hadn’t been expecting that.

He was maskless, presumably so he could eat, the cold indifference of the golden, owlish shroud you’d always associated with him giving way to- well, you couldn’t quite quantify what he looked like. It was a bit like staring into a flame; the burning light eventually compelled you to turn your eyes downward.

He was handsome in a rugged and distracted way, his pale skin flecked with countless scars that made him look like a true, battle-worn soldier indeed. His jaw was sharp and strong, offset by an equally elegant roman nose and thick, dark brows that seemed to be constantly knitted, judging by the lines in his forehead. There was something strange about his attractiveness that both allured you and frightened you; he was beautiful in the way that a bird of prey was beautiful. Sumptuous, aloof, unique and dazzling, but with all the sharp edges and cold capability of a warrior. Maybe it was his eyes that gave him such a deeply rattling impression. Those eyes- those eyes that didn’t match at all with what you saw in his distinct face. They burned a hot, startling fuchsine, like the depths of a rich wine or the facets of a bloodied ruby, and they were the most striking eyes you’d ever gazed upon. More than their almost preternatural appearance, though, was how… soft they seemed. Low and tired, a little melancholy; nothing like the harshness he seemed to be trying to exude. When they caught your own, they lingered a moment, then slipped half-shut, as if out of lazy interest, or expectancy of a request- since you’d been the one to approach him. The direct contact suddenly made you feel as though you’d been staring at him your whole life, and you straightened to bring yourself back to reality.

“Uh- hey.” You said.

Hunter blinked slowly, a little bemused. “Hey.” he replied, dragging the prongs of a fork through his untouched food. “Can I help you?"

Your slightly stunned silence made his brows twitch. "Or... are you just here to gawk?”

At that, he smiled wryly, turning away from you to reveal his profile, acting as if he didn’t truly care what you had to say next. You took another step forward, mustering the wherewithal to speak to him.

“No...! I actually wanted to ask if I could sit with you.”

He looked heavenward again, pausing to size you up like you were playing some elaborate prank on him. Everywhere his burning eyes roamed left a trail upon your skin that felt like you'd been marked by a coven sigil all over again.

‘Sit with me?’ 

For a moment, Hunter’s strong jaw worked, chewing on his uncertainty and confusion until he could manage a reply.

“Sure. As you can see, I’m not strapped for space.” He gestured outwardly to the completely empty table around him, a bit of something like self-deprecation lingering in his tone, though he tried to substitute it with sarcasm. You gave him a ghost of a smile in an attempt to make him feel more at ease as you sat on the bench before him, taking a moment to look closer at his face as you settled your tray. He really did have a strange and artistic look to him. Blonde hair, pale skin, red eyes- he almost appeared as if he had some form of albinism, since you'd never seen another witch with eyes like his. Albinism would explain the irises, but it wouldn’t explain his dark brows. So maybe contacts? A spell? You couldn’t be sure. Another of his many mysteries that had begun to reel you in.

It was very easy to see now why he was so scrawny. He seemed to only be intent at staring at his food and poking it as opposed to actually eating it. You had compromised his morning routine of sitting in solitude, however, so today he felt inclined to take a singular bite in order to appear as normal as possible to his unexpected guest. His open mouth revealed a boyish gap between his top right teeth that lent his face a sort of sweetness you knew he probably hated- but you found endearing. And even though masks weren’t some enforced dress code inside the castle grounds, you couldn’t help but feel that seeing him unmasked for the first time was a slightly monumental moment, especially since you’d taken to wondering what was beneath that cold, glittering metal shroud. 

Normally, you wouldn’t have to wonder such a thing, even if you could not see a person directly; most people’s appearances could be gleaned in their minds- at least in fragments- but it seemed Hunter never thought about how he looked. He didn’t seem to be insecure about himself at all, rather, he felt his face was… unimportant. He had no idea how fascinating his features were, and he didn't even seem to register that this was your first time seeing him so completely himself. That was a little sad; teenagers were supposed to be vain sometimes. He deserved a little conceitedness, when his visage alone was suddenly inspiring you to become an oil painter and take him for your muse. 

It was very obvious to Hunter that you were staring- a sixth sense he’d learned to pick up in the difficult childhood he’d endured. He wasn’t sure how he felt about your eyes on him. It made him fidgety. Did he have something in his teeth? Was it the scars? Was it just how he looked? He couldn’t really help that, but the idea of his true face being perceived as a step down from the intimidating figure of the Golden Guard made him uncomfortable. Did he still look so young? So young that every scout who passed him in the halls would still be inclined to ask him where his parents were, or if he was lost, instead of addressing him with the appropriate respect his station commanded?

You listened detachedly to his quiet mental murmurs, sinking into the ebbing tide of his thoughts like a lullaby as you hesitantly scooped up a spoonful of the mystery cafeteria food and ate it as quickly as you could. Meh, it wasn’t so bad today. A bit gritty and tasteless, but at least there was salt this time. Maybe next month they’d treat you to pepper, if you were behaved.

“So, what’s on the menu for today?” You tried cautiously, attempting to ease his usual morning slump into something more pleasant. “Oh, no pun intended. That was an accidental pun.” You added. He looked unimpressed, returning to wondering why you’d approached him in the first place. You already spent all day with him on missions and training- why would you want to be around him more? It didn’t make sense.

“Emperor Belos has requested I take on another mission. With your accompaniment.” He said, flippantly mentioning the latter.

“-as always.” You agreed.

“As always.”

“What is it this time?” You asked.

He set down his fork solemnly, lifting those impossible, faceted eyes to yours and bracing his scarred cheek to the heel of his hand.

“We’re going to slay ourselves a selkiedomus.”

Chapter Text

Selkiedomus were not easy creatures to subdue. Peaceful as they were to friendly faces, 200 tons of immovable blubber and tusks the size of the tallest witch's entire body meant dangerous waters, even for a person of exceptional abilities, and especially to a person who actively intended to threaten them. This was arguably even more daunting than your previous mission to retrieve the stonesleeper- even if you didn't know how to fight it, at least the prehistoric beast had been considerably smaller. Already, you were beginning to miss the safe continuity of your training with the Golden Guard, though you woefully acknowledged that it couldn't have lasted forever.

This mission, Hunter had decided to make his life- and subsequently yours- much easier, a fact he divulged as the two of you were walking down the hallway leaving the mess hall, just after finishing breakfast.

"We'll be taking one of Emperor Belos' importation barges to the location of the reported selkidomus lair. It's quite deeply positioned in the western Simmering Shoals, so I'd prefer not to transport us." He informed you, tugging on his pair of worn leather gloves from within his pocket. "Apparently, it's been spotted with a juvenile recently, which could very well mean that it's a female with offspring. That'll make our job more difficult."

"Mother animals don't love when people mess with their babies." You corroborated, unstrapping your mask from your belt to place it upon your face. When the Golden Guard had adjusted his gloves, he did the same.

"Exactly. So, we may have to tread more carefully than before. Our last expedition was... sloppy. We were caught off-guard, and I won't allow it to happen again. Just be sure you listen to everything I say, this time." His words, as usual, portrayed a general and calculated disinterest, the careful distinction of a superior man.

"Yes, sir."

—-------

The port where the emperor's ship lay waiting was a grungy offshoot of the Bonesborough suburbs, home to a rickety dock that hardly suited the massive carrier boat's extravagance. You were welcomed by a stout, beaked biped with a terse countenance and a no-nonsense attitude, who demanded full payment upfront for his services in commandeering the vessel. The Golden Guard carelessly dropped a pouch of snails into the demon's open pincer, brushing past him without another word as the chimeric man busied himself counting each coin.

The two of you boarded the elevated deck from a ramp that spit you out right in front of the captain's quarters, which the Golden Guard breezed into with an easy inwards push of the ornate double doors. The room beyond was more spacious than you'd expected, though you couldn't make out much else due to the intense darkness that shrouded any potential furnishings. The only light that permeated the twilight came from several installations of cloudy stained-glass windows- presenting the emperor's seal in varying tones of orange and dusty red that didn't reach the interior of the cabin. The soldier beside you took a few strides forwards, his night vision evidently far superior to yours as he managed to find the knob of a quaint gas lamp and coax it to life. In the mild flame it produced, you were able to see the glittering forms of several cartological instruments scattered about the various shelves and bookcases that began to reveal themselves. High above the windows, framed trophies of a sailor's successful hunt watched with bristling tusks and jaws frozen open in an eternal snarl. The Golden Guard whistled.

"Fancy, isn't she?" He drew out, turning to take in the stock for a moment longer before moving to run his hands over a large desk of polished wood situated before the windows.

"Extremely fancy." You said in slight perturbation, unsure what to do with yourself in all the grandeur. Hunter, on the other hand, was quite content to flop over onto the captain's chair, propping up his boots leisurely. He seemed to be in a better mood than this morning.

"And she better be, with the rates that guy was charging." He complained. "It's like- working for the emperor himself is compensation enough, isn't it? On top of the bounty reward we put out for this thing."

You knew most people probably would not agree with that sentiment, even if it was said in the slightest of jest. How funny that someone like him should care at all about the rates of a professional, considering his status; it wasn't like the emperor was about to be bled dry by some crab demon that smelled vaguely of fish blood and smoke.

"I'm pretty sure that's not a popular opinion amongst the working class." You said wryly, shifting to stand in front of the desk he was lazing in. He snorted vehemently.

"That demon is not working class, trust me. His salary for importations alone is extravagant- He just chooses to dress and act like his last paycheck was spent on a tin of sardines to feed his starving wife and three children."

You stifled a laugh, which seemed to please him. As he spoke, he tugged a sealed envelope out of his seemingly endless pockets, sliding it up to sit upon the flat surface of the smooth table. You tilted your head at it, and he guessed your thoughts before you to express them- as he always managed to do. Who was the mind reader, again?

"It's an official statement from the emperor regarding the bounty. If anyone tries to muscle in on our turf, we'll present it to the competition so they know we're here on coven business. They'll back off." He shrugged. "Or we could kill them. Whatever is more convenient."

He was joking, but the statement was awfully jarring. You'd never considered having to actually kill any of your fellow witches before. You stared into his mask, watching the expression change with the slightest tilt of his face, revealing new angles you hadn't seen in him before. Had he done such a thing? Slain his fellow witches without regret? He was a man of stern values, certainly, but there was a gentleness, you were sure. Something that might have kept him from committing a sin so great. But, really, could you blame him if he had? There was no life for him, beyond the tight bars of the castle. No future.

"Oooh," he cooed, the trill enough to wrench your pondering mind back into the rickety wooden ground. The Golden Guard's cloaked form was crouched behind a cabinet of little outward interest, rummaging through piles of things that crinkled and snapped in an unmistakably edible way. You took a step closer to the desk, craning your neck to see what was so worth fussing over.

"How generous," he said with levity, unfurling his lithe body to reveal a large box of what appeared to be cereal, but upon closer inspection, had been labeled as crackers. "The captain has left us a snack."

You looked doubtfully at the box, reaching out to grasp the bottom and pull it closer to you.

"Kraken Krackers?" Your brow knitted. "This looks like something he'd feed to his creepy bird-thing."

"Then his creepy bird-thing is going to be missing out on a few treats. I hope it won't be too devastated."

He lifted his mask to reveal his mouth, popping a dry looking biscuit into the slight abyss of shadow his owlish covering created along his face. Lowering it, he chewed thoughtfully.

"Not bad. Kinda dry." He offered.

You reached into the open box and pinched a crumbly cracker in your hand, lifting your own mask to take a bite. It was soft enough to give way into particulates beneath the slightest pressure of your jaws, creating an unfortunate coating of biscuit on your tongue, which did indeed dry out your mouth. The taste was decent, at least. Nice and salty.

"Just makes me want water." You agreed, shaking the spillage from your hands. As Hunter's mind toyed with a response, a slight murmur made itself almost barely evident somewhere from beyond the single cracked window in the captain's quarters- a welded porthole decorated poshly with the emperor's sigil. The young guard's ears trembled with intrigue, and he rose to investigate, reaching for the circular cutout to open it slightly wider. Whatever he saw out there, he seemed absurdly delighted by it.

'Oh?' His mind shimmered. 'Could that be the little human Emperor Belos has been so interested in finding? What a perfect coincidence...'

A human? Here? The incomprehensibility of that very notion was laughable. Humans were bizarre things from an unreachable other world with their unfathomable gizmos and gadgets and their strange ways of life and their tiny ears. Humans did not simply appear in the boiling isles without word getting around. You moved closer, trying discreetly to look over his shoulder. Your view of the dock below was halfway obscured, but from your vantage you could glean a scrap of a female biped with a fluffy nest of brown hair and accompanying bronze skin, hoisting a doggish creature upon her shoulder that pinned everything around it with a petulant glare. She looked at first like any other witch, but the startling thing about her was that her ears were indeed round, and unmistakably, remarkably human. Her and the captain were exchanging challenging words, though you couldn't seem to make out any of the details. Slowly, you stepped back, staring at Hunter's back in surprise.

How long had he known about this? How long had the emperor known about this? And he hadn't told you! You couldn't ascertain exactly why that brought you so much offense; you didn't know the Golden Guard well enough to be privy to his inner coven knowledge or secrets, but it was still strangely aggravating to feel so left out when you'd spent the past week with him. When did he even have time to hear about these human-rumors anyway?

"Who is that?" You asked, feigning ignorance. The soldier didn't reply right away, making a slight incline of his head to someone on the dock you could no longer see, then guiding the window shut with a resounding clank.

He turned back to you, fixing you with his usual indifferent stare. You missed his real eyes already.

"Seems to be a human." He said, lifting a fingertip to tap his chin delicately. "I've heard whispers of one traipsing about Bonesborough recently. Emperor Belos took a special liking to those rumors, actually. He'd be very interested to hear about its presence here."

You considered that a moment, staring at his mask. It had been many years since a human came around to the boiling isles; you didn't blame Belos for being interested. Hunter, on the other hand, seemed nonplussed. There was a dull glow of mild curiosity somewhere deep in his brain, but it seemed he had little patience for strange new visitors when he had a job to do. Unless the human broke the law or the like, he didn't care much about what she did.

You had begun a continuation of your line of questioning when it was brought to a skidding halt by the ship horn's resonant wail blaring its woeful call, which startled you nearly off your feet. You stumbled to catch your balance against the nearest shelf, which rattled precariously with shiny, empirical things. This time, the Golden Guard did little to stifle his amusement- a decency he'd apparently given up on since your last venture.

His laugh was a jangly thing. It rang like pottery beads clicking together, and amongst each rising note there was the smallest give in his voice that lent itself to a slight immaturity of his vocal cords. It didn't feel like the rest of his carefully controlled demeanor at all; his laugh was the sort that made you feel like you should laugh along, too, even though you knew it was at your expense.

"Guess that means we're sailing?" You ventured, circumventing your embarrassment and pricking your ears to the murmur of voices outside which you presumed to be the crew.

"Yeah. I gave him the go-ahead. But it's still a few hours until we reach the simmering shoals. Get comfy." He said, a little ironically. It was difficult to find comfort in a mostly wooden cabin. At least he got a chair- the smug bastard.

"Hours? I didn't realize we were going out that far." You said, leaning yourself unsteadily against the walls of the room, which had begun to rock with the motion of the sea as the barge unwound from the ties of the dock and pushed into the harbor.

"The selkidomus tends to dive as deep as the bathypelagic zone- maybe deeper- to catch prey. It needs a lot of open ocean for that, but it still has to raise its pups on land, which is why distant island inlets are a perfect place to nest." He said, trifling with a quill pen on the desk. You were impressed by his knowledge, as usual. It almost gave you a competitive streak, to hear him explain what he knew. Like you wanted to prove you were on his level, too.

"I'm guessing we don't know the specifics of their diving range because most of them have been killed." You observed.

For a moment, he was silent.

"Yeah." He said, and you could hear his brain kick up a notch. That constant conflict between his orders and the pursuit of knowledge that plagued him.

"Yeah." You echoed, softer as you sunk down to the floor to sit, leaving him for a moment to his thoughts. A moment stretched into an hour. An hour stretched into two, all passed in blissful and uninterrupted quiet. The clamor of the crew outside was largely muffled by the walls of the cabin, which gave the impression that somewhere beyond the door, a gentle murmur of the voices of loved ones was being broadcast into your dreams. The white noise of a late and drowsy night of safety. You found yourself drifting off as the days of poor sleep and excercise began to catch up to you.

 Hunter was good at being silent and still. He never disturbed you as you slept. No, the disturbance came in the form of a startling lurch of the boat sometime in the later hours of the trip- followed by the hollow sound of slamming wood on metal that brought a blinding flood of light into the cabin. You shook off your sleepy daze in an instant, jumping to your feet and reaching for a small dagger you had sheathed in your pocket, ready to finally put those hours of training to the test in your rush of adrenaline. You were about to push forward into whatever the danger was- about to call for the Golden Guard- but a firm hand clasped suddenly upon your mouth and prevented you from making a sound. A thrill of danger rushed through you as you plotted a stabbing whirl at your assailant, pausing when you realized that you knew the hand pressed to your mouth. You knew that leather, and you knew those gloves. You knew the smell of wood and musk and iron that followed him- you knew it was Hunter. You relaxed slightly, pleased it wasn't some strange demon trying to keep you quiet, but turned to shoot him an accusing glance nonetheless. 

He'd practically melted into the shadow that overcame the room as the heavy doors you stood beside clunked shut, his gaze trained not on you, but on a bustling little creature that was pounding on the entrance with tiny, useless claws in its tizzy. It must've been the cause of the doors opening- sneaking into places on the ship it didn't belong. Why, then, was Hunter hiding?

"Hey, King want a cracker!" It protested in a shrill voice, and it was then that you realized this demon was the doggish beast you'd seen on the human's shoulder earlier. The furry thing did a turn to shove at the ungiving door with its back, grunting in futile effort. After a heartbeat it paused to catch its breath, suddenly going still in the low lamplight for a reason you couldn't discern. Hunter's mind was dark and still beside you, like it, too, was attempting to disguise itself among the darkness. Strangely, though there were no words, there was still a feeling in him. A lurking feeling, the sort that a predator might feel as it stalks its unassuming prey, reveling in its own cunning. His hand tightened on your mouth, briefly, until you could taste his leather.

"Ooo-ooo!" Exclaimed the strange demon at whatever had attracted its attention, scuttling quickly from the door to the deeper interior of the room, where the desk sat with its oil lamp flickering. Furry-Thing clambered up the sturdy sidings with its clacking claws, reaching out greedily not for the oil lamp- but for the box of crackers that still lay open on the table, teetering in the tiny circle of firelight. It rummaged inside the box with its shifty paws, grasping for a crunchy snack that it wolfed down with horrifying speed. Something below it caught its eye, however, because as it finished its remaining cracker crumbs, it lifted a flat grey paw and looked at something below its feet, making a curious noise as it lifted the object of interest to the light.

The golden seal of the emperor's letter glistened sensuously as it was brought near the flame, telling a tale of immense riches and power with no words at all. The beast frowned at the paper in its paws. 

"Is that the emperor's sigil?" It asked itself, suddenly in a new panic as it hurried to turn up the fuel in the lamp, making the flame rise to bathe the further reaches of the quarters in a caramel light that melded harmoniously with the glistening gold of the accompanying coven instruments, which were apparently dead giveaways to the nature of the ship, because Furry-Thing gasped.

"This ship belongs to the emperor?" It said in an expression of mounting horror as it took a trembling step back. "Oh, boy. I gotta tell Luz."

Hunter chose his moment to slip out of the shadows then and there, his delicate fingertips gone from your lips in a whirl as he moved to approach in a slow, easy way from behind the furry demon's back, exuding all the measured confidence of a lion loping towards an injured gazelle. Something perfect was brewing in his mind already- and he knew just the little demon he could use as fodder.

His clear voice cut through the air like a vicious blade a mere instant before he pounced.

"Unfortunately, you won't have the chance."

Chapter Text

Furry-Thing was, as you’d come to learn in the mere 30 minutes you and your shining partner had him locked in a nearby birdcage, an extremely violent little beast. The demon- who insisted that the two of you address him as ‘King’- began a series of expletives nearly as soon as he’d gotten his bearings, and had taken to gnawing at the bars of his newly bequeathed cage in an effort to break free. You and the Golden Guard, in turn, had taken to ignoring him, which only had the unintended consequence of making him more indignant. Finally, Hunter found the nearest scrap of quilt he could scavenge and tossed it over the cage as a last-ditch effort to keep the thing quiet. A confused murmur from beyond the veil, then blissful silence.

“There’s no way that is what shut him up.” You said, aghast. Hunter lifted the canvas shroud gingerly to peer inside, but tossed it down again when ‘King’ erupted in a shrieking: “The sun is back!”

“I think it’s stupid.” He said, pitiably, placing one finger to his chin. He crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the desk beside the cage, tilting his head at it slightly. “If it weren’t such excellent bait, I’d probably throw it overboard, but…” he shrugged. “It obviously has relations to the human.”

You nodded in agreement, feeling the boat rock in tandem with your corroboration. You furrowed your brow, looking to the walls. The pattern seemed to be a greater depth than was usual for this weather- than the rocking you’d become accustomed to in the few hours you’d been on the boat. As if to reward your observance, the boat teetered again, then promptly lurched to the left, sending you tumbling from your feet and knocking into the shelf behind you. Even the Golden Guard could not keep his usual composure; he’d fallen into the wall with a grunt of surprise, his fingernails clenching into the wood when you collapsed beside him. The upheaval, however, did not overturn the ship, much to your relief, and the tumbling of the vessel began to fade out again, slowly dipping into a righting position once more. The steamer groaned in protest as its wooden planks met the sturdy metal that kept it from disintegrating in the boiling sea below.

“-If I had to take a guess,” he said, breathless. "I’d say that’s courtesy of our target.”

“Geez.” You trembled to a stand, bracing your arms firmly against a beam in anticipation of another collision with what was presumably the selkidomus. “She’s got some kick.”

“200 tons of it. But that’s probably our cue.” The metal handle of the squeaky old birdcage shrieked as Hunter moved to pick it up, hoisting your captive to chest-level and reaching for his staff with his free hand. He planted himself on the ground as if he had no worries about being knocked around again by another rogue wave.

“If the selkidomus is getting aggressive, it means we’re within the bounds of her territory. I can take us the rest of the way to her den without the ship.” The door swung open with his shove, bringing you into the dreary mist of a westward storm and a forceful wind which seemed to come from the lungs of the Titan itself. Bracing yourself for the slight burn of the water droplets against your cloak, you were pleasantly surprised to find that wherever the frothing sea-spray hit you, your uniform sopped it up as easily as spilled apple blood, minimizing any pain. “Hmm,” Hunter held his chin as he looked out over the deck, where the captain was staring into the distance and leaning so far over the railing it looked as though he might tumble into the waves below. When he heard the pair of you coming, however, he straightened with a determined and almost proud countenance, gesturing his claw out to sea- to the shadow of a looming island in the distance. He coughed over the foam.

“Some sun’uf’a-bitch pilfered our bounty in the chaos!”  A distant roar of flame and smoke lit up the fog for a brilliant moment, illuminating a figure moving fast through the water.  “Little sea-squirt’s gone out to steal it back, I reckon.” He said, producing a brass spyglass that he lifted to his beady eyes, fixing his sights on the silhouette. “Mighty courageous, that demon. Funny lookin’ as she is.”

“Mighty stupid.” Yawned the golden guard, tapping his staff to the damp starboard deck. “She’ll be thanking us for our intervention soon enough. Scout.” He looked back at you as you perked up. “The element of surprise would be beneficial to us here. We’ll go by water.”

“Sir…?”

He sensed your inhibitions. “Oh, please. Our uniforms are entirely flame and heat proof.” You must’ve still looked doubtful, because he spoke again, voice low and firm.

“You won't be harmed on my watch.”

Why did you believe him?

You nodded curtly and he turned, dipping his staff’s helm over the edge of the deck, the vibrant red of his magic glimmering across his golden mask and tangling in the heavy mist of the sea, curling like trails of red-hot steam around his face. A huff of his breath sent the fog scattering. With it he wrenched his hand forward, bringing a roiling torrent of ocean following the motion of his arm into the air. The tendril of deep-blue thrashed as if in opposition to his control, but with his increasing pressure it slowly began to flatten itself to the lip of the vessel, rippling with tremors. The soldier stepped up onto the edge of the deck, placing a confident foot onto the surface of the churning platform of ocean that had risen to greet him. He looked back, his hand held out in encouragement. You took it, feeling the warm pull of his touch as he tugged you up alongside him, leading you to put your trust in the steady waves he was commanding.

Standing on water was very much like one might imagine standing on jelly would be. It shifted unevenly beneath your feet, discouraging you from keeping your weight favored on any leg. You felt that any moment, the water might simply cave in on itself and send you falling into the tide to boil, but it never did. When he was certain you were stable, the Golden Guard released your hand and flicked his staff, making his summoned wave rise up around you like a cocoon of frozen honey. For a moment, you were frightened by the encroachment of water upon your sides, but there was no singe upon your skin where it touched your uniform. Only a mild, comforting warmth. 

"Hold on tiiiight~"

As if feeling your rigidity fade, the sea picked up, enveloping the two of you in an instant and plunging you hard into the depths of the ocean.

The shock of the submersion nearly stole the air from your lungs, but you were quite thankful it didn't, because at the moment you couldn’t breathe. Nor could you see, with the dark and fathomless depths of the boiling sea rolling past. You could tell in some regard that you were moving fast, that the current of magic and water was taking you forward, wherever forward was. And though the gurgling of bubbles all around muffled any noises from above, you could almost make out voices in the distance, their tones strained. You reached out half of your attention into their minds to put the pieces together, almost too disoriented to tell what was up or down.

“-ow, why were y-u on t-at ship to be-in wit-? You co— have go-te- kill-d!”

Your lungs were beginning to burn. Just as you were beginning to run out of seconds you could hold your breath, the Golden Guard raised his staff and willed a surge of water upward, sending the two of you rising out of the ocean and slamming you down upon the wet sands of an island beachfront. You stumbled for a moment at the return of the earth beneath you, gasping unimpressively. Behind you, snaking trails of the sea retreated back into their ortet’s black depths, finally freed of his control. Smoking with the heat of the receding tide, the Golden Guard straightened, birdcage in hand, and focused his gaze upon a pair of demons- or one demon and one human- staring him down in horror. 

“That can still be arranged.” He offered. When they returned no reply, he breezed on, seeming to forget entirely that you were still there, and that this ambush was a two-person thing. “Hello, criminals. What’s about to happen should be relatively painless, if you just do what I say.” He’d been turning over his little plan on the trip over, and he was quite pleased with the way it ended: Him never having to get his hands dirty. 

Human girl stuttered, indignant. “Uh- and why would we do that?!” Briefly, her eyes alighted on your hacking form, brow crinkling with confusion. 'Never seen that one on his posters before.'

“Because none of you can use real magic.” He replied, raising his fingertip from the loop of the cage. The older woman with wiry grey hair pointed back in accusation. “Hey! You don’t know that!”

He lifted his shoulders daintily. “Maybe not, but I do know you’re standing on a plant that eats flesh.”

Mortified by this realization, the pair looked down- then jumped in shock off of the unfurled fronds of what looked like an overgrown butterwort, fanning their boots as if they might burst aflame. Hunter allowed himself a short, jingling giggle before regaining his composure.

“Okay,” he said with a sigh, delighting in his own antics. “The human will remain a sailor to repay all the money she lost, while the Owl Lady will be arrested- again- for attacking one of the emperor’s ships.”

So that grey-haired witch with the mismatched eyes was the Owl Lady? You’d certainly heard about her, what with the entire Emperor’s Coven seeming to have it out for the woman, but the wanted posters of her face were clearly wildly exaggerated. Most of them depicted some snarling old hag spitting fire from her gaping mouth with an accompanying furry beast that was probably supposed to be that King demon you had caged.

“Emperor’s ship?” The human questioned her companion.

The Owl Lady deadpanned. “They’re the only ones worth robbing.” She turned back to the Golden Guard and yourself, her furious scowl revealing a shimmering tooth of gold. “Why are you two hunting the Selkiedomus? It’s a peaceful creature and you’re provoking it!” 

Another shrug. “The emperor ordered me to slay one. I’m just following orders.”

A flash of fury. “Well, I’m just gonna smack you around a bit!”

In a shocking turnaround, the Owl Lady detached her arm with a crunch and advanced upon Hunter, swinging in a manner that even you could see was uncoordinated. He casually set the birdcage down and sidestepped her blows, then stuck his leg out and caught the back with the heel of his boot, sending her tumbling to the ground. Suddenly spurred into action by the sight of her cohort’s failure, the human girl rushed up behind the Golden Guard, brandishing wads of paper that ignited into roaring flames at her touch. “Leave Eda alone!”

This time, you stepped in to shield your charge's blind spot, practically teleporting to Hunter’s side and sweeping the fabric of your cape out in front of you to dispel the assault. Thank the Titan, that fireproofing was genius. He’d sensed the human girl’s presence well before you had thought to act, you knew, but for some strange reason, the Golden Guard hadn’t taken any measures to avoid or dissuade her. He was never lazy with his fighting- why?

You didn't have time to wonder. You reached for your dagger once more, wrenching it from its leather sheath to return the favor to the human girl, ducking to the side in an attempt to strike her ribs with the blunt handle and incapacitate her. Clearly an inexperienced fighter, the girl fumbled for something in her pocket and missed your cues by a millisecond, sustaining a blow to her stomach instead. She hit the ground beside the Owl lady with a groan, not getting a moment of respite before the Golden Guard took the baton, holding out his staff once more and sweeping a curtain of dark, glittering sand up underneath their feet.

“How about-“ he swung his weapon in a wide arc, sweeping them out onto a sandy promontory above the hissing water. “-I leave you dangling above the Boiling Sea?!”

You didn’t need mind reading to sense the fear in them as they gazed upon the rising flickers of smoke that reached hungrily for their flesh, the roiling bubbles below popping into tiny bursts of weaponized droplets that burned their cheeks in delightful warning of what was to come. You could feel their pain just as vibrantly as if it was you in their place. 

“Around these parts, just the steam is enough to cause third-degree burns.” He stated, mask trained to them even as you instinctively reached out a hand in sudden concern for the pair. He wouldn’t really let them fall, would he? Not like this. “Sir, I don’t thin-“

But he didn’t plunge them into their deaths. He released his pillar of sand and brought them back onto the beach, promptly dropping them over the hard ground with little consideration. “-but I don’t have to be that mean. No one will have to be a sailor or get arrested if one of you follows those selkidomus tracks and slays the beast.” He gestured with the wing of his staff to a long scar of disturbed sand gauged into the shoreline, leading up to the enormous mouth of a weathered cave. You were surprised by his offer. Since when was he merciful? Maybe it really was a peek of that gentleness you could’ve sworn you’d seen deep inside him, or maybe it was some lethargy in getting his hands dirty. You were just thankful your outburst went unaddressed, though the scrappy pair of traitors were giving you a strange look from their pile.

“Here, I’ll help!” He added, conjuring a scabbard from nowhere at all, just as you’d seen him do with the pickaxe in the stonesleeper lair. It clattered hollowly upon the sands at the human’s feet, where she fixed it with a pitiful grimace. The guard pinched where the bridge of his nose would’ve been, sighing.

“You’re making this difficult.” He reached for the little golden cage. “Go or I drown the bird.” Another genuine threat? As an example, he flicked aside the blue curtain veiling the King-demon within. The fuzzball woke with a start at the flood of light, but promptly began to snore again once the Golden Guard lowered it, departing with a crooning: “Ah, it’s dark now…” Horribly innocent. Human girl lowered her eyes to the floor in defeat, clearly done in by the idea of any harm coming to her weird little pet on her account. “Fine.” She said, reaching for the flesh-sword she’d dismissed not a heartbeat ago and rising to her feet. “I’ll do it.”

“Luz, wait!” The Owl Lady rose too and reached for her shirt, attempting to compel her against it, but fell short. “Luz!” Ignoring her pleas, the human girl trudged up the dark scar of sand that the selkidomus had most certainly made on its returning journey to its cave, the Owl Lady trailing in her path, speaking in a hushed voice that grew ever softer as they vanished into the shadowy maw looming above. For a moment, all was still, and it was just you and him once again. You, plus one 'King'. 

“Well,” Hunter broke the silence. “That’s one less thing we have to do. Really, it’s one less thing I have to do while I lug you around.” Was he trying to be funny? You actually couldn’t tell. It was hard to think of humor when about four lives had just been threatened in the span of a five-minute conversation. Mostly by him. Actually, entirely by him. You were too tired to pry into his confusing mind right now. You were beginning to assume you’d never fully make sense of him, and that you really ought to stop bothering here and quit while you were ahead. Your silence hitched in him, because he crossed his arms over his chest, which seemed to be the only impressive thing about his physicality. “Don’t be like that. I’ve saved us some pain, what’s there to be surly about?”

You frowned at him, though you knew he couldn’t see it. “I didn’t think this job would have quite so much animal murder in it,” you grumbled, mirroring his stance. That word seemed to annoy him.

“Murder? You haven’t murdered anything.”

“No, but I very well could have. The stonesleeper?”

“That one was supposed to be dead already. I’d argue we saved it.” he glowered.

“I wouldn’t. And anyway, we were going to murder the selkidomus, too. And the demon.” You inclined your head to the birdcage still in his grasp. He looked at you quietly, then raised the covering to peer inside. King jumped up, spinning in excitement.

“No. I wouldn’t have.” He lowered the veil. “He’s cute. Endearing. I might’ve kept him for myself. And the selkidomus wasn’t my choice.” He defended, half joking, though you could sense a genuine hesitance within him to harm the demon. “You underestimate the power of negotiable assets. They believed I was going to kill him, so they did anything to prevent it. Sometimes, all you need is a threat.” He shrugged. “Maybe you should consider that before you jump to thinking so lowly of me. I’m not a complete monster, despite whatever you’ve been told.”

Monster? That took you off-guard. Never once had you considered him a monster, nor had anyone told you such. Why would he assume such a violent adjective would be assigned to him? “...I don’t think you’re a monster.” You said after a moment of consideration. “You’re just… complicated.”

Complicated. The redirection seemed to surprise him. He stood a bit straighter, sucking in a hissing breath to reply, but was cut off by the sound of clanging echoing in the cave- close enough to be nearing the mouth. The two of you abandoned your conversation to rush to the rocky entrance, watching as the shadow of a massive, blubbery creature reared up, only to be struck in the neck with a searing blow from the dagger-edge of a scabbard. Entrails splattered in silhouettes upon the stone-grey walls as it fell, wailing out its final roar into the echo chamber and collapsing with a thump. The short human’s black reflection seemed to crawl across the walls as it lugged the decapitated head of the beast out into the open, where you could finally see it, still warm with blood. The Golden Guard sniffed dubiously.

“Oh, that thing smells awful.” He complained, nonplussed by the gore, waving his hand feebly before his mask. “Why are you touching it with your hands? Gross.”

“You’re gross!” The feisty human shot back, which made you crack an invisible smile. “Now give me King!" 

Hunter raised the cage in surrender- “Actually, he smells pretty bad, too. Take him.”-and tossed it into the air for the human to fumble with. A parting inconvenience was just like him. And so was a parting lie. 

“Thank you for your service. I trust you can find your own way home.” he glided away, bumping you meaningfully as he went in an indication to follow suit. Was your entire life going to be following this guy around, forever? Did you really just... go home now? No collecting a corpse, no nothing? It never mattered to him what he was made to do, huh? He reached the boiling water’s edge where he turned, giving the human girl and her dithering companion his daunting last laugh.

“Oh, and try to stay out of trouble. The emperor is not a merciful man.”

Silently, you tried to signal a sort of ‘I’m so sorry about him’ or a ‘This was not my first career choice’ but you just ended up gesticulating meaninglessly for a moment until the Golden Guard grabbed your waist to haul you onto his staff with him.

“Byeeeee~” He called with deceptive sweetness before zapping you off into the burning sky.

Chapter Text

“What was all that about not wanting to transport us there?” You grouched, readjusting on the exceedingly uncomfortable metal bar you’d been forced into sitting on. Hunter’s back curved lightly with his chuckle, but there was something sorrowful about him now, as if he was trying to make up for your argument earlier. Was it an argument? A debate? It wasn’t very clear. Either way, though, it was lingering in him.

“I prefer to save the easy work for the return. It’s like a reward, you know, getting to fly home. I’d rather have a nice, scenic journey back than struggle through that awful boat ride again.”

“Awful?” you mused. “I thought you said it was nice.”

“The ship was nice.” He agreed. “The experience was not. About an hour after you fell asleep the captain and his group of flea-bitten mutts started singing these terrible shanties. And they went on forever. I don’t know how you didn’t wake up.”

“I could sleep through a bombing.” You said plainly. He considered that.

 “Not so useful as a soldier. Sometimes, you need to be ready to go at any moment.” A memory, then. A flash of silence, dark peace and exhaustion, then the clattering of a door slamming wide open, jolting every ounce of clearness from the vision. Panic, a fluttering heartbeat, fear of whatever came next. A voice calling his name, as cold as ice.

“...Yep.” He popped the ‘p’. “Any moment.”

You went quiet, trying to dissect the details of that little flashback, but he’d shied away from the thought so quickly you wondered if even he knew the truth anymore. You couldn’t imagine a life with memories so awful your own mind had to warp and change them for your own safety and sanity. It must’ve been frightening- whatever these memories came from- for the fearless soldier to deny its very existence. You tightened your hands on his back unintentionally, but he noticed, and the strange nearness of another living being was unnerving. People did not touch him except to strike him, or reprimand him, or stab him in the throat. They certainly did not wrap their arms around his waist. But he supposed you had no other choice, despite his discomfort, lest you fall off of his staff.

“…Why did we leave the selkidomus there?” You asked, looking back across the sea as the vast chill of impossibly fast travel grated upon your frozen skin.

“Hm?” The question confused him. Why wouldn’t he?

“With the stonesleeper, there were lungs to retrieve.” You pointed out. “-Which nobody ever told me the purpose of. But at least there was something to gain. Not just a corpse to leave rotting in a cave.” 

He tightened his grip on the staff, taking an easy incline downward. “Yeah. But that was then, and this is now. The emperor ordered me to kill it, not to take anything from it.” The Golden Guard replied.

“But then, why put a bounty out for it if he was going to send you anyway? Why pay a whole ship crew when he has his most capable witch on the job?” You were almost frustrated by the absurdity of it all. "Why do I even have to ask this? Nobody tells me anything in this place!”

Hunter blanched, snagging his thoughts on those words and trying not to relate. He knew his job was not to question- but lately he’d been doing very poorly in evading that particular aspect. He had questions. So many. But if you weren't told, you didn't ask, and that was the end of it in the Emperor's Coven. “I’m sure he just wanted backup.” 

“That doesn’t explain the bounty." You counteracted. "He could’ve just sent a crew to help you without that. Was he trying to lure someone over? But you let the human go free, so there wasn’t much point in that. Maybe-“ you shook your head in speculation. “It makes no sense.”

Annoyed, the Golden Guard replied: “You make no sense. Questioning the emperor is basically treason.”

Well, that was a lame response. An excuse of one, really, because he was trying to avoid all of your dangerous curiosities.

“...You don’t know, do you?” you asked after a long, uncomfortable pause.

He tensed up, focusing his gaze robotically on a spot in the distance, as if you’d made him malfunction with your words. His reboot came in the form of an exaggerated sigh and a healthy dose of his usual avoidant casualty.

“Pfft! Of course I know. But it doesn’t matter why he did it, he just did; the bounty was… to encourage citizen participation, is all, since the emperor is all about unity.” He said haughtily. Something in you doubted that heavily, but you kept quiet under the promise of his further annoyance. Fine, you’d get your answers one day or another. It wasn’t like the emperor was the only one keeping secrets, anyway.

Hunter’s staff sputtered, blinking like the red alert lights hung over the barracks in the castle that alerted soldiers to a strike. He cursed under his breath, fiddling with the crystal conduit at the tip as if he could fix the issue by turning it off and back on again, then banked right suddenly. You shielded your face as the wind forced its way down your throat and ravaged your ability to breathe, hoping through the dizzying rush of gravity that you weren’t falling to your death. But the young guard before you righted himself of the error and managed a decently elegant emergency landing given the circumstances, shaking his cloak out as you slid off the weapon and onto the solid ground- which had been paved and civilized.

“I swear, this thing gets weaker every day…” He grumbled, fixing the staff with a glare and rattling it irritably. You turned your head to take in the city outskirts you’d landed in, noting by the soot-stained buildings that it was probably an industry district, and much closer to the castle than Bonesborough.

“Another walk?” You asked Hunter, who had given up on intimidating his staff into working again. He nodded.

“Yeah. But I’m pretty sure that I know this town. It’s either the one by the lymph or the ribs…” he muttered, taking a few steps past you and into the bustling streets. Judging by the way prying eyes seemed to vanish when he came near, though, you could tell that this one was by the ribs. The closer to the castle, the harsher the emperor’s grip, and the harsher his grip, the more the fear of his soldiers pervaded. Your hypothesis proved accurate; as soon as the more obstructive buildings cleared from the skyline, you could see the sharp incline of one of the false ribs stabbing up through the clouds, displaying a clear sign of proximity to the palace. At this confirmation of your location, Hunter turned sharply down a side street- the closest path straight he could find. Eventually, after a few curves, the geometric blueprint of the city spit you out into a dark patch of shrubby woods, which were as black with ash as the rest of the town. You could sense Hunter’s muffled disgust without even bothering to reach inside his mind- who knew he was such a diva about getting dirty? It was kind of unavoidable in a job like his. Nonetheless, he forged through the thicket with you close behind, sustaining more than a few smacks to the face with stray switches. At least the mask protected you, though the impact was still a shock. You walked until the ground began to give away, following a steep incline northeast where the telltale cavern of the sternum lay sleeping- and with it, the castle. It appeared through the dusted trees like a bad omen, as smoggy and blackened as ever. Hunter coughed a single time, absently, the sound as dry and cracked as the blackened stone beneath your feet as you stepped out onto the first watcher pavilion. Once more, the guards waved you through, gave you pitying looks, and extended the bridge, and once more you followed your charge into the cold hallways that had become your home.

Near an offshoot into the western passage, the Golden Guard turned to stand beside one of the burning sconces, and you prepared yourself for yet another icy dismissal to your quarters, but Hunter didn’t deliver his usual spiel. Instead, he hesitated a heartbeat, reaching to drop his hood. “Before we return…I want to give you something.” He said, unclasping his mask and pressing the golden rim tightly to his chest. In the smoggy palace air, he seemed so pale it was almost ghostly. You straightened to look into his eyes, intrigued by the prospect of something new on his own terms. That was promising, wasn’t it? Though it just as easily could have been a ploy for your trust- he was exceptionally good at hiding his intentions, when he wanted to, even from you. 

“What’s that, sir?” You asked, trying to suppress your outward interest.

He looked around despite there being nobody nearby, as there never was. “Look, I know what it’s like to feel… out of the loop.” He said carefully, avoiding any of the coarse language you preferred to employ in your complaints. “The emperor’s coven has a way of telling you nothing about everything, I get it. You probably don’t even know what you’re fighting for.” He paused, faceted eyes burning a hole into the polished word floor. ‘I don’t even think I know, half the time.’

There was that insecurity, rearing its fascinating head. Those questions he tried to bury so deep, that his nature could never fully allow to be quashed. Questions like ‘why is wild magic so dangerous, again?’ and ‘if wild magic is bad, why do you need palismen to live?’ All questions that his uncle never answered, because he never asked- because he was too afraid to ask. Maybe Darius was right about him. Maybe he was just some clueless puppy-

No, no. His uncle wouldn't lie to him. Whatever he kept secret, it was for good reason. He just needed to do his job. The Titan knew the rest.

“...I get it.” He said again, as if to reassure himself. “So, I wanted to give you a bit of a morale boost- one I wished I had a long time ago. Consider it a reward for not inconveniencing me today.” He reached for his belt, unbuckling something jingly, which he placed into your palm. Cold, heavy. A key.

You took in its plain, unassuming design with its rusted inner loop and bulky teeth, smiling in an elegant way at you. You didn’t have to ask to know what door the key unlocked. You just turned to look back up at him, brows furrowed in confusion.

“Sir, you’re giving me-“

“-The library key, yes. I imagine it’ll do you some good to educate yourself, scout. Just don’t make me regret it." Despite his hard gaze and tense jaw, you didn’t feel very intimidated by his warning. He seemed… embarrassed. Like he wanted you to pocket the key and never bring it up again. But you couldn’t do that. You’d never been given anything this genuine before. It was unfamiliar. Yet, most incredibly of all… you hadn’t expected it. He’d managed to surprise the one person who could see everything he was thinking. But then again, he always did.

“I won’t.” You promised, feeling the rough texture between your fingers. “I don’t know what to say. Thank you, sir.”

Thank you. You had a habit of saying that, didn’t you? Hunter didn’t think he could ever recall a time where he’d received half so many thanks in a year as you had given him over a week. He was not, for instance, thanked for doing his job. That was an expectation, not an option- and didn’t you realize that you were now part of his job?

“Uh- sure.” He cleared his throat, inexperienced with kind responses. “You're welcome, I suppose. Just be wary of when you visit. If you’re seen, I’ll be the one to blame, understand? I expect my cohorts to behave with the barest minimum of discretion.”

“Right.” You pocketed the key after a moment, mulling over his words. “I’ll be careful. I’ll only visit when I need to. But what about you?”

He inclined his head. “What about me?”

“How are you going to get in now that you’ve given me the key?”

He smiled in that way he seemed to have, like you were a punchline, and he was the only one in the world who was in on the joke. “Don’t be ridiculous, scout. Your key is a copy. I still plan to keep an eye on you.”

Still the newbie with no training, after all. But it was fair enough for him to be suspicious, at this juncture. You hadn’t done much to prove your loyalty save for accompanying him on two missions in which you did very little that risked your own safety. “Smart.” You agreed, taking your hand from your pocket and redirecting your attention to the soldier. You didn’t think you’d ever get bored of looking at him. Confusing, complicated, and frustrating as he was, you liked his face, because much like his eyes, it seemed to have facets upon facets revealed with every tilt of the head. Maybe it was just because you saw him with his mask on so often that you had to imagine half of his expressions, and seeing them in reality was much easier, because he was terribly expressive.

“I am, aren’t I?” His amusement made a slight dimple in his right cheek. The response startled you; caught up in your own train of thought, you were briefly under the assumption he'd read your mind, and had been digging up all the overly poetic sludge it seemed to conjure when he was nearby. That realization was a little embarrassing. You'd never been the sort to be distracted by interesting people before. “Smartest witch in the isles.” You chuckled, taking in a breath of relief that this new development had gone well.

“Ah…” he breathed out an airy laugh. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere with me. Try it on Kikimora, though. Maybe she’ll finally be useful if she has some motivation.”

That reminded you- “Why don’t you like her?” You asked as he leant back against the wall, rolling his shoulders to relieve his tension. “Not that I really care for her either, but she hasn’t personally victimized me.” you added. 

“She hates me.” He said simply. “Jealous, I imagine, that a teenage boy could be more deserving of a head witch position than she is. And too immature not to take it to heart.” He ran a slow hand through his tumbling blonde hair, pushing it away from his face. “If she gets to act like a child, then I get to be a nuisance to her every chance I get. Fair trade.”

You couldn’t help but blurt your first thought despite how terribly cheesy it was. “Oh, so she behaves like a 3 '1 demon, too? Seems she got the short end of the stick.”

The silence that followed had you a bit terrified that you'd spoken out of turn, and he was plotting to toss you into a pit of scorpions- or whatever the Emperor's Coven did as punishment- but when his reply came, he only barked his jangly laugh, his dark brows raising. No matter his mood, it seemed he was always up for a good bout of Kikimora insults.

“Yes, exactly.” He agreed, smiling through the gap in his teeth. “Compensating, I guess.”

A lull in the exchange, but this time it was not a lull of tension or uncertainty. It was the kind of lull that followed after a night spent talking the hours away about everything and nothing all at once. A satisfied lull. A moment where the two of you shared a wavelength and weren't fighting for control over the steering wheel, for once in your very short partnership. You might've even called it coexistence. 

But eventually, someone had to break it. That someone came in the form of a tiny coven scout carving a path through the hallway- with Hunter as her destination. He blinked in surprise as she came to a skidding stop, supporting herself on her knees in an attempt to catch her breath.

“Golden Guard, sir, your- your presence is requested with the utmost haste!” She squeaked, making a warbly attempt at a salute. Hunter frowned deeply, the bridge of his strong nose wrinkling.

“What for? And by whom?” He asked, approaching with a slight sense of suspicion for the random summons. ‘Darius going to send me on some wild goose chase again?’

“It’s the emperor, sir. I don’t know what to do! Well, one minute he was talking with Terra, sir, and he just doubled over- and- I tried to help, but when I reached for him, it was like his arm just… melted! And he yelled at me horribly to get you, and-”

“-That’s enough.” Hunter said with surprising gentleness, holding out his hand. ‘She must be new.’ “I’ll handle it, don’t worry. I'm prepared for outbursts like this.” with a determined hum, he slung his mask back onto his face and flicked his wrist at you.

“Scout, see to it that this recruit is taken care of. We don’t need a panic on our hands.” He waved his dismissal as he hurried off down the hallway the scout had appeared from, cape fluttering in the air. You watched him vanish, frozen with surprise for a heartbeat before the young scout’s soft whimpering tore you from your confusion. You reached for her arm, trying to guide her forward as she babbled. 

“He- his face- and the smell, Titan, he was rotting!” she cried, grabbing your shoulder with a grip like a vise. You hadn’t quite recovered from the stonesleeper’s bruising, but you valiantly bit your tongue against the pain and did your best to gently pry off her fingers. “Hey, now, I’m sure that whatever you saw was perfectly natural.” you soothed, extricating her hand and slowly lowering it to her side. “The Golden Guard wasn’t concerned at all. He’s probably seen this a hundred times.”

She shook her head with a sudden clarity, terrible visions of disfigured horns and sloughing clumps of blackened flesh pooling in her mind. You tried to move her in the direction of the healing coven, but she was glued- shaking- to the ground and would not budge an inch.

“Nothing about him was natural.”

Chapter Text

You had eventually managed to corral the hysterical scout into the healing coven, who had accepted her with the quiet solemnity of people who had seen it all before. Though she had exchanged her rambling for terse silence, the visions flashing through her head never ceased, and you bore witness to all of them, too overwhelmed by the piercing fear that followed each memory to block it out. They stuck in your mind long after you’d left her to the healers’ care, haunting your thoughts as you wandered the hallowed halls, looking for a purpose or direction in the Golden Guard’s unexpected absence. You’d grown used to the rhythmic flow of his thoughts intercepting your own, and it was strange to be without them. Everything felt a bit less... vibrant when he was gone. 

You’d sat waiting in the hallway outside the healer’s coven for a while before migrating into the main hall in search of occupation. As usual, the passages were eerily quiet and still; your footsteps echoed out into the looming cathedral rafters, the only sign of life in the place. The stairwell was proving to be a strong candidate. After all, the throne room made its home on the second floor- as did most important coven goings-on. The first floor was mainly for show, for those lucky students and dazzled citizens allowed a tour across their symbol of unity. A shame half of the grandeur was all paint and no plaster- not everything that glitters is gold. The scarlet carpeting on the stairs hardly felt like actual velvet, the way it depressed beneath your feet as you scaled the palace onto the second floor. It was darker now, with less windows to let in the isles’ natural light, and even less discerning markers of where you were. You weren’t sure what you were looking for, exactly, but you had a sense that you might find it up here.

“-I’ll find more, I-”

Your head shot up at the distant shout, which was followed by a metallic shuddering that shook the ground and rattled the sconces in their handles, making nearby flames dance precariously across the walls. Dauntingly, the wing you’d been wandering seemed to be leading right to the source of the commotion. Did you take the risk and explore further? Or leave the frightful path to certain bodily risk untrodden? 

The smart answer was to leave it be. But you hadn’t been acting very smart lately. Something about this place had changed your capacity for courage- or at the very least- blind impulsivity. You began a brisk trot forward, placing one hand on the smooth marble wall beside you for support in case of another tremor, which had the added benefit of disguising you behind all the tables and banners strewn flush against the brick as furnishings. Ahead, a large divot loomed to your left, just grandiose enough for you to recognize where it led. The throne room. Whatever was going on in there, it surely wasn’t good. You hesitated once more, nearly reconsidering your choice to investigate. Maybe you ought to turn back, after all.

But whatever plans you might’ve made, the Titan had other decisions for how this day would play out. Before you could settle your uncertainty, a flash of muddled white stumbled its way out of the throne room’s concourse, finding wobbly purchase on the nearest wall. Gold glinted in the firelight, revealing the tilt of an owlish mask resting against the corner, half hidden by the curve of the corridor. You gasped, pressing yourself fast into the nearest dip in the wall, hoping it would hide your presence. 

The Golden Guard didn’t see you. He wasn’t looking your way- he didn’t seem to be looking at anything at all. He just slumped against hard brick like it was the softest respite he’d ever felt, his chest heaving with muffled pants. His cape dripped with a viscous sludge so dark it was almost black, staining everything it touched a sickly undertone of green. On doe legs he suddenly rose, taking a trembling few steps forward before breaking into a hurried limp your way. His determination reminded you that you, also, had legs, and you really ought to use them to come to his aid. With one breath of resolve, you pushed away from the wall and revealed yourself to him, trying to act just as surprised to see him as he was to see you.

The Golden Guard came to a heel-grinding halt before you, grunting in bemusement. “Scout?” He tried to sound more put-together than he was. “What’re you doing up here? This is- this is an entirely inappropriate time. Where is the recruit? I thought I told you to calm her down-“ 

He winced and clutched his right shoulder, back dipping in an attempt to curb the spikes of pain working their way through it. Dark, ruby blood almost the same color as his eyes was beginning to seep into his cloak from beneath his firm hand. Worried, you reached for him on instinct, but he swatted you away.

“Sir, I brought her to the healing coven so she’d be safe. They can take better care of her than I can. I’m so sorry- I just thought I’d see if I could help you. What happened? Are you okay? You look hurt.”

Agony, though not entirely physical. ‘Help?’ he shuddered.

“No. This is completely fine. I don’t require your assistance.” He said, trying to push past you like he always did. Your arm caught him, though, and he was too painful to fight back against it. You clasped his good shoulder to steady him, feeling the weight of his strength beneath you, suddenly so fragile.

“Sir, you’re bleeding.” You protested. “It would be irresponsible to let you leave right now. Let me take you to the healers-“

He laughed bitterly. “What? Are you insane? I can't go to them like this. Belos would be furious.” 

Your brows furrowed. “Why would he be furious? You’re injured- the point of the healing coven is to heal.” You stated, though it seemed obvious. He shook his head, muttering cryptically.

“You have a lot to learn, scout.” 

You sighed in frustration at the impenetrable wall his mind kept hitting. What use was arguing with him? He obviously had an intense aversion to asking for help- and there was some kind of sickening fright that kept him from even considering the alternatives to it.

“I’m sure I do.” you agreed, just to please him. “But there will be nobody to teach me those things if you’re incapacitated. Come on, if you won’t go to the healing coven, at least let me patch you up.” You tugged him back into a more stable position against your side, which he slumped into defeatedly. You could sense the pain in his bleeding shoulder, but there were several more bruises and lacerations below his armor that were much less obvious to anyone but you. Some small wounds- some blunt force, but it was beginning to add up on top of all his exhaustion, which debilitated him more than any injury could. He was used to being hurt, after all, not to being cared for. 

“Make it fast.” He hissed, grasping his bicep to keep it from bleeding out further into his coat. “I’ve got things to take care of.” 

He was absurd. Utterly insane. Bleeding, battered and bruised, but still insistent on doing his job, which seemed to involve blurry visions of little carved animals. Palismen? Maybe. Whatever it was, it brought him a stabbing sense of guilt. You dragged him forward into the hallway, looking for somewhere safer to sit him down so you could put your first aid spells to the test. 

You were about to turn down an unremarkable door a few strides to the left of the central passage, but a surprisingly strong squeeze to your arm stopped you. “Not there.” The Golden Guard huffed. “It connects to the throne room. My quarters are up ahead, go there.” he instructed, releasing you. You nodded.

“Where are they?”

“Down the right hall. Straight. Yes, all the way.” 

You turned and made short work of the foyer, stopping when Hunter notified you that you’d found his door. You pushed open the wooden hatch with a heavy clunk, entering a humble single-bed room littered with… trinkets. You almost thought you’d entered the wrong place; it was not the bedroom of a strict and serious soldier. 

It was the bedroom of a teenage boy. A dorky one, at that. 

His walls were slathered with posters for the coven, various bounties, maps and newspaper clippings that seemed to depict his crowning of the Golden Guard title. A carved statuette of a deer quietly scrutinized the stone bull it shared a shelf with, who was too busy attempting to outshine an empty potion flask to notice. Shelves of knicknacks presided over a tattered bed frame with a pillow that looked like it had seen better days- and strewn hastily below it was a floppy doll that emulated a cartoonish frog, who gazed onward into a nightstand positively bursting with papers. Books were everywhere, and so was that familiar, woodsy smell that was so completely his that you knew in an instant it was Hunter’s room, after all.

Hunter slipped away from your support to sit heavily on the bed, removing his armor to get a better look at his wounds. You let the door fall shut, standing in wait to see the full extent of the damage. When his pauldron came undone and he flipped his cape over his back, you took in a quick gasp of air through your nose. You’d expected a large cut, maybe some bruising, but what you saw was no surface-level wound. He’d clearly been stabbed- punctured, even, because although the hole was thin, it nearly reached into his muscle. 

He must’ve sensed your concern, because he shrugged past his wounded arm. “I’ve had worse.” he offered. 

That didn’t really make you feel better. “It’s not the wound I’m worried about. It’s the depth. This could’ve gone right through your pectoralis major tendon, which would make moving your arm extremely difficult.”

That kicked him into high-gear. “What!? That’s not happening. I need my arm, in case it wasn’t obvious.” He said, tossing off his mask and the rest of his breastplate with his good arm. You knelt down to examine the wound more closely, reaching out a hesitant hand. “Well, I’ll be sure to tell your injury that you said it wasn’t gonna work out. May I?”

He tilted his head, dark brows furrowing, but nodded, letting you place your fingertips below the wound. A peek below the sleeve of his shirt tipped you off to several old scars from wounds frighteningly similar in both location and appearance. Concerned, you palpated his tendon with your thumb, finding it relatively quickly thanks to his thin frame. It was a relief to see that it was located well below where his skin had been penetrated, and was largely unharmed. He would have use of his arm, after all. 

“Good news is, it didn’t hit anything vital. I can probably fix it up decently with a healing spell, but the rest will be up to you. It’s too deep for my limited knowledge.” you admitted, reaching out to draw a small, warmly glowing spell circle in the air above his skin. Hunter held out his arm, breathing a quiet exhale of relief as the worst of the ache began to fade. 

“Limited?” he asked, chuckling hoarsely. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’d been sneaking time in the library without me. Not every witch is a natural-born medic.”

You couldn’t tell if he was making fun of you or not, so you scowled slightly. “I’m certainly not.” 

He shifted, rolling his shoulder back. “Maybe. But you’re better than most. All of the scouts not directly under Hettie’s jurisdiction are hopeless.”

“Hettie?”

He waved his good hand. “Oh, the head witch of the Healing Coven. I personally think she could do a bit more to expand her reach here.” Hunter commented as you finished fixing what you could. His shoulder was no longer raw and bloodied, but the mending skin was still thin, and there would be a scar. Something told you that one more scar was the least of his worries, though. 

“I mean, she’s talented, don’t get me wrong, but she keeps to herself too much, and she hardly ever bothers to get recruits for her own coven. It’s lazy.” He went on. 

“Sounds frustrating considering how much battling your scouts are doing.” You agreed, looking around for something to bandage his shoulder with. 

“Top drawer.” He directed, gesturing to a desk very similar to your own on the opposite side of the room, which held ratty first-aid supplies. “They’re always overwhelmed in the healing wing. It’s like a war zone. I keep telling the other coven heads to get her in line, but they never listen.”

He opened his mouth to speak again, then cut himself off, shaking his head. You tightened a roll of gauze over his shoulder, wrapping it five times before tying it off. 

“There.” You lowered his sleeve. “That should hold. Just try to keep yourself from overusing it.”

His scarred lips pulled up into a gloating smile.

“That’s funny.”

It was only funny to him. 

“I mean it. Maybe you should let me do my job for once so you don’t push yourself to the brink.” You replied testily. His smile never vanished, though his eyes lowered to his bandaged shoulder.

“You and I both know you’re not here to protect me. I’m more than capable of doing that myself.” 

Your eyebrows raised. Did he know why you were truly instated, after all? That you were supposed to be the little mockingbird repeating everything he said back to emperor Belos? Maybe he’d known this whole time, and only hidden it from you under a guise of anger until he couldn’t keep it in any longer. 

“What am I, then?” You asked. He flexed his hand in and out, testing his grip.

 “You’re my punishment.” 

That hadn’t been the answer you were expecting, but deep down, you knew his statement was en pointe- at least partially. It wouldn’t surprise you if your duties had many more layers to them than you’d even been made aware of; Belos had a capacity for malice that was unlike any other you’d ever seen, and you didn’t need mind reading to know that. The way Hunter trembled at the very mention of his disapproval said enough. So you didn’t argue. “That’s probably true. But last I checked, ‘punishment’ wasn’t in my job description. Actually, nothing was, because I was forced into being… whatever I am in the first place. So I guess I get to make my own rules.” shrugging, you sat beside him on the bed. Spy, guardian, executioner, a hundred labels that made no difference. Belos was just keeping his two problem children close at hand so he wouldn’t have to worry about them anymore, that was all. Everything else was a pretty little lie to keep you happy and a mote distrustful of each other, just like everything in this strange place was.

His beautiful, saccharine eyes bored into your own, heavy with uncertainty. There was something in him that found your bluntness endearing. Honesty was hard to come by in the Emperor’s coven, where everyone stabbed everyone else in the back, and each order was part of some greater plan by a higher power. But you were aware of your complex place in the system, and all the things it seemed to entail for your life here. You knew you were a means to an end. You knew you were someone to fill the blank spaces of a carefully constructed puzzle- a block of color in a much larger picture. And you just… accepted it. He couldn’t imagine feeling so purposeless. 

“Remodelers of the status quo don’t tend to last long here.” Hunter said at length, collapsing back across his mattress to spread his elegant limbs. “I hope you can keep those rebellious ideas at bay, for your own sake.”

He tilted his head back, hiding that twin spark of revolution in his eyes. 

“Rebellious? No.” You examined his outstretched legs for the rest of his wounds. “I just believe in constructive change. A better way of doing things. Don’t you?”

His chest fell in a slow exhale as he traced the cracks in the ceiling overhead.

“…I don’t know anymore.”

Chapter Text

Legs and arms healed, but hearts didn’t. The Golden Guard had just as many scars on his soul as he did his body; you could feel them sometimes in his head, like brushing against sandpaper after a sea of smooth cream. Grating, painful, and unnatural. He never told you where his wounds that night had come from, but it didn't take a mind reader to guess that his uncle was to blame. For that offense, and for many before. It wasn’t exactly helping your view of Belos, which had only begun to sour since your arrival here. Poor conditions for his soldiers, forcing teenagers into a military unit, and now… this? Maybe you oughtn’t stay in the coven, after all- otherwise you’d only be complacent in all of these unsavory practices. But you leaving wouldn’t stop the cogs in the machine, you'd come to realize. Emperor Belos would continue with his mission just the same with you gone, and who’s to say he’d even let you go free in the first place? You’d never actually heard of people ‘retiring’ from the coven before. Most of them didn’t get the chance, which probably meant you wouldn’t either.

…And there was a part of you that didn’t want to leave Hunter. Not because you liked him- though his attitude had begun to grow on you- but because leaving him in the clutches of his obviously fractured family would be a cruelty you wouldn’t want to inflict on anyone. Fine, if it was your job to protect him, then you’d do it, because that was the only noble thing you could do with your title. He might’ve believed he didn’t need shielding from danger, but he was failing to see that the danger wasn’t in his duties, it was in the throne he bowed to. Just how could you convince him of that, though? He was loyal to a fault, desperate to think he was doing right by the man who raised him- How could you compete with his twisted idea of love? And most dispiriting of all, what if he used your devotion against you, like he’d been planning? Were you willing to risk your secret getting out over pity for a boy?

Your mind shied away from that answer, because it was the wrong one. So foolish and folly that it was laughable. Curse your intrinsic compassion! Curse beautiful and fascinating men! How were you meant to keep your life on track now that he’d come into the mix? You were supposed to be a regular witch with absolutely nothing special about them whatsoever, but now you were inextricably entangled with this…. Guy! This guy who you couldn’t help but want to aid. Foolish. At least he seemed to be warming up to you. That was a start, in many regards- and an improvement from the first time you’d met him. He had stopped trying to ditch you since you’d fixed his arm up, but it was clear he wasn’t keeping himself quiet like you’d begged him to. He still trained, still forced you into sparring despite your objections that it would be too strenuous, and still pretended like nothing bothered him. After that, he never showed any physical signs of being in pain, but you knew better than to believe the mask he put on. You were the only one who knew how much his wounds still hurt him. 

It was the middle of the week by the time he addressed you again outside of your duties. On a particularly chilly night, when your training had gone well into the sunset, Hunter approached you unexpectedly- speaking in his woodwind voice. 

“I’m going to the library tonight. Come, if you care to.” He said, seeming to part the air with his words. He spoke as easily as ever, but you knew this was not a casual invitation from a belligerent captain. It was an olive branch, however slight. You paused, searching his mind for ulterior motives. Was this a part of his plan to gouge your secrets from your skull? Well, you told yourself, not admitting to being a mind reader wasn’t that hard. You’d just have to remember to stay on your toes. To look for the consequences of any information you might divulge to him before you went around spouting it.

You hated that Belos was winning. That both you and the Golden Guard were presenting a false version of yourselves out of wariness for the other. He, for the content of your secrets and abilities, and you for his position so close to the emperor. As young as he was, you weren’t stupid enough to discount him from being a threat. But you stood, anyway, reaching for your mask to take in the fresh night air while you could. The temptation of the library was winning over.

“When?” He shifted in a near-shrug. “Soon. I’ll probably change first. Maybe grab some things from my room."

“Alright.” You ought to change yourself. Despite the chill of the night, you’d broken quite a sweat. “I’ll do the same. I guess I don’t need to wait for you.” 

“Well, you have the key.” Hunter said, internally cringing at the reminder that he’d given you free access to proprietary information. It was a choice he’d battled with himself over for several days now, which was funny, because you hadn’t even visited the library yet since his bequeathing of the gift. Honestly? You’d spent most of your free time trying to sleep off the exhaustion of training. Getting things done in the emperor’s coven was a task all on its own- and maybe that was why they had so few defectors. Everyone was too overworked to spend their energy on making wild escape plans.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Forgotten already? Don’t tell me you haven’t used it.” He said, tilting his masked face expectantly. You hoped the darkness would hide your embarrassment. “I haven’t had the opportunity. You’ve worked me to the bone; in case you haven’t noticed.”

He scoffed. “Expect to have very little time of your own here. I’m not gonna go easy on you just because you want to catch up on some light reading.”

“You’re the one who wanted me to have the key.” You deadpanned. “And you’re the one who wouldn’t stop bugging me about the library.” He shot back without missing a beat. That wasn’t even true- you hadn’t mentioned it since your little agreement, not even once. Him giving you the key was entirely unprompted. You sighed heavily. No arguing with this guy. Even when he was wrong, you doubted he’d admit it to you.

He reached up to tug off his mask at your tiny exhale, revealing a self-involved smirk. “Ah, the sweet sound of surrender. Get used to it.” 

You gave him a glare that only seemed to widen his smile. But it was so boyishly amused you almost couldn’t bring yourself to be mad at him. 

“Hardly. And anyway, you should go easy on both of us, because you’re still injured, and here you are overworking. ” You reminded him. Hunter’s smile fell slightly, and his brows rose with his mocking tone. “ Easy isn’t an option for me. Or for you. Easy doesn’t help Emperor Belos.” His nose wrinkled with distaste, as if the thought of being latent was actually nauseating to him. 

“It would help emperor Belos for you to be in good shape. What if you bled out in the middle of a fight? Your shoulder is still at risk for opening up again.”

“I won’t bleed out.” He said, his voice planted as firmly as his boots. “That’s not an option, either.” You had a slight standoff for a moment, trying to stare him into submission and admittance that he needed rest, but he stared right back, and the crackle of his flaming eyes seemed to heat your irises to boiling- forcing you to turn your gaze. 

“Fine. Who am I to refute your obvious control over nature?” You internally rolled your eyes. It was as if the Golden Guard simply didn’t believe that anything bad could happen to him- that his own will would simply prevent his inconveniences. His ear flicked in annoyance. 

“You forget yourself, scout.” he warned. “I’m much more generous than the emperor, but even I have my limits. When I say what’s what, that’s the end of it.” 

Oh, now he was about professionalism? When you were simply returning his attitude? You seeing him injured must’ve been more of a blow to his ego than you’d realized- and having to rely on you to fix him up definitely wasn’t helping, either. As proud as ever. But you dipped your head all the same, snapping back into the position of the meek soldier you’d been slipping out of.

“You’re right, sir. Forgive my outburst. I only wanted to help.” 

There was that word again. The one that haunted him. “Well- stop wanting that. I’ve already told you that protecting me isn’t your job, not really, so you don’t have to do this… ‘caring’ shtick.” he frowned. Shtick? Yikes.  “I’m just following the emperor’s orders,” you echoed his own words “sir.” 

He paused in mid breath, his thoughts a whorl of displeasure and surprise at you flipping the table on him but managed to compose himself. A snort of air was your reply, which evidently meant that conversation was over, because he turned tail and marched out across the courtyard- vanishing into one of the entryways into the palace with the tacit reminder that you’d have to face him in the library lingering in the air. Well, at least that freed you up to go and change. You hadn’t bothered to be glued to his hip anymore, since you were pretty certain now that he wouldn’t run off and lock himself into a closet just to get away from your shadowing. That gave the both of you a lot freer reign. So, off you went to the second floor to find a change of clothes, which reminded you of a previous realization that your room wasn’t very far from where Hunter’s was. Not far at all. In fact, you were practically hallway neighbors. That was comforting, in a strange way, because at least you were closest to the only person you truly knew here. He was disagreeable and you were pretty sure he still hated your presence on principle, but it was better than being a stranger. 

Thankfully, you didn’t have to use the barrack showers anymore, because a day earlier you’d discovered a private restroom near the higher-end wings of the residentials, adjacent to ten doors marked with blackened sigils that you had surmised belonged to the various coven heads. You paused before the one scoured with the emperor’s golden sigil, tracing the woodburned pattern with your eyes. This was not Hunter’s door. His was apart from the main coven heads’ just like yours, probably because he was younger and of direct relation to the emperor. Then this must’ve been… Lilith’s? You didn’t see her around much, if ever, but you were pretty sure you’d caught snippets of her name and face in people’s minds. Tall, gaunt and pale, with a river of dark hair flowing over her shoulders. Pretty, but haunting. You hoped you wouldn’t have to run into her often- her face frightened you; but the nearby bathrooms were fancier and much more accessible, so you ran the risk of encountering the strange haint because a convenience was a convenience in the Emperor’s Coven, and you’d take what you could get. When you were done, there was even a nice warm towel waiting for you- probably heated by some fancy magical contraption that only the richest witches had access to, which you supposed you technically were now. 

Clean and retired from your heavy armor, you tossed your old clothing in one of the hampers that you’d never once seen emptied, but always found sparkling the next day, and picked up the key from your room before you left for the library. It was where you had left it, sitting silently on a desk beside the glittering stonesleeper scale. Two things that were not your own, but that you kept anyway.

And then you were making your way to the throne room in search of the library, suddenly feeling very naked without Hunter there to guide you. You had the key to it, sure, but wasn’t there some secret door you had to find first? Worse yet, Belos could be inside at this very moment, and he’d surely know you weren’t where you were supposed to be. Why did Hunter choose the most inconvenient ways of getting around? 

But he didn’t really choose where the door was, you knew that. That library and this palace were much older than him. Maybe it was supposed to be that way, so that Emperor Belos could always watch over his hidden archives. With the only entrance being in the throne room… If not, it was a horrible coincidence that seemed less likely than the alternative- that the palace was built around this one, humble library. Something about that made the prospect of violating its sanctity so much more daunting, though you couldn’t place exactly why. You already knew it was important, but now it was almost as if you could feel the eyes of the emperor himself on your back as you quietly plotted the infiltration of his most precious secrets, pushing open the doorway into the throne room. The flames were put out. All was dark, all was quiet. With relief you stepped into the cold expanse, closing the door until all you could hear was the consuming, constant slam of the heartbeat overhead that you were never able to make out with the lights gone. You tried to remember what Hunter did when he showed you the door: Stick to the wall. Feel for a give. Push in? You placed your hand on the bricks and put exorbitant pressure onto the surface, gasping in shock when the wall caved in and swallowed you whole. You fell with a loud thump onto the floor of the hidden passageway, hissing as the bone of your chin cracked against the brick. That stung. And now you were bleeding- fantastic. You’d have to fix it up later, after you’d gotten to a safer location. Your ruckus might’ve alerted nearby guards, and you weren’t willing to risk exposure, so you flitted down the path until you found the door that your key fit into. Small, old, and humble, it cleared your way with a gracious click and dropped you once more into the soft glow of the library, flickering with candlelit delight at your arrival. Titan, had you missed the coziness of old architecture. It reminded you of your perfectly unassuming home in your perfectly uneventful town. 

Hunter was already stationed beside one of the shelves, balancing a large novel in one hand while he leafed through stacks of books with the other. He didn’t bother to act like he was surprised to see you- he already knew you were there, because you obviously hadn’t grasped the concept of stealth just yet. Another piece of wisdom he’d have to impart to you, you supposed. 

“Organizing?” you guessed, and he answered with a nod, the coil of blonde in front of his forehead shifting over his eyes. He brushed it away instinctively, placing his novel into place beside its alphabetical relatives. 

“It’s almost done. Only ‘y’ and ‘z’ left, which don’t have many titles.” He must’ve done some work in between your last visits- though you weren’t sure how he’d managed to sneak away from you. The stacks of alphabetized tomes you had left on the floor were now neatly put away, their spines facing out, baring their secrets to the world. It seemed impossible how much he’d managed in your absence, but you were thankful. If most everything was done, you could start looking for titles of interest; you hadn’t found any when you were first organizing, but that didn’t mean they didn't exist. Admittedly, most of that night got hazy around the hundredth alphabetized book, so you were glad to reenter with a fresh sense of things. “That’s impressive.” You said aloud, moving along each shelf and silently counting the letters in your mind until you reached ‘I’. ‘I’ for illusion. ‘I’ for irrelevant. For impossible, for improbable, and yet you kept hanging onto the hope that all your sacrifices would lead to some net gain. It couldn’t all be for nothing. You’d been so sure that Emperor Belos would’ve had bookshelves stuffed with illusion magic as high as the Titan’s horns, but after Hunter mentioning the burning of texts, and the concerningly small grouping of about 25 books that rattled loosely in their place on the ‘I’ shelf, you weren’t all that confident anymore.

You could sense Hunter’s gaze was on you as you inspected your prospects, though it was really only because you could sense that his thoughts were on you. They were less thorny in the library, where there were less people to annoy him on his job, and it let you wriggle in through the cracks of his heavy defenses and squeeze into the deeper murmurings of his subconscious.

‘Searching for books. ‘I’ shelf. Looking for illusion texts.’ He concluded, quick as lightning. ‘Guess they weren’t lying to me about that. Doesn’t mean much, though.’ You’d wonder why he was so suspicious, but the truth was that you were lying to him- about so many other things, and you didn’t have any right to question his distrust. You deserved it. 

‘Better keep an eye on them, just to be safe.’ He hummed, shelving another book in an effort to look busier than he was. ‘Make sure they don’t get into anything they shouldn’t.’ And then he was back to his lull of usual thoughts, his internal narration silenced in a blink. Candidly, there wasn’t much for you to hide here and now. This was the one truth you'd told him- that you were looking for illusion books, and that was relatively harmless, except for your claim about finding an old tome of illusion spells- but you could deal with that later. For now, you were an unassuming witchling searching for ways to resurrect a dying art, nothing more. And if you happened to find a book on mind reading along the way? Well, a happy little accident. You flicked your gaze along the spines of the books before you, only stopping when the print was worn illegible, and you had to pull out the dusty pages to read the covers. Most of them were unhelpful or downright strange, like the concerning: Internal Parasites and How to Raise Them or Investing in Your Blood, which you couldn’t imagine were particularly priceless pieces of ancient witch literature. Some were more promising, though, like: Into the past: A History of Coven Magic which seemed to detail the evolution of untethered savage-age sorcery into the main nine covens under Belos. It wasn’t entirely dedicated to illusion magic, but there were excerpts near the beginning that briefly touched on the possible origins of each distinct coven’s spells- such as the first domesticated beasts. You flipped through the other covens, skimming until you found the one you were looking for: Illusions. Hope mounting, you read the first paragraph.

Illusion magic is almost certainly the most challenging of the covens to place along the Boiling Isles’ timeline, due to a lack of archeological findings and the obvious intangibility of most spells. Unlike Bard magic, which we know was intended to pass down magical information through song, no historian has managed to ascertain an encompassing purpose for the initial emergence of Illusion magic-estimated to have only come about a few centuries before the Deadwardian Era.* Any existing theories to the origin of this magic err on the side of experimentation; For instance, some hypothesize that illusion magic was first created as a form of entertainment, which may explain why its appearance drags so far behind its other coven ancestors- as witches were finally able to enjoy luxuries like storytelling and early theatre. Others believe that illusion magic may have risen earlier than historical evidence leads us to conclude, claiming that primitive illusions could have been used as defensive measures against threats such as beasts and rival demons, who may have jeopardized territory or resources. Unfortunately for illusionists, all of the above are only speculation, and the lack of physical presence that gives them their name seems to have become the downfall of their history. It is likely that this respectable track's birthplace will remain mysterious for the foreseeable future. 

And below that, a footnote.

*Surviving records from archival collections mention early illusion spells having societal relevance during this period, implying a previous assimilation into witch culture some time before.

You frowned slightly, wrinkling your nose at the page. That… was unhelpful, and a really long-winded way of saying “hell if I know”. Where were these archival records, exactly? And could the author have managed to be any less specific? You snapped the book shut in your frustration, catching the attention of the Golden Guard behind you, who was still organizing the ‘Y’ shelf. 

“Trouble in paradise?” He asked in that smooth, vaguely condescending tone of his. You had half a mind to snap at him before remembering that he was the reason you were reading this in the first place. “No trouble here.” You said, reshelving your useless book and planning to ignore his usual jeering. But then something hit you. You whirled back to face him in an instant.

“Wait! You said you’ve read all of these, right?”

“-Most of them.” he corrected, dazed.

“Sure. Most of them. Well, if you’ve read them all, couldn’t you find the books on illusions? I mean, I could skim through each stack, but you’re bound to remember the content of at least a few. You could help me!” He blinked in slight bewilderment at your sudden outburst, pretty certain he’d never seen you this impassioned about anything before. “I could,” he said slowly. “But we’d still have to do a lot of looking. I don’t remember all of the titles.” 

You nodded hurriedly, reaching for his arm to pull him beside the ‘I’ shelf with you while you grabbed as many books as you could carry, spreading them out on the nearest flat surface to examine. When he had recovered from being manhandled, Hunter shook himself out and peered over your shoulder, reading the covers. “No, not these. I don’t think you’ll find any illusion texts in the ‘I’ shelf. Most historical titles start with some kind of moniker like ‘an exploration of beast-taming’ or something. Let’s start in ‘H’ for history and go from there.” He suggested. 

“Oh, that’s true.” You realized, feeling silly for thinking that a textbook would be titled something as simple as “Illusion Magic” without any frilly additions. You followed him to the ‘H’ shelf and got to work sifting through the titles, holding them up so he could read each one, then putting it back once he’d expressed his dissent. This went on throughout several shelves, for an amount of time you’d begun to lose track of, until Hunter paused midway through ‘O’, staring down at a tiny booklet frozen in his palm. Slowly, he turned to bring it to your hands, clasping one of yours in his own so he could guide it to the cover. It was worn, dusty and barely hanging onto its own spine, but the title- embossed in shining purple- read as clear as day. Off the Beaten Path: The Artistry of Illusion.

Hunter eased the book fully into your grasp, nodding solemnly.

“I think this one is exactly what you’re looking for.”

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.”

Chapter Text

You turned to watch Hunter retreat into the far library wall. He looked small, suddenly, as he braced himself against the brick, clutching his dimly flickering staff like a teddy bear. His one gift since childhood; the thing that made him worthy of his place. Without it, he was… It took you a moment to process the realization you’d come to while reading that memory: He was powerless. The Golden Guard, second only to the undisputed ruler of the isles… was powerless.

It all clicked. Parts of him you had never been able to reason snapped into place. You understood just a fraction more of him, now. And something in you wished the two of you could trade places and lead each other’s lives. He could be special. You could be unimportant. Both of you could’ve been happy.

“I’m sorry.” You said, and you meant it. “I just wanted you to quit pointing that thing at me and accusing me of stuff I didn’t do. I wouldn’t have chosen that day, if it was up to me.” It seemed so wrong to step into those memories of a softer, more vulnerable him. You felt as though you’d driven a nail straight into the fault line of his defenses and shattered him entirely. But he wasn't quite that breakable.

“I don’t care about that.” He muttered, placing his staff to the floor with a clunk . Though he no longer brandished it as a weapon, you could tell he was still fully on the defensive. “I care about what else you’ve seen. Coven secrets, things you aren’t supposed to. How do I know you’re still not a spy? Sent here to- to pick my brain with your creepy powers!” The thought was ridiculous. He wasn’t sure that even after all that, he was still completely convinced. Why had he never read about this? Books were supposed to give him the answers to everything! But how else could you have seen that day with such detail? Had Belos told you things about him-?

“Relax. Belos didn't tell me anything. I thought you said it yourself: I’m a bad liar. And you’re smart. I know that better than anyone. You could sniff out one of my fibs a mile away, so I’m gonna stop trying, okay? The cat’s out of the bag, no more lies. I promise you, I’m not here to compromise the coven.” You reached out a hand in offering to shake on it. He made an ‘eugh’ sound and wiped his palm on his cloak, like the very thought of touching you was infecting him with your germs. Yet, your words only confirmed it for him; you could see into his mind. Answer his own questions before he even asked them. It was... awful.

“Don’t get cozy. I’m still not done with you.” He huffed. “You sure this isn’t just a spell gone haywire? There are plenty of ways to temporarily enter someone’s brain.” he indicated with a twirl of his fingertip.

You shook your head. “No. I’ve had this forever. Since as long as I can remember- Since I was a kid.”

His grip on his staff tightened slightly in the long silence that followed, untangling things in his subconscious you couldn’t even begin to understand. Something about all your time spent together, alone. So much time to invade him. “So… you know. Everything.” He muttered numbly, the thought creeping up on him like a reaching fog. “Everything about me. About Belos, about-“ he shook his head. “If you could keep this a secret, I don’t think I should take your ‘promises’ very seriously. As a matter of fact,” his mind whirred with blooming new ideas about uses for you. None of them were good. The novelty of your powers was fading into distrust once again. “I think I should turn you in to my uncle, anyway; he'd love to have a scout with abilities like yours serving him for real. You won’t have a problem with that if you’re telling the truth, will you?” He asked, taking another step forwards into your territory just when you’d thought he was backing off.

“Stop thinking what you’re thinking.” You warned, but you retreated an inch at his pressure.

“Wha-at? I thought you didn’t want to hurt the coven. You’ll be extremely useful to us. Just think- interrogations, spying, anticipating enemy plans- the possibilities are endless. There’s no reason to be hesitant. Unless, of course, you’re hiding something else.” He said lightly.  Evil! That moment of guilt for exposing his vulnerable memories was gone in an instant, replaced with a burning hatred for his unpredictable whims. How could he recover so quickly from the shock of the earth-shaking information you'd just thrust upon him? 

“I’m not hiding anything. I just don’t want to be used like some… tool! And who knows what your uncle will do to me if he finds out? I don’t wanna end up like the stonesleeper.” You exclaimed, holding your hands out in anticipation of his encroachment. He snarled through his mask. “You and that stonesleeper nonsense. What makes you think Belos is doing anything bad to it? For all we know, he’s got the thing penned up in a luxury suite and is feeding it rainbows!” He tossed his hand in the air to dismiss your foolish ideas. “Emperor Belos is an extremely just ruler! And he’s not wasteful. He’d much rather put someone’s skills to use than kill them, trust me. Cleaning the entrails off the walls is way more of an inconvenience than having a civil discussion.”

Your brows creased as you listened to him; he was so far gone. How could he honestly believe that his uncle was a good guy after everything he’d been subjected to? Worse than believing that he was good, though, was the frustrating fact that Hunter actually believed Belos loved him.

“Are we talking about the same person, here? No disrespect, but he petrifies a new witch every week. Say he does want to use me- fine, but he won’t stop at that. Not after I’ve kept a monumental secret from him. He’ll torture me, or cut out my tongue, or hurt my family or do something else terrible to keep me from disobeying him again.”

“You are an extremely paranoid individual.” Hunter said ironically. “He’d only do that if you, like, really annoyed him. Your assistance would more than compensate for your lengthy lapse in judgment, I assure you. Now, come with me-” he reached for your arm “-and this will all be a lot easier.”

You tore away from his outstretched hand, not wanting to be subjected to another round of his bruising restraint. “No! If you turn me in to him, I’ll- I’ll tell him about the books!” you blurted.

Hunter froze mid-stretch, considering those implications. You went on. “I’ll tell him that you’ve been sneaking texts on wild magic. Especially the ones he forbade you from reading. In fact-” your hand shot out to grab at Off the Beaten Path like it was a viper liable to bite you at any time. The cover brandished to Hunter’s masked gaze, and he went taut at the sight of it. “I’m sure he’d love to know how this ended up in his library, considering you were told to burn it. How’s that for a lapse in judgment? You think he’d be as forgiving as you claim he is if he heard about his nephew’s insubordination?” You shouted. 

No. Of course he wouldn’t. Hunter had just finished recovering from his last encounter with Belos, and he wasn’t keen on experiencing another. He faltered between rage and infuriating, humiliating submission, his staff trembling in hand. Both of you had ammunition. Both of you could get each other punished- maybe even killed- for your mutually rebellious ways. You weren’t so different, after all, even if you'd never felt more at odds.

Slowly, Hunter straightened, the lessons of civility bleeding back into his demeanor. He would not let you see his loss. He would brand it as elegant acquiescence. And besides, he told himself, it wasn’t really a failure if the both of you were on mutual grounds of blackmail.

“You don’t know anything about Belos.” he murmured scornfully, but he didn’t protest your assumption. He knew fully well that it was a wise one. “He wouldn’t hurt me.” A lie. “But let’s say you’re right, and I don’t want him to know about it. Then what? You don’t want your secret out; I don’t want my research interrupted. We’re at a stalemate.”

“Yeah, we are.” You agreed, breathing out a silent sigh of relief that he wasn’t being difficult. You lowered the hand that was clutching the book slowly, never removing your gaze from his in case he tried something. "How abou-"

But he had always been faster than you. In a heartbeat he’d lunged forward, slamming his staff into your ribcage and making a play for the book as you reeled from the shock of the impact. He managed to grab it, but in a moment of quick thinking you redirected your weight onto his back, falling onto him with a painful wheeze from your protesting lungs. Your ribs were definitely bruised, maybe even broken, but you couldn’t let him get ahold of your only political fodder, so you grasped his shoulders with all the strength your shaking hands would allow and shoved him back onto the library floor. Your sweaty fingertips palmed the book, trying to wrestle it from him, and he grunted hoarsely as your weight bore on him- not nearly firm enough to keep him down. The Golden Guard twisted into a half-roll, flipping the tables in a flash of brass and white. By the time your mind had caught up, he’d managed to restrain your hands, his mask lopsided with the effort of the unexpected tussle. The soldier tossed it off with a snarl, revealing his fascinating face, his handsome nose crinkled in exertion and unmistakable hatred. His knee to your ribs burned like wildfire, his eyes the flames that set your pain alight. You scrabbled for purchase on him, but his armor gave no relief, and your other hand was too occupied squeezing the soft leather of the book for dear life to be of any use.

“-You know you can’t beat me.” He panted, squaring his shoulders as if to maintain nonchalance. “Just give me the book!” His gloved hands fought with yours for a claim on the cover, but you held fast despite everything.

“Like hell! You’ll get me killed!” You barked, writhing under his much more experienced hold. Shit. This wasn’t looking good for you. You could talk big, but it was plain to see that you couldn’t ever win, not in a million years. For how well you thought you knew his fighting style, he always surprised you. Always.

“Listen here, mind-reader .” He said it like a curse. “I have made it abundantly clear that you’re more useful to us alive than dead. Make a smart decision for once in your life and give me the book. ”

You’d never seen someone so deluded in your life; but you would not let his ignorance be your undoing. With one final burst of desperation, you rammed your skull into his nose, knocking him back with the force of the pain. Instinctively, he raised a hand to clutch his face, leaving you enough freedom to deliver a dizzying blow to his shoulder and shove him off of you. Shooting up and with your head spinning, you reached for the nearest surface to support yourself on as you wobbled out of his line of fire. The book, mercifully, had come with you in your escape- and you held it tight to your chest, lengthening the space between you and the Golden Guard as quickly as your blurry body could manage. “Should’ve… kept the mask on.” You wheezed in taunt, positioning yourself flush to the brick wall where the exit stood. An unspoken threat that you could leave at any moment, and it would all be over. He groaned softly on the floor, turning to glare at you through his bloody palm. His eyes were almost indistinguishable from the viscera that soaked the pale skin of his hands. “You’ve improved; I a-admit.” He managed, muffled and nasally as he rose with you. “Hah… At least I can say I managed to teach you something about battle, if nothing else.” 

Gloating when he was at such an obvious disadvantage. “Now who’s being stupid?” You accused, reaching downward to drag the staff he’d dropped in your fight. It scraped in a shrieking cry across the floor, stopping only when you lifted it to your side. The Golden Guard’s glare deepened. Powerless. Suddenly, his eyes shifted from the simmering red of loathing to a richer magenta of… jealousy. You had your birthright magic. You had strange, fantastical powers most witches hadn't probably even imagined were real. And what did he have? Nothing. You were handed everything on a silver platter, and he had to struggle just to be seen as-

He exhaled slowly, his chest falling. 

“Maybe that's true.” He murmured, his voice wet with blood. “But if you bring that book to Belos, I don’t imagine he’ll make the same mistake again, letting the library go unguarded. Not if you could manage to sneak in here undetected. He’ll place guards, traps, maybe… and then you can say goodbye to your precious information.” 

You stiffened. Was that likely? It wouldn’t be much of a trial for the emperor to spare a few of his limitless scouts for the library. Hell, he might even burn it just to keep prying eyes away. Something told you that Belos did not need half of these books any longer- at least, not more than he wanted to prevent others from seeing them. And the ones he did need? Well, it wouldn't be hard to put them where nobody would find them.

“You know I’m right,” he coaxed, and he wasn’t lying. This arrangement would benefit nobody.  You lowered the staff slightly, frowning. Your head was beginning to ache from your risky move with Hunter’s nose. His elegant nose… at least it didn’t look broken. Wait, why did you care about that?

“You probably are.” You acquiesced, tucking the book into your belt for security. “And I don’t want to keep fighting with you. Honestly, I don’t. You’re…” crazy? Brainwashed? Pitiable? “-interesting. Like I said. I still mean it.”

He stared at you tiredly, wondering how he could bear to look at you when you’d so carelessly infiltrated every hidden part of him. You didn’t blame him.  “So… how about a truce? I don’t tell on you; you don’t tell on me. And if either or us breaks it, or does something stupid like- say, spying on the coven, then we get both our secrets spilled. Nobody wants that.” 

Another long, poignant silence before Hunter stepped forwards, reaching out his hand. You thought he meant to shake on it, but he swiped his staff from your grasp instead, his scarred lips breaking into a dry smile. “Well, I guess fighting isn’t the only thing you’ve learned from me.” He said, wiping the blood from his nose onto his white cape, streaking it with red. You winced.  “Sorry about that.”

“Hmm.” he said noncommittally. He was more annoyed about the mess than the pain. “It was a good hit. Resourceful.” It sounded like approval. Like his own, strange way of agreeing to peace. 

“Let me fix it,” you entreated, reaching for his face. He flinched, brandishing his staff, but you opened your palms in gentle supplication. “Come on. You can’t heal yourself, I know that. And it would look suspicious if the both of us came out to work tomorrow with bloody wounds. People would have questions."

An astute observation- one Hunter couldn't dismiss. He reluctantly calmed his bristling defenses, though he made no move forward. He made you come to him, palms outstretched, as you reached to cup his face and pull his chin down. You drew your spell circle right between Hunter's eyes, concentrating on mending the ruptured blood vessels in his nose that you were the cause of. His cheek was soft and warm, his skin supple, but when your hand shifted away, it brushed across an old scar on his jaw. Rough in a way no boy’s skin ought to be. He refused to meet your gaze as he tugged away.

“Thanks.” He muttered, gruffly, his eyes flicking to the book at your hip. He considered it, for a moment, but he knew it would get him nothing but another hurt nose. Besides, you didn’t seem all that ill-intended anymore, after you’d offered to heal him instead of rub in your almost-victory. Even if it was for your own plausible deniability, it was… generous.

Then he realized you knew what he was thinking and felt his face heat in a humiliated blush. He did not need to associate with liars and deformed, creepy witches with invasive magic and rebellious ideas. He could tolerate you, though, because he didn't have much of a choice if he wanted to keep up his own search.

“You didn’t hear that.” He said quickly, shouldering past you and into the library corridor so he could take his leave in what little pride he had remaining. He was going to have to get a lot better at hiding his thoughts, from now on; he hated feeling like you’d already figured him out. 

Oh, if only he knew just how little of him you’d figured out.

Chapter Text

And just when you thought that the Golden Guard was beginning to open up to you, all of those new faces of his vanished as quickly as they’d come. If your first meeting was his annoyance, this was his utter betrayal. And worse yet, this fresh anger was nothing like the kind before: It wasn’t snippy, taunting and superior- It wasn’t anything. He avoided you at every turn. He cast his gaze to the side if he had to speak to you, like you weren’t even there. He wanted nothing to do with you, which he made very clear once he'd begun his routine of trying to ditch you again. It hurt, for some strange reason. You hardly knew him, but it felt like longer than just a few weeks of working together, with all you'd gone through. How much of your partnership had been a lie to get on your good side? All of it? And if you hadn't spotted his ulterior motives before, how could you ever really rely on your mind-reading again? Maybe you weren't as good as you thought you were. 

Or maybe he was just much better than you'd anticipated.

——

“Get up.” The Golden Guard cornered you in the middle of your breakfast. You were surprised to see him in the cafeteria; he had gotten into the habit of skipping meals lately- probably out of disdain for seeing you at his lonely table, though you didn't exactly have anywhere else to sit. More shocking than his appearance, though, was the fact that he was speaking to you outside of official work hours. You took another moment to chew on his words and what could possibly have prompted such acknowledgement, staying in your seat.

“What?” You mumbled, trying to speak around your mouthful of tasteless mush. “Why? It’s early.” 

He remained flatly unamused. “Thank you for your genius observation, but I don’t care. We're leaving. I’ve located a very promising lead on our newest mission.”

“Oh.” You swallowed slowly. “And what’s that?”

“Something very important.” He insisted, crossing his arms behind his back. “Now, get up . We have some scouting to do.”

For a heartbeat, you considered resisting his order to finish your food in a tiny act of defiance- but that would just get you in hotter water with him. You begrudgingly stood, leaving your bowl of gruel practically untouched save for a few bites, which weren’t that great anyway, but were still some form of sustenance. He walked and you followed, down the hallways and by the main gate into a drowsy morning, where the Golden Guard removed his retractable staff from his belt. Looking out over the wooded hillside, he wordlessly gestured to the hilt of the staff, and you slid onto it as he settled it between his own legs, now used to the brisk manner of transportation. If you were braver, you might have kept your hands to your sides, but you weren’t, so you held the soldier's hips again- afraid you’d fall off if you didn't. You could sense how much he hated it; like finding a particularly disagreeable cockroach on his armor. He fiddled a moment with his magical conduit, and you seized the opportunity to pressure him.

“You’ll have to tell me eventually where we’re going.” You pointed out. “And for what.” You knew he was being intentionally vague out of pettiness and punishment for you, but it wasn't his best work.

He made a noise of displeasure as he braced his feet to the hillside, rocketing upwards with more force than was really necessary. “Oh? But you already know that.” The wind carried his haughty voice as you broke into the sky, tinged with seafoam clouds the color of apple blood. “I won’t bother wasting my breath on telling you every detail.”

You frowned a bit at his bitterness. Did he really hate you that much? It wasn’t your choice to be this way. “That’s not really how it works…” you mumbled quietly, tightening your grip on him as your elevation climbed. “I can’t just magically know everything that you do. You have to be thinking about it in some regard. Even if it’s subconscious. And right now, your brain is being very vague about this mission." Perhaps it had been the wrong thing to say, because he went a bit stiff in your arms. “Well, good!” He barked, leveling out over the heavy forests of the right arm that had begun to blend together into a sunset-orange amalgamation of leaves. “My brain has something right. Maybe it’ll discourage you from snooping around- which you obviously find great pleasure in doing!”

You sighed heavily. Okay, so, that was a ‘no’ on informing you of anything. And on forgiving you in general, it seemed. So rather than fight him, you hunkered down to watch the Boiling Isles go by, tracing the rising halo of the sun beyond the mountaintops as it soaked everything in brilliant gold. The rippling waves of the ocean glittered like hidden treasure; the clouds above shifted into glorious oranges as if they were being dyed by the hand of the Titan himself. Everything was rich, luxurious, and decadent- even the Golden Guard's once-white cloak, whose new shine had the effect of making him look like a statue carved in a reverent hand. Beautiful bird of prey. H e banked suddenly after a five-minute cruise down the length of the forearm, dipping into a heavily wooded thicket a few yards from a large clearing that crowned a proud governmental building.

You knew it in an instant. Hexside. What the hell were you doing here?

The Golden Guard dismounted in a heavy stamp, swiping his staff out from under you and nearly sending you tumbling to the leaf-scattered ground. Your ribs still protested from your recent altercation with him, but they had thankfully only been bruised in the battle. It was painful, not debilitating, but you nonetheless braced yourself to a tree, steadying your feet to the ground as the soldier before you plowed into the bristling brush- mindless of where it caught his cloak. You resettled your mask onto your face to catch your breath, following with more care and nearly running into his back for a second time as he halted at the edge of the clearing and crouched into the bushes.

Beyond you was a stadium. It looked like the Hexside grudgby arena- or maybe clawball? You’d never really been much for the school’s sports. A small group of younger-looking witches were gathered beside a mound of woody gnarls that vaguely resembled a tree stump, listening to- was that principal Bump? Who knew his hair was so luscious? - And, shockingly, the Owl Lady. She looked a lot less raggedy than the last time you’d seen her- all decked out in a fancy suit and offering something to a massive, fleshy bat-creature perched above her. You tried not to wrinkle your nose. Some demons were just... unsettling. 

“Mm,” the guard beside you hummed, watching with careful consideration through his mask as the children approached the little wooden corral. A tiny group of diverse beasts were chittering inside, wrestling and exchanging words in their weird language, but they fell silent as the first witch approached. She looked a bit older than the others, with a stocky frame and a confident air of capability behind her. She adjusted her glasses as she knelt over the stone ridge that ringed the tree stump, announcing something you couldn’t make out. The bat-woman cackled boisterously, sweeping a wing out in approval as a tiny bumblebee fluttered out to curl itself into the witch's shoulder. 

“Is that-“ you began, but the Golden Guard fixed you with a stare so intense that you immediately went silent. ‘Be. Quiet.’ He thought loudly, which was actually a pretty genius way of communicating. You knew he despised you for your lies, but at least he wasn’t stupid enough to discount your uses just yet. ‘Palismen. Hexside is the only school still producing them.’ 

Ah. Right. You remembered getting your palisman, here. But that was in your first year, when palistrom wood was a bit more plentiful amongst the Isles. And you’d carved yours yourself, so you weren’t very familiar with this new technique of receiving a staff- It seemed convoluted.  A pink-haired witch went up next, followed by a tenacious brunette, then a tiny, dark-skinned young man with evidently big ideas. The tedium went on until the entire group of witchlings had been exhausted save for a hapless young woman with a multicolored track uniform and round ears. Oh, the human. She went to Hexside? That was curious- you wouldn’t have expected any magical school to accept her; much less provide her with the same education the other children were getting. Humans were objects of curiosity, sure, but integrating them into society? That was adventurous. It excited the Golden Guard, though. He noted it, tucking it safely away into his mind for later.

You turned back. There was some commotion about the scrappy human now. She was muttering something with an expression that suggested horror, and though two little witchlings came to console her, she brushed them away and turned with her head hung low. The rest of the class hesitated a moment, looking to their principal for an answer, but he just shrugged helplessly and gestured to the school building. The group made a slow trek back to their classes, leaving the Owl Lady, bat-creature, and principal Bump to their own bemused conversation. Bump said something to the bat, who dismounted her perch and landed heavily amongst the arena sand, kicking up a cloud of dust that choked the two smaller witches beside her. She raised a wing, tapping the log full of unwanted palismen and raising up a yellowed barrier between it and the world- then took off into the skies with wingbeats so loud and powerful that you had to cover your ears. Principal Bump lingered a moment, patted The Owl Lady’s shoulders heartily, then sent her off with him in a convoy of their students.

With their departure, the clearing went silent. It lasted a moment while the Golden Guard observed the palisman nest, flicking through his options. There weren’t nearly enough palismen inside that stump, he thought, but surely it would be better than returning with nothing. The only problem was... “That shield,” he said at length. “Did you by chance catch how the Bat Queen made it?”

“Huh?” You were surprised by his question. Why would you know that? You hadn't been paying much attention to her. “Made it?”

The Golden Guard scoffed, turning his scathing judgment to you. “You’re the most useless mind-reader ever. I don’t know why you even bothered to hide your powers from me; you obviously can’t do anything with them.” He snapped, his gloves tightening along the shaft of his staff. He was on edge, clearly, and you didn’t blame him, but you were still offended by it.

“Hey! I can do plenty with my powers, I just can’t work miracles. Sorry 'the Bat Queen' or whatever wasn’t conveniently thinking about the exact way to disable her shield in case some mind-readers were hanging around!” You shouted back, and the Golden Guard quickly clamped his harsh, gloved fingers over your mouth to staunch your flow of retaliation.

“You’re pushing my patience, scout.” He spat. “The only reason I’m tolerating your presence is because you may yet prove useful to me. But make no mistake, you are not irreplaceable. I don’t care what you can do- if you aren’t willing to serve the emperor, you’re as special as the dirt beneath my boot, and I’ll crush you just the same.” He leaned in close, squeezing your face tight enough to bruise. “You think you know everything, but you’re a fool, and your overconfidence makes you weak . I’m more of a witch than you’ll ever be, and I was born with nothing.”

You could almost see the heat of his gaze burning behind the dark slats in his mask, catching your own in their blinding rawness. Did he have a point? Were you missing out on details simply because you never tried to glean them? Because you never fought for what you wanted?

It occurred to you that you were actually afraid of him.

“Now, then, I’ll ask you again- and you’ll answer me like a fucking soldier: are you willing to work for your ill-begotten status, or are you going to remain a complacent pig who cruises by on the convenience of their own abilites?” He snarled, his voice like ice.

You went into shaken silence for a long moment, looking down as the leather of his glove slid away from your mouth, leaving you free to reply. You could sense the passion in him even without your powers- and maybe that was the point. He wanted you to feel it in his words. Everything he’d ever done was in service of the emperor; he wasn’t given anything to get him ahead but the worn rope of his own bootstraps, and here you were grinding the heel of your sneakers into his achievements with your blatant disrespect for your own privilege.

He wasn’t angry that you’d lied to him. Not really. He was angry that it had been you instead of him.

Oh. You hadn’t realized how your disinterest must’ve come across to someone like Hunter. Born without magic, barely a witch to the people around him, wanting so badly to be seen for who he really was, and what he could really do- but obscured by his shameful birthmark of being… different. The young boy who fought harder than anybody for his place beside the throne had been unceremoniously dumped with the one person who embodied everything he despised the most: apathy, submission, wastefulness, lethargy. You had extraordinary abilities, and you used them for nobody but yourself. You didn't even want the powers that he would have killed for. No wonder he hated you. No wonder he’d plotted against you from the beginning. You didn’t deserve to be in the coven. You had done nothing worthy of it.

“Hunter.” His name tasted sorrowful on your tongue. “I’m… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-“

Fury. “Shut up! Answer the question, or I leave you here, and you can return to your perfect life of luxury!” He said. The wind blew, rustling the leaves around you and sending a plume of dust into your masked eyes. You looked towards the sandy arena of the schoolyard, thinking about his offer. You could go home. You could go back to Hexside, with your friends and your boring but easy life. You could be plain and normal and pretend that you were nothing more than a simple witch with simple goals. Or…

Or you could stay here. With him. With the most confusing witch in the world, who hated you because you could never understand. Because you were so blessed and he was an invalid. The witch whose name you had trampled with your carelessness and spat on with your presence.

It wasn’t fair to him for you to go on with your bland motivation and your sorry attitude. It wasn’t fair to stomp on everything he knew to be true and then leave. But you could make it up to him. You would make it up to him, if it was the last kind thing you'd ever do.

“I’ll work.” You said firmly. “I’ll earn my place beside you. I-“ you were about to offer another apology, but you knew that wasn’t what he wanted. Empty words meant nothing to Hunter; he would only be pleased with results. 

“I promise.” 

For the first time in weeks, he looked at you with something like begrudging approbation.

“Prove it.”

Chapter Text

You and Hunter returned from Hexside in a whirl, taking the castle by storm as he waved you on into a new wing of the building, where he made you wait as he arranged something with a spindly scout wielding a toolbox. They went back and forth for a while about specifications or some nonsense, until the scout said something into a speaker-like contraption with a blinking red light, then nodded to Hunter and sent him along again. He returned to you with news of an airship and a plan to transport the palisman-nest directly to the castle for an examination of the shield surrounding it. Of course, taking a massive airship directly into a fully occupied school in broad daylight would be foolish no matter what way you twisted it, so the two of you would have to wait until nightfall before being able to enact the plan. That, and airships weren’t exactly the easiest modes of transportation to set up in a hurry. So, while a dedicated team of mechanics worked on polishing up an old airship right from the hangar, the Golden Guard subjected you to yet another round of training.

“This is what you made me work early for?” Your voice strained as his staff knocked your flimsy practice weapon. You shoved against his strong parry, trying to find an opening to slip away, but he held fast. “I made you work early because I felt like it. And because the emperor’s coven doesn’t care if you’re tired.” He replied, rotating his staff so he could make a sweep at your ankles. You blocked his attempt, but wobbled, unbalanced, leaving him free to come at you from the other side with his leg. You crumpled to the floor, groaning as the usual abuse resumed its course. He knelt over your prostrate form, tilting his head scathingly.

“When you promise me that you’ll make an effort, I expect you to uphold it.” He prodded, impossible to look at in the bright sun, with his golden mask still attached. “Where’s the witch who fought me in the library? The one who made me bleed? That one had a spine .”

You nearly snorted. That was what he wanted? For you to make him bleed? Weird men required weird hobbies, you supposed. You sat up, trying to shake the dizziness from your mind. “That witch was pretty certain they were about to be locked up and experimented on.” You pointed out, coming to a stand before him. 

“Great! Then we make you feel that again.” He replied, holding out his staff as if to strike. You scrabbled to fan out your hands. “Wait! Wait! No, that is definitely not the way to motivate me!” Backing up, you fixed him with a wary frown, reaching for your dropped training staff. Hunter sighed as if you were just too hapless to be saved. 

“Perhaps I should have left you at Hexside.” Hunter said, lowering his weapon. “Because you obviously lack the conviction needed to push yourself to your limit. Get used to being afraid, scout. Fear is what makes us stronger. If you don’t view every fight as life or death, you won’t perform like it’s life or death, and that desperation is the key to victory. Your opponents will be wild witches and mindless beasts who only know that defeat means their end, and they will do anything to stop that from happening. Anything .” He straightened in that supercilious way he did when he was through giving a lecture. “Now, then, I could remind you that you’re not safe here in the castle just because you’re a scout, or I could let you find out for yourself how forgiving my uncle is. Either way, it’s no difference to me.” Hunter shrugged, and you steeled your nerves. Much as you hated being talked down to, you knew it would be wise to listen to him. He was always kicking your ass- he knew about fighting in a way you didn’t, and you had promised him you’d take your job more seriously.

“I know- Okay,” You said, raising your wooden staff to cross with his in a starting position. “Okay. So I just need to feel like my life’s at stake, that it?” 

“Oh, you don’t have to feel like your life is at stake- it is.” He said pleasantly before jamming the heel of his weapon up into your stomach.

The air was stolen from your lungs in an instant, sending you reeling on your feet. You scrambled to exchange a returning blow to him, but your swing was pathetic and dampened by your pain, so it clunked uselessly into Hunter’s hip without him even bothering to block it. He advanced, balancing his staff between both palms like he might be planning to bash you with it, as calm and deadly as a leopard.

“-Ow! Unnecessary!” you yelped once you’d caught your breath, trying to regain some dignity with your weapon raised high into the air. “I get the picture!”

“Do you?” Hunter questioned with that terrible delight of his, then rushed behind you with such speed that you were certain he must have used his teleportation. In an instant, his staff was clenched to your neck, effectively choking you with the cold bar of the handle. His style was so rough, so grueling that you quickly realized he was enjoying pummeling you; training was a nice excuse for this guard to watch the witch he so heavily disapproved of taste the sting of a loss. 

You were running out of air to think with. In a last-ditch effort, you raised your heel and delivered a sloppy kick to the nearest firm object you could hit, managing to stomp his foot with the heavy weight of your boots. It was enough to dislodge him for an instant, and you took the opportunity to push out from under his makeshift cage with your airways intact. He scrambled to retaliate by bringing his staff down on you, but you jumped out of the way, wishing for once that you truly knew what someone was thinking. When he fought, it was like a dance; a fluid pattern of responses from one move to the next. He never stopped to consider what was right or wrong in the traditional sense- he just knew what to do. You supposed it was an instinct you had yet to develop in your generally conflict-absent life, but you’d have to learn to catch up eventually. Still, you didn’t think any amount of training could give you the kind of effortless grace he had. Uninterrupted by its intended target, his staff slammed into the dirt wingtip-first, tearing up the grass in its way. You awaited his next attack with bated breath, but something seemed to be holding him up. He huffed, tugging at the base of the staff once- futilely- then again with his shoulders squared.

It was stuck. 

Who were you to deny this golden opportunity showing its shining face? He wouldn’t have mercy in your position, so you wouldn’t either. It's what he would have wanted, really. You rushed Hunter just as he managed to dislodge his staff- but it was too late for him to bring it to his defense. Your shoulder slammed into his body, knocking him hard onto the worn and trampled sod of the courtyard, where you pinned him securely across the chest with your own pole. He panted for a moment as he lay immobilized and prostrate, the slats of his mask looking up to meet yours with interest. Finally, he spoke in a hoarse voice.

“Not bad, scout.” He allowed, breastplate rising laboriously with your staff to his torso. “But not anything to boast over, either. Your opening was entirely circumstantial.” 

You hummed, the words striking some kind of annoyance in you. He was wrong to speak of your win like it was nothing to write home about. “Are you saying that circumstance has nothing to do with battle?” You asked, trying to emulate his ‘I’m-teaching-you-something-now’ voice. “If I should trip on a rock in the middle of a duel, I've fallen all the same. My opponent, if they were smart, would take it in stride, not in dismissal. And if this floor were made of concrete, then your staff would not have gotten stuck, and you might have beaten me. But it wasn’t. And your staff did get stuck. And you didn’t beat me. I wouldn’t consider my ability to be resourceful with what I’m given just circumstance. And you were too careless with your staff. Sloppy.” You grinned, though he couldn’t see it. Winning felt pretty nice. Especially when Hunter fell quiet- quiet in a way you’d never seen him portray before. His silences had many uses: intimidation, manipulation, an expression of displeasure or begrudging respect, but they were rarely silences of genuine awe, the way this one was.

Finally, he laughed, a sound like a hundred church bells chiming far away. That broken, jangly laugh. You knitted your brows, befuddled endlessly. He was laughing. You had him pinned, and he was giggling away like a schoolgirl. One moment he was your enemy, the next your teacher, and the next a teenage boy who seemed to think you were the funniest thing in the world. He’d never make sense.

“Fair enough. I’m not beyond fault.” He said, the remnants of his laugh ringing his words in warmth. “And resourcefulness certainly is a good skill- Learning to work with your environment can contribute to the outcome of a battle. My point, however…” he pushed your staff from his chest delicately and moved to stand. You let him go. “Is that you shouldn’t rely on slip-ups to conveniently fall onto your path. It’s important that you be able to win fair and square, on your own merits rather than by chance.” He dusted his cloak meticulously. “Someday, maybe, you’ll be able to catch me off-guard yourself. And we can have a proper fight.” He said, in a voice like a promise. “Then, perhaps you graduate from that training staff. Perhaps.” 

Your heart leapt a bit. It was a very distant possibility, but it felt like it meant something. He was seeing your potential and your loyalty to the pledge you’d made him- he recognized it enough that he truly saw a future where he trusted you with magic like his own. The anticipation at that idea seemed a bit overblown to what it really was: empty words. But it made no difference in your mind. This was progress. No more lies to hide, and hopefully no more hair-trigger emperors to worry about, if the Golden Guard held up his end of the bargain. As long as you got to keep visiting the library, and he was pleased with your contributions to the coven, the two of you could coexist. Both of you would get what you wanted. This could all work out.

“You think so?” You asked hopefully, turning your masked gaze to his. He raised his chin to answer.

“I-“

“-Golden Guard, sir!” Came a cry from across the courtyard, silencing Hunter in an instant. He turned to the source of the noise, a coven scout hurrying across the grass, and crossed his arms. 

“Hm? What is it? I’m in the middle of something.” He said boredly.

“Sorry, sir.” The scout said with a salute. “But I was told to inform you that your airship is ready, sir. Everything you asked for has been installed and is prepared for use in the field.”

“Oh,” Hunter said, a bit lighter. “Well, that was faster than expected. Excellent.”

Was it faster than expected? How long had the two of you been training, anyway? There had been at least a few battles before the last one, but not that many, surely. Yet, the sun didn’t lie. It waned across an unobscured horizon, threatening at any moment to dip the world into the realm of the moon. Maybe time had just flown away from the two of you.

“Sir.” The scout dropped his salute into a brief genuflect and turned to march back into the passageway he’d come from, leaving you and Hunter standing in the quiet field alone.

“It’s a bit early,” he mused, half to himself. “But the trip to Hexside is longer by airship, so we may need the remaining daylight.” He folded his staff in neatly and held out his hand for your wooden one. You dropped it into his palm, and he curled his hand around the pole, setting it into a nearby weapons-holster on the way out of the courtyard. You’d never been to the hangar, and you weren’t sure you would have ever wanted to go there even if you'd had any choice. It was too… big. Not big in the elegant way the vaulted ceilings of the castle could be, but big like the entire structure was endless and might fall on you at any moment. Too much space that was never fully filled- even with the loud noises and milling workers that were always present to tend to the airships’ every need. Excess in its ugliest form.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to stay long. A team of mechanics had already begun to untether a positively looming ship from its various securities, and one very technical-looking scout on a scaffolding was pressing buttons that seemed to be moving the roof of the hangar inwards until you could see the clouds overhead. 

Hunter exchanged more words with the surrounding mechanics that you didn’t bother to listen to, too intent on observing the airship that was the cause of so much excitement. It was a boat-like hunk of wood and metal that was almost completely swathed by some kind of deflated cloth. Though you’d seen them before in books and- very occasionally- in the skies above, it took you a moment to piece together what exactly you were looking at. Eventually, you managed to puzzle out that the deflated cloth was actually the balloon that would give the airship lift, and the boat structure was the basket where the passengers might sit. It was strange looking even for an air-balloon, though, because as its sail began to rise to the ceiling, a twin pair of flared, draconic wingpieces unfolded to flank it. More excess in motion, you supposed. This gilded coven. 

“Scout,” Hunter’s voice startled you from your viewing. “They’re going to drop the tethers soon, so I suggest you be aboard when they do- unless you plan to chase me to Hexside.”

He paused.

“Actually, no, you should definitely stay behind. That would be very entertaining.” 

You tried not to scowl, but then remembered your mask, and scowled anyway. He was very good at making your misfortune his amusement. “I’ll stay with you. That’s my job.” you added, just for a touch of credibility. He seemed to think that was a bit on the nose, but chose not to express it. Thank the Titan. “Well, then, come along.” Hunter said, making his way into the middle of the hangar, where a makeshift ramp had been secured to provide easy passage onto the airship. He mounted the steep climb first, grabbing your hand to wrench you up alongside him once he’d landed. The inside was smaller than you’d anticipated, taken up by a massive control center and ample storage space in the rear, but it could seat the two of you very comfortably, so you couldn’t complain. Besides, the fire that was billowing beneath the rising sail was a pretty shade of electric blue, and the glamour of it was enough to keep you happy and entertained no matter the conditions.

“Aaaaand we’re off.” Hunter snapped his fingers in emphasis, cueing the sound of several ropes slipping free of their rungs. With its restraints gone, the airship lifted out of the hangar’s open ceiling, rising in a straight vertical until the hull was well out of collision distance. Once he’d made certain you were in the clear, Hunter moved to cradle the spokes of the control panel's helm and gave a swift tug to the cord above his head, dimming the flame to level out your altitude and tilt the airship just below the clouds. The trip was longer than your previous travel on staff, just as Hunter had foretold, so you passed the time staring at the fire, hanging over the railing of the deck, and asking Hunter riveting questions like “Do you need a license to fly these?” (He’d responded in a very sarcastic manner that no, the right-hand man of the emperor himself did not need documentation to prove his ability to steer a glorified blimp, at which point you had decided to just keep your mouth shut)

But finally, finally-  as the night sky had fully enveloped the world, the familiar spires of Hexside began to pierce up through the heavy covering of the summery trees, dark with the eerie abandonment of a place intended for life that had been temporarily stripped of it. You were getting a raging sense of Deja Vu. Hadn’t it been only a month since Principal Bump called you in to introduce you to the Pit-Fight and begin this whole, twisted adventure? And on a night very much like this one?

Hunter made another adjustment to the flame-cord, slowly tugging it downward to encourage the silent descent of the airship into the nearby athletics courtyard of Hexside, where the palisman nest had last been. He had you look to ensure the palisman-stump was still there- which it was- and subsequently ensure that he positioned the airship just close enough to get a firm grip on it with a talonlike attachment he’d apparently had installed just for this mission. One look at the stump reminded you of a question that had been nagging at your brain for a while. Why, exactly did the emperor need sentient representations of wild magic by the dozen? ...And why would he elect to do it in such secrecy? Wasn't this just common, petty theft? You were so distracted by your musings you almost didn't notice that the yellow barrier of magic the Bat Queen had erected had vanished from around the structure, leaving the entrance wide open to any passerby who might want a peek inside. But thankfully, you did.

“The shield’s gone.” You commented under your breath, watching over the hull as the claws of Hunter's shiny new toy opened like a gaping mouth, descending onto the palisman nest and clamping around the nearest protruding branch. “That so?” Hunter commented, half of his mind buried in the task of getting the hook just right. “-Secured?”

“Secured.” you replied automatically, continuing without a hitch. “Yeah, it’s gone.”

“Makes our job easier.” He shrugged, adjusting a lever that tightened the adductor hinge on the talons. It wrenched upwards, tugging the nest from its placement on the ground with little fuss. Easy as pie. “Nest is in the air.” You confirmed, turning your attention out into the vastness of the right arm, since your eye-in-the-sky work was done. Hunter tossed back a thumbs-up, locking the claw into place so he could steer without interruption, and you fell into a distant, quiet lull as the sound of the night began to spin its own soothing melody.

“-Hiiiii-yah!”

“...Huh?”

That was until the sound of Hunter’s shocked cry cut through the silence. 

Chapter Text

The noise of your companion's distress sent something entirely unfamiliar rocketing through your veins. More than just a fear for yourself- you felt strangely as though you had failed someone. Whom, you weren’t sure, but it didn’t matter, because you had only one thing on your mind: Fix it. 

You turned in a dizzying whirl with your pocket-dagger at the ready, brandishing it with more vigor than you'd ever had. The sight before you was an absurd snapshot- you almost couldn’t fathom it. The distant flutter of Hunter’s cloak was rocketing into the clouds alongside the ever-fading sound of his voice, and before you, the obvious culprit was… holy Titan, was that the human girl? What in magic's name was she doing here, on your royal airship, attacking your charge?! Why, you didn’t think she had it in her! But ambitious or not, she’d just committed a very serious transgression against the throne. And against you. Without hesitation, you rushed her, taking a jab at her neck with your dagger. Yelping in surprise at your appearance from behind, she turned and caught your wrist midair, her shaky hand reaching out to brandish a thin, green leaf at you menacingly. “Hey, what the heck?! I thought you might be the nice one!” The human exclaimed, struggling to smack you with her leaf as you held her arms down.  “What in the Titan gave you that impression? I’ve met you one time!” you grunted back, managing to push her up against the wall of the control panel in your tug-o-war. “I don’t know! My amazing intuition?” She offered, wincing as the metal dug into her shoulders. “And the fact that anyone who has to work with that dude probably has some serious grudges!” 

It was absolutely true, but you were somehow offended by her assessment of the Golden Guard. He wasn't hers to judge- if anything, you were to be the source of all judging. “Well, your intuition was wrong! I’m just as mean as he is. Now let go so I can stab you!” you made another play at her neck before being interrupted by a lazy, droning clapping sound that tore your attention from the fight. It petered off into a voice that spoke like a woodwind:

“Aw, scout. Defending my honor? I’m blushing.” came that infuriating, self-righteous coo that you’d never been happier to hear. You looked up, seeing Hunter splayed out elegantly along the bow of the airship, leg bent, absolutely enjoying the show. The human twisted to ogle him, too, and he gave her a wave with his staff.

“Hi~” he greeted cheerfully, summoning a circle of thick ropes to constrict around her torso. He sent her slamming back into the deck away from you with one careless gesture, then balanced himself gracefully along the bow to brush off his cloak. You could have strangled him for the fright he’d given you, leaving you here all alone to duke it out with this insane creature, but now wasn’t the time for yet another argument between your unstable duo. The human was too distracting, even as you tried to regain some sense of presentability after your squabble.

“Ugh- hey!” she growled, squirming in her bonds, but Hunter was nonplussed. “Good to see you too, human.” he said. “And you, scout. Holding down the fort while I was away- very nice.”

Add one tally to the ‘trustworthy’ list you were racking up.

The human ignored him. “Why are you stealing palismen, Golden Guard-?! Oh, and mean stabby-person. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you!” She added accusatorily, using her foot to gesticulate in your direction. Hunter stilled.

“Frankly…” He began in a dangerous voice, teleporting before her with such speed that the wind itself seemed to hurry to catch up. “You should be more concerned about yourself. For the crime of- rocketing me off my own ship and attacking my partner, you’ll be locked in the dingiest cell in the Conformatorium for the rest of your sad little life.”

The girl scoffed. “Whatever. I already broke out there, like, twice.” 

You must’ve been severely under informed about the threat this human-child posed if she had already been detained multiple times. She couldn’t have been older than 15- what sort of trouble was this bizarre teenager getting into? Clearly, the Owl Lady's influence was even worse than it was fabled to be. You watched with interest as your matching companion rebuked her notions. “Then we’ll just zap you to dust and throw you into the sea. That better?” Hunter snarked, earning a halfhearted grumble in reply that said human-girl couldn’t really argue with that one. What was her name, again? She did have a name, right? Humans had names. You were sure you’d heard it at some point in your chance encounter at the selkidomus lair, but for the life of you, you couldn’t recall it. Oh, well. It would come to you eventually.

“Good,” Hunter said airily, pleased to shut her up. He drifted back to his place at the wheel with a flyby mental order at you to ‘Watch her, please’ and you straightened, pinning your gaze back onto the girl. Hunter sure adjusted quick. It was weird. Your whole life, only your parents had ever known about your mind-reading, and it had become evident to them pretty early on what was wrong with you. All of their trial periods were experienced when you were much too young to remember them, so you’d never undergone the awkwardness of a transition into normalcy after spilling a life-changing secret the way you had with Hunter. But, honestly, the awkwardness was mostly on your side. He didn’t have much of a hard time coming to terms with the fact that such abilities existed- it was the Boiling Isles, he’d seen weirder- but he still struggled with the resentment that burned him from the inside out. Of all the witches to receive the blessing of such unprecedented magic, the Titan chose you. The unmotivated, meek, inexperienced, lazy witch who already had enough magic to go around. 

No matter. He would still make use of this unfortunate circumstance. You could be useful, if he pushed you hard enough. That was what he kept telling himself. 

You tried to tune out his cold efficiency as you watched the human wiggle in futility against her bonds. You were seriously starting to wonder if the Golden Guard even saw you as a person, the way he thought about you sometimes. He didn’t even bother to hide that you were just a tool to him. One thing you could rely on with Hunter, at least, was that he was honest. Mostly- when he wasn’t trying to manipulate you; he didn't sugarcoat things for anybody's benefit but his own.

'Screeeee'

You winced. The human girl was scratching her sneakers across the dusty floor with a horrible squeaking sound, drawing some kind of scribble into the grime. The layout of her art confused you slightly, but you didn’t bother sussing out her reasoning for every little line. It was pretty innocent to doodle, you supposed. You'd just keep an eye on her.

“Say,” she began casually as she went, clearly not directed at you. “how did you get back on the ship so fast?” 

Hunter gestured vaguely to the metal conduit propped up beside him, a bit miffed at the disruptions. “Staff,” he said, implying the obvious.

“Cool.” The human said, looking to the side as if it bored her. Then, in a blink, her foot was slamming down onto the floor, sending a blinding spear of ice right at the Golden Guard. You rushed forward, thinking that the magic might impale him, but it clattered right past his shoulder and pierced his staff instead, sending the weapon flying into the distant horizon and tumbling down the clouds below.

For once, Hunter was the slow one. He registered the attack a second too late, and though he reached for his staff, it was already long gone by the time he’d gathered himself. “No- shit!” He hissed, whirling back to the chuckling human girl. You took his aggression as a signal to do the same, swiping out your dagger again.

“Oh-hoh-hoh,” he laughed dangerously, pointing a sharp fingertip in her face. “Human, it’ll take more than that to thwart our mission.”

But apparently, the Titan had other plans for how to accomplish that Herculean task. As soon as he'd said it, a shadow descended over Hunter’s words, plunging the airship into a darkness deeper than the surrounding night. The spectral silhouette of whatever was casting it descended with a rattling roar, passing in a flash of green to land on the cloth sail above your heads. The impact of its feet finding a perch on your craft rocked you from your open stance beside the human girl, who slid back into the railing with a shocked exclamation. Slithering, clicking snarls emanated from the creature, who you could glimpse neither hide nor hair of; the only indication of it in the dark was the presence of an emerald-tinted hand that reached out to clutch the bar securing the sail. Hunter stumbled to grab hold of the railing himself, and you instinctively shifted closer to him as he held down the front of the ship. He always knew what to do, didn’t he? This was probably nothing- at least, nothing the Golden Guard couldn’t handle. 

But then the sail tore open with a horrible riiiiip and the world lurched, and then you were falling- and nobody could save you from that.

—--

Your head ached. Everything was too bright. You felt like you’d been hit with a flash-bomb as you opened your blurry eyes, taking in the shocking flood of golden light from beyond your lids. Ow. Never mind. Being awake felt awful. You’d just go back to sleep for a little while and-

Wait, why were you asleep? Hadn’t you just been…

-Falling. From an airship. Yards high. No wonder your head hurt; you were surprised it was one of the only things hurting. You had plummeted a great length in an almost certainly deadly crash, but you were alive, and you seemed to be in control of all your limbs (and in possession of all of them) so you shakily lifted your neck, trying to take in where you had landed. Some honeycombed forest overgrown with a particularly beautiful species of sticky globe moss, which must have broken your fall enough to keep you from spilling your brains onto the soil. You recognized the breed, if only from that herbology class you'd been forced to take back in elementary when witches were still choosing coven tracks; the stuff was invasive- but thankfully quarantined to a small portion of the lower right sternum and armpit, where it remained mostly unobtrusive to witch business. Here, however, you’d never been happier to see globe moss in the way. You could kiss the damn things if they weren’t so goopy. 

But their cushioning presence also meant you were probably in some random, endless forest deep in the depths of the armpit without an airship or staff to save you. If Hunter had landed nearby, he might still be alive, and maybe he could find a way back to the castle without those things. He'd done it before. So you just needed to find him. Easy enough. You stood and pushed past the more overgrown clusters of globe mosses in your way as you slowly walked through the forest, eyes peeled for signs of more wreckage. For several minutes, you came up empty of any indicators of life and were steadily nearing giving up and limping to the closest town you could find, quite discouraged by the lack of debris. What tipped you off in the end, though, were the splintered trees hanging their weeping branches over a nearby clearing. They waved a white flag of surrender, torn by dragon’s tongue and muddled by splashes of sticky, golden goo that told of an intense battle with a nearby patch of globe mosses. And there, amongst the rubble, you saw him. Well, part of him. Hunter’s boots and leggings were just barely visible from beyond a sheltering tree trunk that shifted aside when you slunk closer, allowing you safe passage to your charge. You ran forward when you saw his full form, cradled in that bed of warm ambrosia with his eyes shut tight in a fitful slumber. Where was his mask? Well, it didn’t matter. He was okay.

But he wasn’t alone. Voices were murmuring in the distance, obscured by the tangle of peat and vines that choked the ancient forest. You frowned, turning back to Hunter’s quiet body. You couldn’t leave him, but that voice sounded close, and it was awfully familiar. Maybe you could just get near enough to investigate. You shifted once more through the foliage and crouched beside the edge of the clearing, hiding yourself carefully in the shadow of an overgrown patch of moss. Peering between the intersection of two budding globes, you were able to see a sliver of the scene beyond. A group of masked witches were conversing quietly with a small, violet demoness clutching a- wait a minute, was that Kikimora? That wasn’t possible. You must’ve landed miles from the castle; what would she be doing here?

Violet skin, yellowed eyes, teal, disturbing hairdo- It was her, right as rain, and she was the one who had stolen Hunter’s mask- because there it was, sitting scuffed yet beautiful in her arms. A spark of fury flooded you at the sight of her claws drumming the edge of the worn metal, but you forced yourself to stay low for the moment and listen to the words of the distressed captain speaking behind her.

“Is it true, ma’am? Is the Golden Guard really…?” She trailed off, as if unwilling to finish her sentence. Kikimora filled in for her, a note of grim solemnity in her voice as she raised the mask to the captain’s view.

“This is all that remains.”

An unsettled shift from the mob of scouts who had been attending their duties in the clearing, taking inventory of some small cargo with the kind of detached focus that showed they were more committed to eavesdropping than to their tasks. The captain placed a hand to her shadowed mouth at the news, gasping softly.

“Such a horrible accident.” Kikimora continued. “Probably caused by the incompetent pilot.”

You didn’t like the way she said that. Like it was an irony nobody but Kikimora herself could quite appreciate. She must have been lying to them; Hunter clearly wasn't dead. If she had searched for a mere moment she would have found him, so why hadn't she? It was impossible to completely focus on her mind with so many others around you, but you already had a sneaking suspicion of what you’d see in there, and it was nothing good.

“I’ll… alert the castle.” Said the captain after a numb silence, turning to her scrying platoon with an arm raised. “Scouts, finish loading those palismen, quickly. We’re onward to Latissa.” 

Latissa. That confirmed it for you. You had landed somewhere near the armpit, since Latissa was a recognized port city. How far you were from the town was anyone’s guess- though it was at least some comfortable walking distance, if a captain was willing to transverse it on foot. You tracked the platoon’s path away as long as you could before they vanished beyond the horizon, then shifted your gaze back to Kikimora. She was standing firmly in place, counting several heartbeats after the departure of the coven soldiers from sight, at which point she turned and brought something to her mouth, exhaling sharply into it. It produced a shrill ‘ pweeeee’ that echoed across the empty clearing, making you wince. A growl, then a rustling as the trees began to give way to something enormous. That familiar flash of green scales alighted suddenly upon the ground, balancing on grotesque fingertips attached to a long, wyrmlike body that sprouted a pair of wings eerily resembling hands. The creature’s face, too, seemed to be made of two palms clasped together in some bizarre rendition of prayer, bending at the joints to form a misshapen, toothy mouth that opened wide in greeting. Kikimora was unafraid as the beast dipped its head towards her, looking like an expectant dog awaiting its treat.

“Excellent work, my pet.” She said, reaching up to stroke at its wrinkled jaws before offering it the golden mask. “Now, find the rest of him and have yourself a nice little snack.”

The hand-dragon clucked approvingly, sliding out a forked tongue to envelop Hunter’s helmet and swallow it in a few quick snaps. You placed a hand over your mouth, trying not to gasp and alert Kikimora of your presence. Once her pet had begun to masticate the stolen shroud, Kikimora turned tail and walked the way the platoon had gone, humming her farewell.

“I’ll call for you soon.” 

That dragon was hers? Even though it had been dark, you had seen enough of its green scales and its twisted hand-parts to know that this was undoubtedly the same animal that had attacked you in the airship. So, she had sabotaged your blimp. She had tried to kill Hunter! 

And she was still trying. Despite the fact that Hunter hadn’t died from the fall, Kikimora's dragon would surely still attack him, if it could get its hands on him. You couldn’t let that happen. Yeah, Hunter could be a lot, but nobody deserved to get mauled by a creepy hand-monster. You shifted away from the moss globe you’d been hiding behind, searching over your shoulder for the grove the Golden Guard had fallen into in an attempt to save him from a grisly fate. What you found instead was a shock of brown hair attached to a spindly biped that stood out blatantly from the vibrancy around you- sheltering in the shadow of a cluster of mosses not five feet from your initial, identical hiding spot. The human! She’d been eavesdropping, too, and you hadn’t even noticed?! And was that Hunter’s staff in her grubby hands?!

“You!” You cried, louder than you had intended. The dragon reared its head, and you crouched again to remain out of sight, hissing quieter. "You!”

The human jumped at the unexpected sight of you, then scowled indignantly, clutching a little red bird to her chest as she grappled with the realization that you were alive. Had she stolen a palisman, too? Seemed like it. That was just up her alley. This girl was obviously trouble.

“Uh, me?! You!” She replied with offense, earning a twitter from her pilfered companion. She shushed it gently, trying to tuck the avian away into her cloak, but it wouldn’t stay put. "Don't act like I'm the stabby one here!"

“You got me into this!” You accused, tossing your arm out in frustration. “If you hadn’t sent the Golden Guard’s staff flying, he would have been able to fight that stupid thing. Or- or teleport us away, or something! I have every right to 'you' all I want!” You weren’t usually like this, you knew, but you didn’t do too well in situations where you had absolutely no idea what was going on. It wasn’t a familiar feeling, as someone who was quite accustomed to knowing everything. Plus, the sight of her clutching his staff was especially annoying. “-And give that back!” You added, reaching for the winged conduit. She leapt away, keeping the shaft out of your reach.

“Wha- your Golden Guy was stealing palismen! Maybe if he wasn’t doing evil stuff I wouldn't have had to fight him in the first place! And there’s no way I’m giving this back.” The human girl said, much to the increasing concern of the palisman on her shoulder. Its chirping was drowning out any response you might have had to her reply, and distracting the human too much for her to continue. You glared at it. “I don’t know what you want, little rascal.” The human said tersely, a bit frustrated by the palisman’s endless badgering. In response, it pecked at the tip of her weird ear, tugging her to the side and out from her hiding spot once again.

“Ow, ow! Okay, I get it. I won't leave him.” She relented, stumbling forward into the overgrowth where Hunter lay only feet away. Your adrenaline spiked as she took another step forward to where the little red bird was trying to lead her- right to your partner.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!” You whisper-yelled, scampering back to your feet so you could plant yourself in her path, arms outstretched. You backed up until you were standing over Hunter’s sleeping form, shielding his body with your own. “Don’t touch him!”

The human blanched, retreating slowly with her doe-eyes wide. “I’m not gonna hurt him!” She defended. “Geez! I’m trying to help. We saw the same thing, didn’t we? Kikimora is after him. We can’t just leave him here.” You glowered at her a bit but relented in your bristling slightly- she seemed to genuinely be opposed to leaving Hunter here to die. Weird. Suspicious. You wouldn’t let your guard down yet- Hunter had fooled your mind-reading- this girl could easily be doing the same to manipulate you into a loss. If the Golden Guard had been awake right now, he'd probably be hammering it into your thick skull that enemies were not to be trusted under any circumstances. So, you'd do what he would do.

“I’m not planning on leaving him.” You snapped, looking back for a split second at his scarred face. The human craned her neck over your shoulder for a peek, and you moved to block her view, feeling strangely as though she was violating some very sacred thing by attempting to see him unmasked when he was this vulnerable. But despite your best efforts, she caught a quick glance anyway, and her thoughts shifted accordingly.

’That's the Golden Guard? He looks like he could be a student at Hexside.’  They murmured.

“Well, you can’t stay here.” She said at length, reaching out a hand to you that you deliberately avoided. “And I don’t think either of us can carry him. So just… let me help. We need to wake him up.”

You scoffed. “We? No, no, no. I will wake him up. You will stay at a respectable distance within my line of sight.” You said, turning so you could inch closer to Hunter while keeping the human girl in your periphery. She made a face at her bird companion that made you feel very silently judged, but it wouldn’t deter you from caution. She was too nice to be true.

You made it to the edge of the lichens, kneeling slowly onto the spongy bed of golden, glowing globe mosses that Hunter had landed in and cautiously reaching for his armored shoulder. He looked very small and young, with his eyebrows relaxed and his mouth slightly ajar, revealing that gap in his teeth. You felt… sorry for him when you saw his expression; like you should let him rest a while in this peace without fear or obligation to anyone but himself and the careful reconstruction of his worn mind. But you couldn't. For his own safety.

“Hey,” you murmured, gently shaking Hunter with your palm. “Wake up.”

He stirred, but didn’t wake, which was unusual for him. Wasn’t it him who had told you that waking up expeditiously was an invaluable skill in the coven? He must have been exhausted if he wasn't jolting upright like he always claimed he did. “Sir, please, get up.” You pleaded slightly, a little concerned by his prolonged slumber. You moved your hand to his neck, cupping his nape so you could raise his head up slightly from the pillow beneath him. “Hunter.”

The sound of his name on your lips and your hands beneath his head brought the soldier back to life. Warm, magenta eyes fluttered open to greet yours, tired and shaded with miniature moons. He groaned. “Mm. Scout. Where-“

“Our airship crash-landed near Latissa. It’s a long story, but it’s all Kikimora’s doing, and now she’s trying to kill you. You’re not safe here. Come on, can you stand?” You shifted to support his back as he leaned up into your shoulder, gathering his bearings through the sore headache he was also in the process of developing. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.” He muttered, batting your hand away after he’d managed to stand upright. “I-“

He stopped short when he saw the human standing a few paces away from the two of you, his staff in hand.

“You!” Hunter exclaimed.

“Guh- you yourself!” Human girl huffed, smushing her cheek to the staff protectively. “Why do both of you keep saying that?!"

“Because you’re a criminal! And a thief to boot!” He yelled, reaching for his weapon at his belt, but finding nothing there. He grunted with fury at the reminder that he was helpless and that she had stolen his only defense- preparing instead to square off with his fists. But neither person got their chance to act, because the growl that followed their shouting shook the forest so completely that everything else fell silent in reverent fear. All three of you froze in tune with the wildlife, realizing your mistake a moment too late. 

…You’d just alerted Hunter’s eager stalker to his exact location.

A flash of green in your periphery slithered through the trees. You had to get out of there, and fast- because if that beast was capable of downing an imperial airship, who knew what it could do the three of you?

You hoped you wouldn’t have to find out.

END OF PART 1

Chapter Text

“What was tha-“ Began Hunter as he craned his neck to the roar, but the human promptly slapped her palm over his mouth.

“Hush! Kikimora’s creepy dragon-hand-thing is after you. And probably us, too.” She whispered, then made a disgusted face and pulled her hand back, revealing a trail of stringy saliva connecting Hunter’s tongue and her palm. “Eugh! Are you licking my hand? I’m trying to help you!” 

He glared pointedly at her, but didn’t reply, flicking his ears up to listen for the distant growl of Kikimora’s beast. “Fine. Fine! Come on, scout.” Hunter muttered in resignation, grabbing your arm and diving back into the shrubbery where he had first landed, with the human not far behind. You waded back around the long way to confuse the hand-dragon if it happened to catch your scent, then waited a moment until it made its bumbling appearance in the brush, snuffling lowly. It must not have liked what it smelled, though, because it rushed the place Hunter had been laying and dug around in the dirt for a moment, clucking to itself when it came up with nothing but his dropped cloak, which it begrudgingly devoured. That was enough to get all three of you moving; Hunter pushed you forward out of the overgrowth, walking down an adjacent path to the one that Kikimora and the scouts had taken- the path to Latissa, you hoped, considering his confidence.

It was a much quicker walk to the town than you’d expected, especially when you were running on the adrenaline of being hunted by a creature five times your size while the magic of your superior was being held captive in the hands of a human. Hunter seemed to know the terrain very well as he slid down a rocky slope with you at his hip, not bothering to look back and ensure the human was following and barely caring if you managed to catch up.

Somehow, though, you eventually got close enough to communicate with him. “Hunter, do you have a plan?” You muttered, sidling up to speak in his ear so that the human couldn’t hear you. Her ears were silly and rounded- inefficient for picking up sounds- but you could never be too careful. He hummed, flicking his down slightly. “My plan is to find the nearest police precinct and contact the castle directly so they can send us transportation and send her to the conformatorium.” He jabbed his thumb back for emphasis.

“Oh, I didn’t realize Latissa had one of those. Police precinct?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It’s a rare sight. We haven’t been able to erect many in the further cities by the forearms and legs, but the emperor’s coven has been expanding its reach into the torso lately.” He looked pleased. “Soon, people won’t be able to get away with illicit dealings like they could before- Belos will have the entire Titan in his grasp. Nowhere to hide.”

That phrase made you inexplicably uncomfortable, but you didn’t comment on it. Hunter always had a taste for the morbid. “That’s good. It’ll make our job easier.” You agreed. He said a sort of ‘amen to that’ and continued onward into the breach where the city met the forest and melded into one. Globe moss clusters bled into the cracks of buildings and lit the cramped spaces between the alleyways, casting the entire bustling and blackened district into an eerie glow of flame. Though the streets of Latissa seemed livelier than they had in the non-jurisdiction cities, there was nothing less nefarious about the looks of its citizens. Witches arm wrestled and placed barely legal bets on the odds of the nearest bug fights while a few tenacious youngsters goaded their friend into eating a Fire-Breather’s Demon Wing. Some shadier individuals shirked away at the sight of your cape and Hunter’s dull-gold vest, but at least they had the decency to keep to the alleys around symbols of the coven. You supposed even a civilized city had its share of oddballs- It was part of the dilapidated charm.

“Whew, man, Kikimora must hate you guys.” 

You had nearly forgotten that the human was there. Her voice was a startling disruption from the usual quiet, calculated understanding that Hunter’s presence brought.

“It’s mutual.” You offered, earning a silent glare from Hunter and a quick flash of ‘stop fraternizing!’

You shut up after that. The human did not. “I haven’t been outside Bonesborough that much.” She said, spinning to better survey the scattering of citizens going about their daily lives. “Latissa is so cool!” 

Hunter’s ears flattened to his head as he rounded the corner of an imposing stone building, guiding your strange line of teenagers onward. Human-girl was struggling to catch up, making some racket about where you two were going, and to wait for her. You really didn’t understand why she was sticking around. She had Hunter’s staff- she could fly away and leave you in the dust, but she was risking being arrested for what? A little chitchat with the Golden Guard?

Breathlessly, she caught up to the swift walking of your charge and yourself, spurning. “Hey man, I just saved your life. The least you could do is tell me your name!” She said pointedly to Hunter, who only wrinkled his nose in an expression of disgust- his grimace revealing the small impression of a dimple in his left cheek. 

“Okay, well, fine! Be that way! How about you?” She poked your shoulder. “Is your name a closely guarded coven secret, too?” 

You hesitated at her question. Your instinctive response was, of course, to introduce yourself- but Hunter didn’t like you talking to the human, and something about the idea of giving away your name felt… wrong.

Wrong in the sense that it didn’t feel like yours anymore. It was a name from an era long passed- when your only worry was a teacher assigning too much homework or forcing you into a group project with people you didn’t know. Whoever you were now, it was so far removed from what you had been that it immediately repulsed you to think about using your old moniker any longer. Things had changed. You had to change with them.

“It’s- uh- Scout. You can just call me scout.” You said on impulse, flushing as you realized that you’d stolen Hunter’s nickname for you right in front of him. He flickered with interest for a moment, looking back to catch your gaze, but whatever he saw in there made him turn away soon after. 

“Wha-at?” The human girl intoned, nearly tumbling over your shoulder in interest. “Your name is Scout and you’re a coven scout? Oh my Titan, did you like- have a career plan from birth or something? Or were your parents just really into the idea of you getting a cushy occupation with the emperor? Geez, super glad you actually became a scout. Can you imagine if you got a job as a carpenter or something, and your whole life you just-“

You started to tune her out as soon as she mentioned parents. It was too late to explain to her that scout wasn’t really your name- just an epithet of sorts that you’d been dumped with- but it was fine. Everyone already called you that, anyway. Scout it was.

And then the human trailed off quickly, so quickly that you thought you must have been hallucinating about her sudden silence. But no, you weren’t getting better at blocking out useless prattle; the police precinct had done that job for you. There it loomed, built in the familiar, metallurgy architecture that served as both cold and lavish to any peasant unfortunate enough to look its way. It almost seemed to be more of a church belltower than a governmental building, but you supposed that with the emperor, politics and religion often went hand-in-hand.

Hunter wasted no time sauntering across the hostile, pointy clearing of trodden dirt and makeshift spikes that led to the building, planting his boots elegantly on the ground and raising his chin to the sky. 

“Scouts, direct me to your communications room; I need to contact the castle immediately.” He demanded in his ‘I-don’t-have-time-for-you’ voice as he tugged down his glove to reveal his burned-on coven sigil. It looked much older than your own, and faded into his pale skin like another scar. You rubbed your right wrist instinctively. It still stung sometimes.

The scout nearest to you looked unimpressed despite his mask. “Cute. I didn’t know kids your age were still into temporary tattoos.”

“-Yeah, show us your badge number.” Demanded his accomplice in quick succession.

Did they not recognize him? How could anyone forget a face like the Golden Guard’s? Surely you weren’t the only one who found him striking. Then again, you didn’t know how long these scouts had been stationed here. Maybe long enough to have been estranged from the castle grounds by the time of Hunter’s initiation into his position; long enough to not care who the little blonde walking the hallways with the confidence of a fully grown man was going to turn out to be.

Or maybe Hunter didn’t unmask himself as much as you’d assumed. It certainly never seemed to bother him. But this transgression did. He huffed like a man wronged. “I am your superior, and I can prove it. Staff.” he reached expectantly for the human holding hostage his proof of status. She panicked at the request, promptly hiding the weapon behind her back, much to his bafflement. The guards scoffed as Hunter produced no such proof. “Ain’t it a bit late for you kids to be outside?”

His lackey chimed in once more as they walked away in stitches, “Yeah, go home before we call your parents.” 

Bewildered into warm-faced infuriation, Hunter turned his gaze on the human when they'd deserted and pounced- barely giving you time to slip out of his range of attack. Unfortunately, the girl did too, careening her way back from the precinct and through the markets of Latissa with hurried apologies to the passerby she startled in her escape. Hunter, contrarily, steamrolled those unfortunate enough to get in his way with barely as much as an acknowledgement, and you hurried after him, torn between calming the young prince down and helping him tackle the thieving human. You doubted you’d be able to pull off coaxing him into any kind of stable state, though, so you decided on the latter- flanking Hunter in an attempt to drive her into a corner. She panicked as she took a misplaced glance back and saw the two witches tailing her, pausing to knock over an alley garbage can in hopes of slowing you down. Hunter nimbly cleared the obstacle, but you had to awkwardly go around, because you weren’t too confident in your ability to jump away all of your problems just yet. Apparently, though, the human was, because as she traversed the edge of the rooftop she’d been spit out onto, she barely hesitated a moment before taking a flying leap off the edge and landing painfully on a flight of stone steps below. But then she rose and kept on running. Humans were dumb creatures. Why run away from two powerful enemies with even more powerful allies when she could just give in and get off easy? It made no sense. 

Hunter followed her with gymnastic elegance that might have left you stunned if you weren’t so out of breath. All this training really did not prepare you much for the amount of parkour that was apparently going to be employed in your missions, but you managed to clamber down the wall with minimal injury, running back after the flashing gold of the young man’s vest as he mercilessly hunted down his prey. Suddenly, he turned a sharp corner into the opening of a dead-end alleyway and stopped short, pushing you into his back once again as you struggled to slow yourself to meet him. He was too distracted by the human propelling herself to the roofs with some kind of ice-pillar to be angry, though, tensing as he watched her purple cape flutter behind the lip of concrete above. He frowned up at the flat wall, feeling suddenly extremely helpless. The human seemed to notice his loss of motivation, because her cape swirled back to unveil a deceptively open face for the nature of the taunt she began to spew. “Come on, Golden Guard! Don’t you know any, like, levitation spells?”

No. No, he didn’t. The tips of Hunter’s ears turned red as he lowered them slightly, looking to the side to hide his shame. You placed a hand on his shoulder in an attempt to offer your magical assistance, but he pushed away from it, feeling even more exposed here than he had that night in the library when everything had come so unraveled. 

The human blinked in bewilderment at his silence, turning to appraise the staff with a new kind of awe. “Are you… powerless without this?” she questioned.

His jaw ticked as he latched onto the word, returning his glare to the wide eyes of the human above. Powerless. He would show her powerlessness. He didn’t need magic to make an excellent soldier. 

“Move,” Hunter muttered, shoving you out of his way so he could take a running start towards the wall. You reached out towards him in slight worry that he wouldn’t make it, but the young guard had the tenacity of a blonde mountain goat and seamlessly scaled the nearby overhang, latching onto a wooden support beam to tug himself up to the lip of the roof the human was sheltering on. 

Wow. Okay. Kind of unfair that you had to live up to that. Maybe you could just stay behind and let him-

A burst of red magic shot forward overhead- magic that could only be from Hunter’s staff. You doubted that he’d managed to tear it back in only a few seconds- which could only mean that the human was firing on him. You couldn’t abide that. You had a job to do, and as long as you did it, you’d be just fine in the emperor’s coven. Illusion magic wouldn’t help you here, but…

That wasn’t the only kind you could use. You tore your fingertip across the air, drawing a rushed circle of green against the rocky grey of the pavement. From the cracks between the bricks, a tiny sliver of golden light began to shove its way to the surface, snapping the stonework that kept it chained and blooming outward into a huge patch of springy globe moss. You scaled the plant and balanced your weight upon the surface, jumping up into a flying leap propelled by its elasticity that sent you just close enough to the wooden outcropping to grab onto it. You struggled to pull yourself up alongside Hunter, stumbling onto the paved surface just as another plume of magic whizzed by your head.

Hunter flicked his eyes toward you in a kind of annoyance as he sidestepped the attack. ‘You’re a bit late.’ He mentally chastised. “Sorry,” you said, coming to a stand and facing off against the staff-wielding human before you, narrowing your gaze to the glowing conduit at the tip. 

“Back up, or- or else!” She cried, lifting the weapon higher. You glared, crouching down in preparation to corner her from the other side, but Hunter placed his hand on your shoulder in mollification.

‘Now, now, scout. There’s a much easier way to solve this.’

“Or else… what?” He challenged, placing one foot into the bounds of her territory. “You gonna blast me to bits? Pfft, nah, you’re too nice for that.” He paused in front of the staff’s tip; his chest nearly pressed to the humming energy source as he spoke. “Fly away? Uh-uh. You know you can’t do that either, because then you’ll be leaving behind your precious palismen.” His deft fingertip brushed the conduit’s glossy red surface, slowly guiding the human to lower it to the ground, where Hunter stood uncontested.

“You don’t tend to think things through, do you, human?”

Wait, how did he realize that the human was after the palismen? It was true, you realized as you checked her mind, but she hadn’t mentioned it, had she? 

…At least, not directly. She’d only briefly expressed her concern for the creatures in the airship, when she’d first made her appearance before you. Even then, it had been so quick that you’d brushed it off as her own mere curiosity, separate from any motivations. But it would explain why she bothered to board your ship in the first place, and why her face dropped when she realized Hunter was right.

Maybe you didn’t think things through much, either. Not if a witch could glean more about someone’s intentions with no powers than you could with mind-reading. You were lazy. But that realization didn't stop the isles from turning. The world went dark as something large enough to blot out the sun swooped overhead, sending painful dust up in plumes against your uncovered eyes. You blinked to see Hunter shift away from the human in a brief moment of truce in curiosity, and all three of you looked over the ledge, noting with little surprise that Kikimora’s serpentine pet was the cause of the commotion as it landed beside a large, hive-like stump of wood. The palisman nest. Hunter frowned. “So, Kikimora was after my catch.” He said with disdain.

You frowned then, too. “She’s going to steal it from us? But we’re on the same side.” You pointed out. 

“Hah. That doesn’t matter to her.” Hunter laughed bitterly. “You know Kikimora. There are no sides to a snake like that; she only cares about advancing her own status.”

At those words, the human clasped the young guard’s staff a bit tighter, her face breaking into a smile laced with something like smug determination. “Hm. Seems like neither of us want her to win right now, soooo…” She gestured to encompass the two of you. “Let’s work together and take back those palismen! Huh? How about it?”

Hunter clenched his hands to his side, not bothering to ask for your opinion on the matter. “Then what? You think we’ll just let you walk away with them?” he scoffed.

“Uh- maybe you won’t have a choice!” She countered, spinning the staff theatrically in her hands. You were mildly impressed by the trick until she smacked herself on the skull with it and narrowly dropped the thing over the ledge, sending all three of you diving to catch it. The human got there first and rose, trying to look dignified as she returned to her serious stance. Hunter did something that you could only describe as some kind of mental facepalm, blinking tiredly at the walking liability who now had complete possession of his one and only power source. 

“I doubt that. But… fine. A truce till then.” he nodded brusquely. The human shoved out her hand in implication to shake. “Truce!” she beamed.

Hunter shot a sideways glance at you- kind of a ‘I’ve just made a deal with someone completely mentally insane.’ look, but he reached for her hand with the barely suppressed reticence that one would use when picking up an old banana peel from the floor. The human swiped her hand out of his grasp in the last second.

“Too slow.” She chuckled deviously, satisfied with your deal as she went scampering down to the edge of the roof to dismount. You were kind of glad Hunter didn’t shake her hand; she probably had gross human diseases on her or something that would turn witches into a puddle of melted flesh if they contracted it, and you weren’t about to endure the hell of Hunter trying to make excuses for why he should still be on duty when his skin was peeling off. No thanks.

The blonde widened his eyes at you, and you grimaced, watching the human run away like she had no problems. Like she was some kind of playful, mischievous imp who had just tricked a very sly young fox into a game with her. “Let’s just get this over with.” Hunter lamented. “Those palismen should have been back, like, yesterday.”

He began to walk the path down from the roof that the human had taken, but he paused to turn his head, watching you from the side with the startling eyes of a bird of prey.

“And… If she tries to stop me, I can count on you, can’t I?” He goaded in a low, shivering voice. The question felt like a test. You swallowed your pride and nerves, straightening into a salute.

“Of course, sir. I’ll be in her mind the entire time. She won’t get the chance.”

His gaze softened. “Good. See to it that she doesn't."

END OF PART 2

Chapter Text

Hunter’s side pressed firmly to yours as the pair of you crouched near the precinct landing zone where Kikimora and her scouts were loading up the palismen for transport. He nodded once, spurring you to keep a close watch on the minds of the surrounding scouts as he made a rush for one of their stashed bags, surreptitiously tugging it from their cart of miscellaneous coven imports. He slung the heavy sack over his shoulder like it was nothing, sheltering once more behind the cart and awaiting your signal to ensure it was safe to return. All eyes were averted, and no minds were wary, so you gave him the go-ahead and received him in the alley that you had begun your retrieval mission in. Hunter dropped the bag to the floor and peered inside to ensure the contents were all present, then closed it tightly and stood in wait as you drew your spell circle into the ground, summoning another cluster of globe moss tall enough to create a kind of staircase to the roof.  You went up first this time, offering Hunter your hand to assist him with his heavy cargo. The slight noise of rustling fabric turned the human above's head, and she smiled like the sun, tapping a piece of chalk in her hand. It seemed like she’d been drawing some kind of mural. Wait, no… that shape resembled the spell she’d used in the airship to attack Hunter. Could it be some new kind of magic?

Hunter asked before you could, his tone more curious and open than you were used to hearing it. “Huh. I’ve never seen magic like this. What will it do?”

Human girl hummed proudly at his question. “Well, we don’t want to spook Kikimora’s steed because it might drop the nest and hurt the palismen. So, using these fire and ice spells-“ she tapped the respective circle gingerly “I can command the glyphs to produce a thick mist!”

That was rather ingenious. “And the sleeping nettles?” You posed, reaching into the bag for the clump of layered orange flowers. The human took them, placing them into a carved niche in the central, connecting piece of her glyph drawing, completing the circuit.

“They’re essential! Combined with the magic mist, it’ll create-“

“A sleeping smoke.” You and Hunter chimed at the same time, turning with surprise to face each other. You laughed a little sheepishly. “Well- smart. I mean, yeah. Get Kikimora to land and we’re home free.”

The human gave the two of you an expectant look. 

“Oh- um, I- I read a similar spell in the book From Bones to Earth-“  Hunter began.

“A Study of Wild Magic!” The human  replied excitedly, then added: “Eda once pickpocketed the guy who wrote it.” You shifted slightly, feeling a strange discomfort burning in your chest. You didn’t really have anything to contribute to this conversation. You hadn’t read that book- why had a human read a book like that, anyway?  “I’ve never seen glyphs before.” Hunter continued. “But- it seems very similar to the elemental magic practiced in the Savage Ages.”

Okay, well, you knew plenty about the Savage Ages from all those books you’d scoured. At least this one didn’t rely on a singular novel.

“I think so, too.” You agreed, shifting to sit a little closer. “It reminds me of when magical groups began to merge their abilities with those of others for survival- creating more complex spells that they could pass on through generations.”

“Yes!” Hunter agreed vehemently, clenching his fist into the air. “That’s exactly it. Actually, not many people know this, but…”

He stopped mid-sentence, biting his tongue through his missing tooth. 

“No- no, no, no, no. This stuff is restricted for a reason. Let's just forget about it.” He muttered, that little spark fading from his eyes. For some inexplicable reason, you wanted to reach out and take his hand. You shifted to his side subtly, capes brushing in silent solidarity. The human girl seemed disappointed, noting with a surprising attention to detail how you seemed to be trying to comfort him. Huh. You hadn’t even realized that. Well, as disagreeable a partner as he was, he didn’t deserve to have his whole personality squished into a neat little box for his uncle. You’d seen a lot of brains before, but none as blossoming and eager and talented as Hunter’s. It felt like a crime to cage his curiosity. 

“…Uh-huh.” The human agreed slowly, but her tone left much unsaid. Maybe she wasn’t as foolish as you’d realized. You got the strangest feeling that she was seeing right through you. “Other than Lilith, I’ve never spoken to someone inside the Emperor’s Coven. What made you guys wanna join?”

Hunter straightened slightly, surprised by the candor in her voice. This time, as he sent you a sideways glance, it almost seemed like he was asking for approval. You lifted your shoulders.

“…You were right before.” He began slowly, leaning against the glyph wall with great effort. “I’m a powerless witch. A lot of my ancestors were.” That word hurt him- Ancestors. It made him think of things he tried hard to forget about. The opportunity for a family, for belonging, for-

His mind clamped down hard on the train of thought as he remembered that you could see it, but it was too late for that. You reached out and gently placed your hand over his own despite yourself. His fingers twitched as if about to shy away from your touch, but he turned his surprised eyes to meet your own, gingerly relaxing beneath the authenticity of the gesture. You knew he hated you right now for seeing this. He hated you for everything you represented, but he still couldn’t bring himself to pull back.

“I never thought I’d have a future in a world like this.” He fiddled with his free hand, rubbing the thumb and pointer of his glove together until you could see the worn white of the leather below. “But, then… Belos found me, and gave me a staff with artificial magic. Said the Titan had big plans for me.”

Listening to this was hard, knowing what you knew. Knowing how easily all of his world could be shattered. You hoped you’d never have to be the one to splinter it.

“Well, I guess that’s pretty nice of him, to save you and all. It must be nice to know that you have your own opportunities.” The human conceded, turning to you. “How about you?”

Hunter smoothly tugged his hand out from beneath yours, severing your small attempt at comfort in an instant. You thought about how to answer that loaded question. “Uh… see, I actually didn’t want to join at first.” You said, much to her awe. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, the emperor is great and all, but I wanted to be an illusionist. Maybe show people that it’s not so bad.”

Her brows lifted sympathetically, and the little red bird on her shoulder twittered in time. “I have a friend like that.” The human said with a certain softness.

You smiled sadly. “That’s funny. I didn’t think there was anyone else like me.”

But isn’t there always?

“Anyway-“ you picked up “to answer your question, I was recruited by a head witch. I realized that the coven had a lot to offer me, so… I stayed.” 

Her large, brown eyes kept flicking from you to Hunter, as if she was expecting something more to be said, but she was evidently disappointed by your lingering silence. “At least you two have your futures figured out now.” Said the human. 

That assumption annoyed Hunter. “At least you can figure out your own.” 

That was new. You’d understood his frustration with a lack of independence for a long time now, but you never would have expected him to volunteer his aggravation at the system freely to an enemy. He barely even recognized it in himself.  The little red bird on the human’s shoulder twittered suddenly, vaulting itself from its perch to sink its tiny claws into the arm of the melancholy soldier. “Wh- hey!” He paled, swatting the thing off in a hurry, but it simply fluttered down to nuzzle at his boot instead.

“Stop! Get away from me!” 

The human laughed softly behind her hand. “He’s just being friendly.” She goaded, giving you a sideways smile as if inviting you to join in on her merriment. You shyly returned it, unable to resist finding his offense at the non-threatening bird a bit ridiculous.

“ I don’t care. These things are made from wild magic,” he pushed it away delicately with his shoe. “It’s dangerous. Scout, take this thing away!”

You stifled a chuckle, reaching out to cup the round, feathery body of the redbird in your hands. It chirped, hunkering down into the curve of your palms and fluffing itself out in a righteous sort of way. Its feathers felt like the uneven grain of raw wood, rough yet sculpted against your fingertips, alive- yet solid. It smelled faintly of pine and oak. 

“Aw, c’mon, does he seem dangerous to you?” The human asked, reaching out her pointer to rub its tiny, fluffy head. It turned expectantly to gaze at Hunter, as if challenging him to rebuke something so innocent. He pressed his lips into a thin line, about to speak, but the distant, gurgling roar of Kikimora’s dragon interrupted him. They were preparing for flight. Which meant you had to prepare to take them down.

“Masks on!” The human whispered, and the three of you raised the grey scraps of fabric you’d salvaged from the nettle bag to tie them over your faces- exchanging your metal scout mask for a newer one. You were somewhat doubtful of its capacity to protect you from inhaling the knockout mist, but there weren’t many better alternatives. “Once they’re surrounded by the smoke, we’ll need to stay close to see where they land.”

“Mmhm.” Hunter agreed distantly, appraising the glyphs on the wall with his intense gaze. You stood at his back, watching Kikimora’s scouts strap a large saddle onto the neck of her dragon. In the corner of your eye, though, you glimpsed the human raising her staff to Hunter’s chest. Without thinking you pushed yourself into the space between him and the conduit, cautious of her intentions with it. The human just gave you a concerned raise of the brow, tilting her arm around you to offer Hunter the staff. He touched your shoulder.

“Thank you, scout. There’s no need.” He said, turning his attention back to the offered staff.  “Are you sure?” He asked her. The human huffed, shoving it into his grasp. “Just take it! Before I change my mind!”

Hunter clasped the handle in time to catch the resounding growl of a beast amongst the clouds. You looked up, seeing its webbed wings spread far overhead, steeling yourself for the action ahead. “Sir, she’s airborne.” You alerted Hunter.

“Everyone, get ready.” The human said, raising her flattened palms up…

And slamming them down hard onto the imprints of the glyphs chalked onto the walls.

Instantly, the two runes began to glow a muted orange and blue, their light snaking down the rivulets of art in the stonework to meet each other and meld amongst the sleeping nettles. Silence, then a burst of thick smog erupted from within the little plant’s niche, enveloping the entire rooftop and the sky beyond in the span of a heartbeat. You tugged your mask higher, leaping onto Hunter’s staff as he tucked it under his legs and grabbing onto the handle below. The human squeezed up behind you, toting that strange little palisman along with her, and the three of you took off into the air, racing the smoke to Kikimora’s dragon.

‘Scout,’ You jumped. The sound of Hunter's thoughts were so clear that you could have sworn he was speaking right in your ear, even through the whipping of the night wind passing by. You squeezed his hip once to let him know you were listening. ‘When Kikimora lands, be prepared to flank me; the human will put up a fight, and I don’t want any collateral in the cargo. We take the palismen, we get out, got it?’

So, he was planning to take them, after all. You didn’t know why you might have assumed otherwise- Hunter’s ambitions were not the sort to be staunched by sentimentality. You squeezed his hip a final time in recognition, daring a glance over his shoulder to your reptilian target, who was beginning to falter on its wings. The mist was dulling its senses just enough to keep it from being any real threat to you. “I think it’s working.” The human said, summoning a compaction of light in her palm with what you assumed to be a glyph. Hunter tipped his head to the glow, winnowing into a powerful air current that managed to propel your guiding light into the sights of the misty-eyed beast. It groaned in confusion, following the dim glimmer forward and into the clearing where Hunter banked- until it couldn’t keep itself aloft any longer and plummeted in a heap to the ground below, tossing its unconscious rider along with it.

Hunter landed smoothly at its wing, glancing in a meaningful way toward you as the human dismounted and began to fuss over the palisman nest. She tugged open the hinged door, peering in to take inventory of the small, shivering creatures. You quietly moved to her right side while she was distracted, taking out your dagger in support of Hunter.

“Aw, you guys look so cold and scared.” She said distractedly, removing her cloak and draping it over the wooden forms of the palismen, cooing. “Here, Make sure you share. And stay in here, okay? We’ll get you home safe, and-“

Hunter lit up his staff with a burst of crackling magic. The human turned slowly, flinching as if she already knew what she’d see behind her. She didn't seem surprised at all by your betrayal- only frightened. “Hah, right. I didn’t think this through… again.” She muttered, rising to her feet with arms slightly raised. She glared disappointedly at Hunter, turning to share the look with you as well. Despite yourself, you felt a little flush of shame rising to your cheeks. “So you guys are really gonna do this?” She asked, her tone like a scolding mother’s. “You’re just gonna hand all these innocent little guys over to Belos? I know what he does with them.”

That memory bubbled once more from Hunter- the one you’d seen while tending his injuries. A snapped staff, a wooden beast, and the flowing ooze of sickly, magical green from its cracked form. It paired in terrible synchronicity with the human’s knowledge of the shady dealings the emperor enacted when the world was turning a dead eye, and the pieces began to knit together for you. 

The emperor was killing palismen- for what reason, you couldn’t exactly untangle- but whatever it was, nothing could justify it. He really had a penchant for destroying the purity of even the simplest of creatures, didn’t he?

“I thought you two might have been good people.” The human looked to the ground. “But I guess that was just wishful thinking. You aren’t my friends. You’re just… the Golden Guard and his scout.”

Hunter paused, throwing you a strange glance. His brow eased, those long-worn furrows in his face softening into something like concern, or remorse. He tugged down his cloth mask to reveal his face in all of its scarred wonder, the foreboding red of his staff fading into quiet darkness.

“My name is Hunter. And they’re…”

You nodded slightly at his unspoken question, tugging down your own mask and lowering your dagger. You knew he didn't want to do this. He didn't want to hurt palismen, or turn his back on the only person his age that he'd met since you, or go through that terrible feeling of letting someone down all over again. But he didn't know anything else, d id he?

“…And they’re [Name].” He finished.

It sounded good on his tongue. You smiled, and the corner of his mouth lifted handsomely, dimpling his cheek. 

But the softness on Hunter’s face swiftly vanished in a flash of crackling, blinding magic that tore into his forehead. He exclaimed painfully, dark rivulets of blood trickling down his face as he whirled to face his attacker- a tiny imp struggling to rise to her feet. Kikimora had awoken.

“I can’t tell who’s there-“ Kikimora muttered wearily, “but I know I’ve got you!”  She sent another wild plume of her magic out into the clearing, snapping a distant tree in half. Though her aim was unreliable and frantic, she was persistent. Hunter blocked a stray blow with his staff as you darted forward to help, shielding him so he could tug his mask up and hoof into the fray. 

“Get out of here!” You shouted to the human while Hunter dispatched the disoriented demon. “Before we change our minds!” The human stumbled as the sound of a staff's impact thudded through the air, sending Kikimora crashing to the ground beside her feet. She reached down for something on the ground and Kikimora desperately tried to stop her with another blast, but you and Hunter intercepted her from both sides, disrupting the spell. Human-girl scampered off, finally taking the hint that this fight wasn’t for her to involve herself in.

“This is treason against a coven official!” Shrieked Kikimora, just barely skimming Hunter’s unruly strand of hair with a haphazard spell. It burst alight into a vibrant, purple flame. “I will have your head!” Hunter deftly snuffed his lock out, opening you to pincer Kikimora with the hilt of your dagger. She stumbled, one final bolt of magic illuminating her face that Hunter blocked with a skilled twirl of his staff. It slammed back against the magical barrier, piercing Kikimora squarely into the chest, and she fell forwards into the dirt- gone to the world. You knelt beside her body, checking her pulse and resettling her into a position that could be passed off as a shaky landing for anyone who ended up finding her. Hopefully, they wouldn’t ask too many questions. In the heavens, the moon reflected off of shining green scales, sending distant thunderclaps of wingbeats ricocheting across the clouds. The human was gone, and she’d taken the palismen with her. You had failed. 

You turned to Hunter, his eyes trained on the shape that was soaring ever onwards. You couldn’t discern his expression- his mind was strangely still, and you were prepared for the worst. “Sir, I’m sorry.” You said, dipping your head in obeisance. “I shouldn’t have let her leave.”

Hunter didn’t look at you for a long time. He kept those wine-dark eyes on the sky well after the shape of the human and her spoils vanished from view. Then, after what felt like an eternity, he caught your gaze, tired. “Not this time, scout.” He muttered, motioning you to stand. You did. “Not this time. Come on, we should leave- before she wakes up.”

You nodded, trying to puzzle out what he was feeling right now; but it seemed Hunter himself didn’t know. He was quiet on the flight back to the castle, and he was quiet as he stopped before the doorway of the throne room to report back about his mission. He’d never brought you to a briefing before- he’d always dismissed you before you had the chance to see Emperor Belos in the flesh- but this time was different. This time, there were no orders to leave him. No directions to run along home. So, you didn’t. You just steeled your nerves as you and Hunter walked side by side into the tenebrous unknown.

Chapter Text

The velvet carpet below was as cold as the metal it shrouded. Your forehead pressed to the freezing ground in the deepest reverence you could muster, though it rose quickly to the sound of the emperor’s voice echoing in the silent chambers, addressing your nearly recumbent forms.

“So, you return with nothing. Is this the thanks I get for taking you in, Hunter?” His words felt like they were worming their way into your skull. He turned. “And you." Belos snarled, the full force of his terror weighing on your back. "Weeks into your recruitment, yet you have already allowed such a catastrophic failure to commence. Perhaps you might benefit from disciplinary action, the way your… associate does.” He let that linger a moment before continuing. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Hunter’s head lower in shame. 

“I’m deeply sorry, lord. If you think that’s what’s best.” You closed your eyes in silent dread, but apparently, that was all the fear the emperor had to imbue into you tonight, because he was far more interested in the torment of his right-hand. “Hm.” he said non-commitally. “Enough kowtow, nephew. Answer me. Do you intend to disgrace our noble family with your continual incompetence?”

Hunter tensed, but rose his head dutifully, positioning those royal eyes to the feet of his lord. “Of course not. I want to help. A-A-And-“ he winced and bit his lip to steady his trembling voice. You’d never heard him stutter like that. “-And if you told me how wild magic did this to you, I might be able to find a-“ 

A dagger of foul, rotting sludge thrust itself from beneath the emperor’s sleeve, grazing Hunter’s cheek and narrowly shaving off his buzzed hair. He squeezed his eyes shut, scrunching his whole face together as if he might cry. You stifled your gasp, digging your nails into the carpet to keep from reaching for him. The spear slid away, vanishing beneath the emperor's robes once more, and in its wake a tiny bead of blood trickled down over Hunter’s jaw. Suddenly, you understood every single one of his too-perfect scars. They weren’t the messy consequences of combat- They were more intentional than that. They were the kind of wounds that had been delicately, precisely inflicted. Disgust and hatred boiled in your chest at the realization. 

“My apologies. I spoke out of turn. It won’t happen again.” Hunter said, keeping his eyes closed. His uncle snarled in disapprobation, clutching his chest as though it agonized him. 

“These outbursts are… painful. And so is watching you fail. I know you can do better, Hunter.” He raised his mask high, letting the long, flickering shadows of the flame beyond cast it in deep contrasts of bronze and black. Through it all, his eyes shone a ceaseless, electric blue; the kind that nature herself would not be cruel enough to create. It was the color of artificiality and the violation of order. “-And I do hope you and your new escort will be able to attain some semblance of balance. It is the mark of a capable soldier to be adaptable. I trust that the two of you are not having any… disagreements that would interfere with your focus, hm?”

You shook your head, watching as Hunter did the same. “No, Lord Belos, the Golden Guard is an excellent teacher. The mission failure today was entirely my fault.” You said. Why did you say that? You didn’t have to take any blame for this. But you took it anyway, and Hunter noticed, shooting you a confused look. You ignored it.

“Ah, a martyr.” Emperor Belos chuckled malevolently, like he was watching a colony of ants beg for their tiny, meaningless little lives beneath his looking glass. “How very endearing.” 

You got the impression that he meant exactly the opposite.

“And just as misguided. Nobody gets very far here on sentiment and niceties, I can assure you that. You may defend your charge now, but he will eat you alive at the earliest opportunity. Won't you, Hunter?” The smile in his words was palpable. Hunter merely averted his gaze.

“...so do take care in deciding who to protect.” 

You pressed your lips into a thin line, trying to keep your eyes trained to the floor; trying not to give Belos the reaction he wanted. You hoped that decision hadn’t completely demolished any trust he may have had in you- after all, you were still his eye in the coven- it would be difficult to skirt the details of your reports if he had reason to believe that you were biased. And his lack of summons concerning your duties was beginning to be concerning, what if he was planning something far more nefarious? “Of course, Emperor Belos.” You bobbed your head. “I protect only the best interests of the coven.” 

That seemed to amuse the emperor. He waved an armored hand to dismiss the two of you. “Go now. And fix that grotesque wound.” he sneered at the darkened droplets of blood trickling down Hunter’s cheek. The boy nodded quietly. He stood in perfect unison with you, sharing a brief but poignant glance that he quickly flicked away from. Your only solace in the frozen, wrought-iron air of the castle was the hollow sound of the door creaking closed behind you as the two of you walked in silence down the long hallway of the throne room’s entrance, eyes glossy and distant. There was nothing to say.

Not for you, anyway.

“Golden Guard?!”

Hunter raised his head in surprise. That squeaky, irritating voice… you’d know it anywhere, unfortunately. Kikimora.

“Why, and your new soldier! Y-You two are alive! I mean, I heard about the crash in Latissa.” The shortstack fumbled, smoothing out her torn, dirt-stained robes and fixing her mussed hair. You frowned deeply at Hunter, who was valiantly suppressing the urge to knock Kikimora out again. Had she really not recognized the two of you during your battle? It might have been a blessing in disguise. Hunter pulled out a response faster than you could. “Luckily, some travelers picked us up out of the wreckage, so we’re actually doing great.” He gave a haughty nod of his chin towards her tattered clothing. “Looks like you had a rough night, though.”

You might’ve laughed if you weren’t so shaken by your earlier encounter with Belos. Still, you emulated his prideful grin, looking down on the fuming demoness with all the patronization you could muster. She deserved it, frankly. “Scout, come along. I’m sure Kikimora has quite the story to tell the emperor.” He ushered you away with exaggerated urgency, though you managed one final snide comment over your shoulder.

“She certainly seems like it.”

Hunter punched your shoulder in a playful ‘shut up’ way, pushing you down the hall towards the residential rooms as he pushed down his own smirk. From behind you, a mental voice fumed: ‘Insolent boy-!'

Then, it paused.

'Wait, that mark…’

You turned back suddenly at the mumbled thought, startled by its clarity. Had that really been Kikimora’s mind? When you searched for her in the hallway, though, she was gone, and the ominous whisperings with her, leaving only the echoes of your own footsteps behind. “What? What is it?” Hunter asked, pausing to appraise the hall you were staring at with confusion. You shook your head. “Uh- nothing. Just Kikimora’s weird thoughts.” 

He raised his dark brows. “Oh? Any more plots to murder me I should be aware of?” 

“I’m… not sure.” You admitted, though you knew his question was in jest. There was something about Kikimora’s brain that had been… frightening. “I don’t think so. She seemed very fixated on your wounds.” Ah, and that reminded you; badger Hunter about putting on a bandage, for Titan’s sake. “-Which is shockingly reasonable for her, by the way. I’m inclined to agree.” A comment about the state of his face nearly slipped out, but you realized what poor taste it would be in. It wasn’t his fault that he'd been hurt. “I’m fine. It’s a scratch.” He shrugged, raising his thumb to brush the blood from his jaw. Most of it had dried, though, so it only had the effect of smudging the red stain around. “Maybe, but whatever he used to hit you-” you winced. A subject like this did not call for the amount of casualty you were giving it. “...It may get infected.”

“They’ve never gotten infected before.” Came Hunter’s rebuttal. 

“But that doesn’t mean they can’t. I don't understand you. Why won’t you just-” “That’s enough, scout!” Hunter insisted, silencing you in an instant. He shut his fuschine eyes slowly, the crease between his brows returning. “Just… please. No more. There’s no point in healing them. You’ll just waste your magic.” He said. You knew he was telling you that because he'd only be hurt again; but didn't he deserve some relief from the pain? “I’m sorry.” You said at length, lowering your gaze. “But I don’t think it’s a good idea to let that fester. Emperor Belos said so himself, didn’t he? ‘Fix up that wound’, right?”

That gave Hunter slight pause. He nodded. “Great,” You said, “then it’s the emperor’s orders. Take care of yourself, for once. Or better yet- let me.” You reached out to steady his arm, and something buzzed through his mind at the contact. Surprise, maybe. “I ca-can’t always rely on you to fix me up, you know.” He protested, but he was pliant when you began to walk towards his room. “I’ll go soft.” 

“Like hell you will,” You scoffed, marching down the velvet-lined hallways. “You’re the least soft person I know. If anything, you’ll only get more resistant the longer I try to help you.”

His voice went airy. “Oh, you know me so well. It’s like you’re in my mind.” 

The joke threw you for a loop. You almost halted your pace to stare back at him with what you could only describe as utter befuddlement. How could he joke like that after what he’d just been through? “Har har.” You recovered dryly, approaching the wood-and-metal structure of his heavy door. It smelled faintly of old forests and distant pine. “Trust me, I know nothing about you.”

Hunter tilted his head, shifting you out of the way so he could slide one of his many keys into the iron lock’s mechanism. “You say that, yet I am strangely uninclined to believe you.” He prattled, twisting the doorknob to enter his room. You removed your mask and hung it from your belt. It was surprisingly bright with the cheerful sunrise bursting in through the windows- unfairly beautiful for the night that you'd both been through. And even battered and bruised, it seemed yet impossible for Hunter to be dulled. In the warm embrace of the morning, he looked like a precious stone- like a boy made of the most valuable of ores, polished to perfection. His eyes were rubies, his hair was pure gold, his skin opals, and his scars a rosy quartz. Dazzling. That was a good word for it. 

“That’s fair enough, I guess.” You said, “But just because I can read your mind, doesn’t mean I can read you. People are more than their thoughts. I think you suit that assertion better than anybody.” He turned, unclasping his remaining armor and tossing it onto his bed. “You calling my head empty?” He asked, cheek dimpling. 

“No! It’s definitely not empty! Your mind is- it’s very busy, I swear!” You hurried to reply before realizing that he was messing with you, as you should have anticipated. Well, that was just case in point; you couldn’t read him at all. He barked a laugh. “If you ever do find it to be empty, I give you full permission to petrify me. Whomever’s brain that is, it's not mine.” 

“That’s dark.” You muttered, moving to stand a respectful distance beside him as he sat evenly on his bed, tilting his chin up for you to appraise. The cut was a thin, almost perfect line down his lower cheek, but it was deeper than it appeared to be. Horribly fine, as if it had been engineered to be as painful and undetectable as possible. You drew a quick circle over the wound and stitched it up from the inside out, watching the pain in Hunter’s eyes dampen as the pressure on his jaw lowered. “And your forehead?” You asked, inclining your head to address the poorly bandaged wound that Hunter had received from one of Kikimora’s magical blasts. It looked like he had slapped medical tape on it when you weren’t looking and called it a day. You reached for the edge of the tape and promptly tore it off. 

“Ow!” Hunter yelped, smacking his hand to his forehead and whirling to give you a glare. You glared back, folding the adhesive into a neat square and tossing it into his overflowing trash can. “Maybe it would hurt less if you actually bothered to bandage it. Tape? Seriously? You have to know that’s a terrible idea.”

“I’m not an infant .” Hunter scowled, rubbing around the wound sourly. “I can fix up a cut. And I wasn’t planning on ripping the thing off until it was healed, anyway.” 

“How have you survived this long?” You lamented, rubbing your temples in complete disbelief. Nonetheless, you leaned over to draw a healing spell over the raw, burn-like wound to close it up. Hunter lowered his gaze to the ground.

“I’m only here because of Belos.” He reminded you. “He’s the reason I survived.”

You tilted your head, saddened yet intrigued by his tone. Was he opening up? Or spurning you? You couldn’t resist the urge to ask more. “…You mentioned- with the human girl- that Belos found you. Where… were you before?” You asked. Hunter pulled his lips into a tight line, chewing the cracked skin thoughtfully. “I don’t really remember. Uncle Belos says he found me in the ruins of my parents’ house. He says-“ he nearly choked on his own words, a tiny, sharp pang piercing his mind. “-He says my mother tried to protect me, when everything went wrong. When wild magic took them from me. But I was too young to understand it, so I guess I can’t really be sure.” Hunter shrugged as if to dismiss the thought. "In any case, he took me from the rubble, so here I am."

Your face fell despite your attempts to keep it steady. Hearing this worn, weary soldier talk about his parents- his mother like she might still be coming back to him stabbed you right in the heart, and you couldn’t tug it out. It was no wonder he didn’t want help from anybody; the last person who tried to save him was long gone. And he never even got to say goodbye to her.

“I’m sorry. That’s… hard.” You said quietly, trying not to make him feel pitied. He wasn’t in the mood to be angry at anyone, though, so he just smiled wryly. “I’m very fortunate. I still have some family left who knows I can make a difference, and that’s all I really need. Because now, I can protect witches like me- save them from wild magic before it's too late." He said, and for the first time, you actually bothered to listen to the propaganda you'd always supposed that the Emperor's Coven was spewing. Maybe... Maybe it was a noble thing, what you were doing here. Suppressing wild magic. Your Golden Guard thought so, didn't he?

Your hand lingered on Hunter’s jaw longer than it should have. His wounds were healed, but for some odd reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away. And once more, you felt the rising urge to comfort him. “Well, add me onto that count, because I think that if anyone can make a difference, it’s you, sir.” You smiled, reaching down to squeeze his clenched hand. He opened it slowly, cautiously, letting your fingertips brush the inside of his worn glove’s palm. It was rubbed velvety with age, but you still might have liked to feel his real touch underneath the leather. Were his hands scarred, too? Or were they soft and unblemished, as creamy and white as the skin of his neck?

“Hunter.” He said, suddenly, his eyes fixated on your knuckles. “Call me Hunter.” 

“Oh- Okay,” you sputtered, taken aback. “Hunter. Right.”

He liked that a lot more than ‘sir.’

You liked it better, too. But you couldn’t get too wrapped up in the moment. That little interaction had reminded you of something. “And… speaking of names…” you added carefully. “How did you know mine? I don’t think I ever mentioned it.” 

Hunter lifted his head to scrutinize you. “Who says you’re the only mind-reader around here?”

You must have looked as horrified as you felt, because he barked another string of laughter that jingled like the keys on his belt. “Come on, scout, you’re too easy. You think if I could read minds, I’d keep it a secret? Nah,” something in his eyes darkened. “The whole world would know. But as for your name, I read it in your file.”

“File?! I have a file?” you asked, astounded. Hunter held out a hand in a slight amendment. “Okay, okay, it’s more like they just stole your school transcript and shoved it into a cabinet, but my statement still stands. I was curious who I’d be forced to work with.” he added scathingly.

“Well, now you know. Did I live up to your expectations?” You joked. Hunter raised a dark brow. “Expectations? That’s generous. Impressive as your grades were, scout, your affinity for laziness is reflected even in your education. No extracurriculars, no outstanding leadership positions, not even an attempt to make yourself a viable candidate for a coven career. I had no expectations for you. And yet…” He sighed begrudgingly. “Here I am training you anyway.”

As usual, Hunter wasted no time in scrutinizing your every aspect. You could respect that about him, though- maybe you were even growing to like it. There was no time in his world for muddling words; you weren’t even sure if he understood the concept of sugarcoating, considering the people he’d grown up around. “In that case, don’t call me ‘scout’ anymore.” you requested, feeling more like yourself than you had in a long time. “Call me my real name. It’s only fair.”

He seemed amused by that- like he was watching a child ask for a piece of candy before bedtime just so they could stay awake a bit longer. “Fine. If it will get you working, I’d call you the Titan himself. Epithets hardly matter.”

“You’ve got a one-track mind,” You conceded good-naturedly. He just shook his head and chuckled in a way that implied you were completely insane. “And look where it’s gotten me. I’m second only to the emperor himself. You could do for a more one-track mind, [Name].” 

He purred it. If you’d liked the sound of your name on his lips before, it was a thousand times nicer now. He really did have an excellent voice, didn’t he? How had you never cared to notice? He spoke like velvet- like running a hand over pure silk. It was so pleasant, you could easily imagine yourself falling asleep to his gentle susurrations. The warmest white-noise machine in the entirety of the isles.

“-Cr cr cr cr! Chrk!”  Something chattered nearby.

The both of you spun your heads towards the source of the sudden warbling, ears pricked to the sound. A bird? It sounded like one. Hunter stood and approached the window, which you hadn’t even realized was open to the air. Indeed, perched on the sill, a red bird was twittering back at him happily, tapping its little claws to the ground for his attention. Wait- you knew this bird!

“Palisman!” Hunter exclaimed, darting forward to scoop the tiny avian into his hands. It chirped in protest, squirming beneath his tight grip, and Hunter lurched back to drop it onto the bed. “Sorry.” He muttered, half to himself. You knelt beside his lap where the palisman was nestling in awe, reaching out to wiggle your fingertip in front of its face. “Hey, little guy.” You said, and it pecked curiously at your fingernail. “What are you doing here? You follow us or something?” Hunter patted its head with his palm awkwardly enough that you could assume he’d never really pet something so small before. “He shouldn’t be here,” the boy said, brows creasing. “It would be bad if Belos saw him.” 

True, but Belos wasn't here right now. “I think he likes you.” You commented, tapping the bird on the nose. It raised its red-tinted wings- nearly the same color of Hunter’s eyes- and took to the air, morphing into the recognizable form of a palisman’s staff in front of him. Hunter caught it instinctively, mouth slightly ajar. The murmur of his mind faded out in an instant. “I… was not expecting that.” He said, running his hands down the smooth wood. He looked sad, suddenly, as he traced the proud lines of the handsome beast’s breast. You leaned over him to get a better look, shocked but delighted by this new development.

“I told you he liked you. Aw, you’ve made a friend. Look at that.” You nudged his shoulder.

“What?! Friend?” Hunter yelped, turning to glare at you. “Nononono, I do not befriend wild magic- things!” His tone was that of dissent, but his grip on the staff was so delicate that you doubted he meant a word of it. Being chosen by someone- or something- must have been a wonderful feeling for a boy who’d been on his own for so long. You were certain that having a palisman would be good for him. 

So long as he kept it far away from the Emperor, that was.

Chapter Text

You were doing paperwork.

More precisely, you and the Golden Guard were doing paperwork- in perhaps the stuffiest, tiniest room in the castle. It smelled like damp drywall and had one small, useless oil lamp that did so little you had to conjure a light spell to write by. When you asked Hunter why in the world two of the highest-ranking officers in the coven had to do this, he simply replied that ‘the greatest tasks are often the least glamorous’ which you were pretty certain he had stolen from a book. And really, how important was checking and sending out order forms, anyway? It seemed pretty absurd how much… stuff the coven had to ship just to keep itself going: steel, reams of paper, brick, mortar, crystal balls, endless boxes of coven-promoting ballpoint pens, and some vague and enormous request to Blight Industries for hundreds of items of automated weaponry. 

The idea of industrializing the coven made you a bit nervous. If they no longer needed people, what would stop the emperor from casting living scouts aside, leaving them jobless, lifeless and powerless- Replaced by disposable machines? You supposed, though, to the emperor, everyone here was already a disposable machine. Maybe it was a mercy. 

“Blight Industries,” you commented, tapping your pencil to the quota inked on the paper as you looked up at Hunter, sitting adjacent. “Why use them as a supplier? Don’t you have the head of the abomination coven?” Blight industries were known for their contraptions of convenience and their defensive automatons, so it seemed strange for a coven who already had such significant manpower to pay for more when the proclaimed most-talented-abomination-witch was right there to serve them. “Darius?” Hunter scoffed, eyes trained on his own paperwork. “Hardly. He refuses to combine abomination magic with technology. Says it’s an “affront to the craft”- whatever that means.”

That was curious. Seemed that perhaps Darius was not the best coven head for the job, if he was so unwilling to set aside his personal grievances for the good of the coven. You were just surprised the man had shirked Belos and gotten away with it intact. “Huh. And he’s not in trouble for that? Defying what the emperor wants?”

“He ought to be.” Hunter grumbled. “Uncle lets him get away with too much. If it were me, he’d be booted at the first sign of such impudence.” He coughed hollowly. “Ah- not that I’m criticizing Emperor Belos.” He added.

“Of course,” you muttered, too tired to bother arguing. You moved down the order paper, referencing a written request from one of the captains for more diversity in the cafeteria. Apparently, scouts were having performance difficulties thanks to their refusal to eat the extremely limited food offered by the coven. Some had even begun to take extended lunch breaks just to go to the nearby town’s restaurants and eat there, which cost the captains precious training time and the emperor valuable workers. Well, you didn’t blame them. You checked the form to see if the plea had been answered. Sure enough, to your pleasant surprise, it had been.

“Look at this,” you called to Hunter. He seemed mildly annoyed that you kept disturbing him, but he turned anyway. “they’re getting us a shipment of unicorn eyes. Sweet.” That seemed to perk him up. His ears lifted slightly. “Oh, yeah. I heard Uncle Belos talking to someone about that a few weeks ago. Even the coven heads mentioned wanting better cafeteria stuff. I guess he finally agreed.” Hunter shrugged. “I won’t complain. I haven’t had eyeballs since I was, like, 12. And that was just because Scooter Crane gave me a few from his stash when he realized it was my birthday. Weird guy." 

“He sounds nice.” You ventured. “I feel like I remember his name from somewhere.”

“Oh, he’s the head witch of the Bard Coven.” Hunter waved his hand. “Or he was, before he retired. Still not sure what that was all about- He just left one day. Not even a notice of warning so we could replace him." Blonde hair fell into his face. He swatted it away with the top of his pen. "Kinda unprofessional.”

You definitely didn’t like the sound of that. It seemed like the Emperor’s Coven had a habit of making people disappear, especially without others noticing. “…I see. Who's the head witch now?” Hunter placed his paper down and leaned back in his chair, spine cracking slightly with the effort. “Mmm. Some nervous witch with the clarity of a newborn griffin. They’ll be inaugurated soon, I think. What was their name- Cloud… Mumbles... or something?” He mused, tapping his chin.

“-Raine Whispers.” You half blurted. He snapped his fingers in revelation. “Yes! Raine Whispers." The dark lines of his brows shifted in surprise. "Do you know them?”

Oh, you knew them. It was hard not to know one of the biggest names in bard magic when you yourself were a part of an underappreciated coven. You’d always respected bards- even wanted to be one as a little kid- but illusions called to you more in the end. Still, Raine had been a part of the reason why you'd dedicated so much of your time to your craft. They had been one of the few witches who demonstrated that magic was a pliable, plasticine thing that could be molded to its users' will. They managed to reach new heights with their innovative reconstructions of common spells, and had made quite an impression on the public for their revolutionization of musical combat. You’d always thought they were the sort of person you’d want to be when you grew up: Not full of hubris and vehemence- but gentleness, humility, and respect for their art. It was clear that Raine had never wanted to be in the spotlight, but they stepped up anyway and made things happen when nobody else was willing. That was the kind of life you could deal with.

“-Yeah, I’ve heard of them.” You summarized.

“Well,” Hunter nodded. “It’s them.”

So, Raine was in the coven now. You hadn't heard much about them in a while, and you weren’t sure how to feel about it- weren’t they quite averse to public recognition? Maybe they’d changed. Maybe they were an imperial suck-up now, too. Just like you. You sighed. Oh, how the mighty hath fallen.

“I’m gonna grab some lunch.” You said suddenly, standing from the table and stretching your arms. You needed a break before you got carpal tunnel. Hunter nodded, dipping his gaze back to his papers. “Cool. I’m going to visit my uncle in a while. If I’m not here when you return, don’t be surprised.” He warned. You turned back to glance at him from your periphery, perturbed. Visiting Belos? So soon after the last time? And... without you? You didn't love the idea of that at all.

“What for?” You asked, and Hunter crinkled his nose in discernment. “It’s about an assignment. Uncle Belos had me slotted to lead an expedition- to The Knee. He…” His brows furrowed. “Well, he switched me out at the last minute. With Kikimora.”

“What? Why?” you muttered, tugging on your gloves. Did this have something to do with Kikimora’s ominous thoughts a few days ago? Perhaps she’d managed to find concrete evidence that the two of you were involved in interfering with her palisman-snag and told Emperor Belos. Despite the fact that she had pilfered from you first, you doubted Belos would care who started what- he only cared that the palismen arrived as promised. And they hadn’t. So, who was to blame? Probably you two.

“I don’t know.” Hunter said, chewing a scar on his lip. “I think he’s punishing me.” 

Hunter was always like this- paranoid beyond belief. Not that he didn't have reason to be, but none of his fears had come true so far, right? “Again? I thought I was your punishment.” You said lightheartedly, trying to derail his nervous train of thought as it spiraled out into absurd speculation. Hunter turned his cheek, hiding his expression from you despite the knowledge that it was useless. 

“...It’s not enough. You’re terrible punishment.” he said quietly. Your eyes widened in expectation of further indulgence, confounded by his words, but the soldier went tight-lipped. “You should go. Lunch won’t be out forever.” 

Your eyes lingered on his form for a moment, watching as he spun his pen around his hand. He was still trying to hide from you, even after knowing what he did about your abilities. It didn’t seem like the ignorant kind of seclusion, though- like he was trying to suppress as much as possible to keep you away- but the kind born out of a desperation for privacy and respect. There were parts of his mind you knew you shouldn’t be allowed into, and though you tried your best to stay away from them, Hunter could never feel completely safe with the lingering knowledge that you might still be snooping around. You understood that. If he wanted to be alone with his thoughts, you would let him be. 

“Right. I’d better hurry.” You agreed, averting your gaze to face the wooden door that served as your exit. You vanished from the room as quickly as you could, leaving Hunter before you lost any hope for a seat at the lunch table. 

You were really looking forward to those eyeballs. 

—----------

Lunch had been adequate but sorely lacking the variety you were expecting in the coming weeks. How long did it take meat products to ship, anyway? You already felt impatient.

You took a detour to return to the tiny office where Hunter had remained with his paperwork, but the place was absent of belligerent blondes, so you imagined he’d kept good on his assertion that he was visiting the emperor. In that case…. Maybe you ought to head to your room for some rest and relaxation while you had the chance, considering the rarity of days like these; days in which Hunter didn’t drag you along on some ludicrous mission, or spar you into the dirt, or accuse you of treachery. Actually, most of your biggest stressors were his fault, you realized as y ou climbed the steps from the main hall up into the second floor, breezing past the endless brasiers and banners and making a beeline for the residentials. The thought of snagging a quick nap was almost too appealing to be true- could it really be that you finally had free time after almost a month in the palace?

No, it couldn’t, because as soon as you perambulated past the looming, heavy doors of the throne room, you heard a tiny ‘click’.

A noise like that in any other place might have been innocent, but you weren’t in your peaceful little town anymore, and being in the Emperor’s Coven had changed you. You spun to face what was behind you, fully prepared to see Emperor Belos himself staring you down, but it was only the worried face of his nephew that appeared from beyond a well-hidden door.

“Hunter,” your mouth betrayed you. He turned, blinking in a flummoxed way, like he was seeing a two-headed selkidomus in the hallway instead of his partner. “Oh- Uh, scout,” he said. “Er, [Name]. What are you doing up here?”

“I was going to my room.” You explained, conveniently leaving out the fact that you’d planned to conk out as long as physically possible. You didn’t want Hunter to scold you for being lazy. “What about you? Talking with Belos?” he nodded.

“How did it go?”

Hunter opened his mouth to answer, but instead, his cloak chirped a reply for him. The young soldier gasped, reaching for something within the folds of fabric, but whatever it was wriggled out of his grasp and fluttered forth from its confines, landing cozily on your head with a familiar coo.

“Oh, hey, little guy.” You laughed, reaching up to stroke the red-feathered back of his smuggled palisman that had chosen you as a nest. “You hitching a ride on the Golden Guard? Hmm?” Above you, the little bird warbled, and you could feel the tickle of its beak rustling around in your hair, probably looking for bugs that it wouldn't find. Hunter huffed. “Stupid bird! Do you want to die?!” He scolded, coming closer so he could make another reach for it. It squeaked something very intently at him, flapping its wings in a flurry of falling feathers to shoo him away. It was an adorably ridiculous sight, but you knew that Hunter had a point. Gently, you reached up and squeezed the soft little body of the palisman in your hands, lowering it to give to Hunter. It looked at you with a mighty sense of betrayal. 

“As awesome as your rebellion is, little bird, I’m inclined to agree. It’s not safe for you here.” You chuckled apologetically. "Don't encourage it." Hunter accepted the palisman, fixing it with a glare before tucking it back into his uniform. “Stay. Down.” He commanded sternly, tapping it on the head. It snuggled down into his pocket, glimmered a warm, beautiful gold that matched his hair, then went still. You took a step back to smile at Hunter. “Your hitchhiker doesn’t seem keen on behaving himself.” You observed, amused. Hunter fixed his clothes with a certain vexation. “It keeps following me around. I don’t know how to get it to go away. I’ve tried talking to it, scaring it- everything! It has to have a death wish.” he shook his head.

“Maybe.” you agreed. “But I bet he’s smarter than he looks. He’s probably sticking with you because he knows you can protect him- I mean, who better than the Golden Guard?” You teased, reasoning a claim like that might change his obstinate tune. Hunter’s ears turned red as he processed that, looking down into his cloak with a new awe. “W-Well, naturally.” He boasted, puffing up his chest. “I would be the best option for shelter. Maybe he’s not so dumb.” he consented reluctantly.

“Exactly.” You laughed. This soldier was quite susceptible to praise, wasn’t he? “Now, how did it go with Belos?” You reminded him.

“Oh,” Hunter’s face fell slightly. “Right. I’m… not sure, really. I tried to talk to him about my defenestration, but he avoided the question. Just said he wanted me to stay safe here, in the castle.”

You frowned to yourself, gently probing the fresh new memories of Hunter’s interaction with Belos for more details. Something about a door, the human realm, and then, of course, his punishment. You tried to zero in on the details through his haze of lingering terror.

‘-And it would be such a hassle to find a replacement.’ Whispered an unmasked Memory-Belos as he guided his nephew away from some important object. Hunter stiffened, eyes wide as his worst fears were spoken easily and dismissively into existence, hung over his head like a chandelier about to drop. He tried to protest, but the emperor only smiled and bid Hunter good night, closing the door on their conversation.

The vision faded to black beneath your scrutiny. You didn’t like that smile. You didn’t like that delicate avoidance, either- the gentle way Belos sidestepped all the important points in Hunter’s questions and intimidated him into quietly agreeing with a sub-par response. He introduced the subtlest of reminders that Hunter was expendable while insisting that he was important , instilling that all-too familiar mixture of fear and loyalty he always seemed to create. Poor Hunter. Poor everyone.

He must have known you were looking into his mind, because Hunter shifted his weight slightly, disquieted. “…But I guess you already know that.” He conceded, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“No. I really didn’t.” You assured him quickly, tugging fully out of his buzzing, worrisome brain. “I try not to intrude. I really do; I swear it.” You said. Your charge hesitated a moment before replying in a hazy voice, the toe of his boot digging patterns into the carpet. “That doesn’t matter. Look, I have a… question for you.” He said. You tilted your head. “Shoot.”

“Not here. I’m tired. Really tired.” He said, more intensely, jerking his chin towards the eastern hallway, where your private rooms lay waiting. The sudden feeling of being watched crept over you like a hundred tiny insect legs, raising freezing goosebumps all along your arms and enveloping you in the silent cloak of tension. The two of you needed to get out of here if you wanted to discuss anything of real consequence.

“Oh, sure.” You nodded agreeably, then, just in case anyone was truly listening: “I’ll fix you up. It’s probably because you were overworking your wounds, again. ” Hunter glared at you sardonically but said nothing, breezing past to find his room. You followed down the carpet, shutting the door behind you when you'd arrived and crossing your arms.

“What is it? What happened?” You prodded intently, watching Hunter's unwanted avian companion jailbreak once more to sit happily on his windowsill. A new golden owl mask glittered on the center of his bed, and he picked it up, tracing the embossed lines of its beak wistfully. The way he looked at that mask almost reminded you of the way you'd seen parents looking at their children when their backs were turned; A quiet, desperate look that pleaded with all its might for their young to do better- to accomplish more, to be what they had failed to embody- so that maybe, maybe their lives could finally be seen as worth something, too. “I… Think I’m going to do something very stupid.” He finally admitted, lifting his raw, glossy gaze to yours. You looked back in sympathy and concern.  “Stupid? How so?” Stupid was so unlike him. 

“I can’t do this,” Hunter explained, hysteria rising in his voice. “I can’t just- just sit by and watch him phase me out. I’m the most dedicated scout in the coven- Belos knows that, doesn’t he? I don’t understand why he’s doing this. I made a few mistakes, sure, but that doesn’t mean I’m losing my edge, right?” 

You realized by the way he looked at you that he was expecting an answer. You weren’t entirely sure of the direction his tirade was heading in, so you held back on any extreme statements. “Now, now, of course it doesn’t. Belos probably- I mean, he wants to keep you safe-” I get it. “-so it makes sense not to send you out.” You took a step closer, one hand outstretched in supplication. Hunter's head shook rapidly, unsettling his neat hair into threads of golden waves. “No! No, he’s never done this before. This isn’t to protect me; Uncle Belos knows I can protect myself. It’s just- just-" He stumbled for a moment, reaching for a quantification that was evading him. "-Just a worse version of you! Something to make me look helpless and uninfluential so nobody cares when I get tossed to the streets. But what would it matter?" He squeezed the mask so close to his chest that it must have hurt. "Who would help a powerless half-witch like me, anyway?” 

Hunter laughed deliriously, which devolved into a hacking, heartbreaking cough, sinking on his knees on the floor before his bedframe. His chest sounded so hollow, like there was nothing to be brought up but pain and helplessness and the constant, unending smog of the castle air that was the only breath of safety he'd ever known. You quickly moved in to support him on the ground, placing an arm over his warm back despite yourself. “Hunter, that’s completely ridiculous. Belos won’t kick you out- he raised you! You’re still his nephew. You can make it up to him next mission.” You shakily pointed out.

His coughing subsided into something like a tiny cry as he buried his face into the nook offered by his golden mask, ignoring the agitated palisman overhead who had begun to peck at his arm. “You don’t get it, do you?” Hunter whimpered, heavily. “There won’t be a next mission. Not like this.”

That was an awfully vibrant assertion to be made over one simple rejection. Why wouldn’t this witch just see reason? Belos was horrible in many ways, but surely, he wouldn’t disown his finest soldier and nephew . Who could be that cruel? “You can’t be so certain,” you pleaded.

Hunter blinked, then rose suddenly at your words, turning his face to the waning light of the bedroom window, his inky eyebrows knitted with desperate determination. Whatever he saw out there, it must have given him one final renewal of hope, because he squeezed the edge of his avian shroud like he would never let it go. “Yes. I can. And that’s where the stupid part comes in.” 

Chapter Text

The sharp, cold scent of pine and metal touched your nostrils, bringing the longingly familiar but impossibly evasive scent of days long passed slipping in and out of your mind. The Knee always had that effect on you; the ancient place wrought a constant feeling of Deja Vu, like perhaps you’d lived a thousand lives in these frozen hills and forests before and simply couldn’t remember them any longer. It was the closest one could ever get to the heavens. It was a place of old magic.

And Titan Blood.

According to Hunter, there used to dwell an ancient lake here, the kind only remembered in myth. A lake that had once reflected blue skies, green trees and innumerable celestial bodies overhead- the whispering kind of place that lured witches in and never gave them back: Eclipse Lake.

Long ago, before life had taken its shape, Titan blood was abundant within the veins of the old god, seeping from its corpse and pooling its magic into the earth. So copious was the ichor that, in time, the regions where it spilled began to change- creating something new from the isle of death. Where it touched the dirt, there grew hordes of demons and the wild beasts from whence all things began. Where it touched the rock, there bloomed enchantment that imbued itself into the land. And where it touched the water, there rose pools of power so potent that it seemed to split the world into halves. Old wives tales, you’d presumed, until Hunter told you that it was all almost certainly true, and that Belos himself was after one of the last, blood-tinged pools of legend. Why, you weren’t sure, but you sensed it had something to do with a portal door. You didn’t ask more than that. You were afraid of the answer.

The unassuming scout mask over your face slipped and you adjusted it, turning to look out from behind the snowcapped pine you were sheltering under. Hunter was beside you, doing the same. From beneath a sheer curtain of drooping needles, you could faintly make out the shrill, grating sound of Kikimora shouting orders, just where you had left her. Kikimora's mission, Hunter had rationalized, would conveniently lead the two of you right to the Titan Blood- where you could snatch it back from her greedy claws and regain Belos' favor. It was stupid, he had been right. But you were just thankful he wasn't going at it alone.

“Dig faster, scouts!” The demon of the hour cried, perching high on her strange automaton’s shoulder with birdlike talons. You knelt a bit lower to open your field of view, realizing that a captain dressed in white and bronze was standing beside her, speaking in low tones.

“Kimora, these tunnels are unstable,” she fretted, quite distressed by her superior’s brazen haste. “Maybe we should slow down.”

Kikimora groaned. “Not now, Captain. This could be my last chance to show Belos what I can do- and I just know that brat , Golden Guard, will try to spoil it!” She clenched one tiny fist and slammed it into her open palm in a rather violent gesticulation that only seemed to worry the captain more. How could someone manage to look so disturbed even while masked? It was an art that the coven scouts had apparently perfected. Kikimora reared her head to direct her obsessive rage onto someone else. “Hey, Steve! Jump over that chasm before I throw you in it!” She roared into the distance, kicking her automaton violently in the shoulder to spur it forward. Oh, right, that scout was in Kikimora’s platoon, wasn’t he? Poor guy.

Beyond the trees, the captain sighed, shaking her head. “She’s getting so paranoid…” she muttered.

Hunter shifted beside you, nudging your knee with his own to prompt a huddle. You lifted your mask to greet him and he did the same, opening his mouth as if to brief you on something, but instead fell slack-jawed- his pupils focused on the space beside your arm. Something had surprised him. You turned incredulously just as Hunter let out a muffled snarl to the offending object.

“You! Why do you keep following us?!” He asked, and you realized he was interrogating a tiny redbird that had perched on the upended root system beside your elbow. The familiar palisman blinked, taking a sideways hop to examine him better, then chirped a familiar three-note tune. Hunter narrowed his gaze.

“I don’t speak palisman.” He said superiorly, doing his best to ignore the bird as he relayed the mission objective to you.  “Okay, here’s the plan. We slip in with these disguises,” The metal scout mask rang tinnily where he tapped it. “we find the Titan blood before Kiki, I give it to Belos- boom!” His voice rose in a slightly manic way with his hands.

“I’m useful again!”

Just as he finished his final word, your hiding tree promptly exploded, sending vicious daggers of splintered wood careening out into the unlucky forest. It was bright, and your lungs wouldn't listen to you, and it was cold. Why? You had ducked, you supposed, because you were in the snow, and something heavy was lying on your back. Maybe the bisected tree trunk? You lifted your neck dizzily.

No, just Hunter. He had thrown himself over you in what appeared to be a protective instinct but was more likely an unintended consequence of dropping as quickly as he could for shelter. It was a little uncomfortable, because he was wearing the typical metal scout-plating, but you could bear it for now, being still in shock. You waited a long moment for the ringing in your ears and the tachycardia to pass, all the while listening halfheartedly to the murmurs of the clearing beyond. That concerned captain, again…

“Ma’am! Is everything alright?”

The air stilled with a pause.

“I just thought I heard an annoying voice...” Dismissed the ironically infuriating tone of Kikimora. "...But maybe not."

‘…let’s find a different way in. There’s no way this will work.’ Hunter coiled, tensing as if in preparation to sprint away from the exposed zone. You followed his cues, blinking in surprise as the weight on your spine was suddenly vaporized by a single twitch of his legs. You scrambled to catch up, trying to duck beyond the ruins of the disemboweled tree to preserve your camouflage as you ran back into the forest. But Kikimora didn’t see you, thank the Titan, and you managed to reach Hunter once again in the secure center of the dense thicket. He was planted beside a towering oak, looking quizzically up at his bird companion who seemed to be trying to lead him deeper into the forest.

“This thing is broken,” he deadpanned to you, pushing the insistent palisman away with one finger. You jogged up to him through the snow, furrowing your gaze when the critter landed on a gnarled projection of twigs and chattered at you passionately. 

“I don’t speak palisman, either.” You informed it solemnly, and it made an irritated sound, fanning out one wing towards a ravine of snow beyond where the forest briefly interrupted. You exchanged a glance with Hunter, moving in unison to peer down at the road, then dropped into a hurried crouch when you caught sight of what the palisman had been trying to lead you to.

“The Owl Lady and her dog...” The soldier informed himself, narrowing his eyes at three vibrant, bundled-up forms trudging through the pristine ice. Two were recognizable at a glance, but their other companion was beyond your ken. “And… is that the youngest Blight? Oh my,”

You appraised the third figure in the pack, one of about medium height and slender build. Her hair was an assaulting purple-and-magenta- a color you couldn’t imagine was great for staying undetected in a place crawling with scouts that also happened to be the most monochrome loci on the isles. “Blight? As in, Blight Industries? Why would she be with a wanted criminal? Don’t the Blights supply all of your abomination weapons?” You questioned.

“Maybe she’s their prisoner.” Hunter offered. “But I doubt it. Cavorting about with humans seems to be a favorite pastime of hers; it makes sense that she’d stick with the Owl Lady.”

Huh. Who would choose a human over their own kind? That was completely unprecedented. You wanted to chew on the idea more, but you couldn’t stew too long in your ethical confusion, because The Owl Lady had begun talking. This was a golden opportunity to reach for more information without being seen.

“-Titan Blood is the most powerful source of magic on the isles,” she prattled on to her dog-beast, King, as she crunched through the snow. “I’m not surprised Belos wants it, too.”

So, they were looking for your prize. It seemed like everyone was, today.

“Well, we can’t afford to mess this up. Luz is counting on me.” Piped in the youngest Blight with steely determination. Behind her, the Owl Lady and King shared a significant look. The Blight’s expression flattened as she realized her mistake, correcting it unenthusiastically. “I mean- us.” 

Luz? Wasn’t that the human’s name…? Yes, you remembered now. Oh. Oh, dear. This pattern of thought was one you could recognize anywhere. It was the syrupy, slow-flickering flame that lit people up from the inside out; the emotion that you could sense in every beating heart as they reached for their twin pulse. It was the warmth you could sometimes glean outlined in the souls of your parents when they were together- and in those couples sharing stolen breaths in the hallways of Hexside. It was what lingered in the chests of beings looking out across a crowded room and always finding each other. Yes, you knew this feeling very well. 

But with a human? 

“Gross,” Hunter grumbled, reading your mind as he always did. At least you weren’t the one to say it. “-but useful.” You added, excited to have something to report for once. “She’s attached to that human. Extremely attached. We could hold it against her.”

Hunter nodded in approval, a slight glimmer of respect in his eyes. “Very true. As a matter of fact, our reconnaissance scouts have reported that the human girl seems to reside solely with the Owl Lady. If we know where she is, we have fodder to threaten them.” He cupped his chin with his glove, brushing one of his scars subconsciously. Distracted eyes flicked back to appraise you. “Good looking out.”

You tried not to beam. “Just doing my job.”

“Alright, new plan.” Interceded Hunter, clapping his gloves together. “ They can lead us to the-“

His red avian squawked suddenly in dissent, taking hold of Hunter’s stray forelock to wrench him towards the bank below. “Wha-“ Hunter yelped at the sudden assault, struggling to remain upright, but he was unbalanced by a drift of ice and went tumbling downhill with his traitorous palisman in tow. You shot for his arm instinctively, clasping his hand in your own and panicking with the effort of pulling him back up. Planting your knees, you readied to tug as hard as you could, but he was bigger than you, and you only ended up slipping from his weight. That quick differential broke the spell by sending you into a rough nosedive on the freezing snow- where you stopped in a heap right at the feet of three very unhappy witches.

The Blight girl gasped when she saw your grey uniforms, brandishing a hastily-drawn spell circle at the pile of limbs that had landed before her. “Coven scouts!” She announced, more for her own benefit than anybody else. At the sight of the threat, Hunter untangled his pleasantly warm body from beneath your own, rushing into a submissive, open stance. He lowered his head to conceal his mouth, then spoke.

“Yes, we are but humble scouts, and we- surrender.” He skillfully diffused, nudging you with his elbow as you recovered into sitting upright.

“Uh- yeah. Very humble. No insurance pay.” You said unconvincingly, nursing a wound to your neck where Hunter’s mask had nicked you. 

‘Nice move, genius.’ Hunter mentally scorned. If you could have glared at him, you would have.

“Well, that was easy.” King-beast said, sneaking out from behind the Owl Lady's legs and placing his claws on his hips in triumph. The older woman scoffed, tipping her palisman to the space below Hunter’s mask. You moved in the way without a second thought. 

“Never say that, it’ll jinx you.” She advised her pet, lifting the edge of your mask with her staff and flipping it off so she could see your face.

“Cute, kid. You’re a real hero.” The Owl Lady snarked. “Now, move out of the way. I recognize your little friend’s annoying voice.”

Hunter frowned, genuinely disheartened by the recurring comment. “Why does everyone say that?”

The bristling trio of threatening demons just held their weapons a little tighter; enemies engaged in a terse staring match for several heartbeats until someone finally made the first move. 

‘Okay, [Name], I think… run.’ Your charge concluded briskly, taking off like lightening onto the ground without any further warning. The slush slid beneath your boots as you scurried up in his wake, running the gauntlet to the nearby thicket of trees that was the only hope of escape in the shelterless pathway.

Unfortunately, your legs could only get you so far in the face of magic. The Blight girl didn’t miss a beat in summoning a cord of abomination fluid, sending it wrapping around your forms in a wide circle. She squeezed her fist with a crunch, constricting the slack until it snapped around both of your midsections, which slammed your back into Hunter’s and made movement quite futile. He groaned softly, squirming his shoulders to try and shimmy away, but the rope only tightened further with every attempt. 

“Move, shortstack.” The Owl Lady approached, shoving your shoulder for a better look at Hunter’s mask. With another flick of her palisman, she hooked the shroud and tossed it aside, revealing Hunter’s pale face blinking in the sunlight. He scowled. 

“This is none other than Belos’ right-hand man.” The grey-haired woman said to her younger companion, gesturing down. The Blight stopped her abomination spell with brows furrowed. “The Golden Guard?”

She looked him up and down critically. 

“He is a lot… scrawnier than I imagined.”

Childish laughter erupted from the King-creature, prompting a glare of contempt from Hunter’s wine-dark eyes. Yeowch. King's matron humored him for a moment before reigning in the jubilance. “Alright, alright, enough playin’ around.” The Owl Lady grinned, leaning over to poke you experimentally. “What’re we gonna do with these troublemakers?”

“Ooh! Ooh!” King raised a claw excitedly. “Toss them off a cliff! Wait- no! Bury them beneath the ice so they suffocate! No-”

Owl Lady placed a hand on King’s head, snapping a finger-gun. “I like the way you think, King, but these kids could still be useful to us, maybe we shouldn't kill 'em just yet. It’s not every day you get a chance to capture the Golden Guard." She said, conveniently excluding you.

“My first hostages.” King wiped a crocodile tear from his eye. “Dad would be so proud.”

“Uh-huh.” observed the Blight girl, desultory. “That’s great, guys, but can we please focus? Luz can’t wait all day. Let’s just bring them with us- I don’t trust that tossing them away will be enough.”

Against your back, Hunter tensed. ‘Well, there goes our chance at escape.’ 

You fumbled to find his hand and squeeze it supportively. He really was scrawny; his shoulder blade was poking you right in the spine. 

“That’s what I said,” Owl Lady flapped her arm. “Hey, maybe we can use them as a living shield in case Kikimora gets any ideas.” 

“But we still have to find a way inside before we start worrying about her.” Craning her neck, the Blight appraised the looming structure of the abandoned Knee Mineshaft nearby, her brain spinning with ideas for how to enter without being detected. At length, she wrenched her hand to force her abomination rope forward, bringing your crush of capes and extremities into a brisk climb closer to the decaying walls of the installment- right back to the place you'd fled from Kikimora. Just perfect.

“They have scouts stationed at every entrance,” Hunter inserted breezily despite the situation, lifting his chin as if he was deigning to indulge them. “You’ll never get in without us.” 

“Oh, put a sock in it, blondie.” The Owl Lady rolled her eyes. She took a few heavy, crunching steps through the snow, wading up to an adjacent wall of ice that looked to be an exposed portion of an old ore vein “I got this, kids. Step aside and let momma do the heavy lifting.” 

Blight held out her hand to the ice like an opera usher, slightly unconvinced. “Go for it. We don’t exactly have many options.” She said.

“Okay, okay.” breathed the Owl Lady, jogging in place to warm up. She cracked her knuckles, staring the barrier down like it had personally offended her, then unleashed a roaring battle cry and charged forward. “You asked for this, wall! Harpy Eda is comin’ for you! HOOT!” 

The insane woman thrust her head into the ice like a battering ram, making a thunderclap of impact that, when the dust had settled, somehow succeeded in creating an Owl-Lady sized hole- but no harpy.

Everyone here was crazy, you concluded decisively, and you were going to die at the hands of a witch who talked to walls and her pet dictator. How disgraceful. Speaking of that dictator, he was waggling his tail and advancing into the makeshift entrance with the Blight close behind him, which meant that you were coming too, like it or not. Within the darkened space of the cavern knelt the grey-haired culprit, who looked back with a toothy grin of victory.

“Did I do it? Did I go into harpy mode?” She asked, winded, and King delivered the brutal truth. “No, you just screamed “hoot” and ran headfirst into a wall of ice. Pretty funny, actually.” He said, waddling past her and into the icy space. You and Hunter shared a glance.

“Could we at least get separate restraints?” He complained, trying to retain his balance with you tied up at his waist.

“I second that.” You said, looking over at the Blight. She made a very sour face and crossed her arms over her chest. “You must be crazy. I don’t trust you two.” She said. 

“We won’t run.” Hunter whined. “Handcuff us together, if you must, but at least let me move my own feet.” 

The abomination witch observed the pair of you for a moment, finally releasing a tried breath of relent. “Fine. But don’t think for a second that you’re free to escape.” Her fingers clicked, and the abomination goo obediently wound its way off of your waists and slithered down your arms, forming a band with a heavy chain in the center that connected you at the wrist. Hunter jerked his hand experimentally. The chain held tight.

“Well,” he stepped back so the two of you weren’t squished together. “It’s acceptable.”

“Good, because you really don’t have a say in the matter.” The Blight scoffed with disdain, turning to check on her presumably senile ward. She was helping her pet onto some wicked-looking drilling contraption, oblivious to the danger of the sharp end pointed right at her chest combined with the incompetent, furry handler.

“This stuff is old.” She observed with mischievous glee.

You felt Hunter straighten the way he always did when he was telling you something. “Ancient witches used to mine the veins for Titan Blood.” He recited haughtily. 

“-Though, you’d think they would pick something more vascular than The Knee.” You added before you could stop yourself. “But I’d venture to guess that the cold did a much better job at preserving the blood vessels than the heat, which is why it became a hotspot. Maybe it was the only blood left intact by that time.” 

Hunter nodded expositorily, chain clanking against your skin. “That’s exactly right. You know, you can still find remnants of the Titan’s flesh beneath the snow, when it gets warm enough to revea-”

“-They’re not paying attention.” The Blight interpolated wisely. Indeed, Crazy Owl Lady was busy being wide-stanced before the tip of the drill bit, egging King on to fire it.

“Maybe the adrenaline will kick in, and- bam! Harpy Eda!” She reasoned without any actual reasoning involved. Her dog gave the impression of a grin from underneath his skull-face. “Sounds perfectly safe!” He said delightedly, taking blind aim and booting the thing up with no further questions. It whirred, clanked wearily, then began to glow an electric blue, calling upon some old form of construction magic to generate a what you assumed to be a controlled blast. You'd seen these types of machines before in developing cities, but this was clearly a much older and more unpredictable prototype.

Hunter’s mind began to panic as the light reached its apex. “Wait, don’t!” He called, but the noise of the machinery blew his voice away, and it was too late to stop it. The drill screamed with the sound of shrieking gears, firing off a vicious, white-hot dagger of magical energy that was aimed squarely at the Owl Lady’s heart. 

But it missed.

By some stroke of luck, or perhaps user error, the beam deflected to the right, skirting the Owl Lady’s torso by a hair and finding its mark on the rock behind her instead. Any normal blast might have damaged the surface it was projected onto, but this particular wall didn’t seem to be in the mood for being destroyed. It spat the magical attack right back out into the cavern, sending the energy ricocheting indiscriminately off of the surrounding stalactites, columns, and blobby puddles of water until it finally met with the destroyed minecart tracks of the central pathway.

…Where it was set to bound up right into Hunter’s chest.

You didn’t even have to think about it anymore. It was automatic. Your feet moved on their own and planted your body firmly in front of his, readying for the unimaginable pain of the impact. Perhaps it would stab you, burn you, electrocute you- the possibilities really were endless.

And yet, none of those things mattered as long as the Golden Guard was safe. That was your only job, wasn’t it?

END OF PART ONE

Chapter Text

You were still anticipating an impact from the blast. You’d been anticipating an impact for quite some time now. Perhaps, you considered, you should unsqueeze your eyes and check why there wasn’t one. You did just that.

Before you was a blockade of violet. Ah, you must have died. Yes, that was it. You had died, and now you were wherever witches went once they’d been rudely murdered by irresponsible dictator-dogs. Apparently, that place was purple. And gooey. And… moving? 

The obscura of muck seemed to melt before your eyes, peeling itself back in slimy tendrils that retreated into your periphery to reveal the shocked faces of the Owl Lady and her pet staring at you. You were still in the cavern. You blinked, shook your head out, and summoned enough wherewithal to move your outstretched limbs, turning around to make sense of what had just happened. Behind you, the Blight was guiding a lash of abomination fluid into a flask at her hip, looking nonplussed. She had... saved you. When she noticed the strange expression you were shooting her way, she shrugged. “I’m not going to let you die. Your coven knowledge may be useful to us.” 

In the sidelines, Hunter was silent, staring at you with an intensity you couldn’t quite place. You met his gaze and smiled helplessly, trying to diffuse the tension and say 'look, I'm fine. I did my job.' but he turned away and didn’t even acknowledge it. Was he upset that you hadn't died? It was possible, you supposed. He probably still wanted you gone.

“Thanks,” you said to the Blight. “I guess.” She just hummed.

“Don’t be idiots .” interrupted Hunter scathingly, no longer avoiding your eyes as he directed his anger towards the impetuous culprits of the blast. “These walls are made from the veins of the Titan. Any magic you shoot will bounce right back at you, so I suggest you learn to have some restraint. I will not be your collateral."

Geez, he was angry. You’d really only ever heard him scold you like that, when you’d really messed up. But he wasn’t in any danger, so why the reactive attitude? His mind wasn’t giving you any answers. It was all prickly again, like the first time you’d met him; Walled off and furious at the world- just as you'd thought he was mellowing out.

“You must be fun at parties.” razzed the Owl Lady. “Hey, King. how about you use your new powers to echolocate the lake.” She suggested, pumping her elbow as if she was asking a young child to show off the art they made in class. “Okay.” King giggled proudly, clambering down the drill (which sent the whole room into an unspoken sigh of relief) and moving up to the open mineshaft where corrugated tracks vanished into the darkness. He planted his paws firmly on the ground before the entrance, inhaled a deep breath into his chest to prepare himself, then let out a fearsome roar of…

“WEH!”

The sound echoed for a moment, sending out wobbling bands of golden magic that reminded you of the conjurations of certain bard spells. It was an impressive sight- so much so that you expected him to turn around and confidently announce the exact location of your destination with ease. Instead, he stood still for a long moment, listening intently, then turned back with a look of grim determination.

“Eh-eh.” he shrugged uselessly. 

Hunter slouched, underwhelmed. “Those two are definitely going to get us caught,” He commented to your group, and the Blight jabbed his back with her sharp palisman’s ears. 

“‘Us’? There is no ‘us’. Stop being chummy, or I tie you together again.” She threatened. “Now, keep moving.”

You did as she said, but Hunter lagged behind a moment in the cave, causing the chain between the two of you to shorten and tug back. You’d been keeping up with the Blight, but now you shifted to appraise Hunter with confusion, walking a little slower to give your chain more slack. What was causing him to hesitate? An injury? Discomfort? You could have a look.

As soon as you were close enough, though, the soldier lunged and forced his arms over your torso, squeezing your back to effectively immobilize. He placed his lips right next to your ear so that nobody else could hear him when he spoke to rebuke you. “Don’t ever do that again.” He murmured scornfully, his breath hot against your neck. Your shock made it almost impossible to process what he was talking about. “Do you understand me?” 

You tensed, moving your neck instinctively away from his mouth, because it was beginning to tingle. You'd never been this close to him before. He smelled like a distant forest tinged with smelting metals. “Uh- um, right. Yes. I understand.” you stuttered back, squirming your shoulders to release the compression over your lungs. He held steady for a moment, letting the intimidation of his words and his grasp sink in good and well, then slowly eased his restraint. “Good.”

He shoved you forward again. You were too confused to stop walking, and too perturbed to notice the flash of red that tracked you from out of sight as you vanished into the depths of the ancient tunnels below, Hunter on your heels. You would just have to figure out that one later. 

—----

Minecart tracks stretched into the endless, damp horizon- tinted turquoise-green by the bloodied remnants of Titan vessels that enclosed the cavern. You and Hunter walked side-by-side in the caboose while the Owl Lady and her adopted rebels took up the engine, chatting away as if you weren’t even there. At one point, though, the grey-haired matriarch seemed intent on letting Hunter know the extent of her glee in capturing him. It was only then that she even acknowledged you.

“You know,” she began, looking back with a smirk. “Luz told me about a trip to Latissa where she met two very interesting people.” 

The solid stone bridge beneath your feet clunked softly with every bootstrap, adorned in lights that were surely hundreds of years old, but still worked well enough to illuminate the chasm below. 

“A beat-up blonde with no magical powers, and a very dedicated bodyguard.” The Owl Lady continued with an emphasis you weren’t totally fond of. “She called them- and these are her words- a “bad but sad boy”, and his “adorably exclusive” counterpart. Safe to say, I think we’ve put a few faces to the name.” 

Her pet dictator snickered behind his clawed hand and Hunter blushed profusely, pressing his ears flat to his head while you tried puzzling out what in the hell that meant. Exclusive? In what way were you exclusive? You worked for the Emperor’s Coven, for Titan’s sake; it was impossible to be exclusive there.

“If I ever see that human again-” Hunter started dangerously, meeting with a swivel and another prod to the chest. “Watch it.” Warned the Blight, glaring her golden eyes at him. Hunter lifted his chin higher, managing to look elegantly inconvenienced despite his predicament. “Well,” he shot back, ignoring your purple-haired captor. “At least I’m not delusional enough to think I can turn into a harpy.”

The Owl Lady hissed in offense, leaving her pet to mediate. “Hey, come on. Give it a rest you two.”

“Yeah.” Hunter said sardonically. “Listen to your rat.”

Squealing, King launched himself off of the delusional Owl Lady’s shoulder and managed to grab hold of one of Hunter's longer hair strands before you could intervene, tugging it ruthlessly. You quickly butted in to knock the thing away before it could do any more damage.

“Control your dog.” you advised the bird woman, feeling quite authoritative in the moment. “Before I do it for you. I’m still his guard.”

Hunter’s ears turned even pinker. “I wish you would stop doing that.” he groused, though not with the same anger as before. After all, King’s attack was more akin to a cat scratch than an actual threat. You wrinkled your nose at him anyway. “Next time, I’ll let the rodent maul you.” you agreed.

“All of you, shut up!” hissed the Blight from up front, glowering at your bickering. She slunk around the lip of the cavern that the stone bridge had just spit you out into, crouching behind an overturned and dilapidated refinery turbine. Your group advanced to stand beside her, looking out into the area below. It had clearly seen more use than the offshoot that you’d entered in- littered with wood sidings, hung lanterns, long, rickety bridges connecting treacherous ravines- a true mining operation. And slithering across one of those ravines was… Kikimora, tormenting her accomplices, as usual.

“Why are we stopping?” She cried across the labyrinthian space, her voice echoing throughout the tunnels with a might that made you cringe. “Is it the Golden Guard?!”

Hunter allowed himself a quiet smirk. 

“No, ma’am.” Her exhausted primary captain explained, as if talking to a child that couldn’t comprehend why they had to go to bed on time. “This is a dangerous area. We need to move carefully.” To demonstrate her point, she gestured to the crumbling, eroded edges of one of the wooden sidings. The rock underneath was spiderwebbed with ominous cracks that made it look on the edge of collapse- a worrying sight to even the tiniest of demons. Despite that illustration, Kikimora plowed on, her voice filling the space. “Careful takes too long! My ass is on the line, and so help me Titan if you ruin this, I will throw you off the tallest peak in the Knee with a smile!”

Owl Lady grimaced, apparently mentally present enough to observe when someone else was succumbing to insanity. “Oh, that poor girl is going through something.”

“I think that’s an understatement,” you said, surprising yourself. Ignoring you both, Blight tugged a folded, worn square of paper out of her coat pocket and tossed her gaze over it, chewing her lip habitually. “She's also blocking the path to Eclipse Lake.” she worried. Referencing her map, the Blight raised her fingertip to point at the mineshaft entrance that Kikimora and her platoon happened to be standing right in front of, effectively cutting off your path forward. Just your luck, but Hunter was ten steps ahead- as always.

“We should create a distraction.” he suggested lowly. 

“WE SHOULD CREATE A DISTRACTION!” The Owl Lady gasconaded, overpowering his ideas on the simple principle of volume. “You kids wait for my signal.” she demanded, scurrying away from your hiding spot to slide down a rocky incline, carrying King in convoy.

“Huh.” Hunter watched her skate away, simpering in a self-satisfied way as he nudged you. “That was easy, mm? When they’re caught, all three of us can take the Titan Blood for ourselves.”

Wait. Since when did he start including Blight in all of this? You shot Hunter a dubious look as he leaned against the nearest wall and glided down it, but he just gave you a tiny, imperceptible shake of the head. ‘Oh, ye of little faith.’ he chiacked in his mind, gently. You loured, but settled down beside him in an unspoken display of trust. Hunter was resourceful; you knew he had his reasons for everything. If he decided to do something, it was probably the right thing to do.

“Stop talking like I’m part of your creepy team!” Blight protested, knitting her brows your way. As always, Hunter did an extremely good job at looking loftily above this conversation. “You might as well be. The Owl Lady and her pet have nothing at stake, unlike all of us.” That assumption really grated on her nerves. “‘At stake”? Don’t pretend you know anything about what I have ‘at sta-’”

Bweeop, bweeop. 

Blight palmed her jacket absently for the source of the beeping, then continued. “I was gonna to say- you have no idea what I have ‘at-”

Bweeop, bweeop. 

Hunter angled his chin, looking up at the girl with questioning eyes. ‘Do you need to get that?’ his expression asked expectantly. Blight groaned, turning to shield her pinging device from your view as she took it out to examine. You didn’t need to be told twice how to be useful; you stood with the small length of chain available between you and Hunter, leaning over the girl’s shoulder. The contents of the box were hardly important- it was how she felt about them that mattered. And indeed, despite the almost indecipherable nature of the hieroglyphs displayed on the miniature screen, something about them made the Blight bristle. You could exploit that. 

“That doesn’t look good.” You commented, almost sympathetic. For a moment, the fretting abomination witch forgot that you were enemies, dissuaded by the open tone. “That’s- What? What doesn’t look good?” She asked.

Hunter sidled up on her other shoulder, taking a discerning look. “Seems clear to us. Come back with results, or else…”

“-Well, I don’t think we have to say it.” You finished. The Blight glanced down at her device again, hands trembling. Then, suddenly realizing how close the two of you were, she jumped back. “No- I mean, Luz wouldn’t make that kind of threat. I’m an awesome girlfriend.” She stuttered.

“Has she told you that?” Countered Hunter, catching your eye. This was working. When the Blight didn't reply, he sighed, leaning against the overturned mining rig before advancing once more.

“We have a lot in common, Blight. We’re both trying to show what we can bring to the table.” He said, and his eyes slipped strangely to yours in his periphery. It was true, you didn’t have the motivation he did. But his burdens were your own, now, and it was your sworn obligation to see his missions through. Anyway, if Belos cast him aside, you'd be out of a job. Yeah. That was why you had to keep Hunter instated. 

“-And we can’t fail. ‘Cause there’s nothing worse than disappointing someone who thinks you’re special.” 

Lowering his head, Hunter let his voice drop just a titch, bleeding into a vulnerable candor that admittedly tugged at your heartstrings. Seeing what you had, you were a little worried how continuously Hunter would find himself disappointing Emperor Belos. Didn’t he realize that it would only get worse from here? That his uncle would continue expecting more and more from him, until he finally cracked under the pressure and ended up dead or derelict? This was a system one simply couldn't beat, contended by a witch who had never known how to do anything but triumph. You felt a little rebellious, thinking about all the ways to pry this boy from his reliance on Belos’ approval, but you couldn’t just stand there and watch him lose sleep, weight, and his own mind over this. You could protect him in other ways, couldn’t you?

The Blight was staring at you two with a strange look in her eyes. She narrowed her gaze slowly, brows furrowed in an uncertainty that slowly morphed into determination. With one quick pirouette, she positioned her feline staff out from behind your shelter and shot a blast of magic down into the cavern below, aiming for where Kikimora was congregating. The ossified walls around you shuddered with the first impact of the bolt, resisting the purple bloom of energy as they had before and returning it into the air, where it ping-ponged out into the disgruntled crowd of Kikimora’s platoon. The demoness shrieked in fury, shoving her abomination guard into the front to take the blow with a cursory, unstable shield. It was narrowly possible to make out her rage-fueled cries of “the Golden Guard!” And “he must be here!” As you hightailed it towards the northern mineshaft with the Blight, fueled by the adrenaline of the sudden distraction she had provided. Bold. Brash. Even sloppy. Perfect.

The Owl Lady, who had just begun to catch up to you from her place brainstorming on the floor, tossed her arms out in exasperation and nearly dislodged King. “Why didn’t you wait for our signal?” she interrogated, breathless. The Blight huffed.

“We don’t have time to play around. We are getting that Titan Blood!”

You and Hunter smiled slightly at each other. Well, that was easy. She was so insecure she’d practically manipulated herself for you. Now, if only you could get her to ditch the crazies…

Kikimora's sounds gradually began to fade as your group braved the mineshaft, until the only noise was that of the tunnels echoing with the slowing of your footsteps, clicking like drops of water onto a lake. There was no cry of pursuit from behind; no sight of your unscrupulous competition- so you pressed onward into the winding, dimly-lit passageways that glowed with a distant tint of the sun above, charting your course for the final destination: Eclipse Lake. It was close, now. You could sense it in that way witches always could when there was enchantment afoot; a primordial tugging that urged you ever forward, whispering its whims into your heart and filling your world with the delicious mystery that had fueled your ancestors for so long. They felt it, too, you were certain. Each beating heart in this room could taste the welcoming thaumaturgy on their tongues- the real question was, who wanted it more?

Two desperate people with two impossible motives. And there wasn’t enough blood for the both of them. Whichever way the winds tilted on this day, one story would always end in heartbreak. You just hoped it didn’t have to be his.

END OF PART TWO

Chapter Text

The palisman was back- twittering about Hunter’s shoulder, nipping at his ear, and generally being a nuisance. He shook it off ceaselessly with a rueful mutter of “find a different perch, bird”, but his actions only seemed to briefly dissuade it from landing and had little effect on its apparent predilection for him. You couldn’t really blame the soldier for his increased choler, considering this little creature was the reason you were all tied up in the first place, but it was difficult to stay mad at it; It had such innocent little eyes. You reached out to pet it as it took a new roost in your hair. Turquoise light fell over the outstretched arm, staining it a macabre, bloodless tone that drew your attention upward into the cavernous rafters. The mineshaft had tapered out into a liminal room of indeterminate size that reflected blue flecks through globes of glossy crystal formations- a sight so unusual that it felt impossible to orient which side was up and which side was down. The bubbles of rock didn’t look like the stalactites and stalagmites from before; they were blobby and translucent enough to capture the filtering sunlight from above, like their Titan-Vein counterparts. Could this be the Titan Blood? It did have a coagulated sort of quality to it, suggesting it had once been a less viscous liquid but eventually clotted to form these globules. If that was the case, you’d really found the mother lode; the entire cave was absolutely silly with the stuff. It was so overrun by the sludge that you couldn’t make out where the walls ended- perhaps a foot away, perhaps a mile, perhaps they never stopped. In a place this ancient, it was impossible to know.

“Whoa. Is this Titan Blood?” The Owl Lady asked, voicing your curiosities aloud. 

The Blight checked her map dubiously. “But… Eclipse Lake is farther ahead.” She muttered, tracing a finger down one of the scrawled lines. “Who cares? We did it!” Cried King, abandoning all notions of concern and hopping off the shoulder of his bird-mother to reach for a globule. Hunter's brain fired off a mental flare of alarm that rattled your head as he spoke. “Stop!” Hunter cried, shoving forward enough to tug you with him. “That’s Fool’s Blood. Don’t touch it.” He said, and you saw in his mind what would happen if you did. Walls would crumble, stalactites would fall, and people would die. It was a clever trap to keep the grifty raiders away in the days where the mines were plentiful. 

“Oh, so you can keep it all to yourself?” The Owl Lady blew a self-assured 'pffft' his way, raising her staff above a nearby patch of Fool's Blood. “Hard pass!” 

She swung the hilt like a club, bringing the carved wooden base right down into the shell of the nearest blue globe with a crunch. It collapsed like a griffin egg where she bashed it, crumbling to reveal a solid, dark interior. The room stood still for a moment, watching the pressure within the bubble increase and tear itself open, waiting for it to produce the sign of dribbling ichor and waves of royal blue the party had been searching for.

Rumble.

The ground splintered. The world cleaved in half. You were fortunate- your feet were stationed away from the sinking edge that was devouring the cave, as were Hunter's and the Blight's; The Owl Lady and King were not so lucky. Seeing the mouth of the ravine swallowing them whole, the Blight recovered from her shock and mounted her palisman, taking stock of her surroundings in an attempt to retrieve her falling companions- yet fully willing to leave you and Hunter behind to whatever might come after the floor crumbled away. You were still bound. Helpless. 

“Wait! Take us with you!” Hunter pleaded, tugging fruitlessly on your unified chain. A distant abomaton groan alerted him to the encroaching presence of Kikimora on your tails, alerted by the noise, which only distressed him further. “At least untie us so we can escape!”

The Blight swung her head towards the posterior mineshaft, a panicked realization dawning on her face. She had to save the Owl Lady, but… was leaving you to Kikimora the right thing?

“Please,” you entreated in Hunter’s stead. “If he’s replaced, he’ll only be superseded by someone worse. Someone a lot less forgiving.” You looked his way grimly, then turned back to stare the Blight down. She fought with herself for a long, hair-raising moment before remembering that if she wanted to save her human, time was of the essence. She couldn’t afford to argue with a pair of coven kiss-asses. “Fine.” She spat, raising a sloppy spell circle to unbind the abomination sludge from your entwined hands. It slunk back miserably into her purple flask, leaving Hunter to gaze down at his freed arms in triumphant exultation. Your wrist burned. You rubbed at the spot on your skin absently, turning it over to find the source of the pain: Your coven sigil. It must have been irritated by the cuffs.

“So, where will you go now?” The Blight asked distractedly, keeping her bright eyes trained on the mineshaft. Her first mistake was taking her gaze off him. Hunter rolled his shoulder to get it moving again, answering with the casualty of speaking to an old friend. 

“Now…”

He ducked and swept the witch’s feet out from under her, sending the girl tumbling. She landed on her tailbone with a yelp, leaving you and Hunter enough time to sprint away into the next cavern’s railroad track- following the heavy scent of magic in the air. 

“...We get to Eclipse Lake before anyone else! Byee~” 

You swiftly boarded the closest minecart and pushed it off from the wall, creating enough force to rend the rust from the decaying wheels and jolt the thing into running again. The downhill motion of the nearest slope helped start your acceleration, and before you knew it, your cart was careening through blasted tunnels of rock and vein that dripped with the malevolent ichor of Fool’s Blood. This far into the unserviced mine, the lanterns had begun to die out, leaving your journey wreathed in an oppressive cloak of blackness that was penetrated only by the occasional refraction of sunlight through the veins. That same eerie, blue sunlight. You were beginning to miss the monochrome certainty of the castle- loathe as you were to think it; at least those colors only made you bored instead of nauseous. 

The scent of magic had shifted sometime since the noise of the collapsing cavern stopped echoing through the tunnels. It was less… potent than before, less heavy on your tongue. It no longer drew you forward into its glittering clutches- but hid away like falling dust behind a cabinet. Hunter sensed it, too, his ears swiveling in disquiet. 

“Something’s changed.” He muttered, turning to taste the air. “The tunnel smells… stale.” You sniffed again, finding that you agreed with his assessment of its qualities. Yes, it was stale. Stale and chalky. A fine powder from a hollow shell of what once was. But what could that mean?

“Perhaps it’s the Titan Blood.” You volunteered, but you knew in your heart it was wrong. Titan Blood did not smell like a faded memory. It would be imposing, overpowering. This… was something else.

“Maybe,” Hunter said doubtfully, but if he had a counterpoint, he didn’t argue more. The end of the track was coming up quickly, and there was no time to waste on curating your scent profiles. You looked down upon the slowing wheels of the minecart as they ground into their metal supports, sending bright sparks of embers flying in all directions. A wretched shrieking noise of metal-on-metal sounded to signify the end of the road, and you and Hunter dismounted expeditiously, planting your boots on the uneven stone ground. You had stopped in a rig much like that of the previous cavern- sporting tunnels that led to endless branches within the veins of the cave system and enough dilapidated machinery to pave over a town. But no water in sight. 

“This doesn’t look like a lake.” you frowned. Hunter, who had been untangling his cape from the minecart spokes, turned to look with you.

“It's not,” he agreed, bringing up the image of Blight’s map in his mind. He’d memorized it. “Seems we’re another furlong away. Through the nearest adit.” He lifted his head slightly to indicate an adjacent tunnel, supported with heavy beams. Beside it was a worn sign of wood that, if you squinted hard enough, might have read “Eclipse Lake”

“How kind of them to label it for us.” You snarked. No reply from Hunter- maybe he wasn’t in any mood to make a joke out of your situation, though that was unlike him. You turned back to check on him, where you saw his ears pricked attentively, his stance defensive as he stared back into the minecart tracks you'd come from.

“What, what is it-”

“-Kikimora. She’s coming this way.” He muttered, eyes trained into the dark abyss.

“In a cart?” You asked. 

“Sounds like it.”

“Good.” 

He made a scrunched face at you, obviously not appreciating your lax attitude. “Oh, I’m glad you think so. Perhaps you can join her for a picnic after my uncle has killed me.” 

“Not like that , Hunter.” You nearly facepalmed. “It’s good because they’re stuck in place, and they’re heading right to us. It’ll be much easier to derail them, or block off the entrance, or blow them all to smithereens. In fact…” You raised a hand to draw a quick spell circle. “I think this will do the trick.” You tapped it in the center, imbuing it with your chosen magic: abomination. A coil of ringed, purple muck sputtered from the glyph, slithering its slimy way over the cave floor and into the darkened tunnel, where it squelched onto the minecart tracks and encased them entirely.

“This will bring them to a dead stop.” You said, appraising your work to make sure a good portion of the tracks had been covered. “Probably send them flying, too, if their acceleration is high.”

Hunter brought a hand to his chin, kneeling to the conjuration of ooze and looking it up and down for a moment. You prepared for his rebuke at your ridiculous idea, but…

“Very… resourceful, [Name}.” The soldier nodded in a slow, mounting approval, looking surprised. “I hadn’t- well, thought of that.”

You smiled, trying not to embarrass him any further, since he was clearly beating himself up for not having the idea- though you couldn’t resist a little quip. “That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it? Two scouts are better than one.”

Hunter’s ears turned red. “Uh, yeah. They are.” 

“Now, come on. That should slow them down, at least, but we shouldn’t wait around. Eclipse Lake is one door away.” You said, reaching to help Hunter up. He grasped your hand, nodding. “Right. Then we’ll be home free.” He said hopefully. 

“Home free.” You agreed, tugging him gently towards the tunnel leading to Eclipse Lake. The hollow scent of memories swirled and rustled throughout the space, sending soothingly cool air pattering across your cheeks. Barreling down the passageways, the two of you lifted your gazes to the concealed temple beyond, hoping that- for an instant- you might catch a glimpse of your coveted Titan Blood; whose royal blue contended only with the unfathomable depths of the ocean itself.

…

But it wasn’t there.

Nothing was there. 

When you arrived in your hurry, you'd almost convinced yourself that you'd taken a wrong turn. Nearly the entire cathedralesque expanse of the cavern floor was sunken in on itself; a sad, drooping pit of compacted sand held together by scraggly tree roots that grasped their tendrils outwards into the empty bed- as if they, too, were wondering where the water had gone. Far above, a solitary skylight cast an opalescent moonbeam upon the dried-up trench, illuminating the face of the boy behind you, who was making a strange sound. No Titan Blood. No lake. No hope to return to the castle. 

“I-It's dry....“ Hunter squeaked beside you, looking out into the empty lake with rising horror. You could already sense one of his attacks coming on; and though you couldn’t blame him, you had to do something to give this poor soldier hope. “-Hey, hey, it’s just the lakebed!” You hurriedly consoled, throwing a steadying hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure there’s some residue on the tree roots, or in the sand. Maybe even in the stalactites! I bet there’s some condensation on those, huh? I mean, what with this big old skylight, some moisture is bound to evaporate and rise.” You reasoned, trying to keep any notes of hysteria out of your voice. You didn’t want to scare Hunter more.

He nodded numbly, his Adam’s Apple bobbing with a heavy swallow as he clung to the shaky possibility you'd offered him. “R-right. You’re right. Let’s go… check. Hahah, Titan Blood doesn't just... dry up.”

“Yeah. Yeah, we’ll go check.” You said, guiding him slowly to the nearest group of rocky protrusions in the ceiling. Where the other caverns had been dripping with moisture from every surface, there was only bone-dry stone in Eclipse Lake, as if the Titan himself was spiting you. No condensation. No more clever ideas. What could you do? 

A boom sounded from the tunnel beyond. Hunter whirled to look back, his pupils pinpricks, and you quickly herded him to a different area to keep him distracted. “That’s probably Kikimora being crushed by her own minecart.” You excused brightly, trying to set Hunter down by a nearby tree. He resisted your touch, shrugging your arm away and moving instead to drop beside the empty lake and look into it, his expression as hollow as the pit below. You wondered if he could somehow see a ghost of his own reflection in that sand. What did he think of the boy staring back at him? Did he see himself as beautiful as you saw him, with his knees pulled to his chest and his gentle eyes falling half-shut?

“There's no blood, [Name].” He murmured, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “I already know. You don’t have to protect me; Sometimes a reality check is good.” He barked a startling laugh. “Especially now. Since I know there’s no blood, I can get a head start on digging my grave- I'll even let you help. Maybe you can write my eulogy.” Hunter stood suddenly, jumping down the sandy pit and sliding down the wall to the bottom. You followed him in a rush, suddenly quite scared of what he was going to do. "'Golden Guard XXVII: He died as he lived, worthlessly.' That's got a ring to it, don't you think?" 

“Wait, Hunter, you can’t be serious." You said, closing one eye against the rising cloud of dust he had kicked up. "Look, Belos doesn’t even know you’re gone. There’s no need for grave digging- we can just return to the castle and pretend it never happened!” Hunter ignored you and dropped to his knees in the dirt, sinking his gloved fingertips into it and shoveling it out by the handful. You narrowly dodged one of the silty projectiles on your way to stand beside him, but he didn’t bother to look up, too engrossed in his own ramblings.

“Kikimora has seen me, she’ll tell The Emperor I was here for sure! And if it’s not her, then it’ll be the captain and her troops.” He shook his head feverishly, giggling. “If Belos knew I’d left against his orders, he’d kill me, but if Belos knew I’d left against his orders and returned with nothing, he’d kill me a lot slower and more painfully. It’s just logical, when you think about it.” 

He burrowed a bit deeper, oblivious to your attempts to calm or mollify him. Seeing Hunter like this was strange; it hit something deep inside you with a blunt arrowhead, sinking jagged edges through your heart. It hurt. Why? 

“Oh, Hunter, you…” you began, leaning a bit of weight onto his back. He paused, mind open in a way that invited something new. Persuasion. Pleading. He wanted you to give him an opportunity to leave- any reason at all- he just needed someone to say it. He wanted you to say it. To tell him that there would be more for him beyond the castle walls, if he would just run away with you. By the Titan, if that was what finally saved this poor boy, then you would do it. 

“-you don’t have to go ba-“

You weren’t alone. Whirling to the sound of the new mind fizzing into focus, you prepared for a single-handed fight against Kikimora.

But it wasn’t Kikimora. It was the Blight girl, standing with her map raised and the King creature at her side. Her brows furrowed as she lowered her paper, seeing the desiccated, dried husk of Eclipse Lake- then Hunter, then you. The witch gave you a searching glance that you didn’t know how to respond to, approaching loudly enough for Hunter to hear her. He didn't care.

“Don’t worry,” Hunter said dejectedly. “We won’t pick a fight. There’s no Titan Blood.”

Blight stepped forward unsteadily, taking a slip down the wall of the lakebed and landing on your level. “Then… why are you digging?” she probed, exchanging a weary look with King. 

Hunter jerked his head up, curls of impossibly fluffy blonde tumbling over his forehead. “Oh, it’s simple, really.” He laughed, placing a disbelieving hand to his dirtied face. “Belos needs Titan Blood to make a new portal key. Can’t get to the human realm without it!” He returned his attention to digging the hole that only seemed to fill itself back up again, evidently bored with the Blight’s presence. “Since I failed my last mission, I thought: ‘hey, a chance to make up for it!’ -but I can’t go back empty-handed!” 

He cackled hoarsely, then interrupted himself with a cough, the same pitiful, deep-chested cough he always had. “Not again."

"Long story short: this is ‘ma grave. I’m thinking of making one for my scout- want one for yourself?” he extended, holding up his fingers to form a box around your visage, as if taking your measurements for the perfect coffin. You pushed his hand down, unamused.

“This is really bumming me out,” King lamented. Hunter’s manic attitude faded into thinly veiled disgust as he appraised the furry biped, sitting on the unearthed root of a tree. “That’s just life, rat.” He said with ire. “Everyone has a use. And if you don’t…” his tongue flicked out, blowing a sardonic raspberry. “Bye-bye~ Everybody here but you gets it.”

Did you get it? It hadn’t been a defining trait in your life, like it had been in Hunter’s, but you supposed there had been some… urge as of late to perform with excellence in your job, especially because he was watching. 

King turned an expectant glance to the abomination-wielder beside him, visibly disturbed. “What’s he talking about?” 

She hesitated, then produced the strange, beep-y device from earlier, her face crestfallen and ashamed. “Luz… has been sending me these strange human codes. I don’t understand all of them, but this one seems pretty clear. ‘Come back with results, or we’re done.’” She held it up to his view.

King leaned over on his tree to study the device, maneuvering it sideways with his little claws. The Blight tilted her head at the new angle, eyes flicking in shock at whatever she was reading on the pixelated screen. “U-R rad.” She clicked something with her thumb. “Fool’s Blood… bad. U okay? Come home?”

She laughed girlishly with every message read, squeezing the tiny device to her chest. “Of course,” she smiled so wide it looked painful. “This is Luz we’re talking about.”

“Hey!” Her revelry was interrupted as Hunter yelped, drawing your attention to that relentless red-feathered palisman. It was tugging on the soldier’s cape, trying to force him from his meager pile of dirt, but Hunter wouldn’t budge. 

“Go find a better witch to be with.” He moaned, voice muffled as he flopped face-first into the ground. “Both of you.” 

Touched though you were by his notion that you were ‘with’ him in any regard, Hunter’s unraveling was… heartbreaking. You couldn’t help but try to motivate him again, crouching at his level to give him an awkward hug-pat on the shoulder. He shuddered and encompassed a swathe of dirt with his arms, spreading it over his head to hide himself from the world outside. “Hunter, I’m not gonna leave you.” You said softly, trying to keep the Blight from hearing the private moment. 

“Why not?" He shot back, "You have every right to. I'm not a good teacher. I'm not even a good guy. You’ve been forced into a role you don’t want with a witch you undoubtedly hate, and he’s not even good enough at his job to make it easy for you.” Hunter paused, lifting his face just slightly to meet your eye. “You should run. Ditch me while I’m down. Why don’t you?”

Flaming eyes narrowed at you from a shadowy grave. It almost felt as though he could see right into you- as though this boy was untangling the threads of your mind the way you never could with him. You began to formulate a response, but the Blight saved you from that plight by speaking in your stead. “You know, you were right, Golden Guard.” she said, taking a knee nearby his prone form. “We do have a lot in common. I grew up thinking that everything was an opportunity to justify existing.”

You looked up at her in surprise, and she gave you a bittersweet smile. “But there are people out there who won’t make you feel worthless. You might even already know someone like that; but the only way to be sure is to just let them in.” 

She was… helping you? But why? You searched her mind, finding only the confusing semblance of recognition there. She saw the outline of herself and her beloved human in you and Hunter: The gentle, unyielding dedication of your guardianship that was so similar to Luz’ endless devotion, and the ragged, desperate lonesomeness of the Golden Guard who, like her, had pushed everyone that cared about him away. If they had managed to find balance in such a tumultuous mess of colliding worlds, maybe it was possible for you and Hunter to do the same. He could teach you patience, and you could teach him kindness. It wouldn't be so hard. 

“She-She’s right, Hunter.” You managed, gently offering your hand to your soldier. He turned, looking up at you with big, sad eyes that glinted purple in the light, shifting like the facets of the gems you always compared them to. He looked ready to give in and take your hand- escape from all the expectations and threats and exhaustingly veiled messages of the Emperor's Coven.

Until he didn’t. Within a split second, Hunter's brain fuzzed into a dangerous quiet that laser-focused to something on the Blight’s chest and he rose, never breaking his line of sight with the object. You turned with him to look beneath the purple folds of her jacket, which had been dislodged in her chase, revealing the taunting eye of a Portal Key, brimming with Titan's Blood. 

END OF PART THREE

Chapter Text

The air in the empty lake was deathly still with the standoff of two witches. Uneasy, the Blight backed away at the sight of Hunter’s intense expression, gripping her staff a little tighter to her chest. “…what are you…?” She began, then gasped as she looked down and realized what the soldier was staring at. The key. The key around her neck, twinkling with the rich flow of Titan's Blood weighing heavy upon its locket. The key that Hunter would surely do anything to get ahold of.

In a flash, he was lunging for her neck with all the rabid necessity of a starving wolf, taking a wild tumble into the ground as the Blight executed a sloppy dodge. You shot back, looking between the two snarling witches in shock. What did you do? Who did you help? The Blight had been kind to you, but… Hunter was your first priority, even if his motives were all skewed around. You darted to his side, holding out your dagger defensively as he recovered from the miss and shot a savage look over his shoulder at his prey. 

“Oh, come on. Being nice usually works for Luz!” The Blight girl groaned, trying to back out of the makeshift arena. You rushed her, aiming your blade toward the woven strand that held the Portal Key, but King leapt from his tree branch to intervene, exhaling a powerful “WEH” that sent shockwaves through the air. With a rush of wind, something fluttered in front of you to block the attack, and you realized that Hunter was standing before you with a staff clutched in hand, a powerful wind of magic encircling his form. Not the cold metal of his artificial staff, but the warm, carved lines of that palisman's gentle feathering. It had chosen him once again. Hunter seemed just as surprised as you were at the sight of the light wooden shillelagh in his hands, and even more so by the realization that he’d used it to shield you from King’s rattling cry. Still, he plowed forward, shaking off all his preconceptions as he tried to make another ploy for the key. You moved to flank him, but were taken aback as his wobbly first steps sent him zapping away in an aura of warm light a few feet from where he’d been, as if bending the laws of space itself. He stumbled and looked down at his feet, startled by the fact that this ground was not the one he’d been on before. The unwieldy palisman met with an accusing look.

“Real staffs are weird-“ Hunter grunted before the dazed Blight uncoiled her flask of abomination fluid. It swiftly curled its snaking way around his torso, and he thrashed, making another jerky teleportation to the right and panting with the effort to control himself. It was a little scary, seeing him with magic like this. How… unpracticed he was, how wild and unpredictable his movements were. He always seemed to fight like a dance, but here outside of his element, Hunter seemed to have two left feet.

“Hunter, are you-“ you tried to approach him, worried that the staff was hurting him somehow, but he only shook it off and laboriously blipped out of existence again, finding a way to circumvent the hold of the abomination goop and teleport into the air above you, where he commanded a raging shower of flame down onto the battlefield.

“Fine!” He called out to you, barely focused enough to sense your worry. You dodged the haze of smoke and magic as it bounded off the walls of the Titan-Vein mines, trying to track the Blight as she did the same. Catching a flash of purple amongst the blinding yellow, you reached out to grab the front of her collar while Hunter zapped to her back. The both of you reached for the key on its precarious, swinging chain, but King pounced up onto the unaware Hunter and knocked him to the ground, giving the blight an opening to strike you with the butt of her palisman and send you crashing to the dirt. Hunter beamed away again to bring down a bludgeoning blow on the Blight’s head, but she blocked his assault with a shield of ungiving slime. Prostrate though you were, you managed to swing your leg from below the witch’s legs and take them out from under her, leaving her briefly vulnerable to Hunter’s flurry of teleportations and pummels. Sustaining a whiplike slash to the shoulder from his battering, Blight tore away from your oppressive reach and conjured herself an iron knuckle of abomination liquid, sending it right into Hunter’s chin as he readied another blow. He yelped and reared back, stepping right into the clutches of an enormous spell circle that the abomination witch conjured more quickly that you could react to. You tackled her as the spell took effect, encasing Hunter in an impenetrable orb of abomination slime that served to imprison him away from your assistance. The Blight kicked and wrestled with you on the ground for a long beat, fending off the teeth you’d employed in a last-ditch effort to snag the key with your hands occupied- but you brought up enough of the spirit of Hunter’s desperation in yourself to clamp your jaw down on the string holding it and tear.  

In the same moment, the prison keeping Hunter away burst open with a plume of golden magic, following the snapping the of the key's cord as you wrenched it from her neck. Blight shot her hand out to grab the string you’d broken with your teeth, engaging the two of you into a tense match of tug-o-war before a golden fist of magic unearthed itself beneath the ground, cleaving the two of you apart. That glow was Hunter’s magic, no doubt about it. Of course, he was trying to rid you of the rival witch, but the impact of his conjuration vibrated your bones to their very marrow, forcing your jaw open in a painful release. The key clinked to the dirt, where the Blight sloppily scrambled to retrieve it, clenching the trinket in one tight fist. Hunter zapped towards her, hair matted in a sticky layer of abomination ooze and grime, his eyes predatory pinpricks. He slashed the tail of his palisman towards her, crying:

“You really wanna help?! Then give me that key!”

Hunter jammed the Blight in the wrist with the sharp wooden spokes of his statuesque bird, forcing her hand open to drop the cord. You skidded to the ground with one hand outstretched, feeling the satisfying thunk of the key as it fell squarely into your palm. Caught. Hunter rammed the pit wall with his staff, caging the arm of the Blight who had begun to grope for your stolen treasure. In return, she conjured a foul, taper-pointed spear right against the soft place beneath Hunter’s jaw. He winced, angling his neck away from the blade with his eyes trained on your hand. 'Don't let that key go.' his attention demanded.

“Move, and I stab him.” The Blight threatened, meeting your gaze with vigor. You froze. 

“If you hurt him, I’ll crush it.” You said, tightening your hand around the key dangerously. The Blight’s eyes flashed in alarm for a moment, weighing those parameters. “No, you won’t." She said unsteadily. "You need the key as much as I do.” 

It wasn’t you who needed it, though. You only wanted it because he did. Perhaps she knew that. Perhaps that was why even her assurances sounded uncertain. “Titan’s Blood is rare, but it isn’t irreplaceable. He is. And if I break this, neither of us will get it.” You returned firmly, glaring into her golden eyes. 

There would never be another Hunter. The knowledge of that truth was so sickening that you could hardly touch on the idea, much less do anything to endanger him further. A world without Hunter in it would be like a meadow devoid of flowers, a storm devoid of rain. He may not have made the world spin, but with him gone, the Boiling Isles would be that much more lacking in intrigue- in detail, in color. His vibrant spark felt simply impossible to extinguish; yet… the mortality of the boy before you was suddenly strikingly clear. Even if it made him furious, you would not exchange the key for his life. 

The Blight ‘tch’ ed disapprovingly, but Hunter only stared down at you with that impossibly neutral gaze, delving into your eyes with his own as he teased out all of your darkest secrets. His mind gave no indication of how your heroism affected him, if at all. Instead, he simply addressed the Blight.

“-And so is your human.” He filled in after a long silence. “Look, you’re strong, but you’re outnumbered; Even if you kill one of us, the other will probably escape back to the castle. And if that happens- just remember that the coven knows where to find you and your human. A life for a life seems fair enough to us. Are you willing to risk it?”

The Blight gasped. Hunter stared into her eyes, letting his weighted silence linger. “Or, you could just… let us take the key.” He muttered. “And nobody’s blood has to be shed.”

The abomination witch turned her gaze to the ground, squeezing her eyes shut in silent agony. Failure was not a familiar feeling to this girl- she despised it. And yet, for her human, she would do just about anything.

“Fine,” she croaked out, slowly retracting the spear from Hunter’s neck. “Just… stay away from Luz.”

Hunter kept his position until you could stand, reaching to clasp his hand tightly over your key-bearing fist. You knew it was probably for security, but it was a pleasant feeling that seemed almost akin to recognition. Like he was thanking you.

“Appreciate it.” Hunter said airily, guiding you a few lengths away from the anguished abomination wielder. She looked up to watch the two of you go, frowning at your intertwined hands. You mounted the palisman. “I- uh, mean that, too.” Hunter added to her in a sideways glance. And without another word he took flight, letting you squeeze him just a bit tighter tonight as the two of you winnowed into the moonlit sky, soaring with the lingering feeling that you’d left a part of yourselves behind down there in the decaying corpse of Eclipse Lake. 

———

You made it as far from the mines as you could, but Hunter couldn’t fly forever. Something in the events of the night had drained him beyond the fragile limits he’d only just begun to establish with this new magic, and he nearly collapsed from exhaustion over the forests of the knee. You took a slight crash-landing into the snow with him, then spent a long time insisting that he rest before you continued any further. It was a long walk back to the castle; you weren’t sure he could make it running on adrenaline alone. And yet, Hunter had stubbornly refused. He was intent on delivering his catch before anything else, paranoid that someone might manage to take the Portal Key he’d tucked into his cloak from the two of you if you risked even the shortest of breaks. When his mind was set, it was truly impossible to convince him otherwise. You could only agree and do your best to keep him safe and sane on the journey back home.

At least his palisman was mobile again and being as endearing as ever. It gave you a little boost to see the bird chirping around, fluttering from branch to branch and pecking at various objects of interest on your way. Even Hunter seemed too tired to pretend to be angry at it- after all, this critter had helped him greatly in your fight against the Blight girl.

“You stuck with me the whole time, huh, bird?” He muttered to the palisman as it perched with tiny little claws on his outstretched pointer finger. His voice was affectionate, soft, like talking to a particularly beloved pet. The avian twittered in return. “I… think I understood that.” Hunter said with eyes wide, half to you and half to the palisman. You gave him a questioning look. Was he beginning to speak to his palisman, after all this time? It had really taken him long enough.

“Is that your name?” He asked it, raising his hand a bit higher to catch the moonlight. “Can you say it again?”

“What’s he telling you?” You prodded, leaning over Hunter’s shoulder as the palisman chirped an upbeat tune. He smiled a boyish smile. “I think it’s his name. But I’ve never heard it before- Flap…Jack? Flap like a bird’s wings?” He tried, extrapolating each part of the name in hopes of reasoning it out. “But I have no clue what a Jack is. I think it’s one word. Flapjack.” 

The bird made a righteous racket as Hunter said the name, sending plumes of red feathers falling into the pure white snow like drops of blood. Even you didn’t have to speak with his palisman to know that it was exalting a ‘yes, finally!’

Hunter chuckled. “Weird. Uh- can you say other things?” 

Flapjack cooed in agreement. “Of course he can.” You smiled. “What, you’ve never spoken to a palisman before? Not even once?” The soldier shook his head, wringing out a messy curl of blonde. “No. They’re… not allowed in the palace. I’m sure you know that. Since they’re wild magic and all.”

Right, you'd been made to leave yours at home when you joined the Emperor's Coven, or have it be confiscated. Still, it must have been awfully sad to grow up in a place devoid of the adorable familiars- you couldn’t imagine your childhood without the company of your parents’ palismen to babysit you and exercise their angelic patience when you’d tried to tug their fur and play with their ears. In truth, you were missing your own right now, seeing Hunter cozying up to his bird. “Oh, yeah, I'd almost forgotten. I guess I never thought about it- not having a palisman around. Not just anyone can hear them, though; they only talk to those they trust. Guess you got lucky with this one." You nodded your head in Flapjack's direction.

Hunter looked in awe at the affectionate bird on his hand, reaching out to lightly stroke at its chest. You could tell that he was trying to suppress the bubbling feeling of warm jubilation in his chest at the idea that someone had finally chosen him. Stuck with him through all of his strife. Well, two someones.

“Yeah…” he murmured, lifting Flapjack to his shoulder so that he could free his hands to balance along a snowy slope. The two of you slid down the mountain, exhausted but held together by the shaky hope that the Portal Key you’d fought so hard to procure would mend all the cracks in your lives. It had to.

————

It was deep into the night when the two of you returned to the foggy castle grounds, shivering and wet with the melting snow upon your capes and the worsening crispness of the night air. There were hardly any guards stationed on the perimeter at such an hour, but the few that were seemed too sleepy to question why the Golden Guard was homecoming before the sun. Entrance to the palace was easy. 

“Are you going to take the blood to Belos tonight?” You asked the boy beside you, footsteps echoing down the endless hallways of the castle in search of a staircase to the second floor. Hunter was fiddling with the unassuming Portal Key as if he didn’t realize he was doing it, tracing the smooth, glassy surface of the centerpiece that held his priceless salvation. He looked sad somehow, in this dull blue light, without the castle torches to illuminate the fiery embers of his eyes and ignite the golden strands of his hair. 

“I… I think I’ll wait till morning.” He said after a heavy silence, never taking his eyes from the key’s unblinking gaze. “He’s probably asleep.”

You could sense that wasn’t the true reason Hunter was hesitating, but you deliberately avoided delving any further into his motivations. He was tired. That was motivation enough. And Titan knew he desperately deserved a break. “Smart,” you agreed simply, trying not to be too obvious in the way you traced his dark circles. They lent his face a sort of haggard maturity in the proud glow of day- but just as before, something about the quiet night seemed to wash out his inner warmth and leave his most vulnerable pieces out on display. Maybe that was why he always managed to disappear just after the sunset. “You should get some rest yourself. You’ve earned it.”

Hunter’s eyes widened slightly in your periphery, but he turned his face too quickly for you to catch anything telltale in his expression. “Er, thanks. You, uh, earned it too. Listen-“

He cut himself off shortly, jaw working as if chewing on some difficult phrase. “About earlier, in the lake, that was… it wasn’t me. I’m sorry you had to see me like that.” 

Earlier in the lake? Was he referring to his panic episode? You blinked slightly, surprised that he felt the need to apologize to you over something that was never his fault. “Sorry? What for? I should be apologizing to you; I’m pretty sure all I did was slow you down back there.” You diverted.

A brisk shake of the head was your immediate and vehement reply. “No. No, don’t be absurd. You may have been the only reason I got out in one piece. If you hadn’t been with me then…” his brows furrowed, creasing the well-worn space between them. “I don’t know what I would have done. Given up, maybe. Fought for the key and lost. Even been killed by the youngest Blight. Point is, if not for you, I would still be rotting on the bottom of that lake.” Hunter cleared his throat. “So, thank you. You’ve done me a great service, even if you don't realize it.”

You were glad for the lack of light. The flush of wonder in your face was sure to be embarrassing. You’d just… never felt so genuinely touched by his gratitude before. This ‘thank you’ had a depth and sincerity to it that most of his words rarely did. He liked to disguise his meanings behind a layer of sticky, silken confidence that you usually had difficulty navigating, but here he was making it so easy for you. No secrets. No misleading words. No mask.

Fully and completely Hunter. The boy you'd only managed to catch fleeting glimpses of until now.

“Don’t mention it. I’m just glad I could be of use to you. Does this mean you’ll take me off your ‘definitely-a-threat-to-the-coven’ list?” You smiled playfully. An unexpected laugh purer than the air itself slipped Hunter’s lips, slowly lighting you up from the inside with its boyish, good-natured gaiety. 

“Well, no promises.” He replied with the smile lingering in his words and handsome lines crinkling beside his eyes. “But you might secure a spot just below Kikimora, if you keep it up.”

“I was above Kikimora before?” You wrinkled your nose in jest. “Okay, that's a whole other issue." 

The bantering pair of you stopped before a familiar stairwell, dithering at the first step to stall your inevitable goodbyes. Leaving him almost seemed impossible when the pair of you were sharing in a mutual understanding after the night you'd been through together. Hunter’s amusement hung around his face a moment longer before fading into a sort of silent resignation. “I guess it’s time we part ways.” He said quietly, looking up at the climbing stairs above. They seemed endless.

“I guess so.” You agreed, though there was clearly so much left unsaid between the two of you. The air was thick with it. “I’ll see you in the morning?” You asked, unsure. He nodded. “Right. Morning.” 

“Cool,” you said lamely, quite unsure how to diffuse the awkwardness of speaking to him. You took a slow step up the first stair. “Night, then.”

But before you could flee, something snagged at the ticking mind behind you, pulling you in like magnetism. Even a meager excuse to stay with the boy who had witnessed all the same things you had felt like a blessing.

“Uh- wait.” Hunter sputtered suddenly, squaring off his shoulders. You watched expectantly. “There’s just- uh, well, I was wondering if you could…”

Scarred lips pursed into a thin line, gathering the right words. “You said you speak to palismen and stuff? Maybe you, uh…”

He was too shy to finish the sentence out loud, and too paranoid to continue discussing products of wild magic so blatantly in the halls. Instead, his mind sidled up to yours, mumbling: ‘MaybeyoucouldhelpmetakecareofFlapjack.’ 

The words were so hurried you barely processed them. You tilted your head and the soldier hurriedly continued. “It’s just, I don’t know anything about him- do I need to feed him or something? Or, like, supply him magic? Does he just do that stuff on his own? Don’t get me wrong, this doesn’t mean I’m keeping him! But hypothetically, if I wanted to keep him alive to study his magic and whatnot, how would I… uh, do that?” Hunter's pointed ears flattened to his head. 

You surprised yourself and Hunter by laughing. "You- pffftt!" To think, just months ago you had actually been intimidated by this flustered, clueless blonde. Now here you were at his side, watching him fumble for an excuse as to why he was keeping his newly bonded palisman as opposed to simply admitting that he wanted to have one. How could you ever be afraid of someone this wantonly gentle? 

“Y’know what, let’s… talk about this upstairs. I’ll help you out with everything you’ll need. Hypothetically.”  You winked. Hunter looked down, letting you stretch an arm over his curved back and lead him up the stairs, blushing and embarrassed.

"Oh, uh- yeah, okay. Great."

Tonight was going to be a very interesting night.

Chapter Text

You spent your midnight hours in the dark comforts of Hunter’s cluttered room, teaching him everything he needed to know about palismen. He was endearingly clueless on how to care for another creature- you were pretty sure he barely knew how to care for himself, much less a magical staff. Multiple times you’d had to explain to him that no, he didn’t need to build Flapjack a nest (though he certainly could) and no, he didn’t need a constant supply of seed to feed him. Palismen were objects breathed into life by the careful hands of a carver with no use for frivolous things like digestive systems. Still, some enjoyed the occasional treat now and again, which you had made him aware of. At the end of the day, though...

“He just needs you.” You managed to sum up after a long line of very specific questioning. That made Hunter pause in consideration.

“Just… me.” he mused, looking up at the bird cradled in his hair.

“Just you.” You nodded. “Palismen and their wielders are a bonded pair. One can’t be without the other. Just keep him safe and happy. Love him, and he’ll do the same.” You said, reaching out to pilfer the sleepy avian from the bed he had made in Hunter’s soft locks. Flapjack churred in minute protest, then hunkered down against your hands and went right back into a nap. He was absolutely adorable- almost as adorable as his other half. 

“Quit stealing my bird.” Hunter grumbled, though he clearly didn’t mean it. He sat down on the bed beside you to reclaim his palisman, placing the ball of feathers on his discarded Golden Guard cloak, which he’d managed to salvage from Kikimora’s dragon with shockingly minimal damages. “I mean- the dangerous palisman.” He corrected airily as he settled the fabric into a nest-like shape. “You’re right, I can’t believe you’re keeping this thing in your room. It’s terrifying. Look at those vicious talons. For rending meat from bone, no doubt.” You said, pinching one of Flapjack’s scaly legs between your fingertips and tapping his itty-bitty claws.

“Will you tear apart my enemies, bird?” Hunter asked Flapjack with an affectionate but somewhat terrifying smile, poking his head. Flapjack chirped mightily in reply, then promptly returned to sleep. “Excellent.” The soldier nodded. You laughed, laying back on the bed to stare at his makeshift nest. Hunter did the same, and soon, your gazes were on each other, the sleeping palisman briefly forgotten. Hunter smiled in a shy way, his hand still stroking the smoothly feathered back of the bird. He cleared his throat, trying to sound serious and militant when he addressed you, but you were long past that. “You… know useful things about this creature. It will be very informative while I conduct my research on him. Thank you for the divulgence. And… uh, don’t… tell anyone about this, please.” Hunter’s ears turned red. “It’s just- not conducive to my experiments to involve any unwanted variables.”

Your entertained sigh filled the room. “You’ve got it, Hunter. No unwanted variables. He’s our little secret.”

Something warm blossomed in the brilliant mind beside you, curling around your words like vines reaching for the sun. It felt tinged with something deeply familiar- an emotion you could swear you had sensed a hundred times before, but you couldn’t place it now, here, in this moment. In this bed. In this burning gaze. 

“Good.” He murmured, his voice a hush low enough to put out a thousand candles in an instant. The entire world seemed to darken and lose focus around his eyes- glowing like eternal embers of impossibly bright fire. He was captivating. He was always captivating. How could anyone look at him and pass him by? How could they see his cracked porcelain skin and not want to brush their fingers across the peachy blonde fuzz of his cheeks? How could they not want to run their hands through his buttery hair, trace the lines of his willowy figure, sweep all of his doubts away? Everyone was crazy. But maybe you were the craziest of all, because no matter how afraid you were of what could happen next in this strange place, your desire to preserve the impossible beauty of this boy always won out. You cared for him the way someone might care for an artifact in a museum. He was fragile; you could protect him from any more breakage. You could find purpose in the embrace of his sad eyes. Mutualism, even friendship lay ahead if you only tried and he only let you.

“You seem tired.” You said, not unkindly. It was late, and you knew Hunter would only force himself up again at the first sign of dawn breaking. “I should let you rest.”

“Hmm? Don’t you know that’s my natural look?” Hunter joked, turning to lay on his back and watch the ceiling, as though he might be able to see the heavens through the solid drywall. “Stay a while. It’s too late to wander the hallways tonight.” He said, sliding an arm behind his head. The moonlight from his half-open window poured into the room and bathed Hunter’s silhouette in silvery riches, contrasting his strong profile to the inky darkness behind. He was a natural muse. The most dynamic subject you could ask for. Another moment you could capture in your mind- see yourself painting onto a black canvas. The elegant jut of his Roman nose, outlined in black and white. The soft curve of his chest where it met his torso, rising and falling in a lullaby around his messy sheets. He wanted you to stay. You would.

“You’re probably right.” You said halfheartedly, in need of very little convincing. “I’ll just get caught by a night patrol or something. Hah.”

Your eyes were heavy, staring at the peaceful scene before you. You’d done it. You’d gotten the blood. Now Hunter was safe. Now you were still in a job. Now you had all the time in the world to figure yourself out in this place. Things were okay, for the time being.

That night, you fell asleep to the sound of Hunter’s breathing.

——-

The sun was blinding in your eyes, casting its early morning rays in a beam across your skin. You’d fallen asleep facing the window, in the soft comforts of a bed that did not smell like your own. It smelled like a boy. Like blonde hair and mysterious secrets and unreadable gazes. The sheets were warm from the sun’s delicate touch on their fabric, but you weren’t wrapped in them. Instead, you were laid across the mattress topper, nestled beside a ramshackle nest of white fabric, where a vibrant bird was blinking. It tilted its head to angle its good eye towards you, then called out brightly, stretching out long wings to the dawning sky.

“Good morning, Flapjack.” You said, scratching under his scarlet chin. He sang a sunrise tune, tapping around the bedsheets in search of food but finding only the stray strings of a blanket to peck at. “Where’s Hunter?” 

You raised your neck to check the bed, finding that the place he’d been relaxing last night was empty, leaving only the crumpled indent of the sheets to suggest he had ever been there at all.

“I’m over here.” Came a hoarse call from your right. You turned to see Hunter sitting at his desk, dressed in the usual navy coven undergarments without his accompanying vest. He was fiddling with something in his hands, gingerly sliding it across the sharp edge of a pocketknife until a small sliver of the object peeled away. He placed the slice in his mouth but didn’t chew, cutting off another thin wafer of the food to hold aloft and wave in the air. Seeing the temptation of a meal, Flapjack fluttered excitedly and hopped onto the back of Hunter’s chair, winging his way around to perch on the teen’s cut knuckles. He pecked curiously at the sliced thing for a moment, then picked it up in his beak and threw his head back to swallow it whole. Hunter smiled sideways at the palisman- wryly amused by his antics- then peeled off another curl of the apple, chewing a small piece for himself before giving the other half to Flapjack.

“Hungry?” Hunter offered, holding out the remaining partially-sliced apple to you. “Borrowed it from the kitchens. I think he likes them best.” Hunter nodded his head to the scarlet bird, who was rooting around his hand for more. “Clearly. And sure, I’ll have a bit.” You said, rising from your sore position on the bed to stretch. It dawned on you that you’d slept in his room, on his sheets, and hadn't even had the courtesy to ask first. “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to fall asleep.” you excused, embarrassed by your lack of decorum in the face of such a structured soldier.

“It’s fine,” Hunter dismissed, swallowing. “That bed is bigger than I’ll ever need it to be. I didn’t sleep much anyway.” 

You could see in his mind exactly why that was. It was the first time in Hunter’s life that he had been so close to two beating hearts- and in the most vulnerable state they could be. It had reignited a deep-rooted instinct within him, the kind that always needed something to protect, something to give him purpose. How could he sleep when there were people under his guardianship? 

“Thanks. I’m sorry to hear that, though.” You said quietly, taking his offered apple slice and sinking your teeth into the flesh. You were a little hung-up on the idea that Hunter had any semblance of protective instinct over you. “Hopefully today won’t be too busy.” 

“Ah, it won't be.” Hunter replied, giving Flapjack a light bop on the beak. “We aren't training today. I thought it would be more beneficial to give us a break considering what happened at Eclipse Lake. Besides, I want to read up on palismen- for my research.” He added.

Your ears perked up. “Then you’re going to the library?” Titan, how had you forgotten about it? It was practically the most important aspect of your coven life. 

Hunter nodded “That’s my intention. Why, are you interested? Going to try and sniff out forbidden texts again, [Name]?” He smiled in a teasing way. “This time, I hope you come a bit less eager to attack me.” 

“You attacked me first.” You pointed out, reaching over to steal Flapjack. He cooed and cuddled into your neck, much to Hunter’s apparent offense. “I’d hardly consider what I did an attack. A mild threat- a preventative measure at the very least.”

“Your memory is clearly failing you. You were the one to tackle me for that book I had, trying to save your own ass. It was only then that I retaliated- and self-defense is not a crime.” You said haughtily, though it was all in good fun. You’d fixed his beautiful nose right after that, and no harm done.

“Hrm. If you say so.” Hunter replied lamely, which you had quickly learned was Hunterspeak for ‘fine, you win.’

“But yes, I would like to accompany you. It’ll be a lot easier without trying to hide what I’m searching for.” You said, a bit sheepish. It was still so… strange saying the quiet part out loud. The part that both you and Hunter avoided like a miasma- as if never acknowledging it might somehow make it disappear. 

“Ah- your mind-reading texts.” He muttered absently, bringing the remainder of the apple to his lips to take a large bite. Nobody else was finishing it anyway. “That’s right. Well, if nothing else, I can give you a few leads. There’s nothing about passive mind-invasion in these books, but I’ve seen a few temporary spells. It might be a head start.” He shrugged.

That… was kind of him. Especially because you sensed how conflicted Hunter was about helping you. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to, exactly, but he was afraid of what it meant for him. What if you found something that further improved your powers? Then he’d be completely at your mercy, his guarded, greenbrier mind on full display in all of its whelpishness to you. And then... what would he have?

It felt so wrong to invade his thoughts. The longer you stayed with him, the more that feeling intensified and burned within your chest. Your mind-reading was a blockade in this blossoming partnership, not an ally. All this time, and you still knew next to nothing about him, and he knew next to nothing about you. You thought back to the day Hunter had discovered your abilities. He had scorned you, of all things, for your laziness and lack of attention to detail. You had assumed he meant in battle, but… suddenly it was beginning to sound quite applicable in both violence and peace. You’d become so reliant on knowing people’s minds inherently that you’d forgotten to know them. You saw Hunter through a lens of his own thoughts, distorted and out of any discernible order; no wonder you couldn’t figure him out. Everything you needed to know about this boy lay within his heart, in his eyes and in his smile, and you were too blindly self-absorbed to see those things.

There was no connection to be had in purloining someone’s deepest wishes, dreams and desires when they were unaware. Could you really know someone, yet skip the act of getting to know them? No. You couldn’t. And that was your problem. You had to fix this, for the comfort of both you and Hunter. Everything would fall into place when you forgot his mind and were finally able to focus on him. 

“Perfect. Thanks.” You replied, nearly forgetting what you’d been talking about. “Anything helps.”

Hunter made a noncommittal noise. “Sure. It may prove useful to the coven yet for you to understand your abilities.” He said, slowly rising to a stand with his words. He took a long, shaky stretch that rode his shirt up to reveal a strip of pale skin along his hips, then slapped his hands down onto the desk below, startling flapjack into the air.

“Welp, better get going if we want to get anything done.” Hunter suggested. With a quick tug, he freed his vest from the backrest of the wooden chair and strapped it over his chest, clasping the buttons over his clavicle. You realized that this morning had been perhaps the first time you had seen him in anything less than two layers- just the simple navy garb that every scout wore beneath their armor. It gave you a better glimpse of his figure- the sturdy broadness of his shoulders with the compliments of his willowy shape. Slender, quick-footed, yet capable all the same. Your eyes lowered, unbidden, to the way the thin fabric clung to Hunter’s chest. He was a curiously beautiful mix of stark malnourishment and grueling training, and you weren’t sure what to make of it. 

“Right,” you muttered vaguely, reaching for your boots. You pulled them on, adjusting your rumpled clothing from the night before, then opened the door to bid Hunter’s room goodbye. He followed shortly after, and the two of you walked side by side in peaceful silence, pretending not to see the ruffle of hitchhiking red feathers tucking its way beneath your arms.

———

The library was unchanged from your last visit. A little too unchanged, frankly; the floor was littered with overturned books bleeding pages upon scratched wood thatching, soaking up dried patches of glossy, dark red liquid that screamed the obvious evidence of your fight so many days ago. Hunter’s injuries that night had clearly been more severe than you’d realized.

“Is that my blood?” He asked mildly, kneeling to appraise the marring against the wooden grain. He seemed nonplussed. “Can’t be good for the flooring.” 

“You're worried about the flooring? I’m worried about the evidence.” You returned, drawing a small spell circle over the stains. Construction magic had never been your specialty- too much brunt and sawdust- but most witches who got too big for their magical britches ended up repairing a few walls and floors in their lifetimes. It was a rite of passage to accidentally burn, burst or bust a hole in your house with a haywire spell while your parents were away. The wood creaked under the influence of your magic, twisting into stiff, splintery cracks that reorganized themselves slowly to hide the bloodstain. It wasn’t perfect, but it would do if nobody looked hard enough. As for the spattered books, well, those were probably a lost cause. Hunter picked up one of the victimized tomes and ran his thumb down the dried blood, considering the damage.

“It’s not that noticeable. A lot of these old things have worse stains.” He concluded, shrugging and sliding it back into the shelf. You wrinkled your nose at him and backed away to a further case. “I don’t even want to know what you mean by that.”

The corner of his mouth quirked up. “Don’t worry, none of the books you’ll be interested in are quite old enough to have questionable viscera on them yet. You’ve been spared.” 

The use of the word ‘viscera’ did not help your disgust. “Thank you… so much.” You said delicately. Hunter just laughed. “Aren’t you grateful we wear gloves? Now, then, let’s see if I can…” he ran his fingertip along the spines of the books, making a thoughtful ‘tut-tut’ noise with his lips as he went. “-Ah. Here we are. Mindscapes. A personal favorite of mine, actually. Glad I didn’t lose track of it in the midst of all the organizing. It isn’t exactly what you’ve described but… it’s the closest thing we’ve got. Here.” 

He pulled a faded blue book from the cradle of the shelf, which drooped sadly around its absence. The text was bound in some tough, scaly black hide on the spine that faded into a supple leather supporting the cover; layered in a pattern of gold leaf. The title, too, seemed to be written in gold, reading a simple: Mindscapes. You took it from his hand.

“Pretty.”

He jerked his chin. “It’s a general overview about the inner worlds of witches and demons. The physical aspect of the minds of magical creatures has been studied by scholars across the ages using several spells- but the biggest is the entry spell. It’s highly dangerous- of course, everything worthwhile is- but it’s also the best way to understand how someone ticks. In there, you can see memories, emotions, repressed desires,” he paused. “Whatever you want. But you- you’re not in someone’s mind. At least, not physically. There are other spells, but… I’m not sure which ones would be most useful to you. Maybe you could describe it to me; what’s your mind-reading like?”

Red-hot eyes sent sparks shooting your way, pinning your gaze in the low light of the library. Almost demon. Almost witch. And yet, he felt like neither. 

“Are you… sure?” You asked cautiously, crossing your arms over your chest. Speaking about it so plainly seemed to make Hunter all the more uncomfortable. He’d been avoiding the question of everything you’d seen in his mind for weeks now- but he knew he couldn’t avoid it much longer.

“I’m sure.” He said firmly. “Tell me what you see. How it feels. Any small detail could be of importance.”

You concentrated. Hearing the minds of others had been an afterthought for your entire life; you weren’t used to thinking about it. And when you did, it became harder to verbalize. Gently, you brushed up against Hunter’s thoughts, trying to latch onto something descriptive that might serve as your guide. His mind unfurled at your softest touch, opening tightly curled petals that allowed you to slip in and drink from the surface of his imagination. Words, thoughts, flashes of memories entangled with your own, bleeding into powerful bursts of emotion that you briefly shared in. 

“Well, I usually don’t see things,” you ventured. “Just… feel them. Hear them. It’s like someone is murmuring in my ear, and they sound like themselves, just very far away. When they feel things, I feel them, or at least the ghost of them. We intertwine.”

The room was quiet as Hunter slowly lessened his guard with each passing heartbeat, surrendering more of his mind to your own. He liked that idea. Intertwined. To be one, to be known, without all the troubles of explanation and guilt and confusion. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, you knowing all his secrets. Maybe it didn’t matter, if it meant that he could be seen.

How wrong he was.

“Everyone thinks differently.” You said, quieter, leaning into the peacefulness of Hunter’s acquiescence. “Some speak in words. Some in writing, some in images or memories. Colors, music, magic, art. All of it is just another way of processing what goes on around us; something that makes sense to the person manifests as their inner voice. It provides a kind of stability.”

“And me?” Hunter turned his shadowy eyes to yours. “How do I think?”

“Logically.” You answered with an easy smile. “You think the way someone with an innate connection to the world around them does. You don’t have to lay out every textbook you’ve ever read just to recognize something- you just know it. The natural order makes sense to you. If you see a cause, you can understand the effect with remarkable speed. It’s impressive.”

Hunter seemed to choke on his own breath. “Ah- mhm .” He cleared his throat. “That's… good to hear, I think.”

How easy he was to embarrass. “It is. You’re very resourceful- I’ve seen it in battle. You fight like you already know the outcome of every attack, even if it isn’t a conscious effort.” The smooth flow of water couldn’t even hold a candle to the way Hunter moved. “You’ve spent so much time studying the way your opponents strategize that it’s second nature to react to them. That’s logic; a recognition of patterns. I’ve never met anyone who can do it like you do.”

His thoughts actually seemed to twitch, latching onto the unfamiliar praise that only one person had given him before. But Belos’ approval was different- it was conditional and sparingly offered, like a finite resource. Hunter didn’t even have to ask for this validation; it was just given. He’d never been more confused in his life.

“Uh- well, obviously. I mean, I’m the Golden Guard.” He sputtered with false bravado. “Nobody does logic like I do- I could’ve told you that.”

What a strange boy Hunter was. Yet, his special brand of weird was beginning to endear itself to you. You would humor him yet. “Of course. It’s not every day I meet someone as special as the Golden Guard.”

Special. He wouldn't mind if you called him that for as long as witchly possible. Because strangely, when you said it, the word finally seemed to mean something. He quickly shook the notion off.

“I thought I told you that flattery would get you nowhere with me. Did you forget that, or have you decided to try your hand anyway?” A boyish sideways smile glimmered like the flickering candles above, illuminating your tiny, dusty shared room with the same golden light. You smiled back.

“It’s a compliment; those are free of charge. But don’t get used to it, I’m quite critical when I want to be.”

Hunter scoffed and knelt to the second lowest shelf on the rack, brushing the dust from the thin, crumbling spine of a book that somehow seemed even more ancient than the rest. “And quite derailing. All your blabbering nearly made me forget what I was looking for.” He rose, bringing the leaflet with him, then presented it to you cover-first. Well, ‘cover’ was a generous word. The only thing keeping the contents of this book safe from the elements was a stained first page that had perhaps once been a dedication- but was so eroded by the wear of being sandwiched between other bindings that the only remaining writing was barely legible.

You furrowed your brow at the words. Devotions like these were reserved for fiction, autobiographies and long-winded cultural tales. They did not usher in the cold factuality of magical history that you would have expected from this book- supposedly detailing a spell on reading the thoughts of others. You looked to Hunter for explanation, but he just crossed his arms and leaned against the wooden bookcase, his expression giving little away. “I’ve only ever skimmed it. It’s a weird book- I think it’s one of the oldest we have. There are a lot of spells in there, but to my memory, one of them sounds very similar to your mind-reading magic. I’d give it a read alongside Mindscapes. Get a good understanding of how that sort of thing works.”

You brushed your palm over the rough, well-loved pages of this untitled book, doubtful of the wisdom it could impart without so much as a table of contents, but hopeful all the same. You trusted Hunter. You knew you shouldn’t have, given everything he’d done to betray you in the past, but you did anyway. What a fool you were, falling right into the grasp of a boy who had given you no reason to take him at his word.

“I will. Thank you, Hunter. Would you, uh, like to read with me?” You asked, trying to instill some confidence in your request.  

A muffled chirp resonated from beneath his vest. Then a bushel of scarlet feathers wriggled its way into the dank library air, hovering amongst the chilly, uninsulated updrafts to twitter at you. You chuckled in delight at Flapjack’s familiar face.

Hunter shook his head in amused disbelief. “I guess that’s a ‘yes’”

Chapter Text

Your blonde companion scrounged up a book on palisman for himself while you began your own research, sitting comfortably on one of the small reading tables tucked away into the library corner. It was a cozy space that overlooked the sea of shelves- small though they were- looming out endlessly into the dark expanse of the room. The air around you seemed to huddle amongst your shoulders and nestle into your hair, bringing curious and distant voices ever closer as if the very magic inside this place was interested in what you were reading from it. It was the warm, comforting embrace of family and acceptance and freedom- a feeling that said ‘go on, all of this is yours, too.’

Reading felt easy here. Especially when the material was equally as welcoming.

Something had pulled you to begin your search with the thinning, untitled book that Hunter had found. Though it was not as impressive or comprehensive as Mindscapes looked to be, it had a quiet gentleness about it that dissipated all inhibitions and wrapped your mind in a blanket of peace and stillness. You could almost sense the love inked into the first page as you turned it over and began to read the elegant handwriting. 

“The first spell I bestow to you is small, but I hope it may bring you some joy, my love. You have often told me that you would like to see your stars once again. You miss your home, and though I know you are happy here, some part of you will always be back in that sky.”

A continuation below. 

“For you, I have captured a piece of the night. It will be kept within the panes of our windows for when you need it most. Place your hand to the glass and speak these words- the moon will rise to meet your handsome gaze.

‘Venite, caelum et stellae.’ A sky full of stars all your own.”

The words preceded a simple yet breathtaking image of a blown-glass window reflecting a perfect crescent moon, surrounded by twinkling, celestial bodies. Looking at the illustration seemed to draw a curtain of calming night over your soul, and the note… you were beginning to think that this book was not a history of spells or a simple grimoire. The dedication began to make sense; it was made for someone. Someone the author must have loved very, very dearly. You shifted your gaze to the next page.

“Songbird, you say that your sleep is troubled and unkind to you. Your suffering is my greatest despair, and for that, a remedy I have made to ensure that your dreams always be sweet. When you fear a nightmare draws near, mix into a bottle a spoonful of fire bee honey, a branch of sugarstick, and a splash of manticore milk. Swallow the draught before your rest and sleep well. I will be there when you wake, always.”

This spell was written in an unhurried script around a sketch of a tall glass bottle. The mellow give of a mattress and pillow pressed comfortingly into your side at the sight; it was like the little book was made to tell its reader that they were the most beloved witch in the world. You really felt like it, reading each meticulous verse. It was poetry in the simplest, most palpable form: an act of service and intimate understanding. Suddenly, you were in no hurry to keep looking for the spell on mind-reading. You would find it eventually. For now, you felt inclined to absorb every page of this quaint little book.

“Darling, magic is difficult for you. You cannot cast the glorious, vibrant spells that others can with a wave of their finger. For a long time, this phenomenon stumped even my wildest of experiments, but with this new discovery, I can finally give you the greatest gift of all: your own enchantments.

The world around us is teeming with wonder if you only know where to look. Within each snowflake, each drop of rain, and each microcosm of each leaf, the Titan speaks to us. He speaks to me, and tells me the ways in which I can help you experience the beauty of this world fully- and it comes in the form of a simple shape. I call these written invocations glyphs. They are the patterns in which all magic is encapsulated, grown from, and channeled, and even those without an inherent magic of their own may wield them. They are many, and I have yet to discover all, but those I do find will be placed here for your use. You need only draw their patterns upon a parchment or vessel of writing, and they shall bloom with magic from your touch. May they serve you well.”

There was no picture on this page. You flipped curiously to the next in hopes of finding it, meeting instead with a large graph of two curious circles emboldened with all manner of squiggles and geometry. These were the glyphs. Seeing them like this brought back the bizarre, elemental magic that the human had revealed to you in your time at Latissa. The long strokes of symmetrical shapes looping around themselves- how could you have not realized before? You looked back at the written message, scouring it as if there would be more answers within.

“Hunter,” you blurted on instinct, catching the attention of the boy flicking through shelves nearby. He turned. “Hm?”

“Come here a moment. Do you recognize these? It’s the same magic the human told us about way back in Latissa.” You tapped the page you were on as Hunter dropped his task and sauntered towards you, boots clicking on the ground. He leant over your shoulder to have a look at the writing, reading through it at a speed that almost floored you. The real remembrance came, though, when you flipped to the page with the drawings. His eyes practically lit up.

“Oh, those glyphs. They look identical to the ones she used... How could I have missed this?” He said halfway to himself, scooping the book out of your hands to bury his nose in it. Flapjack pecked helpfully at the corner. 

“Well, you did say you only skimmed it.” You shrugged, standing up to butt into his business and share the book once again. “Maybe you thought she just had a knack for drawing mandalas, or something.”

Hunter didn’t seem swayed. He was beating himself up for his sloppiness. “Maybe,” he muttered, narrowing his gaze. “I guess I only read through the bigger spells that caught my eye. Damn."

You reached out to tap his temple, taking him away from his internal skirmish. “Hey, shh. It’s not your fault you didn’t catch it. You know now, right? And I doubt it would have mattered- it's clearly not very useful anymore. Would you have even tried it if you had seen it?”

The wood beneath Hunter’s feet creaked as he shifted his weight between his legs, antsy. “Well, maybe not. If they aren’t used today, there’s probably a reason for it. Maybe they’re wild magic, like the elemental spells from the savage ages we thought they looked similar to. But still, I’d have liked to know..."

'So I could finally have a chance at magic of my own."

"What if this author was the original creator?” he hypothesized.

Flapjack interrupted Hunter's musings, hopping up from his shoulder into his hair and picking around at his tumbling blonde waves. The soldier swatted lamely at him, doing very little to actually dislodge his visitor, who was now getting very comfortable. 

“I’m pretty sure he thinks you’re his nest.” You chuckled as the little redbird snuggled down onto Hunter’s scalp. You didn’t really blame the palisman; his hair looked soft. 

“I have no idea why. My hair is very neat. I brush it… sometimes.” Hunter protested, crossing his eyes to blink up at Flapjack. It was a sweet sight. Just two sides of the same soul, looking back at each other. And they were perfect. But you had bigger magical matters to address. 

“This book… you’re right, it’s weird. It’s not like anything else around here." You continued. "It feels so… personal. Like she found those glyphs for somebody.” You said, reaching to take the small journal back from Hunter’s hands. He gave it over willingly. “Yeah. I got a bit confused by the mushy stuff, and why Belos even kept it. I guess it’s possible that the book was here even before he became emperor, but still, surely he would have noticed it at some point. It just seemed like some household grimoire for a couple.” He shrugged. “Save for the glyphs, I guess, but he has no use for those. And the mind-reading. You find that yet?” He asked, turning to look at you. You shook your head. 

“No. I got a little distracted reading the other spells. They’re…” 

You weren’t sure how to word it. Comforting? Familiar? Like the warm taste of bedtime on your tongue? It felt silly to say it aloud. But the book was warm and heavy in your hands, and it somehow felt more magical than anything else in the room.

“…interesting.” You finished vaguely. 

“Well, it’s clearly worth the scour if something as understudied as glyphs are in there. Maybe I ought to borrow it when you’re done. I’m sure there are things I missed on my first skim.” He nodded politely to your clasped hands.

“Oh- yeah, of course. It’s a small book. Won’t take me too long.” You agreed, adjusting your internal clock as you recalled that it was only the late morning. You’d come to this library so often in the night that it simply felt like a twilit place- a perpetual veil of darkness. With no windows, it might as well have been.

“Good findings. I’ll be over here. Call me if you see anything interesting.” Hunter said over his shoulder, taking Flapjack along to peruse the shelves for more informative content. You returned your apt attention to the next written page in the journal, skipping past a myriad of glyphs that you could make neither heads nor tails of. The next written excerpt detailed a long list of healing ingredients to be found very easily in the wild in case of an emergency, as well as a dichotomous key to guide their identification. That was a weird addition- why not just draw a healing circle if you were ever wounded in the forest? But supposedly, the one meant to have received this book was not gifted in the ways of magic, so perhaps the need for on-the-go remedies made more sense.

It reminded you of Hunter; all these accommodations for someone clearly so adored, who had no powers of their own to guide them. You could see yourself doing the same thing for the Golden Guard, if he would only have accepted it.

Another page provided careful instructions for an enchantment that would always return the wearer home with just a few simple gestures. Next a translation charm for the demons of the isles. Then a spell to turn any object into something edible. A glyph combination that summoned a field of flowers. A song that mimicked every bird call. A dagger that always found its mark.

And then…

“I am afraid I have finally found something that I cannot fix for you, after all these years together. It has been some time since you and your ambitious brother parted ways, and although you have been  nothing but gracious and welcoming to him in his visits, I know you can sense his resentment even now. It saddens me to see this- your only family connection- shun you so. I thought once upon a time that there was a way to yet again endear him to you, but each feat of wonder you display in entreaty proves only to push him further away. No, changing the heart of another is one thing I cannot do. He must come to that on his own, and you are the only one capable of helping him.

But I was never one to sit idly by. I will aid you, as I always have. Take this as my gift: The twin keys upon your breasts now serve as your only connection. When you will it, he will see you. And when he wills it, you will see him. All you must do is look into each other’s eyes.

May all your wildest dreams come true, my dearest love. May he be there beside you when they do.”

...

Well, that was sad, but not useful to you. You flipped to the next page. Blank. Then the next. Blank. Four pages. Blank, blank, blank.

That was the end. The last thing this mysterious author ever wrote. No goodbye. No final farewell. Not even another spell. Only nothingness to the final page.

No answers.

You whirled to Hunter, who was standing before a shelf examining spines, and brandished the journal like it was incriminating evidence. “What the hell is this? I thought you said this book would give me information!” You sputtered, gesturing to the first blank page to demonstrate just how blank it was. Hunter straightened at the sudden change in your volume and demeanor, and upon realizing that your words were accusatory, raised his chin delicately to keep you from smacking him in the face with the cover. Red eyes lowered to look over the yellowed paper beneath his nose, absorbing the empty page. Flapjack, who had taken to the air in the commotion, was hovering uncertainly between the two of you.

“Have you tried… turning to a different page?” He said at length, raising his eyes to quirk an expectant brow at you. You frowned. “You’re real cute. I bet this was just another trick to mislead me. Keep me on my toes, huh? What now? You gonna lecture me on not trusting anyone but myself? Or maybe you just wanted to laugh at my consistent failures." You panted as all the anger and confusion and betrayal in your chest flooded out into a sea of words you didn’t really mean. You wanted so badly to believe that Hunter hadn’t given you another dead end, but… wasn’t it just like him? "I get it, you're a way better soldier than me! Are you happy now?!”  

The boy surprised you with his composure as he deigned not to reply, placing a heedful palm to the open page and slowly lowering your arm.

“I’ve done nothing to trick you.” He said in a quiet voice, advancing closer to shelter your hand in his. You froze for a moment at the gentle touch of his smooth palms- softer than his skin had ever felt. Where the rest of Hunter was scarred and bruised, his hands felt as new as ever. The book slid from your grasp into his as he used his fingertips to guide yours open, licking his pointer swiftly to turn to the previous page, where the keybinding enchantment was listed. 

He flipped back several more, brows furrowing slightly as he came upon a section in the middle of the book. “I see your problem….” He muttered, equally perturbed, now. “There’s a page torn out where the spell used to be.”

He rotated the book to face you and tapped the center of the spine where two folio met. A small, almost indiscernible tear warned of the deliberate removal of a single page- too perfect to be coincidence. This was done with intent. And Hunter... was not the cause.

“I-“ you paused, wrestling with your inherent fear of Hunter’s unpredictability and the heartfelt feeling that he had not been the perpetrator of this crime. His mind held no traces of malice or delight over your misfortune. In fact, he seemed genuinely sorry for you. "I... Oh, this is- You- You aren't lying." You said, pinning your gaze to the ground in shame. Your face burned with the embarrassment of acting so unprofessional around this structured man, who was now staring you down intently. “My outburst was completely undeserved. I’m sorry.” 

But Hunter smiled as slowly as the dawning sun, and suddenly all that inferiority and frustration seemed to vanish. “You’re a terrible mind-reader.” He said, clapping the book shut with a dusty bloom. He spoke in a way that seemed to understand you wouldn’t take any affront to the statement. “But I think I like you better this way.” 

He tipped his head to the side as if looking at you in a new light- in a new angle, as curious as an owl. He wasn’t the least bit offended by your censure, but he was offended that he hadn’t gotten to see this more. To see you more. The real you, and not the soldier you pretended to be. How had he managed to take control of this situation already? To fluster you as if you hadn't just been the one telling him off? You rushed to explain. “I- I was just angry, that’s all. I’ve gone my whole life without knowing anything about what’s wrong with me, and now the second I get some real hope, it’s gone again. But I should have trusted you. I should have known better than to go around pointing fingers. I really am sorry.”

The air went heavy with Hunter’s pause, the sunlight of his face dimming from bright amusement to a softer flicker of understanding that played about the candles above his head. He knew the strain of being helpless in the search for reason. For a single spark of possibility amongst the mad-dark of the uncharted.

“No- don’t be. I get it.” He said, taking a deep breath as he spoke. Flapjack circumspectly perched back on the boy’s broad shoulder to watch you from behind. “I know what it’s like to feel like the world is trying to keep you from something. But I promise, that book had a spell for you. It just seems like someone else got there first…”

He placed a finger to his chin and bit the inside of his cheek, lost in thought. “The problem is figuring out who .” 

“I thought only the coven heads had access to it.” You said, all your distress flooding to a new concern: The presence of a thief in your library. “Do you think it’s one of them?”

“It’s always a possibility.” Shrugged Hunter. “I don’t trust the half of those witches anyway. But that doesn’t narrow it down much.”

‘But what if it isn’t a coven head?’ A treacherous voice in your mind whispered. You stomped it down quickly. Listening to the thing die beneath your boots. “How long has it been since you read this book?” You asked the boy, who already seemed to be buried in sleuthing like the protagonists in those mystery stories he'd once seen. “Hmm. Maybe a little before you got here? Definitely before we reorganized the library. I remember it used to be crammed beneath one of the tables to hold the leg up.” He mused, looking around the library as if to conjure up the old locations of everything he’d ever read. His memory was, frankly, astounding. 

“It was the first time I’d read it, too. I’d always ignored it since it was basically just a prop. Figured maybe it wasn’t important if someone decided to use it as furniture. The spell was definitely there then, so… it could have been any time after that.”

That wasn’t a very small window. You’d been here nearly four months now- a lot could have happened in that time. And worse, the criminal’s actions wouldn’t be fresh in their minds. That would be the hardest part. “Damn.” You swore. “Not much to work with. I was thinking that maybe I could use my mind reading to suss out who did it, but if the crime isn’t recent, I doubt our subject will be thinking about it. Stealing a library page isn’t really the first thing on most people’s minds all day.”

“Well,” said Hunter. “It is if it’s important enough. And I imagine it must be, for a witch to make the trek all the way here just to tear out a page. Why not take the whole book?”

The feeling of dread that had been rising like bile in your throat now settled coldly upon your chest. “Hunter, I think someone did this on purpose to confuse us. I think- I think maybe someone already knows that we’re in here.” 

Dark brows raised in concern, then revelation. “Shit. You’re right.” Hunter resettled his weight, sucking his tongue with a click. “It’s too convenient. The one spell we’re looking for- gone. We’re being played.” He fumed silently at the thought that someone was two steps ahead of him, for once. 

You began to shake as the implications of that dawned on you. Someone was watching you- sabotaging you. Someone who knew the information you wanted. And how to stop you from getting it.

“But, Hunter, that means…” your voice went soft with shock. “This person knows I’m a mind-reader.”

Chapter Text

Hunter seemed to have already come to that realization before you said it, his fuschine eyes glittering with sympathy. “Yes. It probably does.” he agreed. 

You tried not to be terrified by the notion. Someone knew the secret you’d been trying to keep for so long- someone in the coven . The coven that had every possible resource at their disposal to capture and detain you, if they so wished. And oh, they so wished.

But how could this have happened? Sure, you hadn’t been as careful as you could have been when talking to Hunter about your situation, but you hadn’t exactly been shouting it to the mountains, either. Had someone been listening in on your conversations?

...Maybe you were just being paranoid. The method didn’t matter; regardless, someone knew too much, and now they had taken away yet another hope for you to understand yourself. Worse yet, Hunter was now entangled in your problems. You’d never felt so helpless before in your life.

“Titan, I- I’m really sorry, Hunter.” You said, pressing a hand to your clammy forehead. Hunter’s ears raised curiously with his brows.

“Sorry? To me? What for?” he asked with suppressed interest. You rushed to explain. “I mean, if this- person knows about my mind reading, there’s a chance they got that information from overhearing us talking about it. Like, me and you. Which means… they might think you’re involved, too...

...And it's all my fault.” you said, squeezing a nervous fist out of habit.

Flapjack and Hunter shared a sideways glance that was so loaded with intent it gave the impression they were silently communicating. Finally, the guard crossed his arms over his chest, speaking for the both of them in a slow, deliberate way, as if he was confused and your words were the ones making no sense. “But I am involved.” he stated.

Your head shot up automatically. Was he trying to ruin his reputation in the coven? “What? No, you’re not. You have nothing to do with me. You tried to turn me in when you found out about my powers- I know that your best interests lie with the coven. Look, we don't both have to take the blame for this; maybe if they confront us, I can convince them to let you off-” You rambled, trying to ensure that he knew you weren’t going to let him be framed for anything he hadn’t done. But Hunter didn’t seem in a hurry to clear his name; he was just watching you with a strange look in his eyes.

“I’m involved.” He interrupted again, lower- softer. He met your bewildered gaze with a comforting set of certainty in his tired voice, continuing: “I made that decision the moment I brought you to Eclipse Lake. And it was the right choice."

That intonation was so intense that you got the feeling he was trying to keep you from arguing with him- or butting in with something foolish. "You stuck with me- for some reason- even though I’ve been nothing but cruel to you. So please, allow me to return the favor."

Suddenly, Hunter took a knee, pressing one tight fist to the floor and the other to his chest, his expression a firm, terse line. The kind of genuflect you might have seen him perform in the presence of the emperor- but certainly never to you. Spurred by the weight of the moment, Flapjack jumped in to mimic the motions of his other half with an exaggerated bow, spreading a ruby pair of wings wide and ducking his beak like some kind of dedicated knight. 

"Give me the chance to stand by your side.” Hunter beseeched once more. 

You didn’t know what to say.

“I- what? Favor? No, that’s- you don’t owe me anything. You have no reason to put yourself in jeopardy for me!” You stammered lamely, trying to make him stand. His eyes shut tighter, rooted in place despite your insistence. “I know. But neither did you. I’m many things- and not a lot of them are good- but I am fair. You helped me. If this unseen spy of ours reports what they know about you to my uncle or anyone else, I’ll do everything in my power to convince them that you are not a threat to our mission. That your abilities, unpolished as they are, would be more use to us unchained than locked in a cage.”

Breathless. That was the only word to describe what you were feeling when your head was in such a dizzying spin. The air suddenly felt so light and thin that you were convinced there was no oxygen in it at all. Maybe you were hallucinating because of that. Maybe that was why the Golden Guard was bowed before you in a pledge of protection and loyalty.

You took a deep breath.

“I… thank you.” Was all you could manage after a long, bewildered silence. “That means more to me than you know.”

Hunter opened his eyes and stood with a soft clunk of his large boots, facing you head-on with a serious nod. “It’s my honor as a guard to ensure that my debts are paid. I don't know if I’ll ever be able to repay this one, but… I will try.”

What a weird witch he was. What a weird, wonderful, perfect witch. You smiled shyly at his statuesque expression, and the mask-like facade cracked to return a lopsided grin of his own. And then he was just a boy again- just Hunter- and everything was right with the world, because he made it that way.

“What now?” You asked, coming back to reality as you sent a look to the books he’d given you- still lying on the library table. They were left unread, but something about the idea of returning to normalcy after this horrifying new prospect was a bit nauseating. Hunter followed your gaze to the dusty, untouched tomes.

“That’s up to you. We can try to find out who did this- like you said- or... we can pretend it never happened.” He added, his voice carefully neutral, though you could tell he absolutely had an opinion on the matter, as he naturally did. There was no impartiality with Hunter; he always had something to say. And if he didn’t say it aloud, he would be thinking it- very, very passionately. 

You got the feeling there was a correct answer here.

“Don’t be silly, Hunter." You said. "We’re going to find whoever did this and get that page back, and then we’re going to make sure they never try to jeopardize our much-needed roles in the coven ever again. That work for you?” You tilted your head, and Hunter grinned wide enough to dimple his scarred cheeks, reaching out a hand to shake on it.

“Perfectly.”

—————

Figuring out how to begin a sleuthing project as big and convoluted as picking the brains of the coven heads was a challenge. First, there was the issue of ensuring each one was actually thinking about the library in some capacity- or their brains would be as useless to you as an empty attic space. But, of course, you couldn’t exactly walk up to the highest-ranking individuals in the system all: ‘hey, you do any page-stealing recently?’ 

It would probably raise a few red flags.

And so would asking them all at once. You’d have to space out your questions to keep from sounding the alarm bells between the carefully interwoven net that was the coven social system. Everyone talked to everyone, so if the Golden Guard and his nameless sidekick went around interrogating people about a secret library, the word would probably get around pretty quick. 

“-Maybe over a few days? We start with the least volatile coven head- probably Raine. Interrogate them a bit about the library. Pretend we’re interested in going inside sometime, if they’d let us. They’re kinda jumpy- I think they’d just agree and try to get out of there as soon as possible, so they’re a perfect place to begin. Low-risk, low follow-up.” Hunter suggested, tucking a small pile of books beneath his arm as he packed up his findings from your library excursion. You took Mindscapes and the little journal with you as well, concluding that there was no point anymore in leaving the place untouched if someone was already on your tails.

“That’s smart. From what I’ve seen on the crystal ball, they’d rather drop dead than engage in extended conversation with anybody. If we make them nervous enough, it could even be easier to see inside their mind. I doubt it’s them, though.” You added, shrugging. It didn’t seem like their forte to spy on a group of teens when they could barely get through coven initiation without crying.

“Yeah, I agree. They’re hardly menacing.” Said Hunter, not unkindly. “But it’s better safe than sorry. They could still know something.”

Fair enough. Low-risk, low follow-up. “Right. We should get out of here, just in case our watchful eye comes back. I'll meet you upstairs.” You nodded to Hunter, hauling your pile of books up the passageway exit and clambering through the cramped tunnel to return to your chambers. It was a slow day in the palace- slow enough that the throne room was unoccupied and unlit, and you could sneak away from the library undetected by guards. After depositing your books in your own room, you returned to Hunter’s to continue your conference on the coven heads. You weren’t sure why, but you were drawn to his space the way a kitten was drawn to a warm blanket; it was so perfectly cluttered and colorful- so different from everything else in the castle. All the trinkets and mementos of his missions gave the space a truly lived-in feeling that comforted you more than your sparse dorm could have. And… well, the night in his bed had been the best sleep of your life; you wished you could stay in it whenever your insomnia got to you, instead of lying awake tossing and turning. Funny, the way things worked.

“-When do you want to start investigating?” You asked when you'd found and entered his room, ensuring the jiggly door handle was locked before fully stepping inside. Hunter was sitting on his bed, fiddling with a petrified Flapjack as if he’d just finished carving the staff with his own two hands. When he heard you enter, he set his partner down to give you his full attention, placing interlaced hands on his lap.

“Well, I guess it depends on where everyone is. We’d have to get Raine at least semi-alone if we want to avoid witnesses, but it’s not often that a coven head goes unattended. What if we-? Hmm...” Hunter bit his lip, faltering like he’d spoken the words into being too early. “I bet we could find them in their study at night. They’re probably out attending to coven duties during the day, but they spend a lot of time holed up in their office when the mandatory rounds are over. Still... it’s only 11 o’clock… rounds end at 6. We’d have a lot of waiting to do.” he deducted, looking unenthused by that drawback.

Waiting. You both hated and loved it. Hated, because when you were waiting on something this monumental, time felt like it moved in endless circles. Loved, because your months in the Emperor’s Coven had led you to appreciate your previously unrecognized downtime. Waiting meant sleep, or lunch, or exploration, or just sitting down for an hour because your legs were really killing you.

“Sure, buu-huut you did say you wanted us to have an off day. Why not just enjoy the rest of it before we get tangled up in more impossible tasks?” You suggested while leaning politely against the wall, not wanting to seem too forward in your intrusion of his space when you’d already taken over half of his bed the night before. Hunter claimed he didn’t mind, but really, it was quite uncouth.

Hunter seemed startled by your words, but not dismissive of them. "Oh, uh, yeah. We could." He agreed, clearly uncomfortable with the thought of having an excess of time. Poor guy- he had never gotten to experience the glory of the penultimate waste of energy that you had once so frequently enjoyed: being lazy.

“So… what do you do for fun around here?” You asked roguishly, shooting off a smile that you hoped came across as lighthearted and encouraging. Hunter flicked an ear.

“Fun?” He drawled.

“Yeah. Fun. Like, stuff you enjoy.” You clarified.

Hunter seemed confused. “I read. I train.” He offered in reply.

...This was going to be a journey, wasn’t it? Teaching this boy how to be a teenager. Luckily, you were pretty good at that, having been a teenager for a pretty long time. “Oh-kaaaay, that’s a start, but how about, like… non-work stuff? Is there anything else you like to do?”

A slow, careful blink of Hunter’s wine-dark eyes, then a migration upwards towards the ceiling, as if his mind was darting through the clouds to search for an answer. After a long moment of thought, he stood seriously, bringing Flapjack with him.

“Yeah. I think I have something.”

Hunter didn’t elaborate, and he didn’t make the usual trek to his bedroom door to leave. Instead, he leaned over his comforter to unhitch something on his windowsill, using one arm to force the rusted lattice out into the open air. A soft, welcoming breeze winnowed its way past your face with the newfound freedom, beckoning you to the long fall below. The usual smog of the castle seemed to be waning under the stronger winds, and you could see clearly into a sunlit distance smattered with shrubby trees. It was a beautiful day, somehow.

“You… enjoy the thrill of skydiving?” You guessed, gratified by the way Hunter laughed. “Not quite." He encouraged. "Take my hand.”

He outstretched a perfect palm as he spoke, warm fingers sliding easily against your own when you accepted- like they'd ceaselessly be there to catch you. The boy tugged you closer to the window, letting you stick your head out into the summery afternoon air...

…Then promptly took a flying leap out of the window, taking you down with him.

You’d become a bit too familiar with falling from great heights as of late. It was getting kind of old. Whatever gasp of shock you might have emitted was torn away into the sky, leaving only the steady warmth of Hunter’s hand and the knowledge that this wasn't your first rodeo to serve as a comfort to you. His hand urged you towards his back and you instinctively obliged, sweeping your arms around his torso and squeezing your eyes tightly shut to prepare for some kind of impact.

Of course, Hunter would’ve never let that happen. The world hitched beneath a wooden staff, jerking you into a sudden ascent that gradually leveled out into a less terrifying cruise along the air currents, finally bringing the world- and Hunter’s laugh- back into place. 

“Hahah! I’m sorry, that was awful. I didn’t mean to fall quite that far, really.” He crowed, an octave higher than usual with the adrenaline and the wind whipping his voice out. 

“You meant to fall?!” You cried, curling your legs up as tightly around Flapjack’s staff as you could. So, his idea of fun was tormenting you. It made sense.

A gap-toothed grin. “Well, just a bit. But that’s not what I wanted to show you, so just wait before you get too mad at me.”

It was funny that he thought anything could prevent you from getting mad at him. Worse that he was absolutely correct. “Better be really good for me to forgive that,” you mumbled, trying very valiantly to sound stern as the two of you sailed over the cavernous castle moat and into the distant, prickly forests that ringed the ribcage and lower sternum. The greenery was sharper here- more aggressive- a result of growing in the nutrient-poor soils and heavily obscured factory smog of the biggest industrial body in the boiling isles, but it had its own sort of natural charm despite the outward thorns. This place was ancient, and it was not intent on going quietly into the night at the hands of unfavorably pollutant witches. Despite the myriad of wings, horns and fangs that the creatures who walked the earth boasted, there was still little that could hold a candle to the adaptability of the forest. After all, this vegetation was a part of the Titan himself: Their roots were his veins, their leaves his hair, their flowers his perfume. And what grew from the Titan did not die. It only changed form.

The thicket became ever-denser the further into the mainland you flew, until the darkened needles of the forest canopy were the only thing you could see obscuring the ground below. You were about to ask how much longer Hunter was going to keep you on this ride when he swiftly banked, taking a whistling dive through the air at the first sight of a break in the foliage. You squeezed him painfully tight at the rush of biting wind on your face, burying into his shoulder blades to try and protect your eyes from the cold. Now your delicates were indeed protected, but oh, it was nearly impossible to stop yourself from inhaling that familiar scent that clung to his clothes. You’d been right all those months ago; you did enjoy it under different circumstances. You enjoyed it very much.

And suddenly the wind quieted, and the sun seemed to vanish beyond a veil of nothingness, and then you were instantly transported to another world.

As Hunter drifted down to the meadowy ground, the trees above rustled, fronds shifting languidly to obscure the tiny beam of light coming down from the break in the canopy where you’d entered. With the absence of any sun beneath this strange arboretum, everything you turned to admire was set in a dark, forbidden emerald that flickered its way along the moss-covered stumps and reflected in tiny pools of water dribbling down from waxy verdure. You had been dropped into an enchanted woodland of eternal dusk, occupied and lit only by a strange breed of firefly that you had never seen before. They were not ablaze, the way most of the insects in this isle were, and instead seemed to emanate a soft yellow-green light as they waltzed peacefully in between rows of fuzzy foxfern- singing their silent, ebbing song to nobody but themselves.

Hesitantly, you reached out a fingertip to the nearest tree and touched its rough bark, then pulled away to examine the residue. No ash. No soot. Nothing like the sad clumps of half-rotted leaves surrounding the palace. Only damp tendrils of aromatic reindeer moss clinging to your hand. It was like this sheltered alcove had managed to become a self-cleansing system- like the plants had all banded together to intertwine their branches and roots and encircle this place with all the protection magic they had left in their ageless bodies, capturing the perfect bubble of a better time within their domain.

“How did you find this place?” You asked with whispered wonder, as if you might disturb the serenity of the wood with your foreign witch words. Behind you, Hunter shrugged, planting Flapjack's hilt into the spongy dirt to steady himself.

“A passing curiosity while on patrol a few years back. I was flying overhead, same as now, and it felt like the canopy just… opened up for me. Nobody else in my platoon seemed to notice it, but I was so curious, I couldn't keep myself from exploring. I was only a scout, then, so nobody cared if I went missing for a while. I dropped right down and there it was.” He said, eyeing your back as you looked through the trees. You hummed in fascination.

“Huh, so… a coincidence. A really great one. You come here often, I guess?” It would be absurd not to. If you’d known about the cove sooner, you would have come every chance you got until you were sick of it- which you never would. But you knew Hunter was a different breed than you. 

“When I can. Which isn’t much, these days. I guess it doesn’t fit the idea of ‘fun’- I mean, my heart rate doesn’t go up when I come here. I don’t feel any increase in endorphins or any urge to repeat the action. I just feel… ehhh... nothing.” He flattened his palm and made a 'so-so' motion.

“I think what you’re describing is something called relaxing.” You offered with skepticism, turning to quirk a brow at Hunter. He wrinkled his nose back.

“I don’t relax.” He refuted haughtily. 

What a hill to die on. Did he know that sleep deprivation wasn’t a thing to be celebrated? “Well, then now’s a great time to start. This is the best place to get some quiet; it’s like an endless rainy day.” You sighed, trying to clear your mind with the smell of the forest. The silt beneath your boots sunk slightly with every step, bringing you closer to a small pool of water in the center of the alcove where the runoff from the trees was collecting. You sprawled beside the bank in a meadow of impossibly soft, dewy grass, taking the weight off your back as you gazed into the inky water that reflected only the barest glimmer from the fireflies above. "Come on. Join me." you waved him over.

A slow rustling beside you as Hunter reticently lowered himself into the same grass, the vibrant blades curling around his lithe form like they, too, found him too alluring not to touch. 

“You like the rain.” He said at length, more of a statement than a question. You felt the funny urge to tease him for the assumption.

“I never told you that.”

Hunter smiled, and you turned sideways to look at his elegant profile, finding the delicate, practiced way his lips tilted up nearly hypnotizing. And then there were his dimples again, marking his face with scars of geniality that a mask could never fully hide.

“No.” He shook his head, slinging one arm beneath his neck to prop himself up. “But I figured it out.”

You didn’t doubt it. Hunter had a way of discerning things that you couldn’t hope to achieve even as a mind-reader. But still, that ability was a mystery to you. As was most of him. “How so?” You asked conversationally, jumping at the opportunity to better understand this mystery boy. Hunter resettled his shoulders and sighed out a long, powerful huff of air from his nose, letting his eyes fall shut for a moment.

“Magic.” He answered lazily.

That was one way to remain mysterious. Sarcastic, you played along. “Ah. That makes complete sense. But seriously, at least tell me what gave it away. You're too observant- isn't it exhausting?"

A silence as you searched for a better description, but found none. The adjective 'observant' didn’t quite seem to fit his natural, smooth way of reading the unsaid language of witches, but it was the closest thing you could reach for. The misty atmosphere of this forest cove seemed to make your mind heavy and your words like honey flowing from your tongue; and you found yourself almost falling asleep. Hunter seemed to be halfway there.

“Mm. I suppose so. Maybe you’re just an open book.” He seemed to be amusing himself by avoiding your questions. You rolled your eyes and Hunter snorted, somehow sensing your ire without his lids open and reluctantly conceding. “Fine. I knew it the moment that storm rolled in on The Knee. You were standing up on that cliff just watching it, even when I was already a yard away heading for the caves. You were so still - enraptured, almost. I thought you must’ve found it beautiful. Or terrifying.”

His tired eyes cracked opened slowly, then flicked back to meet your own. “Was I right?”

Of course he was. He was always right about you, somehow. It made you feel more vulnerable than you’d ever felt in your life, but strangely, you didn’t hate it. 

“Yes. I found it beautiful.” You agreed softly. “Just like this place.”

‘But it isn’t the only beautiful thing.’

You couldn’t tell whose thought that had been. It didn’t seem to matter, though, when your minds were as tangled as the roots of the trees below you, and for once, your connection with Hunter was mutually invited. You could’ve laid like this forever with him: Blanketed by soft grasses, listening to the distant chirping of creatures beside this quaint pond as they chased the lights of the fireflies they would never catch. So far away from the gloom of the coven that the sickening monochrome of silver and bronze seemed like a distant memory, and all that was left was the two of you curled in the palm of the Titan’s benevolent hand.

“...How do you do it? Without reading someone’s mind?” You asked quietly, and this time it was Hunter who leaned up to tap your temple, as if prodding right into your brain. He was above you now, gorgeous eyes boring into your own, capturing you like the glossy petals of a blooming rose and refusing to relinquish their grasp.

“The moment you stop looking for something is the moment you find it.” He quoted, the soft brush of his pointer gone in an instant as he tucked it back beneath his head and returned to his relaxed position like nothing had happened.

That seemed suspiciously sage.

 “…Did you… make that up?” You laughed after a contemplative silence, getting the distinct feeling that those were not his words. He was one to talk about hyper-focusing on problems when a key had almost been the end of his teenage life. 

Hunter puffed up his chest. “Yes.” He lied smoothly. “Yes, I did.”

“If I’m a terrible mind-reader, then you’re a terrible liar.” You called him out with mischief in your eyes. Hunter didn’t falter.

“Oh, we can’t all have your incredible talents. Forgive me if my pitiful misrepresentation of the truth doesn't hold a candle to your natural-born abilities.” He said loftily, tapping Flapjack’s staff on the ground beside him to return the bird to motion. Water splashed from vibrant red feathers as the palisman shook himself out of his petrified state, the accumulated dew of his body landing directly on both of your faces.

“Hey! I am not your birdbath!” You shrieked delightedly, holding your hands out in defense at the waterworks and only ending up beckoning Flapjack closer to peck at the seams between your fingers. Sternly, you picked the palisman up and trapped his wings between your hands, bringing his tiny head to your face for a kiss. Pretending to protest, Flapjack twittered intently at you, hopping away from your grasp to shelter in Hunter’s neck with a wounded look- pleading asylum. His wielder was little help, too busy chuckling at the poor bird’s plight.

“Excellent." Hunter breathed. "Keep doing that- maybe your horrendous affections will scare it away.” he said, pushing Flapjack out of the crook of his shoulder to face the world. Flapjack just squeezed his eyes shut and buried his beak in his own wing adamantly, ignoring the both of you.

Two could play the insult game. “Ouch. My affection isn’t that awful." You retaliated. "He’s just melodramatic like his owner- and you wonder why he won’t leave. He’s obviously found his soulmate.” You said smugly, closing your eyes again and awaiting his reply.

"Ah... yeah." Said Hunter, breathily.

Spongy soil shifted beneath your nails as they dug into the moist ground, moving slightly, shyly Hunter’s way to spur him on. He noticed. The arm beneath his buzzed hair unfolded, splaying deft fingers casually at his side, slightly outstretched- as if inviting something. As if inviting you. 

Contact with him was a blade of grass away, a whisper of the ferny leaves between your recumbent bodies, a mere bead of glossy rainwater at your fingertips. Just a twitch of his arm more, and you would be…

"Shit!”

Chapter Text

The hand beside yours suddenly jerked back with a sharp cry of pain from its owner, trembling against the smooth planes of Hunter’s chest where he cradled it. Shocked, you barely mustered enough wherewithal to reach for him in assistance, but he kicked you away in his struggle- clutching his right wrist so tightly that it began to turn a hypoxic shade of purple. “No! I’m fine!” Hunter yelped, curling around the invisible injury to keep you from touching it. You held your hands up in surrender, looking on helplessly as the boy you’d been lying with in an idyllic forest just seconds earlier writhed with suffering. Finally, after a few heartbeats of heavy panting, his tremors stopped, and the lines of agony around his face softened into something more bearable. The worst was over- for now. Slowly, Hunter rose, stretching out one stiff limb with a wince.

“I'm, ah…Sorry you had to see that.” Hunter muttered, face clouded with shadow as he swiped his thumb over his affected wrist. Of course, even now, all he could do was worry about his image; but you couldn't care less about how he looked right now as you returned to Hunter's side to examine the cause.

“What was that? Are you okay?” You reached out to his shoulder, extra careful not to touch anywhere near his arm, which he still seemed intent on choking out. Bluntly, he breezed past your question, standing out of arm's reach and raising Flapjack like he was planning to take flight. “I have to go." Hunter excused, distracted. "Alone. Uncle needs me. You think you can make it back by yourself?”

He looked back expectantly. You weren’t sure. It was a long flight, and you didn’t have a palisman or a staff to get you by. You supposed you could walk, but… the forest was impossible to navigate when it was this thick. You shook your head once, cueing the impatient soldier to sigh. “Here. Take this.” Hunter tossed you something from under his belt, and you fumbled to catch it. It was a metal rod about three inches long with a few friction-welding marks around the center, landing heavily in your hands. You weren't sure exactly what you were supposed to do with it, but it seemed unwise to question Hunter's methods.

“Will you be okay?” You asked, more worried about his state than your own. As you spoke, one of your questions answered itself in the form of the metal bar unfolding, shooting out to triple its own length and ejecting the glittering, stretched form of an owl's wing upon its crown in a final flourish. His staff. 

“Yeah, yeah-“ Hunter said distantly, mounting Flapjack. “Just… ignored a few calls. That’s all. I’ll see you at the palace.” 

And he winged away without another word, zipping through the column of leaves that parted with his passing and up into the open sky. Calls? What in the Titan did that mean? You watched until the light from the pouring sun faded out into nothingness, then looked down at your own wrist in confusion.

Your coven sigil was burning.

Maybe that had been the cause of Hunter's pain. But his was so much older- surely it had healed by now, hadn't it?

...Or maybe, these brands were never intended to heal. Maybe were meant to stay fresh forever; to singe as brightly as the day they’d been inflicted. Maybe they, too served as another reminder that you had given yourself over to a higher power, body and soul, and you were never going to escape it with both intact. 

At least, not with Belos around.

—------

Hunter’s staff appeared oddly sapient as you turned your attention to it, gingerly raising the handle up to examine. It blinked a few alarm-like bursts of red at you from its crystal conduit- reminding you of the less luminescent scarlet of Flapjack’s feathers, and even more so of the wild gesticulations of his wings when he was impassioned about something. You got the distinct feeling that the thing was attempting to speak to you.

“Um, hey.” You said stupidly, feeling very awkward that you were alone in a forest talking to a piece of metal. “I sort of need to leave this place. So… can you take me home? Er- to the castle? I don’t really know the way.”

A dark silence from the conduit. Titan, of course it couldn’t hear you; it was an object! You felt foolish for even trying it, honestly. What did you think you were in, some kind of CB show?

Apparently, you were.

Vrmmm, vrmmm. Came the belated reply of the staff, startling you out of your self-deprivation. The pattern of blinking was unfortunately still indecipherable to you, but it was probably a good sign.

“Oh. I’m taking that as a ‘yes’, okay?” You informed it as you hesitantly sat on the hilt, the way you’d seen Hunter do. It was just like a normal staff, right? Just… sit down and fly.

Not right. As soon as you were on, the staff reared up and shot into the air at a speed that you were pretty sure was only barely survivable to the average witch, leaving a trail of electric red in its wake. The only thing you could see around you was a blur of ashen browns, blacks and greys as the shillelagh rocketed you over expansive intercostal forests and rocky mining terrain of the sternum, slowing its pace only when the smog of the palace emissions loomed over the distant horizon, and a more suitable cruise was in order. As the ribcage came into view, you paused to catch your breath, gulping for air like an oasis in a desert as oxygen finally stopped evading you. The staff gave a little wobble beneath your shaky hands, clearly unapologetic about nearly sending you into orbit with its preternatural haste.

“Sweet Titan! You nearly killed me.” You scolded it breathlessly, feeling like you were simply talking to Hunter through the staff in his absence. It buzzed brighter at you; the light tinted with a hint of patronization. Definitely like Hunter.

“Well, that’s my fault for not specifying that I wanted to be taken to the castle alive.” You sassed back, now soaring just above the castle pit, obscured with rocky protrusions. As you drew closer, they slowly slid aside to reveal the blackened wrought iron of the emperor’s palace in all of its strange, confusing glory.

You hated this place for what it represented. You loved this place for who it had brought you to. You hated it for what it had done to the person it had brought you to. You loved it because it had kept that person by your side.

So, in conclusion, you had no idea what you felt for the ever-unyielding structure of the stronghold before you, and as Hunter’s staff banked upwards, you realized that you wouldn’t have to.

Hunter was nothing like this place- with its dirtied, sallow faces and its muted colors and its aversion to individuality. He was bright, blindingly unique, and yet he hid it beyond the same mask that everyone else in this hellscape did. He was like the youthful sun just moments away from rising into the sky, stopped short only by a rope of homogeneity that threw a shadow over his light and prevented yet another beautiful dawn from breaking. But Hunter’s dawn would break one day. And when it did, he would cast the world in countless, beautiful colors of his own design, and he would finally be free to come and go across the sky as he pleased- with nothing left to hold him back from achieving whatever he dared to dream.

You did not have to love this place for what it had brought you to. You did not have to hate it for the things it represented. It was only a vessel; a symbol attached to nothing but concepts. But Hunter- he was tangible. He was the one thing in the coven that you actually had some influence over, and these narrow views of what was 'good' and 'bad' in a palace so full of contradictions was only holding you back from seeing it. 

You were a child in the hands of a Titan. A helpless nobody with powers that barely even served you. But one thing you could do was see Hunter through. And you’d be there when his daylight came. You swore it.

————-

The staff, as it turned out, had been flying you up to deposit at Hunter’s window and not your own. It made sense, you supposed, as his was the only one that was open- but it still felt kind of weird when you dismounted onto his floor, beside his bed, surrounded by his things. You turned back to the staff hovering outside, speaking uncertainly.

“Uh, thank you.” You said to it, wondering what exactly you ought to do with it now that you’d arrived. “Do you… need to go back to Hunter?”

In response the staff stiffened, then crumpled into itself until it was a humble metal rod once again, landing lightly into your outstretched palm. You brought your arm back inside Hunter’s room, holding the staff close to your chest before electing to place it safely in your pocket.

…What did you do now?

Hunter had said Belos needed him for something. Did that mean he was coming back, or going off for hours on end? If so, what happened to your plans of cornering Raine to interrogate them? Would you have to go at it alone? You weren’t sure you had the confidence for that, even if Raine was the meek one of the group; they were still a coven head with enough power and authority to endanger you. And besides, you didn't know which of the many rooms in the palace was their office. 

Maybe it was best to just wait around for a bit. Have a nap, after all the exhilaration of being tossed from a very high window and flown about like a leather satchel. That kind of thing really took it out of you.

You didn’t even think about it. It was automatic, the way you chose Hunter’s bed to fall onto. The way you delicately buried yourself in one of his patchwork pillows, breathing in the lingering scent of his hair and the leather straps of his vest. And just like that, you were gone to the world, sleeping soundly in the sweet memory of a boy you had finally begun to know.

————

A loud thunk startled you awake in the middle of the night, sending your eyes fluttering open in a quick dose of adrenaline and fear. It was so dark that you couldn’t see where you were- and you briefly wondered what could have caused such a clatter at this hour.

That was until you finally managed to swivel your head to the direction of the noise, where a beam of milky, moonlit ichor illuminated the floor, spilling into your hungry gaze and localizing around a box-shaped opening in the walls. A doorway. And beyond it... a tall figure cloaked in shadow. They seemed to startle at something, their once-confident footsteps in the hallway slowing before picking up again, a bit more hurried. They entered. The door shut. Darkness once again. A warm rush of air as someone drew nearer, and then the faintest touch of a hand on your shoulder. As light as the whisper of a bard’s flute.

The hand moved up, and your eyes fluttered shut on instinct, feeling the tickle of familiar fingertips along your exposed clavicle. They paused at the base of your neck, two digits pressing carefully into the skin for a mere ten seconds, then shifted away. Did you pretend to wake up? Keep fake-sleeping? Hunter had clearly returned and seemed blissfully unaware that you were awake as well, and you didn't want to spook him by suddenly reanimating in the middle of the night. Plus, you'd stolen his bed again, which was not something you were too keen on explaining.

The world decided for you as the gentle, muffled churr of a bird emanated from beneath Hunter’s darkened form, and he tugged something out of his shirt to let loose into the air. A shadowy creature winged its way to the footboard of the bed and perched upon one of the pillars, hunkering down with a sleepy coo. Fake-rest it was.

“Good night, Flapjack.” Came Hunter’s hoarse, whispered tone. And then the bed dipped under his weight whilst he crawled over you and collapsed into the other side, his chest rising and falling in an exhausted sigh.

With the window behind, you could just barely make out the soldier's face, sketched in the smooth lines of the stars like a backlit silhouette as he turned onto his shoulders, arms over his eyes. You could sense the distress and worry over his place in the coven even now- the kinds of things he always desperately tried to suppress with sleep- But sleep would never come. Hunter knew that. You knew that. Dreams would endlessly evade him with their quick feet and whispering calls, always a hair’s breadth away from enfolding him into the world of blissful escape that he so desperately chased after. 

It had been a long time since he’d caught up. And now, he was running out of motivation to pursue. The only things that followed him these days were nightmares.

How you wished you could fix that for him. Reach into his mind and just… cast a shroud of peace over all those moving parts. Brush your palm across his cheek and heal his scars. Make him understand that everything was going to be okay.

But was it? Could you really promise something that lofty to a boy who’d already been hurt so many times before? You weren’t sure if he could handle another break.

Maybe you couldn’t promise that things would be alright. But damn it, you would do everything in your power to make sure the witch lying beside you lived to see his own sunrise- even if it killed you in the process.

—————

Sleep came as swiftly as it always did in the press of Hunter's mattress, spinning you far away into strange dreams in the arms of a strange man with strange, burning eyes. When you awoke, there was a feeling of hollowness in your chest, as though you were missing a small part of you that might never return again. As if, from this point on, nothing would ever be as it was before.

And Hunter was there. For once, you had managed to be one step ahead of him.

He looked younger when he slept- His mouth slightly ajar to reveal that well-hidden gap in his teeth. One arm tucked underneath his head and the other splayed out across his stomach. Tragically handsome. Restfully restless. The bags under his eyes as dark as a bruise. What did he dream, you wondered, as he lay sleeping? If he even dreamed at all. But perhaps in this moment, nothingness would be kinder to him than the things his mind could conjure. Perhaps the quiet peace of non-existence was his salvation. 

And perhaps you should let him sleep. Though the sun was rightly shining through his yellowed pane-windows, you got the sense that last night had taken something out of him beyond just the pain of being… ‘called.’ You hoped you’d never have to experience it.

Something warm and heavy landed on your ear, pecking at the baby hairs around your scalp intently.

“Flapjack…” you grumbled, brushing him away. Why was he always trying to eat you? Did you look like a mound of seeds? “Quit it.”

He did not quit. In fact, the request only seemed to make him peck more insistently. You finally rose from the bed with a huff, forcing the palisman from your ear. He landed instead upon your head.

“What do you want, little beast?” You scratched his chest affectionately. “Are you hungry? Is that why you’re bothering me? Because dear old Hunter hasn’t fed you yet?”

Flapjack chirped approvingly.

“Well, I’ll feed you today. Best to let Hunter sleep. He’s… had a hard time lately.” You excused, standing slowly so you didn’t disturb the sleeping boy beside you. He stirred as you stepped onto the cold wooden floor but faded back into blackness as you carefully tucked the blankets around him, keeping him secure in his bed.

“So,” you said, turning your attention to the bird perched on your hand. “What does he usually feed you? Grumpkin seeds? Blood oranges? I’m sure that whatever it is, I can find it.” 

Flapjack shook his head at your guesses, then jumped into the air to hover hurriedly above Hunter’s cluttered desk. You followed him, opening one of the drawers that seemed marginally less bursting with knickknacks and papers than the others, then fished out a handful of crab-apple claws that were beginning to look a little mushy.

“Well, it’s not exactly gourmet, but here you have it.” You offered your palm of fruit to the eager bird, and he pecked at the apple filaments enthusiastically. Amongst the pleasant chatter of his twittering, you heard the sheets rustle.

“…Mm. He bugging you for treats?” Came a tired warble off to your left. You turned back to see Hunter, bleary eyed and sleepy, watching you in his periphery as he stretched an arm out over his head. You'd never seen him so disheveled- except, perhaps, in Eclipse Lake. It was a little endearing. 

“Yes, he is. You spoil him.” You replied, trying not to get caught up in the sound of Hunter’s morning voice. It didn’t sound deeper, exactly- just huskier, complimenting the propensity for hoarseness that he already had when he forgot he was a structured soldier. Casual. Real. Teenaged.

“I know.” Hunter rubbed his forehead, smoothing his fingertips over the shock of blonde hair falling into his eyes. “Don’t know where he gets that appetite. Doesn’t even have a stomach to eat with. I think he just likes the taste.” The soldier criticized, then sighed heavily, tilting his head to look out at the window, where the sun cast golden rays upon his woven-silk hair. At first, the sight of it seemed to comfort him. And then, all at once, he convulsed as if short-circuiting.

“What time is it?!" Hunter asked, a look of mounting terror on his face as he watched the movement of the sun across the sky. You cringed slightly. Right, you’d let him sleep, which he would probably be furious about. But in your defense, he woke himself up just fine every other morning. How would this one have been any different?

“It’s- er- 9 A.M.” You mumbled, speaking in a sheepish silence- a little terrified of his reaction.

“Nine A.M-!?” Hunter nearly fell off the bed in his rush to untangle from the covers, reaching for the discarded vest hanging on his bedframe. “Titan alive! 9?! I didn’t request an off day! I’ve gotta get my mask and my cloak and my- my… my staff…”

He trailed off, as if suddenly noticing you were still in the room. Or suddenly remembering who he’d given his weapon to.

“You… have my staff.” Hunter said testily, tugging on a pair of gloves from his bedside drawer. You nodded, but made no move to produce it. Something was stopping you. “Well, I do. But I don’t think I should give it to you.” You began, taking a step back. Hunter’s incredulous glare could have melted steel. 

“And why is that?” He questioned, snapping his glove to his wrist. You swallowed heavily, powering on despite his intimidation. 

“Because I’m not letting you go to work today. You can’t. You’re clearly exhausted- and judging by how late you came in last night, I’m going to guess that your visit with Belos didn’t go well.”

You hadn’t meant for that to come out as blunt as it had, but it was too late to backtrack. And by now, you felt it pointless to pretend that everything was sunshine and rainbows when those bruises on his arms were beginning to look suspiciously like handprints. Life here was tough. You had to be tough with it, or neither of you would survive.

A long, pregnant pause as a fiery ruby gaze appraised your own intently, then Hunter’s shoulders slumped. It was almost like he sensed your determination, the way all his prickly thorns just melted away to reveal that tender center. Your countenance softened slightly at his evident defeat. “Now please, tell me what happened. Why Belos called you. Why you were gone for so long. Everything.”

The taciturn boy before you weighed his options, then finally fell back down onto his bed, hands clasped between his legs. He knew it was useless to lie. “There’s not much to tell. Belos summoned me. I… I gave him the blood. I left.” 

You raised a skeptical brow at Hunter, and he blanched, spitting out the rest. “Gh- fine! He also sort of… uh, lectured me. About you.”

His gaze averted, thumbs twiddling nervously. You watched him fumble in disbelief. Lecture? About you? How was Hunter on the receiving end of something that seemed for all intents and purposes your business? 

“Lectured you about me? Why? If he wanted to chew someone out that badly, he could have just come directly to the source.” you frowned. You didn’t want a lecture from Belos any more than Hunter did, but it was better than letting him get hurt again- especially for something he didn’t do. The emperor was going to be a lot less likely to show his nasty side to the green recruit than his already-enthralled nephew, anyhow.

Suddenly skittish, Hunter dropped his arm. “It’s not you. It’s me.” He said quietly, turning his gaze away, as he always did when he couldn’t face you. “Belos thinks that I’m not training you properly. That I’m giving you too much leeway in our partnership and not taking enough control. He says our failed missions and risky behavior account for that.”

Oh. So, Belos had managed to divert the blame you fully deserved to someone who didn't. And maybe that was the cruelest thing he could have done. “Risky behavior- Do you mean us going to Eclipse Lake? But we got the blood.” You said incredulously. How could Belos possibly be critical of the escapade that had given him the most valuable resource in the isles? Hunter shook his head.

“But I still disobeyed his orders. He was furious. Says I can’t let your ‘unrefined ambition’ get in the way of my thinking." 

A moment of raw hesitation, then:

"I’m… afraid to mess up again.”

It was clear that Hunter was visibly uncomfortable with facing the conversation he’d had last night with his uncle; foremostly because he’d actually begun to trust you. Hunter had done exactly what Belos had told him to do- mentor the new recruit- and now he was on the hot plate for it. It was confusing and, more than all else, deeply conflicting. 

His first instincts told him to listen. To do exactly what he was told like the perfect guard dog he was. But a second inclination had sprouted up from the ashes of his mind, and now it was butting heads with the first: The inclination that told him you were capable. Willing. Genuine. An instinct that knew you wanted to help, and that pushing you away was the last thing he should ever do.

But Belos was never wrong, was he? And yet… neither was Hunter's gut. Who to trust? Who to follow? Whose ideals to protect? 

…His own, or those of the man who had given him everything?

Chapter Text

Hunter was torn. Split into two pieces. Wrenched apart from the inside out- without an ounce of the comfort and certainty that the coven had once provided him. His loyalty had never been cast asunder the way it was now; it was like he was two different people all at once- the Golden Guard, and… Hunter. Just Hunter. The unsocialized, confused, strange-looking teenaged boy that he'd hidden so far away, and that you'd brought out in him. The choice between his life and his family seemed almost impossible. 

But then your hand was on his, and everything upended, and the world that he knew was no more. You were gripping his fingertips so carefully, twining them with his in a way Hunter had never even known was feasible until now- like a creeping fern curling amongst the tall branches of a tree. Palms unmarred by cuts, bruises and scars. Palms so unlike his own. So unlike any in the coven. Your world had been one of gentleness. Of bustling afternoons and easy, lazy mornings and glittering stormy nights. Yet all of Hunter’s days, his life had felt the same: Dull, grey and metal, with only the illumination of his shining gold expected to curb it. He was supposed to be the sun, and here, with you, he felt like nothing but a sparrow enjoying its rays. It was wrong. So wrong.

Then why did it feel so right?

Maybe you had bewitched Hunter with your quiet comforts, your concern, your softness. Maybe it was just like uncle Belos had always warned him- the most tempting things would always be the most deadly. Sirens sang beautifully until your flesh in their throat staunched the music. The colors of the flowers along the coast were hypnotizing until you dropped dead from their pollen. The serpent always glittered like gemstones as it sunk its fangs into your neck.  ‘People will deceive you.’ Warned the constant drumbeat of fear in his brain. ‘They will lure you in with dazzling things as they drive a knife through your skull. They’ll bandage the wounds they inflict upon you. They’ll make you love them, bring you endless bounties of gifts, troth and promises, and then they will take you from everything you ever knew.’

… But would that really be so terrible?

“Hunter,” came a low voice beside his ear. He tilted into it approvingly. He knew you were his only voice of reason in this flood of confliction. “I’m not trying to be an obstacle to you. Or hurt you. Or betray you, or take you away, or any of the other things you can think of. I may not always like the way Belos does things, but… I know that he’s your home. I would never do anything to sabotage that for you. So, if you want me to back off, or train without you, or go back to the quiet soldier I was when you met me... I’ll do it. If it can ease your mind, I will.” You promised. "I don't want to see you punished for my faults."

How could you say these things to him? Offer him such easy, unattested salvation when he was practically water in your hands? You could’ve said anything to Hunter at this moment, and yet you only said what he wanted to hear. It was true; he wasn’t ready to choose between his worlds today. He needed to keep both of these things close to his heart a little longer, before one of them crumbled away forever.

“No. No, you don’t have to do that.” Hunter said before he could stop himself, his voice hushed and shaky. “I don’t need you to change for me. This is my mistake; I’ll be the one to make it right. I won’t involve you in my stupid decisions anymore.”

‘Just stay the same. Just be the witch I can always rely on to stay at my side- strong or not.’ His thoughts pleaded, and for once, he wanted you to hear them. He wanted you closer. To plunge a hand into his head and rifle through the messy pages of his subconscious until you found what was wrong with him- Why he couldn’t just be happy where he was. Then you could fix it all. Tuck everything back into its place. Reorganize him like you had with the library shelves and make him whole again. Make him okay.

But you couldn't do that.

A firm squeeze on Hunter's chilly digits. “Well, if it means anything at all, I don’t think you did anything wrong in the first place. You’re a really great teacher, Hunter.” You said, flashing that nervous smile you always used when you weren’t sure how a joke would land, or how a comment might be taken, or how an authority figure might react to you. In truth, Hunter wasn’t even sure how he would react to you. Should he laugh? Smile? Tease you back? He was lost in decisions.

Instead, he just cried.

He hadn’t meant to let it happen. But the tears came so quickly and unexpectedly that Hunter didn’t have the wherewithal to suppress them. And then hot streaks were sliding over his scarred cheek, warming his face until he was certain he was an embarrassing shade of berry-red, and it was too late to be stopped. He was helpless. “I… Th-Thanks, [Name].” Hunter whimpered pathetically, trying to cover his eyes with his arm and wipe away the tears, but more simply fell to take their place. This great soldier was a mess. A humiliating, disgusting mess. Nobody ever told him that he was good before. That he was faultless. That he was trying. Titan, he tried so hard- he knew you were the only one who could see that. That just made him cry more, which only made him feel worse for being this vulnerable in front of you. He was never supposed to be this vulnerable. And over something as foolish and meaningless as a word of approval.

Then Hunter heard the bedsheets crinkle and felt the warmth of your body draw nearer, and he didn’t move to stop it. He should have pushed you away and told you to leave him be, as Belos always did to him when he had his outbursts. But he wasn’t that strong. Not when you put your hands around his waist and rested your head in the crook of his neck. It reminded Hunter of when you held him on Flapjack; pressing as close to his back as you could manage and just squeezing every bit of his body like he might vanish if you didn’t. But it was better, maybe, because this time, he could feel you breathing him in. Could feel the slow rise and fall of your chest against his side. The brush of your hair under his jaw. He wasn’t sure what this was, but it was making the ache in his chest feel better. That was enough for now. He could dry his tears on the rough fabric of your clothing, if he needed to.

“-But you’re a terrible hugger.” Came another, softer whisper against his clavicle. It occurred to Hunter that he had no idea how to perform one of those. He was just lying there, sprawled flat onto his back and stiff as a board as you completely encircled him in your arms. Did he reciprocate? Was that the proper ‘hug’ etiquette? He’d read about it in his books, but there were no helpful diagrams or descriptions to aid in the understanding of it. It was just something witches were apparently born knowing how to do, and something he was not. Yet another thing that was broken inside of him.

“Uh, I’m- here?” He shifted around to his side, letting you rest your face on his chest as he pulled an awkward limb around the small of your back.

“Too tight.” You said with an affectionate sigh, apparently unbothered by his learning curve.

“Oh. Sorry.” Hunter loosened his vice grip. A hug was kind of like a less violent way of restraining someone and then choking the life out of them. Weird. But he could see why people did it. It was tingly, and he liked the feeling of you sheltering against his skin. Other witches were... warm.

Something landed on his shoulder, and he nearly leapt with fear. But it was just Flapjack- er- the palisman, coming to muscle in on the tiny space you’d left untouched.

‘Don’t leave me out!’ His beady but endearing eyes seemed to chirp, and Hunter opened one arm to allow the bird inside the huddle. There he nestled, warm and safe in the nest-like junction between two witches who were completely lost in this world. Just a ship floating in an endless, rough sea of darkness, tethered to neither land nor sky, wondering where the next crash of the wave would take them. Would it bring the promising beam of a lighthouse reflecting over the water, just waiting to save their small souls? Or would the night go on forever, with only the cold company of the moon and each other to guide them?

Who was really to say? Not Hunter. He was a little tired of saying things- Decisions were difficult when you rarely had to make them for yourself. Maybe he could just… let that go for a bit. You leaned up from his chest, and suddenly the two of you were forehead-to-forehead, as close as you had ever been to each other. Noses brushed. Hunter could smell sweet breath, the faded woods of the coven-provided shampoo, and himself. All over you.

Something warm and unfamiliar tingled in his stomach. He could lean up to that scent. Take the source of it and hold it in his mouth until he was breathless and gasping, and even then, he would never have to let it go. One thing that was completely his- He could drown in that pleasant heat, he could burn in it, he could-

“You should rest. I’m not letting you leave.” 

Your voice dampened the roaring flame building in his chest, and Hunter nearly dropped his ears in shame. “Oh, uh, okay.” 

What was he thinking? What had that been? It was like the vibrant thrill of the hunt times a hundred; insatiable and all-consuming, leaving nothing but his basest instincts behind. He knew it well, but that rushing flood of adrenaline and excitement was saved for the hardest of criminals. He didn’t want to hurt you, did he? 

Did he?

He imagined it for a moment. Tracking you across the isles, donning his mask and cape and wielding his fiery vengeance in the emperor’s stead. Easily dodging your attacks and thwarting your escape, until there was nowhere left to hide, and you were completely at his mercy. Caught between a staff and a hard place. A good hunt. But not the satisfying kind. More of a desperate kind. And it quickly devolved into guilt.

No, Hunter didn’t want to hurt you. Of course not. It was just the fear of being vulnerable- that was all. The only time that someone held him like this was to slam him into the pavement, to tear at his flesh, and to kill at the earliest opportunity. Following that pattern, it made sense that he was a little on edge.

…Could you hear this? This complete mental turmoil your partner was currently subjecting himself to? Oh, Titan, what if you thought he was some kind of monster who just went around fantasizing about hunting people down? He didn’t like doing it- well, it was a job he had signed up for- but he only liked the hunt when he was sure it was real criminals he was chasing. And though you’d had your rocky moments with him, you weren’t a criminal- you were just a little misled, and- oh, no, what if you heard that, too?!

Hunter focused everything he could into shutting his brain down, which only made things worse. You hadn’t even moved from his forehead, and here he was panicking over potentially terrible thoughts that he wasn’t even certain you’d actually read. He was making a complete fool out of himself, as he always did when he tried to let someone in. This was so stupid. You were probably mocking him the way he’d always suspected, and he’d have to- to-

“You have a fascinating personality, Golden Guard.”

His red eyes blinked open Okay. Not the comment he’d been expecting. Where was the reprimand? You always seemed to go with a very vague description when you spoke about Hunter’s character, and it made him antsy. Was that a good fascinating? A bad? An ‘I love being in your head’ fascinating, or an ‘I never want to see you again’ fascinating? It was the 'interesting' debacle all over again, except this time, he couldn't get away from you.

“Uh, thank youuuuu?” Hunter grimaced, drawing it out uncertainly. You just laughed at him, your voice clear and sharp, and so unlike the permanently sickly rasp of his own laugh. He hoped your time in the smog of the coven wouldn’t take that clarity away from you, the way it had with him.

“Don’t worry. I’m not reading your mind. I say that as a completely normal observation, I swear.” You explained, though he didn’t really believe it. He pulled back just a bit, enough to tear his thoughts from the strange haze your contact had put him into. 

“I kind of doubt that.” Said Hunter. “And anyway, it’s a terrible observation. I have an excellent and enjoyable personality that all my colleagues take great pleasure in being around. The Golden Guard is not fascinating ; that’s a word you’d use to describe a new variant of sleeping nettle that gives you nightmares- not a hilarious and dedicated soldier. Ergo: not me.”

He might have been offended by the way your face scrunched in disagreement if it hadn’t been so amusing. “It’s not a bad thing. Come on, you like books, right? You’re telling me that in all your research, you’ve never once found something you just… couldn’t quite figure out?”

Hunter paused, considering that. Of course he had- plenty of things were woefully under-studied: Wild magic, ancient religion, the culture surrounding all eras of the savage ages, glyphs… But what did that have to do with his brain?

“Sure, sometimes.” He shrugged. “There are a lot of unfinished books in the library that trail off in the middle of a sentence and never pick up again. It leaves you wondering, I guess.”

He conveniently left out the part that most of those books ended because Emperor Belos had their authors killed. It wasn’t a very useful addition.

“Well,” you piggybacked off his answer. “That’s you.” 

Hunter twitched his ear in bemusement. “Care to explain?” He smarmed, shooting you a glance from his periphery. He couldn’t decide if this little tirade of yours was interesting or annoyingly distracting. You were adamant about keeping him from his duties today, but there was still so much left undone… and surely, someone would come looking for him eventually.

“Certainly." you lifted your chin eminently. "You’re the obscured book; the one with thirteen missing pages and scratched-out text and confusing dead-ends that I can never seem to fully uncover. Every time I think I’ve got you down to a science, you come back around and surprise me again. It’s fun. It just makes me want to keep reading and scour you for clues.” And then you smiled at him, like he was the most wonderful unfinished book in the whole world.

It made no sense. Hunter knew he could be unpredictable; it was a necessity of the job to be a figurehead shrouded in mystery and fear. But fun? Hunter never found a lack of knowledge to be fun. It made him itchy. Obsessive. Irate. 

“That… sounds awful.” He said slowly. Not only the ‘scouring your brain’ bit, which he wasn’t enthusiastic about, but the idea of being compared to something so incomplete. Was he really that broken? That half-baked? That even his brain was missing the pieces that were meant to be there? It was true, Hunter wanted more than anything to share an understanding with you, but… you'd already seen these bizarre parts of him- what if you found something deeper inside that you didn’t want to read into? What if every step closer only made the cracks in his facade more obvious? 

What if knowing Hunter made it harder to like him?

Well. Not that it mattered anyway. Hunter didn’t care what a lowly scout thought of his personality. He was great! That was why so many of his coworkers avoided him! Because his sheer, commandeering force was so awe-inspiring that merely looking its way would render even the mightiest speechless!

Yeah. That was the reason. Definitely not because there was nothing wonderful about him at all. Definitely not because he didn’t deserve his job, or his title, and he was just riding by on his uncle’s coattails. Definitely not because everyone looked at him and only saw that scared little boy.

Definitely not any of that.

Hunter wasn’t sure which of those views he saw in you, and unlike the joy you took in the mystery, he found it evasively concerning. When you healed his wounds so gently, were you pitying him, like everyone else? When you stared at his face, was it because his appearance disturbed you, the way it always did? When you touched his hand, did you appraise his skin for battle scars? When you pulled him apart piece by piece, was your real goal to laugh at whatever you found within?

People were confusing. 

“It’s not awful,” you said at length, an airy sigh streaming from your lips as you traced the lines in his palm. “It just makes it all the more exciting when I finally connect all your sentences, right? And besides... there's always more to be written."

Hunter felt warmth flood his cheeks.

“Oh. I…I guess so.” He agreed meekly. 

Slowly, you opened your mouth to reply…

-And were promptly interrupted by a knocking at Hunter’s heavy wooden door. Immediately, the soldier tensed up, his muscles coiling tight. A knock on his door was never a good sign. It meant something personal, and something targeted. It meant a message for him. And with the way he'd been avoiding his duties today...

It meant that somebody was very, very angry.