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Chapter Text

"They say Mrs Alder is a witch, supposedly her own husband saw her casting spells. He's fallen ill now, I say she hexed him. Disgusting really." Phillip rambled, picking up his folded up coat from the chair. 

He pressed out the wrinkles gently before pulling it over himself. 

"Are you even listening Caleb?" He questioned, folding his arms and curling his lip. 

Caleb hummed from where his back was turned, attempting to stitch up his favourite shirt. One poor victim had escaped the hands of the mob. She'd landed on Caleb's chest, in her frantic nature her nails had tore through the fabric. "Cal, careful. Check, did she curse you? They can infect you through wounds you do know that. Caleb!" He had believed her innocent. It didn't matter anyway, the trials had proved different. He hadn't attended the execution, even though Phillip had begged him. 

He stomach could never take it. The overwhelming smell of copper that always hung in the air, even hours afterward. The sound of begging and screaming, he'd been left with headaches for days after. People's last words echoing in his mind like constant reminders. 

He shook his head softly and sighed quietly. 

"Yes, I'm listening." He paused, almost pricking himself with his busied needle, "is that all the proof you have?" He asked as nonchalantly as possible, his needles trembling between his fingers for some reason. He paused briefly to right himself. 

He could picture Phillip's annoyed expression. Such a temper he possessed. A shuffle and his brother appeared in front of him, his arms folded and his eyebrows stitched together. He'd began growing stubble, Caleb would have to teach him shaving soon enough. A beard wouldn't suit his brother's youthful face. 

"What is that supposed to mean?" Phillip investigated, trying to gage his brother.

Who looked up at him with exhaustion, "people can lie, Pip. I'd just be a little more inquisitive if I was you." He answered. 

Caleb shrugged before he returned to his work. 'A woman's job' as Phillip always scoffed but the elder Wittebane enjoyed the work. It was easy and relaxing. He could get caught up in his sewing for hours at a time, lost in a trance of tranquility and concentration. Oblivious to anyone around him, which drove his companion made on a daily basis. Phillip was not interested in his sewing in that moment however, instead his expression grew far more sour. 

"Mr Alder would not lie. You should've seen his face, white as a ghost. He's heartbroken that his wife would betray him as she has."

Phillip snapped, crossing the kitchen towards one of the counters.

"Might have..." Caleb corrected before biting into his thread. 

"Besides, I will investigate. I won't just take his word for it, what do you take more for? A fool? No, we will put her on trial tomorrow at noon." Phillip finished, acting as if Caleb hadn't spoken at all, although the twitch in his eyebrow was enough to know that he had heard him. 

Phillip scoffed when he said nothing else and busied himself with whatever and Caleb returned to his task. Shoving down the ill feeling in his stomach. 

He believed in witches, he feared damnation but he wasn't convinced in his brother's methods. Some nights he would lie awake, confused and afraid. He questioned his faith multiple times, not that he'd ever admit that to Phillip's face, when his parents had died and when that woman had torn his shirt begging for his help. He'd wanted to so bad. He'd admittingly put up a small fight, holding the lady in his arms. For a moment he'd considering taking her wrist and running her to the forest before instructing her to run. He'd been so close but then, hellfire had rose up before his eyes and he was struck with fear. Even if he lied to his precious Phillip, God would know. What if she had really been a witch. He'd never redeem himself, his fate sealed. 

"What trials will you use?" He asked, bringing himself out of his mind.

 His stomach squirming. He didn't want to continue the conversation but he hated the silence even more. That forced him to face his own guilt and confusion. Phillip turned back to him, pleased for Caleb seemed interested. 

"Water trial, it's the most accurate." He said proudly, grinning in such a way that Caleb wished he would stop. 

Water trial. 

"Concider Pip, even if that girl is innocent- she will still die." This time Caleb placed down his project to meet his brother's eyes.

Phillip seemed uninterested, he shrugged his shoulder with such casual ease that Caleb felt a stab of rage. He quelled the feeling for Phillip had done nothing wrong. 

"That may be so. Let her be an example for any others who may be tempted by the devil." 

Chapter Text

Tonight Caleb was alone. Phillip had gone out to a celebration with his fellow Witch Hunters. They had neglected to send Caleb an invite and truthfully he was perfectly content with that decision. Since joining the Hunters Phillip had grown extremely popular. He constantly droned on about one day being promoted. 

"I'm sure of it Caleb, I've killed the most amount of witches. Forgive me for praising myself but I truly do believe I am the most dedicated. They are sure to make me the Witch Hunter general, I can feel it."

Caleb had smiled and ruffled his brother's hair. No matter what sinful questions that passed over his mind whenever he thought of his brother's job, he was happy for him. Phillip was at least safe. He was good and he was loyal. That was all that mattered really to Caleb. 

So, instead of dining with Phillip and his fellow worshipers he was walking through the forest. Which was undeniably creepy at night but also had a spark of magic that he couldn't deny. It rushed through his chest like an uplifting wind and pushed him forward. Sometimes he felt caged in by the ragged branches and sometimes he felt that the scattered roots were building a path to his destiny. He'd always been warned that his imagination ran far too wild for his own good. He couldn't help himself, he longed to chase the leaves that brushed past his ears and danced with his hair. 

Tonight it felt especially strong. The town had been furious with him, they had booed him all night long. He suspected that it was the reason for his lack of an invite to tonight's dinner. He couldn't help but wonder if Gravesfield would even care if he was to dissappear into the trees and never reappear. He knew Phillip would but the rest of them would most likely be glad. He had no idea what had possessed him but in a sense he was glad that he had been gripped by such a supernatural instinct. 

Against his better judgement he'd accompanied Phillip to Mrs Alder's trial. He'd had no other excuse, the other Hunters had began accusing him of lying whenever he "fell sick." He'd stood beside Phillip lost in his own mind, letting the trial pass on without a single thought of input. However, he couldn't stay quiet for long. 

For, she sank. Mrs Alder had sank. She was innocent, Caleb payed enough to attention to know the rules. That wind, that accursed wind that had become his friend had passed over him in such a rush. It must have taken control of his muscles for he dived. He'd heard Phillip scream his name before he disappeared into the freezing waters below. He kept moving, for once his mind didn't race, he had no questions. His mind had remained shockingly clear as he'd wrapped his arms around her waist and heaved. 

He'd surfaced with a gasp, swapping his grip. Hooking her elbows under his arms as he swam. 

"Help him, get him out of there!" He'd heard Phillip call.

The both of them had been arrested by an array of hands. Even when they had been dragged onto dry land he'd refused to let Mrs Alder go. Afraid what they'd do to her if he should. Instead, he shook the hands off and placed his arm around her waist once more. He lifted her gently before smacking her between her shoulder blades. He ignored the muffled shouting from the Hunters and continued with his mission. Eventually, the poor woman had spluttered and water poured out of her mouth. 

He'd lowered her back down, careful of her surely sore back. She had awoken at some point after resurfacing. 

"I don't-" She'd began but he beat her to it. 

"You're innocent, you passed the trials. You deserve to go on living."

She'd stayed stunned for a few seconds before she took his face in her hands. She kissed his cheek, her eyes had welled with tears. 

"Bless you Wittebane, bless you. Such a good boy." 

He hadn't missed the judging stares around the market later that day. Phillip had screamed without much sense once the door of thier cottage shut. He'd also refused the light the fire, going as far as to pour the pitcher of water over the fire Caleb did start. 

"You made a stupid decision today Caleb." Phillip has seethed, angrier than Caleb had ever heard him, "face the consequences, you will stay wet and cold." 

He'd obviously disobeyed his brother. He'd stormed off to his room and had peeled off his wet layers. Being forced to use his hand towel in an attempt to dry himself. Even now, he shivered. His hair was simply too thick to be dried with such a small towel. How he longed for a fire. 

He was sure he didn't regret what he'd done today even if he wasn't entirely sure if he'd been completely in control of his actions. It hurt him how ready Mrs Alder had been to die, how shocked and thankful she'd been to see the sun again. He remembered how she had blessed him, her voice thick with tears. No, he refused to regret the events of today. Surely God would be pleased, for, life was supposed to be sacred. He'd protected one his creations when no one else would. She wasn't a witch, she was a citizen of God. No matter if Phillip would slam the door in his face, he'd done a great deed. God would see that. Just as he saw Caleb feel sorry for the true witches. 

He shook his head, desperate to free his mind of his conflicting thoughts. Sometimes it felt as if they actually did beat down on him like a throbbing headache. Perhaps this was his punishment for his questions and conflicted loyalty. Or maybe, he really had been hexed like Phillip constantly warned him about. 

So lost in his thoughts he hadn't seen the branch sticking out of the ground. He fell, rolling down the muddy hill towards the lake. They very lake he'd taken a swim in just hours earlier. He landed on his back, the wind knocked out of him. The piece of hair that usually rested between his eyes had somehow ended up in his mouth. It didn't taste of hair, instead it tasted of stagnant lake water. He spat it out and rubbed his lips furiously. He could feel a streak of mud smeared up his cheek. His back ached from his far from graceful landing. 

He hadn't even been aware of the path he'd been taking and he was beyond glad that he'd taken such tumble in the darkness. The townsfolk looked down on him enough. He did not need to add such an embarrassing spectacle to list of reasons why people whispered behind his back. 

"Oh my Titan! Are you alright?" A femine voice cut through the silence.

 Caleb shot up, his face and ears filling with blood. Suddenly feeling very hot with embarrassment. He looked around in bewilderment, searching for the owner of the voice. 

Oh my Titan? Did she mean God? 

Heeled boots filled his vision which was swimming. The girl kneeled before him. He must of hit his head alot harder than he initially thought for it appeared that her ears were stretched and strangely pointed. She also seemed pale, strangely so. Making Caleb feel shockingly tan. "Are you alright, that looked painful." She repeated her earlier question. She had gentle and quiet voice, it greatly reminded Caleb of birdsong. 

He rubbed his head as his eyes readjusted, trying to gage just how injured he was. The pain was fading and he could feel that a twig had lodged itself in his hair. The edge of it poking his scalp which was quite irritating. "I'm alright." He croaked after a few seconds, attempting to stand. The mystery girl offered his hand which he took gratefully. She was warm to the touch, he almost didn't want to let go. Still shivering from the day's earlier incident. He knew to respect young women's boundaries, he was sure he get a hand across the face should he attempt to keep holding on. 

Now settled on his feet he was able to fully take her in. He didn't recognise her at all, she must not of been from Gravesfield. Perhaps a traveller, simply passing through. Much like he had been, many years ago. She was pale, shockingly so that she reminded him of a vampire from his fantasy books. She had short but dreadfully thick hair that surrounded her head almost like spikes. Her pale skin complimented by her chocolate brown locks just tipping on the edge of crimson. She possessed a sharp but kind face and gentle eyes that matched her hair.

For a moment he was lost in those eyes. Forgetting all about etiquette, he stood there. Hand left mid-air staring at her in silence. That was until he realised he didn't not have a concussion and her ears were indeed pointed and long. They stretched backwards and twitched, he of course then noticed her sharp tooth that appeared when she opened her mouth. When she pulled away, he felt and saw her nails. Long and pointed, much like claws- perhaps they were. Her unnaturally pale skin...

Whatever words he'd been forming died off and instead his voice rose to scream. He stumbled backwards, one again tripping over a root. He landed hard on his backside, scooting away until he hit a tree. Her eyes followed him with confusion as he scrambled for purchase. 

Caleb's heart sank, his lip wobbled. Phillip was right, they were all right. The word was on the tip of his tounge but his mouth felt frozen agape. Was she holding him still with magic or was this what true fear felt like? 

"You're...a...a witch."

He breathed finally, pointing a trembling finger at her. His heart beating out of his chest. He was done for, she was going to eat him or drag him away to her cave; never to be seen again. Maybe, she would hex him and force him to grow extra limbs or turn him to wood. 

Much to his surprise, she didn't cackle or rush at him instead she blushed. Quickly pulling her hood over her head, hiding her ears from view. 

"Right," she said, seemingly to herself "ears."

He squeaked, gripping tightly to the roots either side of his thighs. He needed to move, what if she used the said roots the tie him down and dissect him. 

Her eyes returned to him and his breath caught his throat making him feel choked. What if she cut out his tongue to prevent him from telling the others. He once again scrambled when she began to move, walking towards him. He panicked, pushing back and inevitably wacking his head off the tree trunk. He was trapped, the roots seemed to be holding him place, his back pressed up against an obstacle and a real witch stood in his way, blocking his path. Strangely she paused after his head made contact the tree. 

"Hey, hey! It's alright, I'm not going to hurt you." She soothed, suddenly on her knees.

She holding her hands up in surrender. "Please calm down, you'll hurt yourself."

 He froze, staring at her unsure of how to feel or even what to say. A living, breathing witch in her true form was knealing in front of him, offering him one of the kindest smiles he'd ever seen. 

She cleared her throat and Caleb felt himself tense. This was it, she was going cast a spell on him. Who would care for Phillip? brush out his hair? Stitch up his clothes and hold him through the storms? 

"My name is Evelyn Clawthorne and I might I pry into who you might be?"

She smiled and offered him a hand with those sharp claws.

She didn't seem to want to scratch him, actually it seemed like she was looking for a handshake. 

Did he dare? It seemed like an extremely quick and stupid way to loose a hand but if he showed her such blatant rudness she was sure to curse him. With every nerve in his body screaming he reached out slowly and took her hand in his own. She was still warm and her grip was gentle, it would be easy to escape her hold. Was she even trying? 

"Caleb Wittebane."

He whispered, the words barely ghosting his lips. She seemed to catch them none the less for she smiled and it triggered something inside him. His ears burned and his stomach flipped, making him feel suddenly very nauseous. Had she non-verbally spelled him and these were the symptoms? 

"Caleb."She whispered, suddenly sounded very enthralled.

She shook his hand firmly before she released him. 

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you. I saw what you did for that woman this morning."

He met her eyes again, she was smiling but not maliciously. She seemed pleased and even a little proud. 

"You and your hunters are clueless about real witches. Although, you seemed to figure me out very quickly."

He continued to stare, unsure of what to say. 

If this is what witches looked like and acted like then how many innocent women had Phillip killed and just how many deaths did he allow? He looked away from Evelyn, such a situation simply jarring. Here he was having a civil conversation with an actual witch. 

"I apologise but I am greatly confused." He began, having finally found his voice again.

 Evelyn settled on her knees, smiling and awaiting whatever he had to say. 

"You don't have a...um...a human facade? If you aren't posing as one of us, how do you stay hidden?" He regretted the questions the moment they exited his mouth.

 He didn't want to know the answers, he didn't want it confirmed. We're they all innocent? Just like Mrs Alder? Had he let a girl, a real girl go to slaughter and then just patched the evidence that she'd ever existed?

"I suppose I could try and look a bit more human if I should desire."

She lifted her finger and drew a pale blue circle in the air. Caleb unconsciously lifted himself forward, enthralled by the witchcraft happening infront of his very eyes. Once she done there was a grand puff a blue smoke. For a moment he struggled to notice what had changed but then he saw it. Her ears were round and normal and her skin less striking. If he didn't know better, he would've said she was just a young woman who needed her nails clipping. "However, the effect of an illusion spell only last as long as I don't make contact." She once again held out a palm, gesturing for him to take it. Feeling a little less shaken, he complied. In an instant, another puff of blue smoke burst from her and her ears returned to thier original state, her skin becoming once again vibrant. 

He was amazed, he was speechless. He'd witnessed real magic, an actual spell. He couldn't deny it. He'd seen it with his own two eyes. He felt so breathless that his lungs physically ached. This also meant a fundamental truth for Caleb. If the women had been real witches, they would've turned into thier true form from the second the Hunters grabbed them from thier homes. That girl, that had clung to his shirt. She'd touched him, she'd made contact. Had she been a real witch, her ears would've changed- her disguise should've dropped. Unless, she really had been human. Just like him. 

"To answer your other question," Evelyn continued, bringing him away from his heartbreak.

 He listened, desperate for a distraction from his growing guilt. 

"We don't need to hide, we're not apart of your world. We don't exist here, just myths." She exclaimed with an edge of pride and excitement.

 Caleb just furrowed his eyebrows and thoughts hard on her words. 

"I don't understand. You are real, you must exist. I can see you, I can- may I?"He gestured towards her hand whilst speaking, she smiled and once more offered him herself.

 He took her hand in both of his own, she was shockingly small and felt even more so, in his hold. 

"I can feel you. We are touching. How can you be a myth or am I dreaming. Is that the truth, that none of this is happening, I actually hit my head so hard that I am now unconscious? You reveal yourself as only a dream." 

Evelyn chuckled, lifted her second hand to join his. She rubbed his knuckles and a strange, exciting feeling shot through his veins. He felt as if he was surely about to explode but it felt good- nice even. He struggled to stay scared, too many feelings thumping inside his heart to identify just one. 

"I am not a dream. Me and you are here. I am afraid I didn't explain myself in a very clear way. Please allow me to rephrase. You're right, we exist and we may touch. What I meant was, I am not from your world. We do not exist on the same plane of reality, I'm not supposed to be here and you were not meant to see me." 

---

"I will light a fire, are you cold?" Evelyn inquired. 

Caleb thought of his damp hair and the chill the lake had left in his bones. 

"If you would so gracious. I will gather the sticks." He announced, preparing the push to his knees.

 She shook head beside his own and he could've sworn that she smirked. 

"Oh, no need. Please sit back, one more fall and you'll crack." Evelyn giggled. 

Caleb's cheek again grew hot, having entering her life so clumsily. He wondered if she'd go off on her own and his traitorous mind huffed. Something sinful inside of him wanted her stay and yet he couldn't even begin to conjure up the will to take her to the Hunters. 

Instead of gathering sticks like he'd anticipated, she reached out with a singular finger. Just like before, she drew a circle- this one a deep and vibrant amber. A flame burst to life on the tip of her finger which she pointed to the ground. The flame instantly transferred catching alight on the forest floor. Caleb, completely forgetting his manners, stared at the fire. 

"Fasinating!" He gawked, instantly bathing in its warm.

 He sunk into it, grateful for such a wash of heat. 

He pressed his hands towards the fire, soaking up its warmth before he looked up at Evelyn again. 

"Do you have do that everytime you cast a spell?" He asked, mimicking her circle with his own finger.

Evelyn nodded, drawing a few more circles, each a different colour. 

"It's called a spell circle, the bigger the circle the more powerful the spell will be." She explained, still doing something.

 Casting something.

Caleb felt a small vibration in the ground surrounding him before a range of beautiful flowers irrupted from the ground. Lilies and primroses, daisies and orchids. They lifted themselves from the ground gracefully, pulling away from thier stems and breaking down into appropriate sizes. Surrounded by light, the flowers began to weave themselves together. Caleb was able to figure out what Evelyn was doing rather quickly, he'd made enough of them for Phillip through his years. Although, he doubted his brother would appreciate it anymore. The now completed flower crown landed gentlely on Caleb's head. 

Evelyn grinned at him, waiting for his reaction. Caleb let his fingers brush over the petals before he offered Evelyn an equally bright smile. 

"Thankyou." He blushed, inverting his gaze to instead stare into the fire.

The two of them delved into a comfortable silence, both basking in the fires glow. 

Caleb let his mind wander, his smile falling slightly. What would Phillip say, would he even belive him? His stomach squirmed uncomfortably, did he even want to tell Philip? He'd never hidden anything from his brother before, he'd never felt the need to. He couldn't stand the thought but he hated the idea of Evelyn being burnt or drowned even more. Maybe, if Phillip met Evelyn, realised she wasn't dangerous, he'd change his mind! 

Was Evelyn safe though? He'd known her for only an hour or so. It wasn't foolish to suspect that she was tricking him, trying lure him away. He couldn't help but dismiss such a feeling, something about her smile eased him. She'd had every opportunity to end him, deep here in the woods no one would hear his screams. She'd proved that she was capable of magic, she could've easily drowned him or set him alight but she didn't. Instead, she made him a fire simply because she knew he was cold. She had grown and made him a flower crown for the singular reason that she'd wanted to. 

How strange. That he thought that he knew her, that he dared to try and understand her. He hadn't been known her longer than day besides they weren't even the same species. He shouldn't been able to understand her and she shouldn't be acting like this. So civil, so calm. Why hadn't she cursed him, he didn't understand. Why didn't she want to devour him? Was this, the fire, the crown only a ploy to make him trust her? Was she secretly a sadist, who wanted him to feel betrayed when she spelled him? 

"Why?" He said unconsciously.

 He hadn't meant to speak, still trapped in his own mind. Evelyn looked up and titled her head, confusion taking over her soft features. He'd started now, he had to commit. 

"Why don't you want to hurt me? Why are you being so kind?" He refused to meet her eyes, he instead kept his gaze locked on the licking flames.

 A hush seemed to have fallen over the forest. Even the owls seemed to have gone quiet. 

"Why should I want to hurt you?" She replied, he peeked up and saw her smiling.

 He pulled his knees up to his chest and tucked in his chin, "because you're a witch." 

"And you are human." 

He looked up at her confused, lifting his face from his knees. 

"What relevance is that?" He asked, scrunching up his face, Evelyn in response rolled her eyes.

 She smirked and held out her finger, "I apologise, I thought we were just saying what the other one was."

Caleb's face filled with blood as she continued. 

"Tell me, do you judge the owl for being owls? Are all rats evil because they carry disease? I am truly so evil, only because I am not a human like you?" Her tone was less playful now, it had transformed into sometimes far more serious. She wanted a reply. 

If it was even possible, his face burned even hotter. Humiliation rushing through his very being. 

"Of course not, that's not what I meant. It's just..." He trailed off but Evelyn waited, clearly wanting to hear his thoughts. "My mama and papa, the townsfolk- they had very different stories about witches. They said you devoured humans, that you were in league with the devil and that I should fear you. I don't fear you, you're...kind and graceful. How my mama would be horrified, I am enjoying our conversation." He finished, twisting his thumbs around.

 Evelyn actually blushed, or maybe he only imagined it. 

"I am enjoying our conversation too. I'm not sure who your 'devil' is but assure you, we have never met." She replied, crossing her legs.

Caleb couldn't help but laugh despite the obvious blasphemy. She looked surprised by his sudden fit. 

"You don't belive in the devil? Where do you think the dead go?" He asked eventually, having calmed down.

Evelyn straightened and her face twisted up in a form of confusion. 

"They pass on, unless something or someone keeps them tethered to physical world. According to myth, some may become trapped in the in-between." She said very seriously, it was Caleb's turn to seem confused.

 He blinked and turned over such information in his mind. 

"What, ghosts? You believe in ghosts?" He asked, settling back onto the grass.

Digging his fingers into the soft dirt. Evelyn pursed her lips and considered him for a long moment. 

"I don't belive in anything. Ghosts are staple in my world, some of visible to all, those are the poor souls bound to objects or places. The others are named haunts and they do exactly that, haunt whoever they are tied to." 

Caleb considered the new information, enjoying the feeling of dirt crumbling between his fingers. Cool against the heat of the fire and the draft from the water. 

"That's not how it works here." He said eventually, thinking back to the various Sundays he'd spent in church.

How the teachers had rapped his knuckles during his school days. Evelyn continued watching him with an odd form of fascination. 

"What does happen?" She asked, sounding almost quizzical.

Caleb finally looked into her eyes. How strange, that witches not only neglected the teachings of God but were also so clueless. 

"The good get to go to heaven and the wicked are burnt in hell." He answered, pressing his fingers even harder into the earth.

He'd sealed his fate tonight. Here he was sat alone, in the dark with a girl but not just any girl. A witch. He wouldn't be surprised if he was to be struck down on his way back to the house. 

"How cruel." Evelyn commented, frowning deeply. "I'll be sure to die in my own realm." She confirmed, shooting him a tiny smile.

He just stared back, feeling conflicted. 

He opened his mouth, unsure of what he wanted to say just that he wanted to say something. 

"Caleb!" Phillip's voice cut him off, echoing from somewhere in the distance. 

Evelyn shot up and Caleb followed suit. 

"My brother," He informed her, feeling a sudden rising panic in his chest. "He's a Witch Hunter, you need to leave." 

She looked to him, emotions mixing across her face. 

"Go," He urged, gently pushing her away, "he'll kill you." And I don't know if I'd stop him. 

This time she stepped away, holding his gaze as she backed away. It was like Phillip's voice had reset his brain. What was he doing? Standing here like a fool, grasping at eye contact with a Witch. One he was telling to run. 

She seemed to break her holding spell on him and turned away, he watched with a strange sense of emptiness as she ran and disappeared between the trees. 

"Caleb!" Phillip appeared from behind him, bursting out from the forest. 

Carefully he hurried down the very slope Caleb had fell down earlier. Phillip gripped his shoulders and spun him around to face him. 

"Caleb." He called again, giving him a small shake.

 He blinked the fog from his eyes, fighting the urge to the turn back to where Evelyn had disappeared. 

"Are you alright?" Phillip asked, creasing his eyebrows, tightening his hold on his brother.

 He nodded, still reveling in the heat from the still burning fire. 

Phillip released his grip but very lightly.

"I came home but you weren't there, Reggends said he saw you walking into the forest without a lantern, looking enchanted. Did you see a Witch?"

Yes and she was more beautiful than any girl I've ever laid eyes on before. 

He shook his head, raising his arms to rest his hands on Phillip's wrists.

"I only came out for a walk, don't be so superstitious Pip." 

Phillip didn't seem so easily convinced, he stared at Caleb with a pouted lip. He patted his younger brother's shoulder and forced the most genuine smile he could muster. 

"Come on, Pip. Let's go home, I'm tired." 

Chapter Text

Caleb had spent the rest of the week hidden under his covers. Phillip had assumed he'd fallen ill due to the lake incident and he simply didn't correct him. Instead using his new found free time to wrestle with his inner demons. Grateful to his brother, who shooed away the Hunters from thier door when they came to accuse him of once again lying. 

"You dare accuse my brother of speaking with the serpent's tounge? Get out of my house before I chop out yours!" He'd heard Phillip yell from outside the door hours prior.

He'd promptly fell asleep after that- perhaps he was truly sick? 

His days seemed to move like a blur, he'd awake occasionally with his bedroom looking lopsided before falling asleep again. He always dreamed of the same person- a young woman with untamed brown hair, white skin and pointed ears. He'd watch her smile, reach out and when he tried to reach back he found himself back in the lake, sinking. Too exhausted to even try and swim back up. 

His head pounded, his heart thumped twice it's usual speed and his face was flushed, feverish almost. He'd remained in such a state for five days before finally returning to his senses. The strange woman once again faded his view but instead of suffocating water or blistering fire, he heard birdsong. The light suddenly too bright against his eyelids, his blankets thick and heavy. There was a hand on his head, someone was threading thier fingers through his hair and twirling his stray curl that usually rested on his forehead. 

He forced his eyes to open and found his brother's gentle smile. His fingers were the ones running through his hair. Caleb fondly remembered the days when their roles had been reversed. When a young Phillip had caught a fever and Caleb had spent days fussing over him. 

"Pip," He mumbled, successfully gaining the attention of his baby brother. 

Phillip's hand stilled on surprise for a moment before he resumed his task. 

"Good morning," He laughed, "it's good to see you awake, the doctor came around yesterday, he said you were terribly unwell. I was so worried." 

Caleb slipped his hand out from underneath his covers, Phillip's fingers intertwining with his own. His brother wrapped his hand in both of his own. 

"You were so cold last night, I'm glad to see your blood running again." He told him, his eyes wide and fearful.

Almost like Caleb was about to fade away, he began to rub Pip's knuckles, just like he had when he was tiny. When he struggled with nightmares, he'd sit beside his bed rubbing his knuckles.

"I'm sorry for loosing my temper with you, I should've let you light the fire. Please forgive me." Phillip announced suddenly, tightening his grip and turning his face away. 

Caleb chuckled and gave his brother's hand a reassuring squeeze. He shook his head and sighed heavily, grateful for the open window. 

"It's alright, it's all alright Pip." 

He lay his head back and closed his eyes shut. 

"Are you in pain?" Phillip questioned, sounding both concerned and intrigued.

 He freed one of his hands from around Caleb's own to press the back of his palm to his forehead. He shook his head in return and sighed- the movement causing a wave of fatigue to wash over him. 

"It's alright." He repeated, his eyes remaining dutifully closed. 

Phillip had been forced to leave him once he saw that Caleb was able to sustain himself. Their coins beginning to diminish and the Hunters getting more and more irritated with the two of them. 

"You may well loose your promotion- go Pip. I'll be alright, please don't fuss." He'd instructed Phillip, running his hand down his face and pressing a kiss to his temple. 

"I can send for Lawrence," Phillip offered. 

He lifted himself from the bed, preparing to leave. Caleb's blood turned to ice in his veins, his hand shot out to grab at his brother. 

"No." He rasped. 

He pulled Phillip back, eying up the quill on his desk with distain. 

"Don't write to him, I don't need him." 

Phillip sighed, once more soothing him. Running a hand across his shoulder like a newborn lamb. He tutted quietly. 

"Why won't you let him help?" He inquired, attempting to leave again. 

A feeling a old rage settled itself in his chest. He tightened his hold on his brother and shooting him the harshest look he could muster. Phillip frowned deeply, patting the top of his hand. 

"My debt to that man is settled and I don't need another one." He declared, settling back against the pillows. 

His neck had began to ache, he released his grip on Phillip. He could feel his brother's finger flex, clearly irrated by his stubborn nature. 

"It's not about that, he's family; he'd never ask that of you." Phillip argued back. 

Caleb just shook his head, finally loosing his hold on Phillip entirely. His hand landing gently on the covers. Phillip hummed with uncertainty before he stood up, taking his coat from the end of his bed with him. He opened his mouth to say something else but Caleb beat him to it. 

"Go to work, I'll be fine; I'll get myself up today." He reassured him, smiling up at his brother. 

Phillip smiled back but he could see the crease between his eyes that betrayed his worry. He laughed and began to push himself up with difficulty.

"Go, don't worry about me- and don't call for Lawrence!" He added as Phillip disappeared around the door. 

After week, Caleb hadn't returned to the Hunters and neither had they come looking for him. 

Now Caleb was left alone in the house without company or noise. He'd pulled himself from his bed and instead settled himself at the kitchen table, beside the window. He'd instructed the neighbours to leave thier ruined clothes in the basket on thier front step. He whittled the time away by sewing and repairing the shirts before the owners came to collect. 

"When are you going to get yourself a wife, Wittebane?" Mrs Trout had asked him during one of thier exchanges. 

She dropped a few coins in his hand before she patted his cheek. He blushed and busied himself with the rest of her clothes. 

"You're how old now my dear?" She continued, placing the freshly stitched shirts in her own basket. 

"Nearing 20, ma'am. No girl has ever caught my eye, that's all." He answered, keeping his eyes purposefully away from the old lady's prying ones. 

She scoffed half heartily and placed her hands on her hips, her basket hanging off her elbow. 

"If you had a wife, you wouldn't have to do all this busy work. You could go out and do whatever it is you men do." She pressed on. 

They had completed thier transaction and he desperately wanted to shoo her off his doorstep but a feeling she'd jam his door open with her stick. 

So instead of hiding, he pulled on a smile. 

"I happen to enjoy it actually." He tried, hoping that would end such a painful conversation. 

He saw her face twitch like he'd said something midly offensive. Much to his dismay, she continued on. 

"Nonsense, you need to get out Mr Wittebane. I see your issue, I do- i do." She declared, knocking him gently in the knees with his stick. 

He fought off the urge to sigh and forced his face to remain friendly. 

"Do you?" He questioned, he began to fiddle allowing him to escape further into the house. 

Perhaps if she noticed him quietly retreating she'd take the hint. 

She didn't. 

"You've tricked yourself into thinking you're young Phillip's mother, poor thing. I don't think you need to worry about that boy anymore, break these femine habits already." 

He couldn't fight off the blush that rose to cheeks and he was suddenly feeling quite agitated. 

"If you have everything you need, Mrs Trout, then I'm afraid I must end our conversation here. I've got lots of things to be doing." He snapped, albeit harshly. 

Only, Mrs Trout laughed reaching up onto her tiptoes to pinch his cheek. 

"Oh, dear me. I seemed to have offended you, Phillip is young and strong. He will be married soon and you, in your stubbornness, will still be here fussing over someone that does not exist. This isn't your role, life hasn't been kind to you and forced you into the wrong responsibilities, you ought to have married years ago. That way you may have saved yourself all your labour." Her voice was calm and poised, she released him and smiled up at him as if they had been chatting over tea. 

"My daughter Amelia has just turned 18 and I have trained her well- if I do say so myself. How about I set up a Chaperone and we save a date?" She said, her eyes twinkling and he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. 

"I know my brother and I know I am not our mother- I never spoke of such things. My choices are my own, I don't care for the labour that you have assumed I'm burdened with." He said finally, ignoring her. 

He shut door firmly behind himself, careful not to slam to the door. She liked to gossip and he dreaded the idea of her calling him aggressive in the market. He slid down the door, clothes spilling into his lap has he did so. The sound of coins running away from his hand, loud in his ears. 

He couldn't deny his femine habits, Phillip himself had pointed them out to him many times. He'd just never considered the town saw him in the same light. Just a little boy, desperately trying to replicate his dead mother when he'd only been trying to survive. Caleb remembered his mama well. She'd been a stern but gentle laced with the same straw blonde hair as him. He remembered how her wiry frame had wrapped around him and she'd pinched his ear whenever his mind ran away with him. 

She'd been an impending figure who stood her ground well, something she'd passed onto her youngest son. (Phillip was so strong compared to him.) He remembered standing beside her at the market, small enough to still be clutching at her skirt while she beat down on a farmer. He couldn't think what he'd done to invoke her wrath but he did know that he'd stared up at her with amazement as she defended the both them and her honor. He was proud to call himself her son. 

He also remembered when she had been sick. Stuck between caring for her sons, managing the estate and fighting to fill the space her husband had left. She had moved slow during those days, she had already been thin but she'd felt more like skeleton then whenever Caleb had wrapped his arms around her. Her oldest son had trotted along side her, picking up whatever she dropped.  

"I'll hold the baby mama, I want to hold my brother." 

"Don't struggle mama, I will carry the baskets- I'm really strong! See mama; I can hold three baskets at once." 

"Look at all these berries I picked for you, mama." 

"May I try with the needle, I'll be so careful." 

Over the weeks the colour had drained from her face, her hair had thinned significantly. 

One day she'd called him over in a weak voice, he'd stalked over cautiously and knelt beside her. She had been sprawled over the drawing room sofa, she had ran her fingers through his hair. 

"You called for me, mama?" He asked, prodding for his task. 

She massaged his scalp and sighed heavily, her whole body sinking into the material. Unable to lift her head to look at him. 

"My darling Caleb, my little boy." She'd murmured. 

He'd removed her hand from his head and instead clutched it close to his chest. 

"Mother...? What do you need, what can I do?" 

"Listen carefully to me Caleb." She said, her tone suddenly serious, he'd shuffled in even closer. Searching her sickly face, dread pooling into his stomach like lava. 

"My money, it's in my drawer; go to the market and take your brother with you. Release all the cows and all the sheep and..." 

She had trailed off, seemingly falling asleep. 

"And what, mama? What should I bring back, why must I release the livestock?" He'd tugged at her sleeve and was met by a weak groan. 

He'd obeyed her, gathering all of her coins. He'd taken ahold of Phillip's little wrist before they headed out into the fields. Phillip had waved to cows has they trotted out the yards with grunts and huffs. 

Once in the market he'd pulled Phillip along, determined not to loose him in the crowd. Feeling helpless as he'd tugged at the trouser leg of the first gentleman he'd seen. 

"Hello little boys." The man had coughed out, eyeing the two if warily. Trying to decipher whether they were children in need of help or pickpockets. 

"Please, my mama she's terribly ill and she's not making sense."

The man demeanor had changed quickly, he pushed his hat up and out of his eyes. 

"What's your mother's name?" He asked, pushing Caleb and Phillip along with him. 

"Mrs Wittebane." Caleb had murmured, pulling Phillip close into himself. 

That was the first time Caleb and Phillip had met General Lawrence. 

He had escorted the two boys home only to find the stink of death. Phillip had peeked out from between the Lawrence's legs, holding on to his trouser leg, his thumb jammed in his mouth. Too young to comprehend the situation while his older brother had thrown himself at the stiff figure of a woman sprawled across the sofa only to be pulled back by the General. 

"MAMA!" 

He picked himself up from the floor, he didn't like these memories. That's why he'd let the General ship him and Phillip off to Gravesfield. So he didn't have to remember. He scrambled to gather up the dropped coins off the floor and place the clothes back into the basket. The pennies clicked when he dropped them into the jar. He settled himself back into his favourite seat by the window, gathering up another project. He didn't get much work down, he mostly stared out the window. Watching the trees of the forest sway. 

Caleb lay in the silence over the dinner table, this was how they ate every night. Sometimes it seemed like Phillip was ever so slowly drifting away and half the time Caleb didn't know what to say to him. 

"Mrs Trout came to the office today." Phillip suddenly announced, not looking up from his plate. 

Caleb stiffened, his grip on his utensils becoming painful. Phillip had this talent, to be able to break the silence so casually and effortlessly. 

Unknowing of what to say Caleb simply looked to his brother. Worry building in his stomach. 

"She spoke of her daughter, she asked me to speak to you about- perhaps courting her." He could hear a smirk in Phillip's voice as he spoke, his eyes flashing upwards. 

Caleb simply places down his fork and fixed his brother with a long stare. Observing him and his smug little smirk. 

"Eat your dinner, Phillip, It's none of your concern." He signed, rubbing his temple. 

The fire was blazing, making it far too hot within the house. 

"Why won't you consider this? You're being stubborn." Phillip continued, pushing his dinner away. 

Caleb ignored him, desperately trying to sedate the building headache. He squeezed his eyes shut- the sound of flickering fire in his ears. 

"Pip, be quiet." He snapped, his voice barely above a whisper. "Please, I'm tired."  

Rising panic in his chest, the fire in the grate was too loud. He was too hot, his skin was burning. 

"You're always tired, you're like an old, sickly woman." 

A log popped. 

"I told you so be quiet." Caleb hissed. Another log popped. 

"You're not my mother, Caleb." 

Phillip jumped at the sudden bang and pain laced up Caleb's arm. His fist meeting the wood with enough forced that his bones rattled. He turned his face away, fighting back the urge to scream. Not words, just scream. 

"Go to bed, Phillip, now." Was all that came out instead. 

Phillip pouted and jumped from his chair. "I'm sixteen years old, you can't just-" 

"I said go." 

He watched from in-between his fingertips as Phillip stood up straight and fixed him with a long sneer before he trudged off. His fists curled at his side, stomping every step of the way. "There will come a day when you can't tell me what to do anymore Caleb, you'll see." His voice seethed with anger and he kept his gaze pinned on his brother until he disappeared around the corner. 

Caleb pushed himself from the table and stumbled towards the door. He threw it open and disappeared into the night. 

Chapter Text

Caleb slumped down next to a tree, pressing his face onto the soft bark with a sigh. He pressed his eyes closed and relished in the sound a calm water and the cool air it brought with it. 

He felt stretched- like someone had filled him with sand and then poured it all back out again. As if he was a ragdoll that a child had played too rough with. He buried his face in his arms- he was so glad he was alone. He didn't realise the first tear had even fallen until his skin became increasingly wet and sticky. He tried to hold his sound back until a hiccup forced his sobs out. 

He didn't even understand why he was so upset. He'd recounted the story of his mother multiple times for multiple people. This hadn't been the first time he'd heard a comment like that from Phillip. Especially during his tantrums. Why had it upset him so much? Maybe because he'd been trying so hard to forget, perhaps because he had been trying not to think of another woman with terrifying control over fire, who was- 

"Caleb?" 

His head shot up, almost colliding with the tree behind it. He looked around wildly, the air getting trapped in his throat. 

There she was. 

Standing in the tree line, her hand out reached and her lips a thin line of concern. He hated that look, he wanted to her to stop looking at him like that. Her name rose to his lips but all that came out was another gurgling sob. He buried his head in his hands, pressing his knuckles into his eyes. 

He heard her boots snapping the twigs as she approached and he pressed an arm out to push her away but instead he found his hand incased with her's. She pulled him close, his chin resting on her shoulder and his face buried in her hair. He couldn't even feel the embarrassment past his sorrow. So rather than run, he gripped her shoulders and let the tears fall freely. She stroked his hair and hummed soothingly as he cried, occasionally shushing him. 

Some time later, his tears finally ran dry. He lifted himself from her shoulder and heaved in breaths, feeling rather lightheaded. There was a wet patch on her dress and another wave of sorrow washed over him. 

"I'm sorry, Evelyn. I've ruined your frock." He whispered, turning his head away in shame. 

Had he really just cried- like a little girl- on a Witch's shoulder and was she really running rubbing his cheek with a smile? She shook her head, tracing his jaw with her nail. An undertone of fear in his gut but truthfully, he didn't have the energy to be threatened anymore. If she skinned him alive he'd simply lay down and accept it. 

"Oh Caleb, don't be sorry. What has happened to you?" Her voice was as soft as her hands. 

He peeled himself away and pressed his knuckles into his eyes until he saw colours fly behind his eyelids. Evelyn hand closed around his wrist gently. He tugged his arm away weakly but she held on. She continues to pry his fingers from his eyes but they remained dutifully shut. He took a steadying breath before he shook his head. He heard Evelyn sigh and he suddenly had the very strong urge to run. 

"That's okay," she muttered, her voice as soft and far away as smoke; "You don't have to talk." 

She shifted on the ground, finding a more comfortable position on the needle filled floor. She shuffled around for a few seconds before inevitably giving up. He heard the shuffled of clothes and the sound of a clip coming undone. 

"Stand up for a moment." She instructed. 

Most likely under a spell, he obeyed. He leaned on a tree and admired the intricate pattern across the bark. He reached out a finger and ran it across the grooves, imprinting them into memory. Evelyn took a hold of his arm and pulled him carefully the ground. He found the lining of her cloak beneath the two of them, shielding them from the dried mud. 

He stared to her, unable to form words- let alone an apology. 

"It's far too hot for a cloak tonight." She confirmed, smiling like the sun. 

They both knew that was a lie. 

"I shouldn't be near you," He said, turning his face away from her, "this is wrong." 

Evelyn hummed thoughtfully, "well, I've never been a slave to the rules." 

The two sunk into the silence. The owls hooted somewhere in the distance, a rabbit hopped through the bushes and the water lapped noisily at the shore. Caleb once again closed his eyes and pictured it all moving along- watched from behind painted eyelids as the world carried on without him. His eyes shot open as he started suddenly. A unfamiliar heat encasing his hand and soothing his knuckles. He glanced downwards and noticed his fingers intertwined with Evelyn's long one. Her thumb was running along the rough edge of his joints. 

"Talk, please." He begged, his voice barely above a whisper. 

Evelyn's head fell onto the shoulder and she shuffled closer, her grip on his hand tightening. This was wrong, this was sinful and yet- he didn't pull away. Rather he sunk into the kind touch. 

"About what, Love?" She asked, the corners of her purple eyes finding his brown ones. 

He squeezed back, laying his head atop hers. The world turning lopsided, the trees toppling to the ground. 

"Anything." 

There was a long pause before: 

"I find this so interesting, I'm not quite what is it or what it's purpose is but it's never the less, interesting." She proclaimed. 

He turned his attention to her free hand, which was scooping up handfuls of dried, crispy mud and letting it fall from between her fingers. He chuckled and then he laughed- an action which caused his chest to ache with nostalgic sorrow. He cupped his hand under hers and let it land in his palm. It felt flaky and unnatural, for the first time- he actually wished for rain. 

"It reminds me of Abomination matter, from my own realm- but it feels so odd and looks...displeasing to the eye." 

"It's mud." He told her, his lips lifting into some mockery of a smile. "It's just dirt but it can be good for infections and medicines, I use it in my home recipes." 

He crumpled the pieces of mud between his fingertips and watched the dust fall like sand onto the their stacked knees. He felt Evelyn shift as he stared at their legs; at the place the mud had once been. 

"Where did it go?" She asked and he laughed again.  

"I turned it into powder, the wind took it." He told her, his hand now freed of mud snaked around her shoulder. 

She didn't stop him or protest, if anything she melted further into him. Caleb knew that if anyone was find them here, without a chaperone at least, they would be in deep trouble. That was if they were too stupid to see past Evelyn. Still, he took the chance and continued on, pressing down all his guilt and worry. Too stretched thin with emotion and embarrassment to think. 

"You need rain to make it all goopy and sticky, it rained alot in Cornwell- I would take Phillip out to have water fights; we would find puddles and kick muddy water at eachother. Poor Pip, he was so very tiny, he couldn't make a very big splash." He smiled as he recalled the memory. 

It took him a moment to realise that Evelyn had moved from his shoulder and was now staring at him with sheer amazement. As if he was some powerful god. He turned his head to the side, confused. 

How had his wholesome childhood memory offend her? 

"How on the Isles did you withstand the rain?" She gawked, inspecting his arm for signs of damage. 

"It is only rain, it won't kill me." He laughed, however, her face seemed to say different. "Well, I guess too much and you could get sick..." 

"In my world, should you try and play your game you'd be dead very fast." She said cooly. 

He couldn't help the soft laugh that left his lips, debating on whether or not she was being serious. The gentle smile playing on her lips and the soft look in her eye made it hard to tell. 

"Are you just trying to frighten me?" He asked with a hint a cheekiness in his voice. Leaning in even closer, if that was even possible. 

She didn't push him away, despite the recklessness, instead she allowed it and smirked. She gave a small shrug, her hair bouncing with her shoulders. 

"Do you feel frightened?" She asked, an edge of teasing lay heavy in her words. Reinforced with her toothy grin. 

"No, you're doing a terrible job as a Witch." He told her, still, his own smile did not falter. 

She gave a fake gasp of hurt and slapped his arm playfully, he barely felt the impact. 

---

It became a pastime, he didn't mean for it to happen but it did. 

Every night without fail he'd wander out of the house and into the forest. He'd murmur something about 'a late night walk' to Phillip before he disappeared into the darkness. Ignoring the suspicious eye that followed him all the way out the door. 

Evelyn was always there, always waiting with the most perfect and patient smile. Even when he was unbelievably late, due to arguments. Still, regardless whatever happened during the day they would always turn up and sit together until their legs went numb. They would ramble about nothing for hours, Evelyn's life and Caleb's femine hobbies. She offered advice that he'd never even considered and within days his stitches were invisible and far more tough than they'd ever been. He let her touch and hold his gun (with the safety on of course) She loved every second of it. 

At one point he'd taken the safety off and allowed her to shoot some targets that he had crafted from sticks and large leaves. He had cheered for her as she hit each and every one of then near in the middle. 

"It's not different from a training wand." She'd said, grinning over her shoulder. 

She spoke of her family, her mother and father who carved something called a 'Palisman' for a living. Her four younger brothers who were supposedly immature and irresponsible with their magic. Caleb had laughed at the thought, imagining just how much of pain Phillip would be if he too could cast. 

He mumbled bits and pieces about his own family, she never judged- only listened with a gentle and sad face. Occasionally asking quiet questions about his exstended family and England. Eventually, he'd brought a map with him to point out Cornwall.

"The human realm is far too big!" Evelyn said through a gasp, as unfurled the huge map, "where are we now?" She asked, gawking at the labels, mouthing the names silently. 

"We're in America, it's a British Colney but its not on this map..." He explained, feeling a sense of pride in his chest. 

Evelyn's eyes practically bulged out of her head and then laughed, so hard that her face was starting to match her dress. He too began to laugh, it was contagious, although he had no idea what was so funny. 

"You're lying, there's more?" She finally asked, shaking her head in utter disbelief. 

He nodded sincerely, his cheeks hurting from smiling and she shook her head. "I'll bring a map of the Americas next time." 

--- 

A whole two weeks past, he'd seen Evelyn near every night and even sometimes in the day. More than a few times, he'd spot her in the market or walking past on the dirt roads. Her ears crammed underneath her bonnet and her hands hidden beneath gloves made from a form of silk he didn't recognise. 

They would catch eachother's eyes from across the stalls, her temporary brown eyes flashing purple- for only a split second. She would flash him a toothy grin, showcasing each and every fang whenever she was sure no one else was watching. 

It felt good, he felt special knowing a secret that no one else could ever know. It made him feel chosen and giddy inside. He ignored the strange looks that Phillip gave him whenever he noticed the prolonged eye contact. 

"Who is that girl?" He asked one day while they were hanging up thier coats. 

Caleb shrugged, trying to seem nonchalant. He walked away from Phillip, who followed with persistence, questions bubbling off his lips. 

"Are you courting?" 

"Is she rich?" 

"I don't recognise her, is she new to town?" 

He'd asked faster than Caleb conjour up a good lie while he threw himself into his armchair. Phillip dragged his own chair against the floor and was staring at Caleb intensely. He stared him out of corner of his eye and then at the tracks on the ground. 

"Stop that. You're ruining the floors, were not privileged enough for a maid." He said instead, reaching for a random book. 

Romeo and Julliet. 

A gift from some girl's mother, he remembered distantly. He flipped through the script, pretending to be distracted. Act 1, Scene 5- when Romeo first spotted the young maiden. 

"Well, if I'm right- and it seems like I may be, based on how you're deflecting- you may have a wife soon and that's just as good." He brother grinned, punching him in the arm, a little harder than usual. He turned the book around and smacked him on the top of his head with a gentle 'thunk' noise. 

He grumbled but didn't hit back, instead he peered over- blocking his view as Caleb reopened the book and flipped through the pages. 

"She kisses him right after meeting him- scandalous, you shouldn't read this filth." Phillip announced, taking the play from his hands and sticking his nose into the pages. As if the intensity from his stare was enough the change the workings of Shakespeare. 

He plucked the book straight out of his brother's hand and snapped it shut. He didn’t really like Romeo and Julliet, he found it miserable and Phillip wasn’t really helping him to like it anymore. 

"Get your giant nose out of my book and out of my business." He said, placing the book back on the end table and staring at his brother. 

"You're one to talk about giant noses." Phillip responded, flicking his older brother on the tip of his nostril. He grumbled and swatted his hand away which swiftly develed into the wrestling match. He shoved Phillip who was perched on the edge of his seat, while he fell he'd grabbed ahold of his brother's shirt. They landed on a heap atop of one another where they laughed as Caleb reached back up towards the table. He once again wacked him on the side of the head and in the shoulder with the play whilst Phillip fought to catch of his wrist. The two of them rolling around on the bare floor, half conscious of the roaring fire only a foot away, laughing until their stomachs hurt. 

"Okay, I forfeit!" Caleb announced between gasps of air and giggles, having been pinned too many times to walk away with any less dignity than he already had. 

Phillip climbed off of him, while he was panting his face was no more red then it had been previously. Caleb seriously needed to work on his stamina. Phillip stuck his tounge out, for one more extra flaunt, while Caleb half-heartly swung on hand at him. It missed by a mile and landed heavily next to his head. 

"Come one, old man." Phillip said, offering him a hand. He sent him his middle finger first before accepting the aid. 

They climbed back into thier respective chairs and sunk into the blissful silence, only for a few minutes. 

"You should invite her to dinner." Phillip announced casually, his lips drawn into a cheeky smirk. 

While Caleb stomach dropped out of his body at the idea.

----

He returned to woods again and once again Evelyn was waiting for him. He'd denied Phillip's dinner idea, he couldn't help but imagine him discovering their secret and probably flipping the table on its head. On the other hand, a dinner with Evelyn did sound nice. 

So when Phillip had left for work, he'd raided the cupboards and filled a baskets with treats and trinkets. apples and peaches, now that they were in season, they wouldn't drain his wallet. Sandwiches with a few slices of cheese on them and homegrown tomatoes. It wasn't much but it was what he could afford and something told him Evelyn wouldn't mind too much. 

When he arrived, Evelyn was standing by the water's edge holding a small notebook filled with thick wads of parchment. She didn't seem to notice him at first, too busy scribbling something down. Her tounge stuck partially out of her mouth in concentration. 

"Evelyn..." He muttered, she jumped slightly and then turned around. A wide smile building on her lips as she walked towards him, stuffing her notebook into her saddle bag. 

"Caleb, my love, I was worried you weren't coming." She giggled, wrapping her arms around his neck. Her eyes finally properly meeting his own. They were so vibrate and bright, shimmering like a thousand microscopic needles. He could stare into her eyes forever. 

He avoided holding her waist, afraid of pushing his luck. When she pulled away he held up the basket, grinning nervously like an idiot. 

"I brought a surprise, I thought we could...have a picnic." He said, fighting to contain his blush. 

Her face spilt open into a grin of excitement and joy, a blush of her own making itself present across her cheeks. She pressed a hand across her chest, "I'm touched, I would love that." She said, sincerely. 

The two settled down together, on an old ragged blanket he'd brought with him. Evelyn seemed fascinated by the food, questioning everything before she ate it. She poked and prodded at the apples and stroked the peaches curiously, shrieking as she discovered its fluffy nature. He wasn't really paying much attention, he just enjoyed watching her as she sat peacefully, her skirt tucked underneath her. He found himself memorised by her laugh and the way she threw her head back and how her cheeks turned a dusted pink. 

He listened to more of her stories as they ate, fascinated by all of her comparisons between The Human and Demon Realm. He laughed hard enough for his stomach to hurt when she bit eye holes into the cheese and held it up. Mocking the Hunters, reciting the pleas he'd followed for ten years. Coming from her, they sounded ridiculous. 

She was suddenly on her feet and pulling him up with her. He followed her with a sense of growing confusion as she dragged him with haste towards the lake. She knelt down by the edge to which he copied. Something didn't seem right- the water looked almost fake? An unsettling feeling of Uncanny Valley squirmed at the pit of his stomach as he stared at the detached section of water. 

Evelyn lowered her fingertips into the water, the edges lighting up with silver; a quiet suction noise could be heard from the lake. She turned to him and gave a cheeky smile. 

He swallowed hard, staring at where the top of her hand had disappeared into the void. He held his own limbs close. 

"Would you like to see it, meet some more witches?" She asked, an usual spark in her eyes. 

He suddenly longed for adventure like he'd never before. He didn't stop her when she retracted her hand to take ahold of his own. He still didn't stop her when she began to guide his fingers into the cool water. It was unusually thick and yet he broke through easily. It wasn't long before all the sensations stopped and felt the hot air of a summer night on the pads of his fingers. He breathed in amazement, laughing abiet hysterically. 

She released him and he pulled free; away from the warm air, through the water and back into the crisp air of Earth that the rest of his body was inhabiting. He lifted his hand and inspected it throughly, half expecting it to be deformed and charred but it was exactly as if had been previously. Rough and scarred. It wasn't even wet. 

"What do you think?" She asked, hugging his arm which was supporting his body, "Do you want to see it for real?" 

His mouth moved uselessly as he tried to form an answer, his mind both blank and storming. Leave Phillip? Join the witches? Be with Evelyn. 

"I can't, I'm not ready yet." He answered eventually with rushed breath. 

She smiled again, her usual kind smile. He held onto him and pressed her nose into his shoulder. 

"I understand, Caleb I-" 

"What did I tell you boys, there's the Witch!" A familiar voice boomed from across the hilltop. 

Caleb's nerves shot into overdrive, fear gripped him like a reinforced rope. He jumped up, hauling Evelyn up with him. She didn't appear afraid, if anything she seemed inconvenienced, she snarled revealing her sharp teeth and he felt the tips of her nails dig into his skin. He could've sworn that he heard her growl. 

She detached herself from him and stood tall. For a moment he forgot about the impending danger as he admired her powerful stance. His eyes drawn to her powerful claws and wild hair, she reminded him of wolf. Ready to defend her pack. Then he snapped out of it and threw himself in front of her. 

"Evelyn, go! Return home and don't come back." He demanded, pointing towards the lake. 

He saw the hurt across her face as she analysed him, then she smiled. A vicious smile that made his knees weak. 

"You don't need to worry about me Love, I've danced with your friends before." She said, her eyes flashing with something dangerous. Something that triggered a strange feeling in his body. 

He shook his head and gripped her shoulders, panic taking over every inch of his being, each nerve lit alight. The sound hooves approaching only further pressed on his desperation. 

"No, you couldn't possibly understand. This man- he's different you haven't faced anything like him before and I won't stand here let him make you his next victim." He cried out, his hold had now moved to her face, her hands held his close. 

"Come on, have some faith-" She began playfully but he cut her off. 

"No! Please Evelyn, I can't loose anymore than I already have- not you too. Go!" 

He was almost here, he could hear him approaching. Each clatter of hooves like rumble of thunder. 

Finally she broke, she began to slip away and he nearly sobbed again. 

"I will go but not forever, I'll be back- you can't get rid of me so easily Caleb Wittebane." She announced, still holding onto his hands. 

"I wouldn't have it any other way." He replied, holding onto her for as long as possible, her fingers slipping away one by one. 

She let go finally and dived head first into the odd surface of the lake and disappeared. He stared longingly at the rippling water waiting with false hope for her to emerge. 

"Why didn't I go to the demon realm with Mrs Alder?" He wondered aloud in the last moments of peace. 

He hit the ground with a cry as Lawrence's staff slammed into his stomach. Bessie's hooves stamped dangerously close his face, he shrieked and threw his arms up to protect his features. Lawrence pulled Bessie back, temporarily dispelling the danger. Caleb sat up as he dismounted and he felt his whole body tremble, memories flashing through his mind. Lawrence snatched up his collar and dragged him upward until thier noses touched. His breath smelled as rancid as ever. 

"Where is she?" He growled, tightening his grip. 

Caleb willed himself calm, trying to appear cool. 

"I have no idea who you mean." He said, his voice inches away from cracking. 

Lawrence's fist found his face with a sharp crack and pain blossomed from his nose, spreading into his eyes and mouth. He choked and reeled back, his head swimming. He looked around wildly as more Hunters skidding down the hill and out from the trees. 

Lawrence pulled his fist back again and he braced himself. 

"Don't play dumb with me, Boy; I know you all too well." 

Caleb remained quiet, his body tighter than a tripwire. Lawrence's eyes narrowed and then his fist collided with him again, this time a trickle of a warm blood dripped down his lip. He waited for a onslaught of blows that was sure come whilst staring down Lawrence. Watching his face twist between frustration and pleasure. Before he could hit him again another voice rang out. 

"Lawrence stop!" 

Why did Phillip have to be there? 

The retired General dropped him and turned his attention to the younger Wittebane. Phillip was now hurrying down the hillside, a look of horror evident through his features. Caleb scrambled to pick himself up and Lawrence stood too. He wiped a mixture of blood and snot off his face and sniffed heavily through his sore nose. He poked at it gingerly and hissed in pain. It wasn't broken at least. 

"What are you doing?" Phillip demanded, standing between his old guardian and his brother. 

Lawrence's face had twisted up into a sneer. He pointed an accusing finger at Caleb and hissed: 

"Caleb is hiding a witch from our grasps and he is speaking with the devil's tounge to deny it." 

Phillip looked back at him with such betrayal that hit harder than any blow Lawrence could possibly deliver. He bit down on his tounge hard, determined not to blubber and reveal both himself and Evelyn. He scrambled back to his feet and shook his head. He stilled himself before shoving a finger in Lawrence face, knocking his out of the way. 

"He is the liar!" He announced.

He took ahold of Phillip pulled him close, like he was a little boy again. The Witch Hunters seemed equally confused, looking between Lawrence and Caleb before turning to one another to whisper fruitfully. He swallowed hard around the lump in his throat and clenched his fists. 

"I have done no wrong, you have no proof." He finished, his stomach settling partially. 

Repeating to himself: he has no proof. 

Phillip too seemed speechless and confused, just like the Hunters, he whipped his head between Lawrence and Caleb. Confused on who to believe. His mouth was moving but no sound seemed to be coming out. There was strange hardness in his eyes when he looked to Caleb. He caught his brother's eye and he could see his eyes demanded an explanation. He too had nothing to say. 

"I'm afraid that's not strictly true." Lawrence began, having regained his composer. 

Caleb's body couldn't possibly be any more tense. 

"I'll have your confession soon enough." 

He was grabbed by an array of hands and was forced onto the dry ground. He heard Phillip cry out in alarm as he was shoved out of the way. He wanted to reach out and comfort him but his arms were pulled behind his back and his face pressed painfully hard into the floor. Rope found itself wrapped around his wrist and was pulled taught. He yelled at the sudden burn and the jolt as his blood was forced down his hands. They hauled him to his feet and he looked to Phillip, who was only standing still. He looked upset but he didn't seem to be looking at the Hunters or Lawrence. 

Chapter Text

Nothing made sense any more. What was he doing? 

Caleb sat bloodied, bruised, cold and alone in a dingy cell. It smelt awful and the ground was sticky with stagnant water and dried blood. Lying was a sin, he knew this. He'd repeated it enough times for his teachers as they rapped his knuckles and yet he couldn't seem to be able to tell the truth. No matter how bad it seemed to get. He'd lied through everything, to everyone. 

Everything ached, especially his legs. He pressed his face up against the wall, the stone was cool and soothing on his bruises. Perhaps it was pride, an inability to give into Lawrence, maybe it was loyalty to his otherworldly friend or more likely he'd hit his head too hard to truly know what they wanted. 

Even during his years trapped in Lawrence's house he'd never been so cruel but he always knew he could turn in an instant. He'd lie alone on a hard bed of straw; trembling and hurting, terrified of what came next. Just like when he was ten he knew the only beat him was to endure. He'd lied then too. 

"Lost in your thoughts as usual, hm?" Lawrence laughed. 

He leaned heavily on the metal bars, swinging the keys between his fingers. Caleb peeked his eyes open to stare at him, meeting his cruel smile with a sneer. He'd removed his hat and coat, he hadn't aged one bit, even after all these years he was still as hideous as ever. He was wished that he could voice these thoughts but at that his moment his throat seized up with nausea. He swallowed hard and prayed the feeling away, knowing there was nothing but acid in his stomach. 

In his struggle he hadn't realised that the door was open until it closed again and Lawrence hand took a firm hold of his face. He forced him to face him, looking pleased. His hands were bare too, the warm contact of skin made him jump and he squirmed in his grip, rattling his chains. 

"You poor thing," Lawrence cooed, "You're so scared of me, it's so adorable." 

If he wasn't so distinguished he might have spat in Lawrence's face but he was. So rather, he pulled his face away and bared his teeth. Trying to seem intimidating, like Evelyn was. He had a sinking feeling it wasn't working. 

"You're nothing more than an overgrown bully Lawrence." He snapped back. 

There was no where he could possibly go, unable to move with the wall pressed up against his back and side and Lawrence in front of him. Trapped between a rock and a hard place. He was like a Siberian Tiger, analysing him before the claws came out. He shivered at the memory of Lawrence's nails tearing through his skin. 

Lawrence's fingers felt like coal on his skin. The burn slowly becoming more intense the longer it was left on his skin. 

"Did you really kiss your mother will that mouth?" Lawrence cackled. 

Caleb felt his cheeks grow hot and stab of rage shot through him. He slid his foot from underneath himself and kicked out, hitting Lawrence hard in the chest. He fell back with a grunt, his hands sliding out of his hair roughly, which caused Caleb to wince. 

The reality of his mistake caught with him a few moments after his triumph. He laughed hard, hard enough to cause his chains to rattle. He huffed in annoyance and gave his wrists an experimental tug. Lawrence had gathered himself up onto his knees and was heaving. When he looked up Caleb saw the white hot fury in his eyes, it greatly reminded him a fighting bull. An comparison he hated the second he thought it. 

"Ah." He hummed, regretting his impulsive behaviour immensely. 

Much to his surprise Lawrence had started laughing, having let go of his chest now. He wasn't just laughing he was roaring, his shoulders bouncing hard up and down. Caleb was tempted to laugh along, as to not provoke him any further. 

"You fucked up now, Kid." He said, practically convulsing. 

Lawrence had stopped laughing now and Caleb had a moment to struggle in his bonds before his thick fingers had wrapped themselves around his throat. He tried kicking out again but Lawrence was prepared this time, sitting on his legs. Caleb whimpered as much as he possibly could, the feeling on his bones being crushed was horrendous. Lawrence bared down, squeezing his hands together and once again laughing- this sounded far more genuine. 

"Doesn't this just give you the strongest feeling of nostalgia, Cal?" He sneered. 

Caleb tried to shake his head, trying to elevate the strain on his windpipe. His body began to heave, desperately trying to hack out whatever was blocking his airways. He tugged on his bound wrists, if he could free them he could get some decent leverage on Lawrence. His legs began to thrash from underneath the other man. He tried fruitfully to unseat him, hoping to upset his sturdy balance. Lawrence only lay more weight upon him and pressed him further into the wall. 

He opened his mouth and attempted to scream but came out was an almost silence, airy whimper. Their were black spots filling his vision and the pressure building in his face was almost unbearable. He forced his eyes to find Lawrence's, they felt as if they were about to pop out of his head. 

Lawrence was grinning like a madman and he knew he was getting excited.

His heart was beating uncontrollably fast, nearly as fast as when he first saw Evelyn but he wasn't afraid. Lawrence wouldn't actually kill him- no matter how much it felt like it- that wasn't the sprit of the game.  

Evelyn...

The first tear slipped down his face and Lawrence's smile grew tenfold. Then he let go. 

Caleb heaved in, grateful for the air filling his lungs. He choked uncontrollably, spit dribbling down his chin. His whole chest ached and his eyes stung painfully. He felt sick and his neck was on fire. 

Lawrence waited patiently for him to catch his breath before he wrapped his hands around him again. This time Caleb was ready, he squeezed his eyes shut and braced himself. He couldn't look at him this time. This carried on and eventually Caleb lost track of the amount of times he'd almost blacked out before being ruthlessly dragged back to reality. 

"I'll stop, if you just talk to me- as the wife tries to insist- communication is very vital," Lawrence snorted, "so, Wittebane, do you have something to tell me?" 

He sometimes found himself missing Lawrence's wife. A frail and tiny thing, she'd been caring and open hearted. She was a victim as much as he was. He shook his head, preparing to go again. He was pushing his luck, he knew that. He knew Lawrence well, eventually he would get too wrapped up in the excitement of it all and would forget to let go. Then finally Caleb could see his mama again. 

Lawrence grumbled and stared him, clearly debating what to do with him next. 

"Sir," another Hunter interrupted him however, standing outside of the cage, "Phillip Wittebane is here to talk about his brother." 

He gestured towards Caleb who lay slumped against the wall with Lawrence sitting atop him. His throat had no doubt turned an ugly purple colour and his eyes had most definitely become bloodshot. He tried to plead to the Hunter with his eyes but Lawrence simply waved him away. 

"Well aren't you lucky, you now I've always had a soft spot for your brother." He laughed. 

Finally he climbed off him causing all the blood to rush to back into his legs. He flexed his toes against the static sensation and hummed in discomfort. He watched Lawrence open the door and retreat. 

"Lawrence!" He rasped out, his voice barely above a whisper, thankfully he heard him and turned around. "We had a deal, honor it."  

Lawrence considered him for a long moment, he felt small like a cockroach. He waited on baited breath for his answer. Eventually he nodded and turned away, dissipating around the corner. 

"A deal is a deal." He confirmed from the corridor and Caleb finally breathed. 

He closed his eyes feeling spectacularly lightheaded, still sucking in desperate and broken breathes. He welcomed the warm void of sleep, unbothered by the night terrors that had haunted him for years. He embraced them with open arms. 

He imagined dying in so many ways. 

He felt his own body turn cold and eventually he realised he couldn't move his legs or his hands. When he looked down he saw his limbs had turned to stone, he cried out but something wasn't right. It hadn't been his voice, it was almost right but something was slightly wrong. 

Then it changed. Red, sizzling light surrounded his body and then his appendages were torn away from his torso and when he screamed it was wrong. His voice was high, too boyish. 

The next one was quick- he didn't recognise his surroundings, it was dark and cold and their was something thumping powerfully all around. It wasn't his heart that didn't feel like it was moving. He was pleading with someone, a soft material clutched between his fingers. Apparently his pleading didn't do much good as the masked man swung and his weapon found his neck- then he was gone. 

A bag was shoved over his head and he thrust into a body of water. He felt small, maybe the person was just incredibly big? He thrashed and cried, gripping the edge of the barrel and kicking his feet into the sides of it. How tall was it? Unlike Lawrence and his mercy, he was never pulled up. 

He rushed at him, the same masked man, full of determination. A sharp pain shot through his abdomen with a squelch sounded. He looked down and saw the handle of a wicked looking knife in the man's hand, the entirety of the blade had disappeared in his stomach. The man pulled it out and he collapsed onto the carpet floor as blood poured from both the open wound and his mouth. He couldn't help but stare at the growing puddle, his blood was a strange off colour. It was far more pink than it should've been. 

It was always the same piercing blue eyes that looked down on him whenever he choked on his own blood. 

When he finally opened his eyes he found his body still intact and a different of much warmer blue eyes watching him. His hands holding his tear streaked face and trembling shoulders. He freed Caleb's hands and hauled him to his feet. His knees instantly buckled and he landed heavily on the brunette, who struggled to hold both of them up. After finding his footing he began to lead them both through the open door. 

"Come on Cal, I'm taking you home." Phillip whispered. 

-------

"So, are we going to talk?" Phillip asked from behind him. 

He'd left him alone to recover for the past week or so but now he'd moved to following him around the house like a lost puppy. His eyes full of suspicion and distrust. He would walk into rooms, open his mouth and then snap it shut, he would then spin around and storm out of the room again. It was a never ending cycle and Caleb was started to get rather sick of it. 

At that moment he was sat in his favourite spot by the kitchen window, watching the forest trees sway. Since spotting Evelyn and gaining nothing out of Caleb, Lawrence had decided he was taking no chances. At least ten Hunters stood guard at the edges of the forest, preventing anyone from going in but more importantly, preventing anything from coming out. 

The wind was strong on that particular morning, it rattled the windows and sounded the front doors' knocker. Desperately trying to get Caleb's attention, scolded him for hiding. He wanted to follow it, of course he did but he also didn't want to walk straight into the arms of the Hunters again. Although, something inside whispered that he'd rather fight off the Hunters than face Phillip right now. 

"Well?" His brother prompted, his face deadly cold; "I'm starting to get rather frustrated with your lack of respect." 

This got Caleb to turn around. He fixed his brother with a long stare, watching his face. Not one twitch or flicker- his eyes remained hard and furious and yet is tone was very matter 

-of-fact. He pulled a face, exasperated.

"Why are you taking like that?" He sighed, resting his cheek in his hand. 

Although his voice hadn't fully recovered, it had enough strength to pack a decent punch. Phillip stalked closer and Caleb was suddenly feeling very prey like. He huffed and pushed the thought away, meeting his brother's sharp eyes with own exhausted ones.

"Like what?" Phillip snapped, remaining so calm it was almost unsettling. 

Caleb narrowed his eyes prepared to meet his brother's harsh tone. He sat up straight and watched his brother round the table with the careful precision of a deer. 

"Like you're better than me, like you're some fancy poser." He growled, standing up to meet him and fighting the urge to cough violently. 

He hadn't even noticed just how tall is brother had been growing until he was forced to look up at him. He shivered at just how icy his eyes had become, like someone or something had sucked the light out of them. Although his face betrayed annoyance more than anything and Caleb felt a stab of rage shoot through him. They walked closer to one another until they were almost touching. His cold, closed off face was even more unsettling up close and Caleb once again shivered. 

"Perhaps I'm just growing up and you're too lost in your own head to keep up." Phillip said, his eyes even harder.  

That made Caleb falter. He stared at his brother, at his stubble and stature. Perhaps he was right. 

"I'm sorry." He said suddenly, stepping away and out of Phillip's face, "That was out of line." 

Phillip face melted away, he smiled and the light returned to his eyes. Caleb's stomach settled and he walked back to the table, he pulled two chairs out and gestured for his brother to join him. Phillip sat opposite him and waited patiently. 

"I know you well enough to know when you're lying." Phillip began when the silence had stretched on for too long. 

Caleb sighed and shook his head, sliding down his arms until his forehead hit the table. His brother placed a hand on his shoulder and lifted him back up; he grumbled out a thanks. He felt like a little boy again being scolded by his mother. 

"It's just me and you, it will always be just me and you; we can't keep secrets from one another." He continued, his hand heavy on his shoulder. 

Not always, there will be a time when one of us dies and the other is truly alone. Caleb thought bitterly but he held his tounge, he only nodded along with his kin. 

He lifted his head and tried to smile but he even he could feel it was fake. 

"What's going on with you?" Phillip asked. 

Caleb froze, unable to form words. How could he explain his biazzare situation to him without being sent to the looney bin or giving the confession that Lawrence so desperately wanted? He gripped the edge of the table, his head hurt and too many thoughts were swimming through his head at once. He opened his mouth and then closed it again. He did this a few times before he finally gave up on trying to formulate a coherent sentence instead he shook his head and looked to the ground. 

"I can't explain it right for even I don't truly understand what's happening, but I will- when the time is right." He assured his brother. 

The two develed back into silence and Phillip's hand fell from his shoulder. The spot now feeling particularly cold. His brother nodded and then stood from his chair. He fixed Caleb with a long stare, watching his face as if he could suddenly read his thoughts. Caleb felt unsettled but said nothing rather he tried to smile, tried to comfort him. Phillip's face remained stoney, he knew it was hopeless. 

Phillip turned away and walked out of the house, he slammed the door behind him. Caleb winced at the loud bang before he buried his head in his arms. 

Strangely, he felt no urge to cry. Maybe he'd cried out all his tears on Evelyn's shoulder and finally had nothing more to give. He felt limp and hollow, skin and muscle without a soul inside. 

He lifted his head and glanced back the kitchen window to where the forest was calling to him. The wind was screaming at him, the trees were pointing the way for him. Maybe Evelyn had retuned, maybe she was waiting for him and here he was hiding in the fabric of his sleeves like a coward. The Hunters were also there, standing guard. The tingling in his fingertips didn't dispel even as his hopes did. 

He stood from his chair and looked around the room, thinking hard to himself. He needed to know she was safe without getting himself caught again and without provoking Phillip any further. He paced back and forth, he was sure he had tread a trench into the kitchen floor after an hour of pacing. He couldn't focus his mind, his previous argument with Phillip replaying in his mind and the memories of his suffering at the hands of Lawrence was spreading like a wildfire. His skin felt odd, like something was urging him. Too warm and yet too cold, an odd sensation like spiders were crawling all over him. 

He huffed and gave up on some genius plan and instead snatched up a piece of paper, a quill and an inkpot. He dipped his quill and then stared at the paper with hatred. Splodges of ink dripped from the tip his quill, painting his empty letter with thick, bleeding spots of black. He remained unmoved for five minutes, all the while, the wind rattled the window with such fury, he was almost worried the pane would give in. Still, he stayed still. For the first time in his life, his mind was quiet- no it was blank, he had absolutely nothing to say. 

The floor began to fill with the crumpled up pieces of paper and the ink had slowly started to diminish. He threw the quill down and looked longingly at his now stained hands. 

He was suddenly snatched by a fit, feeling as Lawrence's hands had tightened around his throat once more. The ink on hands had turned to think crimson colour and had began to drip off my fingers. He let out a shriek and found his chair pulled out from underneath, the wood letting out an ear splitting bang. 

He heard the shrieks of the woman who had torn his shirt- pleading for his help. The noise like glass in his ear drums, he threw his hands over his ears and screamed along side her. The sticky feeling only propelling his madness. He could feel her nails on him and her desperate pleas only grew in volume, drowning out his own voice. 

"No, stop!" He shouted, shaking the rafters above, "I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" 

His own voice was too loud, he scrambled backwards tripping over his chair willing his screaming to stop. He was being burned alive, a preview that awaited him for his sins. His voice, unable to handle any more torture ran dry quickly leaving him no longer able to shout. That was somehow more terrifying than his personal hell. Even though he was literally on fire his voice hurt more than anything else. Then he tasted something strangly metallic, he threw himself into another round of hysteria trying to rid his tounge of the foreign taste. 

He spat out something thick and slimy before pawing cluelessly until his hands hit the table. He hauled himself up, his vision swimming but a clear picture had built itself into mind. He snatched up the quill and began to scribble, only able to see his image. 

He dragged his instrument was a surprisingly steady hand, tracing lines across the bumpy surface. His hand produced a woman with a small bundle in her her arms- the baby's face poked out and cried. He moved on his second word, only choosing to display it with an arrow and then his final word to complete his message. He drew gates with broken and dead grass all around and then for the final touch- fire, people burning in the fire and spears all around. 

He didn't bother to appreciate his artwork; he highlighted the baby, the arrow and the people with large circles and then tore the empty bottom half away. He rolled the art up and stumbled over to the window, nearly falling into the table, and yanked it open. The wind stroked his hair and soothed his throbbing head.

"Take this to Evelyn." He instructed, releasing his message into the wild. 

The wind picked up the light piece of paper and in its incredible strength began to carry it over the woods. He watched as it became a dot and disappeared between the trees, leaving the Hunters completely oblivious. 

Then he slumped back onto the floor. What if the wrong person found it? What if she couldn't understand his insanity? Was he insane?! 

His breathing began to pick up and clutched at his chest, willing it to stop. He couldn't feel his legs any more and his chest felt like it was about to explode. He could only hear his own vicious panting, he dug his hands into his hair and cried out the best he could around his own rushing air. He felt sick. 

"I want my mother!" He sobbed, throwing his head down to breathe into his knees. His voice struggling to co-operate, the statement only coming out as rush of raspy air. 

Black spots filled his vision as his breathing became more and more erratic. He would die here on the cold kitchen floor with his sweet Phillip still so angry with him. Why couldn't he just tell the truth. 

Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

He screamed- it sounded louder than anything he'd ever heard before but also weirdly muffled. As if his ears were filled with cotton. More thick liquid fell from his mouth and began to dry on his face. 

His head hit the kitchen floor with an equally loud bang and he cried out. He scrambled for purchase against the hard wood floors. Each one of his limbs felt detached and connected to a separate brain, they moved on their own accord. He screamed again. 

The door flew open and he saw through his tears the blurs of brown hair and blue eyes. He reached out for his brother and he heard his footsteps pound closer to his head. 

"Phillip!" He croaked, waving his useless hand around, "Help me!" 

Strong hands had found their way under his shoulders and he was hoisted into his brother's chest. He felt like the younger one, snotty and sticky, unable to breathe and desperately clutching at Phillip's shoulders. Phillip had been calling out to him too but with his ears clogged their was no way for him to distinguish the words. All he could understand was that he sounding frantic and he was shaking his shoulders. 

The black spots continued to eat away at his vision and his brother's face began to completely disappear face view. Something else landed on his face- Phillip's own tears. 

Maybe be actually was dying? 

He squeezed even harder into his brother's flesh, trying hopelessly to find something that would keep his grounded with the living. Somehow this darkness was worse than choking. He felt his muscles go slack and his head fell back. 

He heard only one word within the whole ordeal before the darkness swallowed him whole. 

"Caleb!" 

Chapter Text

Arguments were a key part of Caleb's life, they always had been. He'd been born to the sound of shouting, his parents had missed his first steps- far too encased in thier hatred for eachother. He had distinct memory of picking strawberries with his mother when she had suddenly stood and launched the bucket at his father's head. He'd then proceeded to knock her to the ground with the back of his hand. 

Days were better when his father hadn't been home. He hated listening to his mother scream during the day and cry through night. She was strong though, she could hold her own well and never submitted to him. His father never truly put up much fight, usually he would just scoff and then stand out on the balcony a pipe between his teeth. 

One day he'd been in the work room with Mother. He had sat on her lap as best as he could with her swollen belly in the way. A curved carving tool in one hand and chunk of wood from fire place basket in the other. Mother had her hands wrapped around his own, guiding his movements carefully. 

"Careful Caleb," She'd said, "if you slip it'll be much more painful than a needle."  

He could see the worry in her eyes as she held his hands, tense and ready to pull the instrument away at the moments notice. Her fear only made him more determined not to fail. He took a stronger grip on the tool and smiled up at her, teeth and all. 

"Don't worry Mama, I'll go slow." He reassured her, watching as her face didn't change. 

She pursed her lips tight but didn't say anything else, rather, she began to guide his tool towards the wood. They had spent the whole day in that workroom, curled up on her plush rocking chair. Whittles of wood landing on the ground, slowly beginning to bury Mother's toes. It had been careful tedious work, the strength in which he held the tool and the careful speed he'd been working were the catalysts for a strong cramp in his palm and wrist. He'd refused to stop though, far too close to the end. The creature slowly emerging from the square block. 

"Maybe you should take a break dear." Mother had suggested after a few hours of quiet work.

He finally snapped from his trance, he placed his wood and tool down and looked to Mother. She'd looked like she was on the verge of falling asleep and looked fairly nauseous. He hopped off her lap and held her hand as she slowly rose, clutching her back. He settled himself in her now empty space as she stood in the centre of the room stretching. She eyed him warily, watching the tool in his hand. 

"Look Mama, is it good?" He gushed, holding out his wonky

 creature. 

She gasped with faux amazement and took his creation with both her hands, also taking the sharp tool too, and knelt down in front of him. (Not without a good bit of effort and a grunt.) She looked at him like he was world and some reason that made him feel incredibly lonely and nostalgic. 

"This is the most brilliant thing I've ever seen." She said, cuddling the toy to her chest. 

"It's a kitty cat!" He told her proudly, beaming wide. 

She nodded and pinched his cheek, still admiring the cat with her free hand. "Then, it's the best cat ever carved." 

Just then the sound of feet crashed down the stairs and the door swung open violently. Caleb jumped down and pressed himself into Mother's chest, she held him tightly. His wooden cat pressing into his back. 

"Boy, I have been calling you- get upstairs there's work to be done." Father growled, glaring at the two of them, "what is that supposed to be?" He continued, pointing at his work still clutched in Mother's grip. 

Gingerly he took the toy from Mother who eyed him warily as he approached Father. He held the toy out for Father to take and held his breath. Father took it and inspected it with a thoughtful hum. 

"I made it daddy, do you like it?" He asked, pinching the tips of his fingers and with eyes the size of saucers. 

He continued turn it between his fingers and looked at careful, a crease between his brow. 

"What is supposed be, Boy?" He asked, staring at him. 

 "A cat." He replied, his fingernails digging in. He heard Mother shuffle closer and felt her arms wrap around him. 

Although he couldn't see her face he could feel her warning stare. He looked at it for a few minutes longer accompanied by a hum. He waited and he waited, holding his breath. 

"Did it get railed over by a wagon or somethin?" He said finally, laughing to himself.

Caleb had felt his cheeks grow increasingly hot and he patted them in order to make it stop. Mother let go of him and grunted to her feet, her eyes brimming with fury.

"You cruel man, you are to apologise to your son right away!" She scolded, humming like an angry bee. 

Father's chuckle died on his lips as he turned his attention away from Caleb and towards his wife. His eyes darkening, Mother's fists clenching. He scrambled to hide behind Mother's legs as Father tossed his cat aside. 

Father moved first, grabbing a fist full of Mother's hair and dragging her from the room. Her hand pressed protectively over her stomach. 

"Don't hurt my mama!" Caleb cried, hitting Father in the legs with his pathetic child hands. Father dismissed him by shoving him away and slamming the door in his face. He knew this wasn't a fight he should get involved in, something wise and older whispered that in his mind. 

The sound of shouting began, Mother's shrill shrieks harmonised with Father's deep growls. Caleb curled up on the rocking chair, having already picked up his cat. He tried to tune out the sound of shouting and the sound of somebody's fist finding the wall by humming loudly to himself and tapping his cat along the arm of the chair. His illusion was shattered upon the sound of flesh finding flesh. 

Mother cried out but not from anger, Caleb immediately jumped up and ran to the door. It opened before he could even reach it, it opened. His parents stood in the hallway. Father had his hand on the open door and Mother was standing against the wall, clutching her red cheek. 

"Mom-" He started but was interrupted by Father ruthlessly grabbing his arm and dragging him from the room. He snatched the cat from his hand and threw it to the ground. 

"I will not tell you again Boy, get upstairs there's work to be done. Leave her, she's fine!" 

- 

Caleb remembered the day that his brother had been born. A strange, miserable day full of joy. 

"You're my greatest mistake, you know that don't you Boy?" Father asked, sprawled across the drawing room sofa. 

A half empty bottle in one hand and his other had been sliding slowly down his face. He sighed heavily and stared up at the ceiling whilst his son remained upbothered. Caleb didn't turn his attention away from his embroidery he just nodded quietly. 

"I was so young, I had just inherited the farm from my own father. Every women in this crummy ol' town wanted a piece of me. Believe it or not there was a time when your mother was absolutely sinful. I fell to temptation I admit." He chuckled, not bothering to acknowledge the fact that his son lay his head on a pillow and covered his free ear with his elbow. "Then all the fun ended because you were born." He finished with scorn, tipping his head back and finishing of his the last the bottle. 

He wiped his face with the back of his hand and sighed heavily. 

"Wife! Is this the last of the ale?" He called, kicking the end of the sofa with a slurred groan. 

Caleb rolled his eyes with annoyance and focused in on his work, almost slipping as his mind refused to settle and his nose burned. He blinked a few times trying to rid his eyes of the wet feeling. 

"Woman!" Father snapped, sitting up and aiming his voice at the stairs. 

"Mathew!" Mother called back but something in her voice made them both pause. Father and Caleb sat up, his neck snapped towards the stairs. Her voice had been laced with panic and sounded strained. 

"Mathew!" Mother called again, sounding more frantic. 

"Elizabeth?" He called back, beginning to stand. 

"Mathew, the baby!" She cried and Father sprang into action. He left the sofa and ran to the stairs but paused when he heard the sound of little footsteps behind him. He turned around harshly and stared at Caleb who had appeared close at his heels. 

"No Boy, stay put." He ordered, pushing him back. Caleb began to blubber, gesturing towards Mother. Father shook his head, his eyes suddenly serious. "You are to stay in this room, understood Child? If you disobey me you'll be sleeping with the cattle tonight." He snapped before racing up the stairs. He'd never sounded so sober. 

He disappeared up the stairs leaving Caleb to wiggle on the sofa, pace around the room and tear at his hair. His mind left to run wild. He had no idea how long he waited for but steadily the sun had set and sky had grown darker. Everything ached from his various sitting positions and constant movement. 

Eventually Father reappeared on the stairs and looked around for a while before he spotted his child hanging off the edge of the sofa. He made no comment but rather walked closer to him. 

"Caleb." He called, he rearranged himself until he was the right side up and stood in front of Father. He looked back down at him, he barely reached is kneecaps.

"Daddy?" He promoted, shuffling from toe to toe. 

"Take the latern and go into town, go fetch the doctor for mama." He shoved Caleb towards the door and slapped the back of his head. 

"On my own?" He croaked, now standing in the cold porch with his hands clasped together.  

Father ignored him and slammed the main door shut in his face. 

"Be quick about it Boy!" He shouted from within the house.

With trembling fingers he pulled his coat over his shoulders and rushed out the door. Despite summer the night air had been harsh and cold on his face. He held the latern in one hand and reached towards a little compartment on the door. He placed the latern down by his feet and rummaged inside of the compartment, quickly finding his prize. A tiny wooden stick, he gingerly took hold of a piece of paper and a bottle of phosphorus. He carried his tools over a small metal table and layed everything down. He poured the chemical over the paper and tapped the end of the stick ensuring it was still wet before quickly sliding the stick over the paper in a fluid motion. A flame burst into life which he transferred hurriedly over to the latern. Distinguishing the stick with his foot. 

He ran through the farm and towards the main town, the latern swinging in front of his face. The latern had provided significant glow but only for directly in front of himself. He bit his finger trying to remember the path he and Mother would take to find the town. He continued on, only able to see the texture of the road and the darkness all around. After a while his nose had grown exceedingly cold and fingers were stiff around the lantern. 

He paused and looked up and found light. He saw houses and shops with fire places burning inside. The market looked creepily empty, bare stools and no one near them. He hurried on, his feet sore, trying to remember which house the doctor lived in. He wondered around the town puzzled until somebody opened their door. He spun around clutching the latern to his chest and stared at the man, his lip trembling. 

"Oh ho! If it isn't the young Wittebane, what are you doing out here so late young man?" The doctor asked in his usual cheery tone. 

Caleb breathed a sigh of relief and ran over to the man, unable to see him properly for the flame inside his latern had begun to die. The man caught him by the shoulder and checked him over with his eyes.

"Daddy sent. Mama needs help." He explained stumbling over his words. 

The doctor's face turned serious and he nodded. He reached under Caleb's arms to pick him up before walking back to the house. 

"We'll take my wagon, time is of the essence." 

By the made it back to the house it grown even darker and even colder. Caleb pulled his arms out from his coat and sat inside it like it were a tent. The doctor drove at lighting speed, his horses left tired and spent. He pulled the wagon to stop outside the farmhouse and jumped down, while Caleb freed his arms. He once again held Caleb and let him down. 

"I am going go help your mama, why don't you go be a good boy and get the horses a drink then go inside and perhaps go sit by the fire for a while." The doctor instructed with a smile. 

He nodded solemnly and took the huge horses by the reins towards the stables. Absentmindedly aware that they could trample him to death most likely accidently. He closed the doors of the stable as quickly as possible, having to jump to reach the lock, and hurried back inside the house. 

Obeying the doctor's order he went straight to the fireplace and held his hands out into the heat. 

Caleb had sat by the fire for another few hours as the fire grew lower and lower as did his eyelids. 

"Boy," someone was shaking his shoulder, "Caleb, wake up." 

He groaned and peeled his eyes open, the fire had long died and the sun was starting to peek over the horizon. Father was kneeling beside him, for the first time in Caleb's life he seemed pleased. Not enough to actually smile but his eyes seemed to be alive. Caleb looked around him and registered that he was on the drawing room floor in front of the fire grate. He could feel some of the ashes that had settled on his face during the night and he rubbed at them with sloppy movements. 

"Mama!" He remembered, pulling at Father's sleeve. 

Father nodded and shifted his grip so that he could hold his hand instead. He began to lead him away from the fireplace and towards the stairs, he tripped over his own feet a few times- determined to keep up with Father's long strides. 

"Come meet your little brother."  

---

At ten years old, Caleb held Phillip close. His younger brother had fallen asleep a while ago, snuggled safely under his arm. The back of the wagon was uncomfortable and rickety, he'd began to feel quite sorry for the horses that were pulling it along. Father had always let him ride up front and even occasionally let him have the reins. Although his face had always stayed a constant line of disapproval. 

Caleb couldn't believe that he was admitting it but he missed Father. He'd cried the night he'd left but he'd buried his face into his pillow as to not upset Mother any more or wake Phillip. 

He'd wanted his Father badly in that moment, stuck the back of a wagon belonging to a strange man with a strange accent that he'd only known for a few days. He'd been so sure that the wagon would pull to a stop and the door would be yanked open, that Father would be there. He'd grab his children, his grip firm but gentle, and take them home. 

---

He didn't quite understand was had happened...they had taken his mother away while he'd screamed and they held him back. That had made Phillip start crying and their oldest cousin Joseph had scolded him. 

They had all stood the living room, all of Caleb's Uncles and cousin. They had walked around the space, touching all of Father's things and discussed them in quiet, excited voices. 

"If Mathew doesn't turn up soon, he'll be pronounced dead." Uncle Mark said, leaning up against the mantel, flicking Father's pocket watch open and closed repeatedly. 

"Say he doesn't come back...then what's the inheritance situation?" His cousin asked, barely fighting against his concealed smile. 

Aunt Margaret shot him a look before her eyes swivelled over to Caleb. She looked at him like he was the dirt on her shoe, a nuisance. He felt incredibly small and tried to dissappear into his shoulders, holding Phillip close. 

They were all looking at him and he hated it. They weren't kind looks, they were calculating. 

"The fact is, Mathew had two sons- two heirs." Uncle Mark muttered, gripping Joseph's sleeve. 

"It's their right, yes dear, the only way someone like your father could get anything from his brother was if his sons were dead or unavailable." Aunt Margaret reiterated, tutting softly. 

"Unavailable, like...say- out of the country?" Joseph asked, rasing an eyebrow towards his father. 

There was a silence in the room and thier eyes once more fell upon Caleb. He swallowed hard, afraid.

----

They had been travelling in the back of the wagon for at least a week or so. The inns they had stayed at had been at chipper and cosy. The food was no where near as tasty as fresh product from the farm but was good enough to eat and enjoy. Phillip especially had been enjoying himself, jumping on the springy beds and running up and down the long hallways. Lawrence was good with him too, carrying him on his shoulders and swinging him around. He'd offered the throw Caleb around too but he'd been quick to reject the offer. He'd watched his brother with a careful eye, sure that he was to crack his head open at some point. 

Now they had been put in the back of the wagon again, he'd been able to see the stars from the skylight. He'd began to count them carefully, there always seemed to be less and less stars every night. He'd huffed as the clouds blocked his view and shifted uncomfortably. He repositioned Phillip so he was lay in his side but his hands were now free. He reached for his case and began rummaging inside of it. Finding the box with his wood and tools. He'd carved quietly through the night, Phillip's nose wrinkling as the occasional whittle landed on his face. 

After a few months of travelling with Lawrence he'd managed to make Phillip a whole village of toys. He'd had to sheepishly ask Lawrence for more wood. 

He'd laughed and pulled him in close, "of course Child." His hand had lingered a little too long in his hair until he squirmed away with chaised 'thankyou.' 

He'd noticed some strange things with Lawrence, he was very affectionate with him; especially with his words and held touches. He bought Caleb a lot of things he didn't ask for: wooden swords and souvenirs such as a small model of the wagonway, a thick expensive coat and beautiful ink set. He'd only played with the swords because Phillip wanted to and he placed the model in his suitcase and didn't touch it again. He'd given the coat to Phillip, letting him use it as a blanket and had smashed the ink of front of Lawrence himself. His face was grown incredibly tight and his fingers had twitched in annoyance but he said nothing. He only let out a strained chuckle. Lawrence also seemed very insistent about holding his hand when the walked through the towns. 

"I am ten years old, I don't require your assistance!" He'd argued, trying to pull away. 

Lawrence had given him a funny look and gripped much harder. He would much rather hold Father's hand. 

"We don't know these people, I'm holding onto Phillip too." He'd reasoned. 

"Phillip's a baby, I'm not!" He continued, pleading. Lawrence's touch always enlisted a bad and uncomfortable feeling in his stomach. 

"I'm not a baby!" Phillip had cried. 

He'd travelled on a boat for the first time in his life whilst on this America bound adventure. Initially he'd dug his heels into the dock and refused to go anywhere near the giant thing that Lawrence had called a boat. Phillip had run away, drunk on excitement. They seemed to have finally drawn Lawrence's patience thin, he'd grabbed Phillip and scolded him. He'd stood beside him after that like an example child. Caleb however had remained stubborn, shaking his head and even sitting down. He'd gone limp when Lawrence had tried to pull him up, making the job much harder. Eventually Lawrence had gotten an idea, he'd seen the look pass over his face. A look of invention, triumph and even a little excitement. He'd grabbed Caleb by his arms and legs and yanked, throwing him over his shoulder. 

He'd banged his fists against his back and squealed when he felt Lawrence's hands run across his back and legs. Not enough for any other adults to notice but just enough for Caleb to increase his squirming tenfold. 

"Don't touch me!" He'd screamed as he was carried on board, fellow adults tutted at him and muttering about 'naughty and spoilt children.' 

Nights aboard the ship were worst, the constant rocking and rotted wooden smell was enough for Caleb to hate the experience. To make matters worse, he'd been forced to share a bed with Lawrence. He'd lay on the very edge, far enough over that a particularly strong wave had knocked him onto the floor more than a couple times. He'd held Phillip's hand from the across the bed, finding comfort in the feeling of his little fingers wrapped around his own. 

Days were better, he liked the sea. Enjoyed watching it ripple and crash up against them. The salty air had reminded him of home, he'd stand out on the deck for hours inhaling deeply with his eyes closed. Remembering the good times with Mother and Father. Phillip had stood with him sometimes, his head cocked to the side trying to understand what it was that his brother's was seeing. 

Lawrence thankfully left him alone during the day, finally allowing him some extent of freedom which Caleb used to the fullest. Exploring as much as the ship as possible, travelling along the deck and fiddling with equipment. That was until a member of staff chased him away, he'd enjoyed the rush- laughing as he ran. 

One night in the cabin, Lawrence had changed his life. 

It was late, the cabin almost entirely pitch black. He could hear only the soft snores of Phillip from the other side of the room. Worst of all he could feel the soft breath of Lawrence on his neck. He'd been gripping tightly to the edge of mattress determined not to fall but also not get any closer to the mass behind him. Something about that night had kept him awake, sleep seemed to be evading him. It was perfectly dark and flawlessly quiet and yet his mind remained dutifully awake. 

In the midst of his thoughts he hadn't felt the hand sneaking around his waist until he was pulled in close. He'd yelped loudly and began to squirm. Lawrence had shushed him quietly, his hand laying heavily over his mouth, pointing towards the sleeping Phillip. Caleb was incredibly tempted to start licking him in order to make him let go. He didn't need to however, Lawrence let go after he'd gone quiet and spun him around so that they were facing eachother. 

He'd had an odd expression on his face and Caleb felt increasingly small and vulnerable under his strange gaze. No one had ever looked at him like that and he found that he didn't like it one bit. Lawrence hands remained around his waist, his grip tight. 

"What are you doing?" Caleb had whispered, trying to hold his whimper back. 

Lawrence had ignored him but rather nuzzled his giant face into his all too small neck. Caleb bit down on his tounge to avoid screaming as tears filled his vision. 

"I want to make you a deal, Cal." Lawrence had said, pulling away with a smirk. 

Caleb had remained silent, wary of the next words to come out of his mouth. His whole body tense that he was sure that Lawrence could probably snap him like a thin piece of ice. 

"I want you to work for me, off the record, to put it in simple terms for your simple brain- you'll do everything I ask of you, no matter what. You have to understand, your special and your exactly what I need." He told him sounding for the first time since Caleb had met him, genuine. 

Caleb paused, confused. 

"You want to keep being nice to me and you want me to want it?" He asked, thinking back to all the gifts and gentle touches he'd screamed over. 

Lawrence shrugged, moving Caleb with him. "Something like that, so, what do you think?" He asked, tounge running across his 

teeth, Caleb had to fight the nausea away. 

"What do I get?" He asked, trying hard to not squirm especially when Lawrence pulled him even closer. 

"I'll take good care of you and your brother, keep you warm and fed; I'll give you a home and a future, I'm the Witch Hunter General of Gravesfield and I can make you great." He explained, his grip becoming even tighter. 

"If I say no?" He promoted, feeling as if he were aging year by year the longer he remained in Lawrence's hold.

"I'll leave you in the middle of America, I'll take your brother with me; you're the one I want but he'll be much easier to convince." Lawrence said, sounding all too giddy about the idea. 

Caleb's blood ran cold and he found that he'd forgotten how to breathe. All he could feel was the horror stirring in his stomach as he imagined the cruel reality of being abandoned in the middle of a foreign country. God, how we wanted Father. 

"I'll do it!" He said in a hurry, his voice raising in panic. Lawrence shushed in as Phillip groaned in his sleep and turned over. 

He chuckled and buried his nose in Caleb's hair. "You must be quiet now, I don't want you to tell anyone about this- especially not your brother." 

He nodded as best as he could with Lawrence head on his own. "You have to make me a promise too " he said solemnly. 

Lawrence lifted his head and looked down on him, waiting expectingly. He seemed curious about what a ten year old could possibly bargain with, Caleb hated just how amusing he seemed to find it. 

"If you stop loving me, you won't love Phillip; leave him alone, he's just a baby." He said with as much courage as he could possibly muster in that moment. 

Lawrence considered him for a while and then he smiled, he tucked Caleb's head under his chin again. "I swear." 

Caleb pulled his hand out from under the covers and held his finger up. 

"Pinky promise." 

---

His hand was intertwined with someone's fingers, they were much smaller and softer. He found them comforting and gripped much tighter. 

His eyes slowly peeled open as his ceiling came into focus and the welcoming smell of smoke and wood paint filled his nostrils. A girl with white skin and pointed ears was sitting beside him, she was smiling. Looking at him like someone had once looked upon him before but this time he found that he liked it very much. 

"Hello my love." 

Chapter Text

Caleb shot up, he ignored the the blood that rushed to his head. He sat there only staring at her, his brain unsure whether he was happy, confused, scared or embarrassed. 

"Evelyn?" He asked, reaching out gingerly towards her before he pulled his hand back. 

She caught his hand in both of her own and pulled him in close, their noses mashing together. He shivered as he remembered his dream but pushed the thought away- Lawrence was never this tender anyway. 

My love.

The name tickled his brain, was he her love? He'd stopped being Lawrence's love many years ago, his threat not so imposing once he'd learnt to provide for himself and his brother. Lawrence hadn't loved him anyway- he knew what love felt like. He loved Mother, something deep inside had loved Father and he loved Phillip. None of those feelings came close to what he felt for Evelyn. 

Unlike Lawrence who made him want shrivel away and caused him feelings of panic and disgust, she lit his nerves aflame and made his face hot- he felt silly and full energy whenever her hands were on him. 

Was that love? He wasn't sure. 

His thought was cut off by the sound of someone clearing his throat. Evelyn pulled away and looked sheepish while Caleb turned his head to find his brother sitting in chair a few paces away. In his lap lay a perfectly sharpened pitch fork and an unlit torch, inches from the grate. He looked between Phillip and Evelyn as his heart rate spiked, she wasn't using any spells- she was currently in her true form. He gave Evelyn a pleading look, utterly confused. 

"I received your message, a rebus, very clever dear." She began, shuffling to get more comfortable on the bed. 

He suddenly remembered that he was wearing a sleep shirt and loose trousers and felt the urge to bury his head. He pulled his covers up to hide his chest and nodded with a red face. 

"I don't even remember what I even wrote, I was so out of it." He admitted with a nervous chuckle. He fiddled with his fingertips in order to distract himself from Evelyn's eyes. 

He could see Phillip's annoyed expression deepen as his eyes grew much darker. He bit his lip and suddenly he felt all his guilt crash over him like a tidal wave. 

"Phillip," He began solemnly, beginning to draw blood. His brother looked up, clearly not expecting to actually be called by name. "I'm so sorry, please, I don't know what happened to me." He said, refusing to meet his eyes. 

He heard him sigh and saw him thread his fingers through his hair before tightening his grip onto his pitchfork. 

"I've never been so scared, even more so then when this little freak showed up, threatening to curse me; it couldn't possibly compare to thinking I'd lost you." Phillip said, staring into the fireplace- his face red hot and furious. "You lied to me." 

Now wasn't that a punch to the gut? 

Caleb finally released his own hand and instead took Evelyn's, giving it a squeeze. He'd never heard Phillip be so honest and it made his heart want to explode. Yet, he couldn't possibly fathom the words to explained just how proud and touched he truly was or just how sorry he was. Tears burned in the edges of his eyes, he wiped them away hurriedly. 

'Boys don't cry.' 

Instead he settled on something else easier to talk about. 

"What are you both doing here, I mean, I must have missed quite a bit." He said, laughing nervously. He noticed how tense Evelyn was in his hold and how she had kept one hand free. He couldn't possibly miss Phillip's pitchfork and torch. Amazed that he hadn't woken up to find them both dead- having killed eachother whilst he was unconscious. 

"Well, it's a bit of a lengthy story." Evelyn murmured, waving her free hand around. 

"Actually, it's rather simple." Philip corrected her, his eyes thin and full of scorn. "You fall unconscious and then in height of all the panic, ms Freakshow turns up demanding to see you and wrecks our kitchen when I refuse. You lied to me, you hid a Witch from me and I covered for you- do you know how much money I payed Lawrence to let you go and it was mostly because he's family that he agreed." 

He saw Evelyn's hand clench in annoyance and it seemed Phillip had noticed too as his hand curled protectly around the handle of his pitchfork. Caleb began scanning the room, flickering between the two.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." He said quietly, his voice falling. Coming out as a broken and frail thing. 

"Don't say sorry, I'm the one who caused you all this trouble." Evelyn countered, drawing small circles on the backs of his knuckles. 

"Yes. You are." Phillip agreed. 

He was sure that they wanted him to say something more but he found that I couldn't do anything more then solemnly apologise. That did not seem to be what Phillip wanted from him. 

He stayed quiet for a few moments while they waited. While Phillip's eyebrows raised in annoyance and Evelyn offered him a patient smile. 

"I'd like to speak to Evelyn alone please." He said after a moment of consideration.  

"No." Phillip responded immediately, shaking his head solemnly. 

He turned his full attention towards his brother while Evelyn huffed angrily in his ear. He gestured wildly towards Phillip, wanting an explanation. He said nothing. 

"I said sorry." He tried but Phillip shook his head and sighed heavily. His eyes fixed an Evelyn who had a particularly sharp expression herself. 

"That's not what I care about," He began, "it's what she wants, she's a Witch Cal. I know you hurt your head but you're still caple of using it!" He snapped. 

Evelyn stood from the bed and threw her pointed nail in Phillip's face, her hair bounced when she moved. He looked down unimpressed by the threat and Caleb felt his throat tighten. 

"You watch where your throwing those accusations." She hissed, her fingertip crackling with life. That caught Phillip's attention and caused his face to temporarily falter before he returned to his stoic self. 

"Evelyn..." Caleb begged. 

She turned her attention back to him and gave him a sad smile before she turned back to Phillip. The moment she did her expression turned to stone, her lip caught in snarl when she met his eyes. Caleb had never seen her look so disgusted- actually maybe he had. 

The night of his arrest. 

The protective, ruthlessness of her that night was enough to cause his fingertips and toes to tingle. He shivered and tried to put the thought away- alas he'd sinned enough through his life he didn't need to add temptation to the list. At least with Lawrence, God knew it wasn't his fault. 

"Phillip," He tried once more, "she won't hurt me, if you can't trust her then trust me." He reasoned, looking into his brother's eyes. 

He watched Phillip's expression shift and watched as he thought it through, a spark of hope in his belly. Evelyn settled back down by side and he saw the fury is Phillip's eyes return, for a moment the spark died. Finally, he huffed in defeat and stood shaking his head. Caleb couldn't help the smile that built on his lips. 

"Fine, but I'm not going far- outside the door is the furthest I'll go." He said in grumble. 

"Thankyou Pip." Caleb said with sincerity. 

"Whatever." The door slammed shut. 

It was like a weight had been lifted off his chest and for the first time since he'd woken up he breathed. Evelyn shuffled in closer and cupped his cheek in her warm palm. He sighed and leant into her, basking in her embrace. He knew he should stop. She wasn't his wife, he shouldn't even be alone with her but he couldn't bring himself to pull away. Not when it felt so right. 

"I wanted to look for you, after I got out." He said quietly, his lips pressed against her fingertips. 

He was already ruined, what was a little temptation.

She stayed quiet, letting him talk. She only hummed in acknowledgement and rearranged herself to press into his chest. He found his fingers threading through her bushy hair. He pulled her fingers away from his mouth and instead intertwined them again. Thier hands settling on her thigh. 

"I was scared though," He continued. Her head lifted to meet his eyes- so wide and alive. Her irises shining like a thousand twinkling stars. "I didn't want to lead them to you but I wanted to see you so badly. I had to know you'd escaped." He confessed, and although his chest burned with shame he felt freed. 

"I escaped and I found your rebus, it took me awhile to decode it but when I did, I knew I had to find you." She said, her nails scraping his throat. "SOS." 

He smiled. Truly, fully smiled. 

"I'm sorry about my brother, how has he been treating you while I was out?" He asked. 

Evelyn shrugged with a thoughtful hum.

"It's been rather hostile but you can tell he's terrified of me." She cackled, drawing a spell in the air. The withering plants on his window sill sprung back into life. He breathed in the scent of her magic, earthy with a mix of spice- cinnamon and ginger. It reminded him of home, how the kitchen had smelt in the farmhouse. He inhaled deeply, his nose pressed against her forehead. She giggled at the ticklish sensation. 

'I was worried about you too." She admitted after she finished laughing, her tone returning to solem, "so was your brother." 

He stared at the opposite wall, his stomach churning with guilt. What was even wrong with him? Why had he reacted like that and worried the only people left the universe that cared for him. Evelyn found his chin, she gentlely turned his head until they were looking at eachother again. 

"I'm sorry." He whispered, his voice tight. 

"No..." She murmured softly, pulling his head down until thier foreheads connected, "Please don't be." 

"I don't know what's wrong with me, I...I believe I might be insane." He admitted as breathing sped up. He begged it to stop, his eyes grew wet. 

"No you're not." Evelyn said, her voice firm and clear. 

She placed a hand on his chest, feeling it rapidly rise and fall. She removed her hands only to shift her grip to the sides of his face- holding him gently and tenderly. He held her arms, finding her solidly grounding. 

"Breathe with me, Love." She commanded. 

He did his best to mimic her, relying on the feeling of her breath on his lips. Despite her being so close and just how easy it would be kiss her he found himself calm. He shut his eyes and felt her presence all around him. His heart slowed and so did his breathing; his mind quieted and his hands stopped trembling. 

It felt so much better in her embrace, so much warmer and real. Unlike the Lawrence. He pushed him from his mind, focusing solely on the feeling of Evelyn. 

Evelyn is not Lawrence. Evelyn is not Lawerence. Evelyn is not Lawrence. 

Her hands found his hair. 

What an incredible spell. He thought absentmindedly. 

His grip slid from her arms to around her middle, he lay his weight onto her. She squealed and then laughed hard as she fell onto her back and he buried his face in her neck. Breathing in her sent, the covers bunched up beneath them. He lifted his face as to look at her. She was as red as he felt, now she was the one who's breathing had sped up. 

"You're not insane Caleb." She said, fighting to stay level. He felt a little guilty for flustering her so badly. She reached up for him, her arms wrapping around his neck and interlocking there. His own hands finding themselves comfortably under her shoulders. 

"You're not insane, you're unhappy." She repeated, suddenly sounding much sadder than before. 

She ran her fingers across his shoulders, massaging his muscles which had grown tense again. He tried to let the movements soothe him but found himself focused solely on her words. He pondered on them, confused. 

"I'm happy," He argued, "I'm especially happy here with you." He said, trying to bring the playful mood back. He wanted to hear the sound of her laughter again. 

Evelyn hummed, sounding unconvinced. Her brows had slowly decended into a thin line of concern as she stared up at him. 

"I don't think you are, it's obvious to see- people shouldn't cry or have fits like you do." 

His mouth snapped shut. 

"You said I wasn't insane, you just said that." He whimpered, the chipper feeling in his chest having completely dispersed. He tried to pull away but Evelyn clung tight, trying desperately to meet his eyes. 

"That's the truth- I would never lie to you Love. You're not insane, you're depressed and I don't know why but what I do know is that I can help you." She pleaded, her grip firm but not unbreakable. "There are witches in the Demon Realm that know all about this stuff, I can take you to the Boiling Isles- you can be happy! All the time!" She pleaded. 

"I can't go the Demon Realm," He reminded her, feeling as if someone had kicked him hard the stomach, "I couldn't leave Philip, I'm all that he has." He announced solemnly, squeezing his eyes shut. 

She nodded and pulled them in closer again; the edge of her claw scraping the side of his head. "I understand Love, I'll find a way to help you here." Finally she smiled again and more again he found himself drawn to her sharp fangs. Instead of the fear he'd felt not so long ago, he felt a warm rush of arousal. 

He hummed with content, holding her tightly in his arms. He knew he should stop. She was a woman. A lady. He'd be no better than his father if was to keep indulging in her sin. He should stop. He should really stop before he found that he couldn't resist any longer. 

"I think I'd like that." He breathed directly into her ear. Although his words dissolved into his sigh and the tips of hair she still seemed to hear him. If her embrace tightening and her whispering something about staying by his side forever, wasn't enough of indication. 

God in heaven, he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to kiss her face, her neck, her lips and every part of her. He wanted to worship her, he wanted to carve her a shrine and embroider images in her honor. He wanted to love her so badly. So badly that it hurt- truly hurt in a splendid and adrenaline filled away. He craved that pain and equally enjoyed the sedative of her in his arms. 

"We should stop." He said, somehow out of breath. 

Evelyn giggled, her sweet, girly snicker that Caleb found he was addicted to. Her hands remained bunched tightly in his sleep shirt, almost pulling it down. His hands had somehow managed to find her waist in the whole scuffle and they felt content there. His palm fitted perfectly into her hip dips, as if she were just made for him. 

"Why?" She countered, also heaving for a breath. 

"We're not married, we'll fall to temptation if we keep fooling around like this." He laughed, despite his serious words he still found himself pressed against her throat. Enjoying the warm feeling of skin there. 

"Why don't you marry me then?' She countered, she sounded completely and fully serious. 

He froze. He lifted his face from her neck and stared at her unsure whether she was being serious or not. Her entire face was engulfed by scarlet skin as she bit her lip with terribly concealed nerves. He watched as her enlarged ears twitched against the bed and a wave of adoration washed over him. 

Did he love her? Was this what true love meant, what he'd craved for so many years trapped in that god forsaken house? Love. 

Was he in love? He was in love. He was in love with a witch. In love with a witch and proud of it. He would happily burn in hell, so long as he got to burn along side her. 

"You want marry me, truly?" He asked, preparing to pinch himself already. 

Evelyn nodded sheepishly, somehow her blush growing even deeper. Her eyes full of joy and excitement- it was contagious and he found himself laughing. A steady stream of breathless giggling that soon evolved into full on laughter. Evelyn joined him, occasionally pausing to press frantic kisses to his temple before returning to thier strange, gleeful fits. 

He imagined it. 

He imagined waking up next to her each and every morning, seeing her so peaceful and quiet. He thought about how her ears would twitch in the morning air and how he'd press a stray piece of hair behind her ear lovingly. He thought about the midnight walks they would embrace on, her ears hidden under her bonnet. He could make her lots of bonnets, each one a different colour with all of her favourite patterns embroidered on. They could have children, many children. Who could run around thier shared home, sticky and loud. Perhaps they'd be able to do magic too. He'd could make them a plethora of toys and teach them to be hard workers- to indulged the magic thier mother had gifted them but not rely on it. 

He thought about her returning home with a human on her arm. What it would be like to have parents again. To have family dinners full of chatter and noise, nagging children and odd conversations. Laughter in the house and arms to fall into whenever he needed.

Evelyn was right. 

She could help him be happy again and this was only his first step. 

"Evelyn Clawthorne, will you do me the honor of marrying me?" 

"Of course of will, Love."  

He fully lay ontop her while she squealed in surprise, nuzzled against him with a squished laugh. He let his hands continue to wander, planting them in her hair. She too began to run her hands across the length of his body, although she couldn't seem to find a place to settle. He distantly remembered that he was in sleep clothes buy couldn't find the energy to be embrassed anymore- not when he was snuggled up with his fiancé. 

He remembered being a different bed, eons ago when he'd accepted to different proposal. To someone different, a proposal he'd cried over. He felt the urge to cry now but not for the same reason. He liked this proposal very much. 

"Don't tell Phillip just yet," He murmured in her ear, "He might just kill me." 

She giggled into his chest, nodding along. 

"What's this?" She asked, sitting up partially to grab a book of his nightstand. 

Romeo and Julliet. 

He chuckled at the sight of it, Phillip had clearly been reading it. All of the pages at the been bent near the top. Marking his place, it seemed he'd reached the battle with Tibalt. 

"Oh, it's a play. Pretty boring in my opinion." He said, leaning back down. 

She was still flipping through it, her eyes moving back and forth with vigor. 

"Keep it." He said, leaning back down onto the cushions. She looked him with surprise. 

Chapter Text

It had been a week and he still hadn't said anything to his brother. He'd tried a few hours later- Evelyn having gone home- and he found Phillip sat in front of the fireplace. He was perched in an old reliable armchair that thier neighbour had gifted Caleb five years ago, his back to the door. He'd crept in closer, watching the shadows dance across the ceiling, mocking him. Something about them opened a pit in his stomach and triggered his fight for flight instincts. He paused, a little while away from his brother. He could hear the steady scraping of metal coming from Phillip's hands and peered his head around the chair, trying to gage what his brother was doing. He saw all of Phillip's knives layed out next to him, neatly arranged by blade size. 

In his hands was the deadliest looking, a kris. 

When did he buy that thing? He thought to himself, something about the length and strange curved shape unsettled him. He felt a mix of horror and unease as he stared at it. It was at least 15cm long and gleaming the fire light. 

He took a step back, unable to come any closer to the weapon. He would talk to Phillip another day, when he was less angry with him and when he'd locked away the dagger. 

"Stop stalking around me, I know your there." Phillip growled, swiveling around in his seat, the kris pointed towards to sky. He must have noticed the way Caleb's eyes followed the blade for he smiled. Not his true smile but something far more wicked. 

"Do you like it? It mostly blunt but that's because it's used for tearing, of course with enough brute force you could stab someone I suppose." His grin only grew wider upon his brother's silence. 

"Where did you get that?" Caleb asked, trying to sound as parental as possible. Desperately fighting to keep his voice level. 

"Lawrence gave it to me." He replied casually, running his finger across the the wonky edge. Caleb reached out, instinctively pulling his hand away before he could reach the pointed tip.

Caleb felt unbelievably sick. Lawrence had been here. In his house. Gifting his younger brother weapons and encouraging him to act like a madman. He shook his head, determined to stay present in the moment. 

"When?" He demanded, tightening his grip on Phillip's wrist. He watched as a little of his bravdo withered as he caught his older brother's furious expression. 

"Three days ago, a late sixteeth birthday present." He replied, still attempting to sound tough. 

Caleb felt himself turn red with rage. He attempted to snatch the instrument from his hand but Phillip swung threateningly which forced Caleb to jump back. He grabbed his brother's shoulder and wrist, and twisted. Phillip yelped and the knife clattered to the ground. He reached for it but Caleb beat him to it, he snatched it and held it against his chest before swiping at the rest of the knives. 

"You fool! You idiot, do you even know how dangerous these things are and who taught you speak like that?" He shouted, turning his back on his brother. 

Phillip scrambled to his feet, chasing his brother's heels. He pulled at his elbow, perhaps he hoped he would drop them. Caleb shook him off. 

"Give those back, they're mine!" Phillip screamed. It had been a good few years since Caleb had heard his childish whines. 

"Not anymore," He snapped, turning into the hallway. "And that is the last you're seeing of Lawrence- ever!" He slammed the door in Phillip's face. 

He'd stormed down the hallway and down the stairs leading towards the basement. He threw the door open so hard that it slammed into the wall. 

What was Lawrence playing at? Gifting him a kris and teaching to speak like a maniac?! 

He stormed across the room towards a busted up set of drawers that had been there since they moved in. He snatched the key off a hanger on the wall and unlocked the top drawer. He threw the knives inside, grimacing hard at the sight of the kris before it disappeared behind the wood. 

He vowed never to see it again upon the sound of the lock. 

Upstairs again, he took the thickest piece of string that he could find and threaded it through the top of the key and around his neck. He walked out from his bedroom only to find Phillip waiting for him, looking furious. His eyes brimming with an unmatched passion. 

"Where did you put them?" He demanded. 

"It doesn't matter, you're not getting them back anyway." He said casually, pushing his brother aside. 

"I'll just find them." He retaliated, his fists clenching hard at his sides. 

Caleb stopped and stared at his younger brother for a long moment, his anger bubbling back up the surface. 

"You won't or I won't hesitate the slap the sanity back into you." He growled, fully turning to face Phillip. 

Much his confusion and horror, Phillip began to laugh. Not chuckle but a full on laughter, to the point where he was holding his stomach. Caleb cheeks flared red at the disrespect. 

"You've never had the nerve to lay your hands on me and you don't now." Phillip scoffed as he strode off. He took his turn to shove his brother out the way. 

-----

"I got you a gift!" Evelyn gushed, tiptoeing on the edge of the riverbank, something hidden behind her back. Her smile so wide that it looked downright painful with sparks of pink across her nose. 

Caleb startled at the incentive, a confused and awkward smile prickling on his own lips. 

"Why?" He asked, trying not to sound too confused. 

God, what had he forgotten? 

She shrugged, practically skipping across the forest floor to stand infront of him, inches from his chest. Where he wanted to gather her until she melted into him and they could become truly one. She was hopping from one foot to another, her eyes creasing in excitement. 

"No reason, it just thought it could really help you." She replied, forcing her voice to come out all casual even when she stared at an opposite tree. 

Not waiting for a response, she whipped her head back around to stare at him as she presented the gift from behind her back. He stared at for a second too long, a little confused. 

It looked like wood, good quality wood at thar with hundreds of rings and grooves. She sheer thickness told him that this was from an old and precious tree. That wasn't what confused him though. What made him falter was the fact that the whole chunk was a great vibrant blue. As if it had been expertly dyed, which he doubted. Not only was it expensive but unnecessary. It must've been a Witch thing, still he struggled to wrap his head around it. 

Tentatively he took it, turning it around in his hands. It was solid and heavy in his palms, it was perfect for carving. 

"Thankyou," He said with sincerity bleeding into his sheer confusion, "um, what is it?" He asked innocently, hoping not to offend her. 

Thankfully, her smile didn't falter. 

"It's Palistrom Wood, do you not have that here? Doesn't matter, well- it's for when I'm not around, so that you'll never be alone." She said, with a shake of her head and her hands shaking up his biceps and resting in his collarbone and on his shoulder. 

"Palistrom Wood..." He murmured, trying to wrap his tounge around the new word. 

He leaned down and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight embrace. He still didn't quite understand but he could still appreciate her thoughtfulness non the less. Most husbands didn't understand their wives anyway. 

That when the first drop fell. 

He'd never been the best at predicting the weather, storms often snuck up on him- that was Phillip's expertise. 

The rain came down heavily and suddenly. Evelyn shrieked when the water droplet landed on her clothed arm, practically throwing herself into his arms as of trying to shield herself. He remembered something she'd said months ago- "if you were to play your game in my word, you'd be dead quick." 

He couldn't help but chuckle, prying her out from his chest as the sky rumbled and more water splattered down. 

"Evelyn," He began softly, "it's okay, Eve, it's human rain- I promise it's safe." He held out a hand in demonstration letting a puddle fill in his palm. He ran a hand through her now soaked hair and felt her tremble against him. 

She finally lifted her head and gawked him, already sodden and smiling. She reached up a hand and touched her own hair finding it wet and her skin still intact. Her next look was one of absolute horror and bewilderment. 

"It's doesn't burn?" She whispered, her eyes wider than a doe's. He kissed her forward gently. 

"No." He agreed, shifting his hold on her. His fingers finding hers, intertwining them as one as his other hand snaked away to her waist. He began leading them away from underneath their tree and further into the downpour, her hold on him tighten in anticipation. 

"It doesn't burn." She repeated with a gasp while he laughed softly. 

She joined him laughing, growing more hysterical by the second and burying her face in his chest. 

"It doesn't burn!" She shouted, throwing her head back letting the water cover her face. 

He laughed with her, stepping carefully as she followed. Some mockery of a dance, slowly becoming more and more refined as she caught on. 

She became more confident, stepping with purpose around his feet. Relishing the cool trickle and warmth of their body against eachother. 

He spun her around, water flying off her and surrounding her like a beautiful and powerful tornado. He Gathered up her back up but he didn't keep her up long. He leaned down, his hand supporting her waist as she draped herself over his arm, staring at with eyes as wide as saucer and as shiny as glass. 

He wanted to kiss her, it would be so perfect and easy. He wanted to so badly. Would she object if he tried? 

No, he couldn't do that to a lady. 

So instead, he pressed his forehead against her's. Relishing in her, feeling her body and the sicky warmth of his skin on her skin. 

"Thankyou for the gift, Evelyn." He said with his lips pressed up on her forehead. 

She giggled, rubbing the knots in his shoulders out. "Thankyou for yours, Love. This is incredible..." She whispered back.

They stayed still, just holding eachother close. The forest smells were so more intense in the rain. It smelt like soil and earthworms with the sickly sweet scent of flowers and grass. Clashing with a careful smell of Evelyn's perfume. 

"I love you, Eve." He said, his heart swelling. 

"I love you too, Caleb." She agreed. 

-----

Caleb had been sat under the trees in front of thier house for the better half of an hour. His back pressed against the fence, enjoying the pungent smell of crops. They smelt like home. Abiet bit better. Still home. 

It was wonderful. The smell of produce and dirt, the wind gently nudging him and ruffling his hair, the blissful feeling of sun falling across his face. He breathed in a long, deep breath of air, focusing on the feeling of his lungs expanding and releasing. 

He remembered being a child and sitting on the grass with his mother, both of them drinking in the rare patch of sunlight before the rain. He remembered how she would spread a patchwork quilt across the grass, one of the bad ones that she didn't mind staining, and they would sit together eating strawberries. Tucked into her side, while her fingers threaded through his hair. 

"What is that?" 

He opened his eyes, the sound of Phillip's voice drawing his back the present day. He was very reminiscent of thier father, he noted with interest. He was staring down at the piece of wood and the tool in his hands. He looked down, smiled and shrugged. 

"Wood." He chuckled before he patted the pat of grass next to himself, "Come sit with me." 

Phillip hesitated for a moment before he sighed and settled himself beside his brother and looked up at him. He smiled back and wrapped his arm around his shoulder. He jolted at the sudden touch and moved to pull away beside he paused and settled back into his brother's side. He pulled his arm away and sighed, tightening his hold on his tool. 

"Sorry," Phillip mumbled, turning away to stare at a nearby tree. 

"Don't be," Caleb half-heartly chuckled, fiddling with a little branch still connected to the wood, "we're too old to be hugging in public." 

Phillip suddenly threw himself at Caleb, wrapping his arms around his neck and burying his face in his shoulder. He hugged him back, the wood pressing into his back, squeezing him tight like he would disappear if he keep hold of him. 

"Sorry." Phillip said again, sturdier than last time. 

"I love you." He responded, rubbing his shoulders. 

He'd grown so tall in the last few years, almost bigger than Caleb himself but the only thing that he could see was a little boy with fluffy brown hair and fat cheeks. Wearing a stupid carved mask, which Caleb had crafted in Lawrence's kitchen. The flimsy one which had crumbled as he carved it and had splint in half with age. Both halves still hanging up on the end of his bed. He'd offered re-make it multiple times but he'd always refused, holding the pieces together. 

"I will always love you, Pip." He repeated. 

Phillip pulled away, pulling an odd face. He shuffled away and stared in the opposite direction, clearly trying to hide his face. Caleb chuckled and leaned back onto the face. 

"I love you too." He mumbled, hiding his mouth behind his hand. 

Caleb laughed, squeezing the block of wood hard, "there's no shame in loving your big brother." 

The two develed into silence as they sat beside eachother, basking in the sun. Caleb closed his eyes again, enjoying the presence of his younger brother besides him. The wood had a multitude of cracks and bumps in it and he liked the feeling of them. He let his thoughts stream through his mind as his fingers ran over the texture, taking in the feeling of the world around him. 

"Do you remember Cornwall?" He asked suddenly, taking in another deep breathe. He practically smell his Mother's perfume. 

Phillip stayed quiet for a few moments. He peeked his eye open and peered at his younger brother. He seemed to be thinking, his eyebrows scrunched and his teeth clenched together. After a while he responded.

"Not really," He began slowly, "I think I remember mom. She looked kinda like you, and- and I think dad he had a shaved face and he always wore that top hat and he would throw me around." 

"No. That's Lawrence." 

Phillip stared at Caleb, silenced. Then his face fell, he tucked his knees up to his chin and bit his lip. 

"Oh." 

They went quiet again, this time it was a lot more tense. Caleb sighed and threw his head against the fence. He'd really thought they were progressing, it was dinner all over again. 

He picked up his pencil that he'd left lying next to him, but hesitated. He stared at the wood in his other hand and suddenly felt incredibly helpless. 

"Why it that colour?" Phillip asked, breaking through the tension so fluidly that Caleb felt a stab of jealousy. 

He chuckled, trying to shake off the heavy feeling in his chest and instead passed the wood over to Phillip who took it gingerly and carefully. 

"It's sometime weird type of wood, pal-something." He began, watching as Phillip turned it over in his hands, inspecting it with careful precision. Almost like it were to explode in his hands at again given moment. 

"Evelyn gave it to me." He finished in a rush, his cheeks growing hot. 

Phillip's head snapped towards him, his mouth a thin line of disapproval. 

"So you'll never be alone." She'd said. 

Phillip hastily passed it back over, pressing it roughly into his hands and slumped back onto his knees. He sighed and reached for him but pulled away at the last second. 

"What's your favourite animal, something that means a lot to you." He tried, holding the pencil towards Phillip. 

He perked up his head and stared at the wood with complete distrust and annoyance. The birds chirped above them and the wind rustled the grass. Something screeched on the branches above and a small red feather landed in between them. 

"I'm not sure," Phillip hummed, struggling to maintain his upset. "I like birds." 

"Me too," Caleb said with a soft smile, as Phillip took the pencil from his fingers and swirled it around his fingers. "What about a crow." He tried, tilting his head- mimicking the creature. 

"Sinful." Phillip replied immediately, the mask across his face hardening again and Caleb felt the panic rise. 

He reached out and grabbed his arm, turning his head to the trees above. Staring at the countless nests above them, the arians flapping their wings at eachother, and parents dropping worms into thier babies mouth. Phillip eyes followed Caleb's until they were they both staring at the world hanging on top of their heads. 

"I think I remember mom." Phillip said suddenly, bringing Caleb slowly returned back to reality. He looked to Phillip, urging him to go on. "She would call you her Cardinal." 

"And you were her Phoenix." 

Phillip was the first one to laugh, it was only a small chuckle but it triggered his brother. Thier giggles rose until the both holding thier stomachs, laughing until they were red in the face. The block of wood, rolling onto the grass gently. 

"A cardinal, you should carve a cardinal- they say that they carry your lost loved ones with you." Phillip said, becoming stoic once more. Although his cheeks has turned significantly red.

Caleb didn't let his smile drop, he hummed in agreement and picked up his biggest carving tool. He offered it over to Phillip who shook his head and pushed it back towards Caleb.

"You should carve the cardinal, it's your gift." Phillip said, pulling himself fully back, even so, Caleb watched as he fought to maintain his face which hadn't seemed so alive in years. 

"Will you help me?" He asked, hopefully. He held the tool out towards him again, desperately trying to seem nonchalant but Phillip's eyes betrayed how badly he was failing. 

"I don't know how to carve, I'd just ruin it." 

"Please, Pip." Caleb begged. 

Phillip sighed heavily, fighting against the smile clearly tugging at his lips. He took the pencil and tool and turned them over, his brows furrowed. Then he clutched them in his fists and nodded to his older brother. 

"Caleb?" He murmured as his brother began to rummaging around around trying to find the correct instruments to get started. He hummed in acknowledgement. "Let's make a deal." 

Caleb pulled his case up onto his lap and smirked, he gestured for Phillip to continue.

"I'll help you make this for your witch and you tell me about our parents." 

"Deal." 

Chatter filled the air as they worked, the birds began to sing and the sun slowly dipped towards the horizon. It greatly reminded Caleb of a day sixteen years ago in a different house, on another summers day. A lifetime ago that he longed for every night. 

He found himself lost in his words, talking fluidly about the way thier father had sobered up and held their mother so tenderly the day Phillip had been born. How Caleb had carried Phillip on his back as they waddled after their mother in the fields. 

"Mother would sing to us both every night before bed- one night she got sick and went to bed early, you cried until I sang to you instead. Keep your blade up, you'll slice it wonky- that's it, follow the pattern." 

Whittles filled the ground as a cool breeze swept over the two. Slowly but surely, the chunk became a block, then ball and then something much closer to the shape of a bird. Growing more and more blue with each piece that his brother scraped off. 

"Regarding Father, he was...a bit odd. He drank a lot and disappeared a lot but he cared. Especially about you- you were always his golden child." Caleb laughed, pausing his movements to nudge his brother with his shoulder. 

"You were always the golden one." 

The sun had began to decend, sinking below the edge of the tree, blinding the two brothers and bathing Caleb in a sea of pale, yellow light. Depending on what way he bent his head, he vaguely make out the shape of the bird. 

He noticed with a certain fondness a few imperfections from where he'd let Phillip try. 

"My wrist hurts," Phillip whined, shaking his limp hand, "how do you do that all day and its not even finished!" He slumped back, hitting the ground with an 'oof.' Caleb laughed and reached down to ruffle his hair. 

"Patience is a virtue, Pip, you'll do well if you remember that." He said, beginning to pack everything away. 

He offered Phillip a hand and pulled him to his feet with some effort. The two stumbled back towards the house as Caleb drank in the soft rays of the sun on the back of his neck. He reached back and pulled his pony tail free, letting his hair fall freely around his shoulders as the door closed behind them. 

"You know, it's not manly to have such long hair." Phillip announced while he rolled his eyes. 

"It's not manly to have such a whiny voice either." He countered with a smug smile, throwing himself into his armchair. 

Phillip once again rolled his eyes and followed him towards the chair. Something about the air changed, a cold feeling of tension seemed to be flowing from Phillip who was now standing in front of him, twiddling his thumbs. Caleb raised an eyebrow at him and gestured for him to speak. 

"About my knives-" 

Caleb groaned, his face falling into his palm. Something inside him bubbling with rage and annoyance. 

"Is this what all that was about? Wanting to spend time together, interested in Mother and Father? Just so you could get those blasted things back?" He snapped, sitting up and throwing his bag onto the ground. 

Phillip huffed back, crossing his arms as if Caleb were being nuance to him. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed dramatically. 

"It's been two weeks, let it go!" He argued, sounding exasperated. 

Caleb shook his head and turned away, his face like thunder and his heart spasming like lightning. Phillip's own expression darkened and he almost growled in annoyance. 

"Go to your room." He demanded. 

"Maybe I'd actually want to spend time with you, if you weren't fucking a witch!" Phillip retaliated, having fully lost his temper. 

"Go!" He finally shouted, he rose to his feet and jabbed his finger in the direction of the door. Watching as Phillip stamped off furiously, he slammed every door on his way to his room. Shaking every decoration on the shelves. 

Caleb fell back into his seat. The wholesome feeling in his chest had fully melted in a hollow, miserable feeling. His hair suddenly felt very overstimulating as it shifted on his shoulders and the room was all too hot. He reached for thier half finished creation and slammed on the top shelf before he too stormed off his room. Already thinking about which pillow to scream into. 

Chapter Text

Dear, Uncle Mark, 

I write to you from a cranky, small town Inn. I admit that this journey has not been kind to me and I am afraid. 

I know you have never enjoyed being bothered with letters, I heard my mother scold my father enough times. For that purpose, I will keep this message sharp and simple. 

I must know, has my father return or does anyone have any thoughts about his whereabouts? Or, if you have an address in which I can mail to, that would also be greatly appreciated. 

I wish to return home before it is too late and I am trapped on American soils permanently. 

If my father is there, simply hand this letter over to him to read. He will understand my intentions. 

Yours faithfully, your nephew- Caleb Wittebane. 

Letters always felt pompous to Caleb, especially when he was young. This letter in particular he'd written when he was ten years old with the help of a kind Clergy. He'd hidden himself behind the oakwood desk late at night with the worker at his side guiding and correcting his childish words. 

"Never use your own voice in a message, you want to sound as upper as possible." The man had explained with a raised finger. 

Now he clutched that letter between his fingers, old anger and hurt lying prominent under his skin. He'd never received a reply, just his own writing back completely unopened. 

He'd tried his luck elsewhere. 

Dear, Cousin Joseph, 

I wrote recently to your father, inquiring about my father but received no response. Perhaps you can help me and if you could I would be most grateful. 

Has anyone heard anything about my father, about his whereabouts or even if he's okay. Please tell me, for I am starting to feel desperate, if he had returned. Has he any enquiries about me or Phillip? 

Truthfully, Cousin to Cousin, the man I am travelling with is not kind and I am deeply afraid of him. Without a father to claim me however, I an trapped. Please, Joseph I beg of thee to answer my message swiftly. 

Yours truly, Caleb Wittebane. 

The same thing had happened again. He'd waited, patiently, for two weeks. Every day that he waited, pulled him further and further away from Cornwall and more into despair. 

Finally. 

"A letter for Mr, Caleb Wittebane." One of the Clergyman had called. 

He'd taken the letter at lighting speed before he raced off to hide under a staircase. He hadn't looked at the front of the letter before tearing it open and reading the contents. 

It was his own. 

Sent back, completely unopened. 

He'd cried all night, holding Phillip close to his chest and burying his tears in his hair. Phillip had squeezed his hand and stayed but remand silent. Most likely unsure. 

He'd wrote his aunt next. He knew women weren't supposed to have letters but he figured it was worth of a shot. 

Dear, Aunt Margaret, 

I don't have high hopes that you will receive this letter, nor that you will reply but I will still make my efforts known. 

I write to you with the same questions that I had for your husband and son. Has anyone in our family heard anything about about my father Mathew? 

I would even accept disappointing news, so long as it is news. I especially appreciate a letter explaining that there isn't any news at all, if there isn't that is. I require something for my own sanity and nerves. 

I cannot stay with Lawrence, the man I left with. The reasons are long and complicated but to put it simply. He is not my father and is treating me in such a way that I think he would be furious at. 

I would be eternally at your service if you could provide me with any once of information. If only a slither. 

Yours, Caleb Wittebane. 

She had returned his letter back unopened and something in his gut told him that his messages were most likely powering their fireplace. 

He'd punched the wall in frustration until his knuckles had bled and Phillip had tugged him away. He'd gone, limp and compliant, too exhausted to feel anything but sorrow and desperation. 

Phillip had tended his knuckles with an unreading expression before he'd stroked his hair into oblivion. His movements stiff and surgical. He'd appreciated it none the less. 

Finally, he attempted one last letter before loosing all hope. 

Dear, Doctor, 

You may not remember me, as it as been many months since I have been in Cornwall but I am the eldest Wittebane son. You helped deliver both myself and my younger brother. 

I know it's not proper and my mama would not appreciate my attitude but I write asking for a favour. You see, I cannot seem to get in contact with any of my family and therefore cannot ask them. 

I must ask, do you know anything about my father? I have been without him for nearly half a year now and I want to return to him but I am clueless. I'm scared truthfully and I want to come home. Please, if you can think of any information, any at all, I would be most grateful. 

Truly, I mean anything. Whether it is good or bad news, i crave the writing of another human as i have been neglected by my family. 

Yours, Caleb W. 

He knew he'd dumped too much information and too pressure on the Doctor but he had grown too desperate and was far too empty whilst writing. 

Much to his surprise however, a letter did follow. A reply came, a lot swifter than he'd anticipated. Although, Lawrence had teased him with it while Phillip was napping. Holding too high above his head until he thrown himself on floor and began weeping in frustration. 

His arm had stung for days from Lawrence's belt. 

"Boys don't cry, you'll do well to remember that." 

He'd then ruthlessly threw the letter on ground and walked over it in order to leave. He'd scrambled to snatch it up, while still nursing his bruising forearm. He'd torn it opened with his teeth and began to read. 

Dear Caleb, 

It is wonderful to hear from you after all this time! I am sorry to hear that you are unhappy with your current arrangement. I am sure that things will improve soon. Adults are often hard on their muses as they want to set a standard and gain authority and there's nothing wrong with that. (Even if it feels unfair.) I am sure after a year or two things will begin to look up for you and you may find yourself becoming increasingly close with Mr Lawrence. 

I am also sorry that your family has not kept you properly updated and that I am one to tell you about your poor father. I'm terribly upset to tell you that it is bad news and I regret to be the one to inform you but you asked for all information I had, good or bad, so I will tell. 

Your father returned to town just a week or so after your departure, hoping to take both you and your infant brother with him to somewhere new. He'd thankfully found a new wife and was preparing to introduce you. She was a lovely lady, a young and innocent thing- only 17. I checked her myself, absolutely perfect for children but I'm going off topic! Silly me! 

Your Uncle informed him that you and little Phillip were gone and most likely already out of the country. From what I heard, he was majorly upset and began raging when his brother would not tell him where you had gone or who you were with. Unfortunately I was not involved at this point. 

I got involved when he fell suddenly ill. 

I diagnosed it as shock and I tried my best but there's really not much you can do to bring someone back from a shock to the nerves. It a condition that mostly affects women but can occasionally take a man too. 

Bare that in mind when you read this. 

Well, your father most terribly didn't survive the night. Convulsing around his brandy bottle until he went still. He died doing what he loved I supposed. 

Yours truly- Doctor Mansel 

...

He'd never cried so hard. 

He'd been so hopeless and burned the letter in the fire right after reading it. So that he'd never have to read those words ever again. 

Something inside of him broke that day- a new fire inside of his chest came alive. A determination to earn money, to get out and prove to his family that he worth their time. 

"One day, I'll be in the history books and everyone will regret not knowing me!" He'd promised himself with a voice stronger than Iron as he thrust a finger at the raging fire. 

-----

"Phillip's not speaking to me." Caleb sighed, his back pressed up against a tree, his almost-finished carving in one hand and his tool in the other. He'd tried to get Phillip to finish it with him but every time he'd asked, his brother either: slammed the door in his face or he would leave to go 'work.' He'd eventually gotten sick of waiting and continued on his own. 

Evelyn hummed in acknowledgement from where she was inspecting the lake, dipping her finger tenderly into water and retracting it again with a strained face. 

"That's nice love." She murmured, fiddling with something glassy in her front pocket. 

"No, it's not. You're not listening, Eve!" He said, throwing himself back against the bark and letting his hand and bird drop mildly onto the forest floor. 

Evelyn perked her head up finally and slid her vile back into her pocket. Despite the warm weather she had still appeared wearing a buttoned up waist coat over her frock. She had also been taking various things in and out of the pockets continuously. Occasionally, she even added a few off coloured liquids to the section of lake that opened up into the portal. 

She stood up from where she'd been bent over the riverbank and brushed off the front of her skirt. Leaves and sticks clattered to the ground, which she lifted into the air with a spell circle. She threw them into a different part of the lake with gentle splash and made her way towards him. She settled herself beside her fiancé and kissed his cheek. He blushed hard but tried desperately to hide it behind the illusion of annoyance. 

"I'm sorry Love, I'm listening now. You and Phillip have fallen out, and?" She promoted, as she picked up the dropped Palisman and placed it back into his hand. Taking a moment to admire it and run her finger over it's head affectionately. 

He groaned, taking the Palisman back and hugging it close to his chest. Thinking back on how beautiful the moment had been, the memory now soured by the sound of shouting. The birds half-carved beak pressing against his chest, the dull pain almost soothing. Evelyn sighed and placed her head on his shoulder, shuffling to reach. Her hand rested over his own, cradling the Palisman. 

"There's nothing else to it really," He said, sounding for the first time, truly defeated. He saw Evelyn peek up at him out the corner of his eye but his vision remained dutifully trained on the scenery ahead of him. "All we ever do is fight. He's spiteful. He's angry that I took him away from Lawrence, he doesn't understand and I don't know how to make him." 

Evelyn growled at the mention of Lawrence's name. 

Caleb stared at the slope that lead into the opening. The very slope he'd fallen down eons ago, when he'd still been so afraid of Evelyn. He thought about his life before. 

When it had just been him and Phillip in an empty borrowed house, chasing down imaginary monsters and going to sleep covered in innocent blood. He'd asked Phillip to quit shortly after meeting Evelyn but that had only led to another argument. He thought about the days he'd spent trapped in Lawrence's over sized house. How he'd become the master of hiding bruises, of never seeming tired and crying silently. 

"Tell him." Evelyn urged, lifting her face to give him a small shake. 

Caleb shook his head and the pressure in his chest increased tenfold over. "I couldn't, he's still just a kid." 

Evelyn pursed her lips tight like she wanted to say something but was holding back. He looked towards her and she turned her face away hastily. He pinched her chin gently and turned away her back towards him, a feeling of concern mixing in with all the confusing emotions swirling around in his chest. 

"What's the matter, Eve?" He asked, their faces inches apart. 

She chuckled, her face returning to normal as it melted into an easy smile. She pulled away and stood up, taking extra care to smooth out her coat and once again brush off her skirts. She walked back over to the lake and settled herself back onto her spot on the bank. 

"Nothing." She murmured, waving her hand dismissly.

He too lifted himself with a grunt, placing the Palisman on the grass gently. He followed her towards the river and sat beside her. She was fiddling with small pieces of equipment he'd never seen before. Completely engrossed in the lakes surface. He reached over and brushed a lock of her hair out of her eyes and pressed behind her ear tenderly. She offered him a small but genuine smile which disappeared as quickly as it came. 

"Evelyn?" He whispered, trying to catch her eye which was fixed on the waters ripples. "You're upset, please tell me why." 

She was quiet for a long moment. A moment that seemed stretch on for infinity. Her eyes seemed glossed over and lost in thought. 

"I'm afraid." She admitted finally, not adjusting her gaze. Her voice clipped and tight, almost as if she had rehearsed her words prior. He took her into his arms and she melted into his chest but still didn't look away. He took a lock of her hair and twirled it around his finger. "I know you don't see it, but something about him is so...wrong." 

"Evelyn-" 

"No, please. I'm not trying to upset you, he gave me a terrible feeling, unlike anything I'd ever felt before. Not from any Witch, Demon or Human. I went to a friend of mine who specialises in Oracle magic- its never been my strong suit- and she told me that so long as he remains in my life, I'm in serious danger, maybe even peril." She finished, shrinking away. Her voice tight, like she were about to break down sobbing. 

He held her even closer, turning over her words in his mind. He thought about Philip- his temper could be wild but his behaviour never was. A sinking feeling formed in his stomach that made him feel also close to tears. 

"I'm guessing this means that you don't want to get married then?" He asked, his voice soft and hopeless. He held onto her, afraid that she might disappear into smoke. (He wouldn't put it past her.) 

Evelyn's head shot up as she stared at him, for the first time since that morning she seemed to see him. Her eyes great huge, purple saucers as tears rose. She twisted her body to look up at him, her hands resting on his chest. 

"Oh no, Caleb. I love you more than anything in any realm, of course I want to get married." She exclaimed, her voice much stronger and certain. 

He stared back at her, speechless. He thought about her words, something was wrong with Phillip? She was right, he couldn't see it. He remembered when he was a little boy who tripped over his own feet and wore a silly tall mask. Who cried over his nightmares and played Witch Hunter with sticks. 

He thought about Evelyn too. His love, his soon to be wife. She had never lied or led him astray. She'd always been honest- about who she was and what she was. She had taken care of him when he needed her the most. She made him laugh and blush. She said she loved him and he believed her wholeheartedly. 

"I love you too, but I can't abandon my brother." He said, running his hand up her arm. 

Again Evelyn started to say something but cut herself off. Her mouth quickly snapping shut. She stared at the lake's surface again, the two sinking back into the silence. He squeezed her a little tighter and watched her face tighten with something unspoken. 

"I want to wait until he's an adult, we can get married but I don't want to leave for the Demon Realm until he's old enough." He reasoned, waiting for her response. 

She stayed quiet but her shoulders tensed up and her face grew even tighter. He placed his head on her own, still trying to coax her. 

"I don't know what you want me to say." He breathed, feeling as if he were talking to empty air. 

"I fear we may be running out of time." She said eventually, still not acknowledging him. Something about her tone unsettled him, her bubbly personality seemed to have sizzled out. Leaving her only an empty shell of the woman he initially knew. 

He lifted his head off hers and stared down at her, worry haven't displaced his hopelessness. He watched her as she pulled a different vile out of her coat pocket and held it up for him to see. He gawked at it, confused and fascinated. Gingerly, he took it from her and inspected it by tipping on its side and spinning it around. It appeared to be a potion of some kind. 

Bright blue liquid sloshed inside, it was thick and stuck to edges of the vile when he moved it. It was shade unlike anything he'd ever seen- so vibrant and deep. It seemed to suck in all the light around it, creating a little black hole in the palm of his hand.

"Evelyn..." He murmured, his voice weak and small. Begging for an explanation. 

She pulled out another matching vile of the same concoction. 

"Titan's blood." She said simply, as if it were the most normal thing. 

He recoiled slightly, staring at the tube in his hand. He was holding a God's blood? Rendered speechless, he waited for her to continue. 

"Don't worry," she softly chuckled, "the Titan has been dead for thousands of years. The portal leads directly into one of his veins."

Caleb fought his nausea away. 

"The portals been acting strange for a long time, I originally came here to investigate it- that was the night I met you. It keeps closing and re-opening sporadically, there's been days where I've been stuck here." 

"That's why. When I jumped into the lake, the portal must've been closed- that's why you were there!" He whispered to himself. 

"After investigating both Eclipse lake and Gravesfield lake I noticed something strange. Eclipse lake is shrinking and Gravesfield is growing, soon its going to overflow. This means the surface area of the portal is shrinking." 

He felt the colour drain from his face and his limbs suddenly felt so much heavier than before. He too stared at the lake, both of them trapped in silence. Watching as the surface mocked them and cackled. Lapping at their knees, almost invite Caleb inside, teasing him with the possibility of leaving. Phillip though. 

"We can't wait until Phillip is an adult and honestly, I don't want to." She admitted, refusing to meet his eyes. 

For a moment the world seemed to loose all colour. They hadn't really discussed what their married life would actually look like but he never imagined it without Phillip. He'd raised him, he'd always been there. He'd spent his life kissing his wounds and holding him during the storms, he'd taken on every major responsibility since he was ten years old. 

"I can't just throw all my responsibilities on him and run, he wouldn't be able to handle it." He argued, trying to reason with her. 

She gave him a knowing look back in response and flicked the vile of blood absentmindedly. "That boy has a powerful mind, you underestimate him." 

Caleb smiled. 

"And that's why I'm afraid of him." She finished and his smile dropped quickly. 

Silence lay over the forest and even the wind seemed to be waiting on baited breath. Caleb's chest felt tight and he swallowed hard, frustration building up behind his eyes. He stared at the vile still in his hand and tipped it, watching the blood splash around inside. Still disgusted and equally memorised. 

"So what do we do now?" He whispered, squeezing the tube hard and also reaching over to grasp her hand. She lifted their conjoined hands and pressed his knuckles against her lips. His stomach doing a small flip. 

She sighed and shrugged, her hair once again falling into her face. "I'm not sure." She admitted, hopelessness embedded in her voice and it caused a shock wave of misery to transfer over into Caleb. So they sat, curled up togther. Thoughts raced through Caleb's mind but he couldn't bring himself to voice any of them. 

"Evelyn," He murmured, she looked over at him with the corner of her eye, "could you make another portal, y'know...with magic?" He asked, already feeling like a fool. 

Evelyn's face was strained as she hummed out an odd sound. Shrugging her shoulders slowly and carefully. She was quiet for a long time, thoughts flashing behind her eyes as her consciousness seemed to disappear from her body. 

Is this what I look like when I'm lost in thought? Caleb asked himself, waiting on baited breath. 

After a few minutes she spoke, "I suppose in theory it's possible but it's something no Witch as ever done," she began slowly, as if choosing her words very carefully; "this has been our portal for millennia, I wouldn't even know where to start to make a new one." She finished, her eyebrows tightly knitted together. 

He placed the vile on the ground between them and took began to thread his fingers through the dirt. Feeling it lift up and fall around his skin. It was odd. It was comforting. 

"I'll learn Witchcraft, I'll help you- we'll do it together." He promised, a slither of excitement ran through his veins at the notion. Evelyn smiled, a playful and teasing one. 

"Since when were you so interested in being a sinner?" She whispered, flashing her sharp teeth. He blushed, his skin feeling as if it were on fire and shrugged. 

"I want our children to know both worlds, they'll belong to him." He admitted, their fingers dancing around eachother. He traced her slender fingers and her claws, feeling comforted by her warmth. 

Evelyn grin was enough to make his entire nervous system spasm and cause him stomach to flip dramatically. "Let's try it, hold onto that vile of Titan's blood." She instructed. 

He couldn't help himself, he turned to her and wrapped his arms around her. She squealed in surprise before her arms tightened around him as well. He basked in her hair, he closed his eyes and traced her body with his hands, painting a picture of her behind his eyes. His lips found her neck. He didn't even realise that he was kissing her before her breathing rapidly sped up and her hold tightened dramatically. 

"Caleb," she gasped, gaining his attention back. He opened his eyes and looked down at her. Her pale skin now a flushed pink colour and her hair even more wild. "This doesn't fix everything." She said, her eyes still solem. He held her even tighter than before, willing thier problems to just dissappear. He wanted to worship her without any difficult decisions. 

"I know, I'll figure something out. I swear." He promised, kissing the crown of her head tenderly, like she was something precious. 

--- 

The idea of choosing was more crushing than anything he'd ever felt. More than any suffering he'd ever felt. 

He'd never chosen anyone over Phillip before. Every deal, every hit he had both dealt and took was so that he could put his brother first. He'd sacrificed too much to just throw it all way for a simple wedding. 

It wasn't a simple wedding though, was it? He loved Evelyn, that was something he was certain of. The joy he felt, the purpose, the love. He craved it, begged for it. He longed for her each and every night, so much that sometimes it was downright painful. He'd fell to sin so rapidly since meeting her, in ways he didn't even realise was possible and he no longer had someone else to blame. 

God knew. 

One way or another he was going hell, so he might as well fully commit to sin. 

Phillip though. His brother was righteous, his brother was good. He couldn't drag him down with him and nor would he ever but he also couldn't leave him. 

Could he? 

He was near an adult, as Mrs Trout had pointed out near eons ago. He probably would be married soon himself and Caleb needed to move on. He'd done exactly what everyone expected of him, just differently. Perhaps Phillip was ready to stand on his own. 

He placed his bird down, sitting it carefully on the cushion as he stood. He began to stalk through the hallway, his eyes struggling against the darkness. He stood frozen in his brother's doorway. He seemed so small and precious, having fallen asleep at his desk with ink smeared up his cheek and surrounded by sealed and torn open letters. He wondered absentmindedly who he'd been writing to. Maybe he too had found a lover? He chuckled at the idea. 

He ventured further into the room, walking quietly as possible towards Phillip. His eyes avoiding some of the open letters on his desk, his brother deserved privacy after all. He pulled his chair out and wrapped his arms around his neck and legs, lifting him up. The task much more difficult than he remembered it being. He wasn't a child anymore he supposed. He carried him over to his bed and gently set him down, pulling the covers over his sleeping form. Misery rooted in his heart. 

He backed away and began scurry out the room. Pausing in the doorway, as his eyes flickered back over the letters. Curiosity pulling strong but he was stronger. He shook his head and left, pulling the door shut behind himself. 

Clearly, Phillip had friends. He wouldn't be alone at least, he was adored by this town and while he despised the idea of leaving him alone in the village as Lawrence, he knew there were people that would protect him. He had an entire squad of Hunters that respected him more than they did that abuser. 

Besides, he wasn't a child anymore. As much as it pained him to admit, Mrs Trout had been right. He needed to be something more than caretaker to someone who didn't need it. 

He took a deep steadying breath and steeled himself.

He wasn't going to choose Evelyn but he wasn't going to choose Phillip either. 

He was going to try choosing himself instead. 

He walked back to the living room, where his bird was waiting patiently for him. He scooped the now finished Cardinal up and sat down on the floor with it before pulling out a piece of paper and got to drawing. A wedding dress, the Chapel and the moon high the sky with an arrow. 

Let's get married tomorrow night. 

A thrill of rebellious excitement ran through his blood, like he was doing something naughty. He rolled it up, pulling his hair free and tying the now free ribbon around the rolled up message. He stalked over the kitchen window, facing the forest and he let the wind do its job. 

He grabbed another sheet as an idea entered his mind. Just in case. He began to sketch again. This was probably the most complicated rebus he'd ever drawn. He raced around the house, careful not to wake his sleeping brother. He already thought he was mental. Finally, he found a small red box in his bedroom. He couldn't really remember what it originally purpose was for but it was perfect now. 

He hurried back to living room, he gathered the rubus up rolling it expertly. Without his ribbon he had nothing tie it together so he simply stuffed the puzzle into the box and hoped it wouldn't unravel. 

He walked around the living space, digging his heel into the floor boards searching for the weak spot that he knew was there. Finally he found it, it cracked a little louder than he'd hoped. Still, there was no movement in the house. He placed the box in the small space, pressing it as far back as he could. Hoping to wedge it between the supports. 

Once he was happy he kicked the carpet over the broken spot and slid back down into the floor. He felt dirty and guilty. He grabbed the cardinal and held it to his chest, petting its smooth head. He was quite impressed with the finished product, it was large enough to fit in his palm and the eyes almost seemed alive some nights. 

"I am doing the right thing?" He whispered, holding the cardinal in the both hands and up to his face, "I just want..." He hesitated. The words spilling out, he wasn't sure why he would talking to wood. However, the words were weighing heavy on his heart, they built up on his lips and he yearned to speak. 

"I want to be free." He admitted. 

The wood cracked, the sound louder than anything he'd ever heard before. He screamed and stared at the carving as it continued to crack similarly to an egg hatching. 

Witchcraft is so weird!

The cracks contuined to spread, each new one like thunder. Practically shaking the house. Finally the cracks stopped, he shifted the Palisman into one hand and gingerly poked at its chest. The broken shards began to fall away, toppling into his palm. Panicked, he supported it with two hands again; desperately looking around for something stop it from breaking. What had he done to break it so badly? He paused when he saw the glimpse of what looked like fluffy red feathers underneath the crumbling shell. 

He peered closer, which proved to be a mistake as the light erupted from inside the shell. He yelled and turned his head away to avoid being blinded. The light seemed to fill the entire house, growing brighter and brighter with each passing second. 

With one more ear shattering explosion, the pieces crumbled entirely. Chunks of wood falling onto his palms and onto the ground. Tiny nails bit into his skin and the thing shifted and trembled against his skin. He carefully opened his eyes and was met with the most incredible sight. 

A little bird had replaced his carving, a deep blood red and unbelievably fluffy. His feathers ruffled from his strange and magical birth. A single shard of wood sitting on top of his head like a little hat, hiding his face from Caleb. He carefully and gently, pulled it off. The bird extended his neck and peered up at Caleb with huge, shining brown eyes. He cocked his head to the side and chirped- a beautiful and sweet sound that blessed Caleb's ears. 

He stretched his wings and flapped them playfully, walking circles around his hands. He giggled at the strange, ticklish feeling. 

"So you'll never be alone." She'd said. 

He laughed and reached out an knuckle to fuss the top of his head. He gasped at the softness of his feathers, his bird crooned and nuzzled against his finger. A series of gentle chirps following. 

"Your mother sure is cheeky." He murmured, his voice thick with tears. He'd never cried and felt this good before. His bird seemed to grow even happier at the mention of Evelyn. 

The sound of feet stomping down the hallway caught both Caleb and his birds attention, both of them staring at the door. Phillip appeared a moment later, he skidded into the room looking ruffled and little insane. 

"Caleb!" He shouted, "What's going on? Are you okay?" He shrieked, looking around wildly for the danger before his eyes landed on the cheerful arian in Caleb's hands. He chirped a sweet hello and flapped his wings playfully. He then turned his attention to the creator, Caleb was grinning so wide that his face actually hurt. 

"Shh," He scolded gently, holding his Paliman out, "Come say hello to Flapjack." He whispered. 

Flapjack looked up at him and cooed with joy, clearly understanding his name. 

While Phillip's jaw practically hit the floor and his eyes bulged out his head. 

Chapter Text

"Why are you dressed for church?" Phillip demanded from the doorway, his tone judgmental and his eyes full of distrust. His arms crossed over his chest and his body blocking the doorway. 

Caleb rolled his eyes and continued to pull his hair into a high bun, before pulling it free again."Because I'm going to church." He replied, simply- ensuring that he kept his back to his brother. He couldn't risk his face betraying anything. 

"Up or down?" He asked, holding the ribbon out towards Flapjack. The cardinal considered for a moment and then chirped loudly. Caleb smiled and ruffled him before tying his hair again into a much neater braid. 

Phillip scoffed from behind him and he could practically feel his annoyed stare burning into the back of his head. "It's a bird. It doesn't understand anything you're saying." Phillip snapped, "Why are you going to church anyway?" He questioned, his voice laced with suspicion. 

Caleb watch with barely held back laughter as Flapjack quietly mocked him with his beak. He shrugged, trying to seem casual as well as believable. 

"I'm going to see the priest, I have a confession to make- happy?" He asked, pulling too hard on his hair. Ripping out a little chunk of blonde roots, he winced and let the strands fall to the ground. 

He began to fuss around the room, trying to appear busy in the hopes that Phillip would become bored and leave him alone. Flapjack following him loyally around the room, eventually growing tired of flying in circles. He caught up to Caleb and nipped him on the ear before settling on his shoulder. He murmured out a small, sorry, fussing him. Despite his plan, Phillip did not leave. Rather he watched his brother with a raised eyebrow and an annoyance face. 

"You're lying, do realise how serious of a sin that is?" He growled, coming further into the room. His eyes clouded over in barely concealed rage, so unbelievably cold and unforgiving. His lip caught in snarl. Caleb finally looked at him and felt a strange terror in his stomach, confusion followed. He wasn't scared of his brother, something inward laughed at the idea but those eyes still made the hairs on his arm to prickle. Phillip continued to walk towards him until they practically eye to eye. Why was he so tall? 

"I'm not lying." He tried, hoping to sound as truthful as possible. 

"You're going to church for confession at night on a random tuesday?" He scoffed, sounding so secure and Caleb felt his cheeks flush an angry red. His eartips burning with embarrassment. He tried to push Phillip out of the way but he didn't move, he didn't even flinch. He tried to walk around him but Phillip side stepped blocking his path. He did again and again and finally shoved Caleb back. He stumbled. He'd never been actually knocked by Phillip before. 

A cold sweat passed over Caleb, he no longer saw his brother. This giant, cold entity wasn't his Phillip. No this was-

"Stop this..." He murmured, trying to hold his unyielding gaze. Memories flashing through his mind, he felt so young again. So powerless and so scared. "You're acting like him, stop it." He finished in a rush as Phillip practically pressed him into a corner. His breathing sped up and his heart began to race. His inner voice turned to static it chanted that this was not his younger brother and not him. Phillip face shifted, the facade breaking temporarily into something far more confused. His shoulders relaxed and he stared at Caleb some mix of pity and curiosity. 

"Who's him? What else have you been lying about?" He asked, his blue eyes piercing through the elder Wittebane. This time when he pushed him, he moved. Flapjack chirping angrily and snapping his beak as they stormed out the room together. Leaving Phillip standing alone in his bedroom. 

Flapjack nuzzled under his chin, rubbing his soft feathers against his skin. Whispering comforting trills and hums. He continued all the way outside, slamming the front door and sliding down it. His heart still racing in his chest, the sight burned into the back of his eyelids. He buried his face in his hands, ignoring Flapjacks desperate attempts for attention. 

"It's not true...he's good." He whispered, trying to picture the Phillip he knew and remembered. The little boy with short brown locks, with an adorable toothy smile, who whined to be carried and wanted to be held after a nightmare. The little boy who he sang to and the boy who stood on his feet when they danced together during festivals. The child who wafted around a play sword with a paper crown on his head, pretending to knight his older brother. That was his Phillip, not the cold stature currently waiting for him inside the house. 

Evelyn was not right. 

Perhaps the devil had swapped them out, punishing him for his childhood sins. For ruining his life in the most disgusting way. Maybe it was all his fault, his frantic nerves and broken mind had corrupted his child. 

No. No. Not your fault, Father sad. Not sad. Flapjack trilled, knocking their heads together. 

He lifted himself finally, after a long time. Long after his knuckled had buried into his eyes and colours had burst from behind his eyelids. Long after his heart had starting to ache and his body had began to stiffen. He held out a finger, allowing Flapjack to climb on. Holding them eye to eye. He pulled away to stare at the house behind him, the home he'd worked so hard to create, to earn. A physical reminder of everything he'd done for Phillip. 

"What do I do Flap?" He whispered, his voice splintering. 

Be free! Flapjack chirped, his eyes shut in delight as if it were the most obvious answer. He let himself smile as he placed Flapjack back onto his shoulder and stood. He nodded solemnly and began walking. Pausing to stare one more time at the house, picturing the inside from beyond the door. He couldn't call it home because it wasn't, his home was all the way back in England. Still, it was hard walking away. 

---- 

Caleb couldn't stop his pacing, anxiety thrummed through his veins. His own heartbeat deafening in his ears, his cheeks so hot he thought he might actually be on fire. Flapjack sat peacefully on one of the chairs, having gotten tired of chasing him. 

The church was undeniably creepy and silent at night. The stone walls were imposing and cold, which caused his footsteps to echo throughout the room. It sounded like thunder every time he took a step and each time he cringed hard. He couldn't stop though, too caught up in the motions. 

It was then that the door creaked open, he froze and his head shot towards the door. A white face with pointed ears peaked around the wood, her face dusted with pink. She spotted him waiting and smiled- a sweet and heart melting smile before she fully entered. 

Caleb's breath caught in his throat as his eyes widened. Evelyn had swapped out her usual red dress and cloak for a pintraight, ivory coloured gown that pooled around her feet. Her hips largely punctuated by her wide skirt and her overgown that drapped across the ground when she moved. Her ears burned red as she bit her nail. 

"Too much?" She murmured but Caleb was still speechless, drinking in every aspect of her. "I heard it was human custom..." She trailed off as her ear flicked in the most adorable way. 

He shook his head and smiled, "You're beautiful..." He whispered, finally able to move again. He walked towards her and took her hands in his own. She grinned, her fangs gleaming in the moonlight. His stomach squirmed and his cheeks had began to burn. "So beautiful." 

This was it. He was finally marrying this amazing woman, with amazing abilities and nothing had ever felt so right before. He pushed away the future, those dilemmas and problems could wait. He had a bride to focus on. 

Flapjack chirped and flew to his shoulder, compliments spilling out of his beak. Evelyn gasped with joy, she let go off him and held out her hands, which Flapjack happily jumped onto. She nuzzled her cheek against the cardinal's own. "Your Palisman hatched!" She gushed, "What's his name?" 

He smiled, "Flapjack." He admitted, a little embarrassed but her smile only widened. His chest burned with affectionate and his knees felt weak, every inch of skin tingled with anticipation. Whatever spell this was, he loved it. 

"You're so gorgeous when you smile like that." He admitted. She looked up with a blush that engulfed her entire face. She shook her head in embrassed but he caught to her cheeks in his hands and planted a gentle kiss on her temple. 

"I mean it." 

Flapjack trilled at the two of them before taking his place on the chair again. 

She shook her head, laughing breathlessly as her breasts pressed against the bodice of her gown. Laying her head against his chest. "Let's do this." She murmured, giggling all the while. He nodded in agreement, his skin burning with anticipation and his heart beating faster than it ever had before. Causing him feel almost lightheaded. 

They walked, hand in hand towards the brightly coloured alter. At night, the church was creepy to Caleb but Evelyn seemed enthralled. Squeezing his fingers sporadically as she 'oohed' and 'ahhed' at the glass stained windows. Running her free hand across the silky fabric that stretched over the alter. He let her, smiling and awaiting patiently. 

How he'd hadn't been striked down yet was beyond him, " I'm marrying a witch in a church, that must be the highest level of disrespect." He thought, a squirming feeling in his stomach. None the less, his smile didn't drop. Especially when he saw Evelyn's face as she inspected everything, sniffing the candles and flipping blindly through the Bible. 

"Evelyn," He chuckled, as she reached out her tounge to lick the tip of an incense stick. "That's not food." She blushed and placed it back into the pot. She joined him in the middle once more, his arm wrapping around her waist and her hand resting gently on his chest. 

"What do we do now?" She asked, her eyes twinkling like a million shimmering stars. He pulled her in even closer and shrugged. 

"Well, in the Human Realm we say a few vows and promise to always be together, God will then bless the marriage and make it official. What do you in the Demon Realm?" He asked as she nodded in understanding. She grinned, her fangs shining in the moonlight. 

"We exchanged our jewellery and make promises to stay with one another until the day we die." She explained, already pulling one of her earrings free. 

He fumbled around his pockets and pulled out a small box, although he had already brushed the dust of the top of it, it was still unpolished. After years and years of living underneath his bed, in a small box it had aged. When he opened it Evelyn gasped. 

"That's too much, it's only supposed to be small things..." She murmured in awe. Hesitant as she reached out and then pulled her hand back. 

He shook his head and caught her wrist gently with one hand, "Please, I want you to have it. My Mama told me when I was a boy to find a wife to give it to." He held the ring box out towards her, as a smile spit across her face. "I want that to be you." 

He barely remembered the time after his mother's death but he did remember sitting in his bedroom, Phillip at his feet. He'd been chatting happily about the 'super cool and nice Witch Hunters.' Not fully understanding the situation. 

He'd sobbed hard into his knees when Phillip at grabbed at his shoulders and gushed about 'when mama is up, she can see!' He hadn't understood why and then he'd started crying too. 

The old village doctor's head had poked around the door and he'd seen Caleb, holding his middle as if in physical pain. Phillip had fallen asleep on the edge of the bed, tucked up like a little, baby rabbit. The doctor had knelt down and wiped the tears from his face. 

"Don't cry boy, it'll be okay." He'd said while shushing him gently, "pack up anything of value, your Uncle Lawerence is going take you somewhere nice and safe." 

Caleb's head had shot up as he stared at the doctor in confusion, "don't you mean Uncle Mark?" He'd murmured but the doctor was already walking back out the door. 

His Mother had handed him the ring a few days before, whilst she was still lounging across the sofa. Her face white and pasty, she was heaving hard inside her corset. He was kneeled beside her, squeezing her boney hand. She slid her wedding ring off her finger and held it out towards him, a small smile fighting to stay on her lips. 

"Mama?" He'd whispered, as she dropped the ring into his awaiting palm. 

She shifted to squeezed his hands, trapping the ring between them. "I want you to find a beautiful wife and I want you to treat her well and love her. Only if you do that can you give her this ring." She'd said before kissing their conjoined hands. 

"Is daddy coming home?" He'd whispered. 

His mother had fallen asleep promptly, tears sliding down her cheeks. 

That terrible night he'd scavenged the house for a box to protect the ring and he'd stuffed it up his shirt. Afraid that Lawrence might steal it. 

Now he slid the ring carefully over her finger as she handed her earring over with satisfying sigh. He thought for moment before pinning it safely on his shirt. 

"Evelyn Clawthorne," He began, "I love you more anything in any realm, do you take me to be your husband, now and for all eternity?" 

She gathered herself further into his arms, her eyes wide and shimmering. Her grin so wide, it almost looked painful. She laughed, her shoulders shaking as skin turned pink. His own ears burned and he couldn't stop his own smile. 

"Caleb Wittebane, I love you too. So much so that I can't even put it into words. Of course I will be your wife, I ask you to be to my husband and stay with me until the end of all existence." She said, sincerity embedded into her voice. 

"I will be your husband." He agreed, their foreheads meeting one another, "till death do us part." 

He leaned in as Evelyn's hand traveled from his chest to his cheek as she followed suit. He could feel the warmth of her skin radiating onto his face. His stomach squirmed and his could barely feel the tips of his fingers and toes. Finally...finally. 

Thier lips brushed together and- 

"LIAR!" Phillip's voice bounced around the church walls, echoing through Caleb's skull. 

Their lips parted as their heads snapped towards the doors where Phillip was waiting. His face twisted up something far deeper than anger, there was a twisted sense of hatred burned into his eyes. He wasn't alone either, Lawrence stood at his side; a smug grin spread across his disgusting face. The two of them followed by more Hunters than Caleb had ever seen in one space. 

He felt Evelyn grip tightened around him as she went rigid, both by fear and rage. He too held on tighter, but unable to break eye contact with Phillip. He'd been caught red handed. His gut tied between desperately explaining himself to his brother and protecting his new wife. 

The promise he'd made to his mother nearly ten years ago ringing loudly in his mind. Which battled against memories of his Phillip all small and so innocent. 

"Well, well," Lawrence chuckled, he was grinning like Christmas had come early but his eyes were cold and unforgiving. As harsh as the winter that followed. "What do we have here?" His tone was beyond gleeful and it made Caleb want to punch him in the throat, until he was unable to laugh any longer. He couldn't though, his body had frozen in place, clinging onto Evelyn for dear life. 

"What did I tell you boys? A Witch, and not only that, she has spelled and stolen one of our own!" He announced as Caleb's cheeks burned red, both with unfettered fury and with humiliation. 

At that comment, Evelyn released Caleb despite him scrambling to stay in her safe presence. She stood tall infront of the crowd, her purple eyes glimmering dangerously as she narrowed them. He saw some of the more cowardly Hunters shrink away from her piercing gaze. 

"You have one thing right, you sick bastard;" she began, her voice booming even louder than Phillip's. Confident and assertive. "I am a Witch!" She announced proudly, watching they all stared at her pointed ears, long nails and sharp teeth. She allowed them a moment to truly take her in before she delivered the final blow. "But unlike you, I don't force anyone to lie with me against their will." 

Caleb cheeks burned red but for a completely different reason, while Lawrence was, for once, rendered temporarily speechless. Before he burned a angry shade of purple and he threw a furious finger in her direction. "Get and kill that Witch!" He roared. 

Caleb's breath caught in his throat as the Hunters charged forward but Evelyn remained eerily calm. He watched from a distance as she draw a casual circle and flicked her finger upwards. The Hunters screamed as they swept backwards by the thickest vine caleb had ever seen. It burst from the church's floor, followed by a wave of brethren. The smaller vines scooped up the remaining men, brave enough to still face her. She held them high into the air whilst they flailed and wailed. 

Evelyn looked over her shoulder towards her new husband. Her face asking silent question of mercy. He stared back at her and then at the Hunters. The people that could never accept him, who laughed behind his back and excluded him. He also looked at Lawrence, who's vein was popping out of his head but as he stared at the plantlife around them Caleb could see his bravo failing. Finally, he saw Phillip. He expected a look of betrayal or horror. Rather he found him calm, other than the occasional twitch of his eye and his mouth stretched in a thin line of disapproval. He hated that nasty, calm look. He felt small underneath it, like he was a disapproving parent, barley holding his rage together under a storm of ice. As if Caleb were the child and him the adult, rather than the other way around. 

Phillip was slow as he moved but still Caleb never saw it coming. He quietly and casually pulled out his Matchlock pistol and shot immediately. Evelyn dropped the Hunters in favour of drawing a new circle. She grabbed Caleb by the arm and dragged him to the ground, the two of them being surrounded by a twine of vines. The bullet ricocheted off the thick plants but that didn't seem to deter Phillip who simply opened fire again and again. 

He heard each shot as they screamed through the church's echoing halls. Evelyn held him close with one hand whilst the other was incase in a large spell circle and squeezed shut. Her eyes wide open and glowing a deep magma, filling their small space with purple light. 

He couldn't help but yell out when the vines snapped, a bullet quizzing past his face. "Come on, Evelyn." Phillip said with a cold laugh, filled with no true amusement or warmth. "Hiding, really? Where's all that bravado now?" He shot again, this time Evelyn grabbed him hard and rolled them both away. The vine ball withered away as another bullet ripped through it. 

With another flick of her wrist another vine shot out of her outstretched palm. The gun flew out his hand as it collided with her spell. This time his calm face cracked, turning into something much more sinister. Something that made Caleb feel sick all over. 

"Phillip!" He pleaded, standing up despite Evelyn tight grasp on his sleeve, "Please, stop. You don't understand!" He begged, his voice taut. 

He could have sworn that Phillip growled as he turned his eyes onto Caleb. Although, they were no longer those of a man's, but of a monster's. 

He opened his mouth to snarl something but both brothers were cut off by the sound of a shot being fired and the shrill sound of Evelyn's scream. Caleb whipped around, his heart in his throat. His mind racing and the room seemed to be mixing together, voices over lapping. He threw himself onto his knees, his arms wrapping around her protectively, fighting off whatever fit was trying to rise to the surface. Something warm and sticky leaked onto his hand and he couldn't help his own scream that rose to the surface. 

"Caleb," He heard her gasp through the obvious pain. She gripped his face hard and held him still. "Please, love, breathe." She begged, her voice tight. 

He couldn't. He tried, he really tried but he just couldn't. Not with Evelyn slumped against his chest, her voice broken with her blood on his hands. 

His cheat hurt, it felt as if someone had wrapped thier hands around his chest and was squeezing with all thier might. Bearing down on him. He felt like a fish out of water, gasping for a breath repeatedly. 

"Caleb!" Evelyn shouted, her hands shaking. 

He blinked repeatedly, trying to right himself. 

Hands gripped his shoulders and he couldn't help the animalistic shout that rose on his lips. Especially when he was torn away from Evelyn. He kicked and thrashed blindly, scratching his nails into his whoever was dragging him. Screaming, God knows what, on repeat. He could distantly hear Evelyn's shouts somewhere else. 

When they released him, he jumped up and Flapjack returned from where he'd been perched with a determined chirp. Only guided by instincts he reached out his hand and Flapjack fitted perfectly in his palm. His Palisman was no longer a bird but had transformed into a tall cane of sorts. He took a millisecond to appreciate his apparent Witch's staff, Flapjack was back to being a carving, perched atop of a sleek, black pole. He threw the butt of the staff into the nose of whoever had been behind him. Although, his lungs were still fighting against him and his vision was still swimming, the guy went down with a groan.

"Throw me Flapjack!" He heard Evelyn command from behind him. 

He turned around, stumbling slightly and threw Flapjack, still in staff form. Evelyn caught him with one hand, her left one he noted. She twirled him expertly, looking so graceful and powerful in her torn, bloody dress. She drew the biggest spell circle he'd ever seen with the help of Flapjack's new length. Vines burst from the ground again, dragging the remaining Hunters the ground with the added bonus of miniature vines wrapping around their necks. He watched through blurry eyes, with a mix of terror and pride as they squirmed on the ground, grasping at the plants. 

She groaned, he blinked and when he looked back she was no longer standing tall but slumped against the alter. Blood running down from her shoulders and threw her fingers. Her face looked pale and she was grimacing. He could see her hold on the vines was breaking, very quickly. Flapjack returned his living state and pressed his feathered head against her cheek, pushing with his little body. Willing her to get back up. 

"Evelyn!" He cried, breathlessly attempting to run towards her. 

His legs felt numb and he knew his kness would buckle from underneath him soon. She looked up and gasped, she pointed behind him and something hard collided with the back of his head. He landed hard onto his knees before he slumped entirely forward. He fought against the idea of sleep, despite how enticing it seemed. He reached a hand out, desperately wanting to feel Evelyn's hand in his own but all he got was the cold church air. A sad groan that sounded vaguely like words left his lips simultaneously. 

The hard object once again rammed hard into his skull again and this time, he could fight against the darkness. It engulfed him whole and dragged him down into the deepest depths of peace. He felt a single tear roll down his cheek before he was fully swallowed by pain and nothingness. 

Chapter Text

When Caleb came to, the only thing he could register was pain. 

A searing pain in his skull which throbbed continually, spreading down into his forehead. Distantly he could feel something that had dried all the way down from his hairline to his eyebrow. Dread numbly filled his stomach at the thought of bleeding from his head. He couldn't feel his hands either, he wanted to be panicked by the loss of feeling in his appendages but the pain in his head and his sheer exhaustion prevented him from caring. He could feel however, something tight around his wrists that confirmed that at least his hands were still connected. 

"His head is bleeding!" A voice snapped, Phillip's voice.

Although he wanted nothing more than to jump up and sink his fist into his brother's face, he stayed still. He was fully awake now but even still, he forced his breathing to stay level and kept his eyes dutifully shut. 

He could feel two pairs of eyes on him and he knew Phillip was kneeling in front of him. He fought hard not to squirm or flinch when his brother's fingers brushed his forehead, attempting to tenderly rub the blood away. He wanted to kick him right in the gut for ruining his wedding day but he found he couldn't even twitch his leg. There was the same tightness around his ankles as there was his wrists. 

"Why would you hit him with your gun?" Phillip continued, he sounded furious, as he changed to hold his face gently. He tried his best not to tense up but stay limp and compliant.

So was that why his head hurt so badly? 

"Would you rather I shot him?" The sound of Lawrence's voice made his blood run cold and only enhanced the tight feeling of rope around his limbs. He sounded so unbothered, like Caleb was nothing more than a rat on the streets. 

Phillip said nothing in return, he instead scoffed loudly and Caleb could picture him rolling his eyes. He continued to feel his face and pet him, in a strange but loving way. He brushed Caleb hair back and hummed, displeased. 

"Where's the Witch now?" Lawrence asked calmly. Caleb couldn't help his fists as they curled inward. His nerves on fire and his soul burning with rage but also concern. He couldn't deny his fear and it was eating away at him. Second by second. He swallowed around the lump in his throat that seemed to be growing with every second. 

"Locked up at the Townhall, she'll be dead by tonight." Phillip said matter-factly, so unbelievably calm. 

"You should've reported it sooner, this could've been over weeks ago. We might not have lost Caleb then." He responded, mimicking pity. 

Caleb wanted hit him with a gun instead and scream that he was not lost. In fact, with Evelyn he'd never felt so found. He belonged with her, in her arms and in her heart.

"It wasn't that simple," Phillip hummed, "patience is virtue, don't you know?" He said with a careful chuckle, as he stroked Caleb cheek. 

An odd feeling of horror and pride settled in stomach as Phillip quoted him. It was if those words were physical punch to the stomach. He felt sick but also like he wanted to cry, to curl up into a tiny ball and never look anyone in the eye again. Only after he'd beaten Lawrence black and blue first of course. 

He felt Lawrence's presence come closer and he was sure he'd placed a deceiving hand on Phillip's shoulder. "Very wise, Wittebane, don't fuss. After she's finally dead, he'll be free again and we'll have him back." 

No. If she died, he would never be free ever again. He knew Phillip didn't know but he couldn't help the feeling of hatred that swirled through his veins as he made a noise of confirmation. He would never be free without her, here in the Human Realm. He'd simply be re-imprisoned in this tiny, dingy house. Thrust underneath Lawrence's cruel thumb. Forced to smile through his pain, forever lost in grief. 

He heard Phillip stand, by the sound of ruffling fabric and the small noise of exertion he made. 

"I don't like the idea of leaving him like this." Phillip said, sounding genuinely upset. 

"He's still under the Witch's spell, it's not safe to untie him." Lawrence reasoned, practically spitting the word "witch" off his tongue. 

"But he's still unconscious, he can't do anything if he's not awake. Help me put him in his bed." He said, knealing down. His cold hands settling on the ropes wrapped around his wrists. 

Caleb fought to keep the victorious smile of his face and remain slack. He needed to keep the charade up just a little longer. He hoped his sigh of relief when the tight bonds slipped away would be mistaken for a sleepy noise of content. He wanted to rub his sore wrists desperately when his hands were free but stayed still. They were on fire, though, rubbed sore and seething. Only heightened by the fuzzy feeling in his fingers as blood rushed back into the useless appendages. 

When his ankles were also freed, he felt himself be swept up. Bridal style. He knew it wasn't Phillip but Lawrence. The hold was distant and cold. He could practically feel his annoyance radiating off his body. Just to make things harder, he went fully limp and pressed all his body weight into his back. He smirked inwardly when Lawrence grunted with effort. 

"My sweet lord, what do you feed this kid?" He asked, now sounding pissed, clearly inconvenienced. 

"Oh, he's terrible, he doesnt ever eat," Phillip said, "He thinks I don't know but he gives me his food instead. He's been doing it for years." 

By the time he was placed onto his bed, a significant amount of feeling had returned to his hands and feet. The waves of pins and needles having dwindled down into an ache. He waited, trying not to twitch as they continued to talk softly above him. Finally, after what felt like eons, they retreated. The closing the door with a soft click and a creak. He waiting a few more minutes just to be safe before letting his eyes fly open. 

He sat up so quickly, that his head spun for a moment. His vision temporarily blacking out before returning. He was in his own bed, in his own bedroom. His various knicknacks staring back him, taunting him. He supposed to leave here and never see this stupid town again. 

He caught himself. A deep sense of anger and hatred laying heavy on his chest. He didn't hate Gravesfield and he didn't want to hate Phillip. Still, it was hard not to reach for his pillow and scream his voice out. 

Instead, he took a deep breath and pushed the covers off himself before placing a cautious foot on the floor. He was still dressed in his Sunday best, although it had a few splats of blood down the front. He had sick feeling that most of it wasn't his own. Strangely though, his shoes had been removed leaving him only in his socks. He could feel the cold and unforgiving wooden floor as he pushed onto his feet. 

He crept across the room and peeked his head around the door, listening carefully. His ears straining against the silence, God, Witch ears would be so more helpful. After many minutes of quiet, he heard the front door slam shut and he grinned in triumph. 

He snaked out of the room, despite the empty house he tried to remain as quiet as possible. Actually grateful for the loss of his fancy shoes, knowing they would've only clacked loudly with every step. His socks helped to soften every footfall. 

Finally he made his way to the front door, it looked so inviting but something felt off. Dangerous. His stomach felt tight in knots and felt distantly sick. 

"Flapjack!" He called out softly, hoping the little bird would come flying out from behind a cushion but he was only met with nothing. The nothingness that he had started to hate. He couldn't help but despise the idea of loosing both his wife and Palisman. 

Evelyn. So scared and all locked up, stuck with those pretentious Hunters; with thier false ideals and ignorance. 

He reached for the door handle, a little too desperately and prepared the pull open when he was interrupted. 

"You've always been quite a good actor, Caleb, but you should've known better to think you could've fooled me? I was the one who taught you." 

Caleb threw himself back around, still gripping the handle like a lifeline as childish fear poured into his gut. Now he really felt ill, all the way into his throat. Subconsciously he felt himself press his back up against the door. 

Lawerence had strode out of the kitchen, calm as anything and was now leaning leisurely up the door way. His face so unbelievably smug, his grin show casing his rotten teeth. In his right hand, he was clutching a long pointed knife. Caleb heart began to beat so fast, he was almost worried that it would explode. 

He stared at the knife, at first in intimidation and then in confusion. He recognised it but it wasn't one of his usual cooking ones. They were all blunted and battered from years of struggle and misuse. (His mother had never taught him the way around a kitchen before her untimely death.) Rather, it was one from Phillip's private collection. His hand flew to his throat but found it bare, the key was gone. 

Suddenly he was afraid, but for a new reason. He remembered the Kris he'd confiscated two weeks earlier. He imagined Phillip burying the wicked thing into Evelyn's stomach, the blood that would gush, the sound of her scream. Something he never wanted to hear, ever again. 

He shook his head, determined to free his mind from the demons thoughts that plauged it and turned his attention back the threat still at hand. He tried to stand as tall as possible and narrowed his eyes, hoping he actually looked intimidating and not an idiot. 

"What have you done to my wife?" He snapped, trying to subtlety look around for anything of use. Anything that could fend off such an evil looking knife. 

A word wife felt so right on his tounge, a thrill running up his nervous system at the thought that Evelyn truly was his own. 

Lawrence raised an eyebrow at him, a smirk playing at his lips. "The Witch is fine- for now." He responded, as if they were chatting in the fields.

Caleb gritted his teeth back, wishing he had the same snappy fangs as Evelyn, while Lawrence looked only incredibly bored. They were still for a few seconds, only staring at eachother and then Caleb moved. Fast enough for Lawrence to falter before he attempted to grab him. He burst past Lawrence, sliding on his knees under his hands, and grabbing a frantic hold of the armchair. He snatched his biggest carving tool off the chair and held it up. It was about the same length as Lawrence's knife but smooth and carved, Lawrence pursed his lips in annoyance. 

"Very clever." He said flatly while rolling his eyes, "what are you gonna do now? Especially with that pathetic little thing, unlike Phillip, I'm not afraid to kill you where you stand." He snapped, starting to sound more serious. 

He leaned up against the door and crossed his arms, the smug smile returning to his face. The knife poking out like a warning in the storm. He stared down at his own carving tool, unless for stabbing but at the right angle it could slice pretty well, he supposed. Still, he grimaced at the idea of drawing blood. The memory of how he'd attacked that Hunter in the church still fresh in his mind. 

So, rather than face him, he reached around and unlocked the window. Lawrence's face fell instantly as he realised what Caleb was doing. 

"Don't you dare!" He roared as he swung the window fully open and scrambled through. He heard Lawrence's footsteps pound against the floorboards as he rushed forward to grab him. His meaty hands managing to snatch a fistful of his jacket and instead of struggle, he threw his jacket off and fell onto the ground hard. He fought to right himself for a moment before finding his way back onto his feet. He began to run as Lawrence shouted after him, a string of insults and threats. 

He ran as fast as his legs could carry him towards the old beat up station, located inside of the town hall. There was no way they would give Evelyn fair trial, or even one at all. She'd proudly admitted her guilt already in the church. 

He burst through the doors and ran through the halls, banging like thunder across the wooden floor. The lack of Hunters was strange and filled him with dread. The town hall wasn't a particularly big building but it was still strange to see so little people. He slowed himself down to a steady jog, weary of the sound of his footsteps and quite frankly; his side had began to hurt. 

He shoved through stream of doors, his eyes flying wildly from side to side until he finally saw the familiar, iron bars. 

"Evelyn!" He whisper-shouted into the streaky darkness, his eyes straining as they tried to adjust. All the torches had been long distinguished, causing goosebumps to run up the length of his body.

"Caleb!" She called back, her voice ringing loudly in the silence. 

She stuck an arm out from between the bars, locating herself at the far end of the jail. Her dress sleeve tattered and extremely dirty, as she had been dragged through the mud. He ran towards the bars and clutched them tightly with one hand while his other grasped hers. Their fingers intertwining together, their foreheads only separated by the cold steel between them. 

"Are you okay Love, did they hurt you?" She asked, tears brimming in her eyes. Her voice sounded weak and broken, as if she had been screaming for far too long. 

He shook his head and couldn't stop the wet laugh that followed, tasting his own salty tears. 

"Me?"He asked breathlessly, "no, you should be worried for yourself, not me." He said, reaching through the bars to inspect and caress her face. 

There was a nasty, deep purple bruise forming on her cheek bone. He gasped loudly as he spotted the great hole in her arm, her shoulder slumped in it's socket and her entire sleeve soaked in the deep, brown of dried blood. She flinched as his fingers brushed against her bruise, he made a noise of pity and felt his eyes fill again. She ignored it and instead laughed, although it sounded painfully hollow. She shook her head and squeezed his fingers harder, a fear he'd never seen hidden behind her eyes. 

"Dear God! You're not alright at all. I'm so sorry, Eve, please forgive me..." He said, holding the metal with so much urgency that his own fingers ached."Hang on." He murmured, pulling away to inspect the lock. 

It was old and rusty looking, he tugged on it experimentally only to find it surprisingly sturdy. He tugged again, even harder and while it creaked, it didn't come any looser. He pulled his tool off his belt and inspected it. It was a lovely piece of equipment that he'd bought over from Cornwall, he'd spent years polishing and sharpening it to perfection. With a brutal swing, he jammed the metal blade of the tool inside of the lock and began twisting it around. That seemed to do the trick, the top unlocked and it fell to the floor with a loud clatter. Taking the tool with it. 

When he knelt down to pull his tool out, he found it slightly bent at an odd angle. The edge chipped from how savagely he'd needed to yank it out. (Having gotten lodged inside of the mechanism.) 

The door swung open with a creak and almost instantly Evelyn threw herself into his open arms. He wrapped himself around her, his hands threading through her hair, trying to gentle untangle the knots that had formed. Her form was trembling against him, as she fisted his shirt tightly. 

"Evelyn," He said gently, she turned face upwards to look at him, "can you still do magic?" He asked, his voice soft as he pulled away. He tore his own sleeve, abiet messily, from his shirt and began to wrap it wearily but speedily around the bullet wound. 

She chuckled quietly and shrugged, he tightened his make-shift bandaged. protectively around her, anger settling in his stomach. 

"My magic isn't too strong, I've been awake all night, it'll return though. Done fuss, Love." She said, reaching up to cup his cheek and twirl his forelock of hair. "They got my left, not my right!" She quipped with a tired laugh. 

He huffed angrily but didn't fight her, only enjoying the feeling of her safe in his arms. Warm-bloodied and alive. 

"We should go, they know I escaped and they'll know I came here." He murmured after a few minutes of comfortable silence. 

Evelyn detached herself from him, he already missed and craved her warmth, she nodded seriously and swapped to holding his hand. The two began to creep back out through the halls, Evelyn's shoes cracking painfully loud against the floors. Still, there didn't seem a soul in sight. Caleb felt sick to his stomach as he sporadically squeezed her hand, feeling her rub his knuckles with her thumb in return. 

"Something isn't right..." He whispered and he felt her tense up beside him; "there should be a dozen Hunters around, where is everyone?" She looked at him, concern creasing lines into her usually perfect face but offered no opinion. 

He stopped suddenly, a tugging feeling in his chest. As if there was an invisible string that had been pulled taught all of a sudden. Evelyn too stopped and looked at him with a mixture of concern and confusion. 

"Hang on," He said quietly before he turned down a new corridor that led deeper into the building. Towards the offices. 

He paused outside of Lawrence's old office door, the feeling so much stronger and demanding now. He knew there was no way that Lawrence had made it over to the town hall yet but still, he hesitated. Finally with a deep breath, and Evelyn's nail digging into his arm he pushed the door open and the two of them peered inside. 

"Flapjack!" Evelyn cried, standing up straight and taking her place beside him again. 

Flapjack was still in his staff form and leaned up against the wall, a thin string of rope tying his wings to his body. He turned his head to the side of the sound of their entrance and chirped with joy, his wing straining under his restraints. Caleb rushed forward and grabbed his staff, gently untying his Palisman's wings. As soon as he was free, the staff diminished in his hands and Flapjack became mobile once more. He returned to his shoulder, rubbing his face against his cheek and cooing gratefully. He jumped to Evelyn, into her awaiting hands next, she planted a kiss on the top of his head and he nuzzled himself up to her in response. 

"Oh I'm so happy see you, Lovely!" She gushed, pressing Flapjack to her forehead, "Do you think you could help me out?" She asked. 

Flapjack nodded with enthusiasm before he hopped off her hands and returned to his staff form. She caught him mid air and it seemed as if some of her energy returned to her face when she did. 

"Thankyou, sweetheart- I promise not to tire you out too much." She said, grinning as she held Flapjack close. 

He watched the two of them and finally smiled, he took her free hand again and tugged gently. "Come on, we should go before we get swarmed." He reminded her. She nodded and they set off once more. 

The rest of the walk through the town hall was quiet and unexciting, Evelyn's confidence having returned since finding Flapjack. Caleb was incredibly relieved to see him fully unharmed and still in working order. 

When they stepped outside, Caleb felt almost blinded by the sun. His eyes having adjusted to the darkness of inside, Evelyn squinted hard and then she froze and growled. He blinked and saw what he had feared. 

They were all there, waiting. 

A whole mob of Hunters and local folk, all carrying pitchforks and torches. Their eyes went straight through Caleb and instead settled on Evelyn and Flapjack. She dropped his hand instantly and instead gripped the Palisman with two hands, brandishing him like a weapon. 

Caleb looked around at the crowd, recognising faces but not their body language. He had never been the most popular but still, no one had ever looked at him like they did now. He saw Mrs Trout, her husband and daughter. Mr and Mrs Trout looked ruthless but their daughter only looked annoyed, staring at Evelyn as she had personally wronged her. 

He stepped infront of Evelyn, holding his arms out protectively. An outcry of voices came from the crowd but he tried to remain unfazed. 

"I'm not moving!" He announced to the town, "this woman is my wife and if you want her, you have to get through me!" He shouted, proudly. Trying to ignore the doubt that clawed at him, there was no way he could actually hold off the mob. 

Another stampede of shouting and jeering sounded and he spotted out the corner of his eye, Ms Trout roll her eyes and cross her arms. He watched as Phillip shoved through the crowd, finally finding his way to the front. He stared at Caleb like he had 3 heads, no recognition in his eyes. 

"Caleb, enough of this madness!" Phillip screamed, his nostrils flaring like an angry bull, preparing to charge. His face contorted with rage but his eyes held grief and desperation. 

"You don't want this, you only think you do!" Someone else shouted from the crowd. 

"She's evil, she's corrupted!" Another called. 

"That's no woman, but the devil in disguise." Someone declared. 

"A manipulator!" 

"Burn her and you too if you won't move!"

"Save your soul while you can!" 

He stared out at the crowd as they taunted him and yelled, waving their weapons above their heads like some form of deranged parade. Evelyn moved to stand beside him and the people's reached a new volume of fury. She took his hand and he gratefully accepted it before he thrust their hands in the air. Showing off their union to world, unashamed. 

"We are leaving Gravesfield, you don't have fret over us anymore." Evelyn announced, gripping Flapjack's handle so hard her knuckles went white. Caleb nodded along. "And if you won't move out of our way, I won't hesitate to use magic to make you move." 

It was like being surrounded by banshees with how loud the crowd had become. 

"You're not going anywhere with my brother, you wrench!" Phillip snapped, pointing a finger at Evelyn. He'd been silent as the crowd raged, just studying Caleb's face with a look of betrayal. 

Caleb noticed for the first time that Phillip seemed different, his usual brown attire had been replaced with Caleb's blue jacket, the one he'd lost earlier in the day. The coat drapped over his shoulders like a protective blanket, his fingers gripping the edge of the sleeve. Caleb was suddenly thrust back into his mind, once again he saw his brother. The little boy who he'd raised, kissed goodnight to and held through all of his tears. Once again reminded of just how much his baby brother really needed him. 

"Phillip, please..." He said, his voice suddenly soft as he held out his free hand towards him. His brother looked surprised and stared at his hand before he looked up at his face. "Come with me, we don't belong here, we can be a happy family again." He pleaded, still reaching out for his brother. 

Phillip was motionless for a few seconds before his face twisted back into something ugly and he took a few steps back, shaking his head. 

"You're lost Caleb...no." He said and something in Caleb's heart broke. Evelyn rubbed his knuckles in comfort. 

"Well," Lawrence began, placing a hold on Phillip's shoulder which was trembling. Evelyn eyes narrowed at him, her teeth bared and Caleb stood up straight defiantly. "If you so sure, then I guess that makes you guilty too. For assisting and protecting a Witch, arrest them both!" He shouted, pointing a sausage like finger at them. 

Immediately, the mob began to move towards them, circling to cage them in like rats. 

"For the crime of Witchcraft and defiance against authority, you will be burnt togther at the stake until the skin has melted off your bones, revealing the devil inside!" He announced, his voice amplified by the chorus of cheers from the townsfolk. 

He held Evelyn's hand like a lifeline as they desperately stepped back, trying to avoid the swinging of the mob. The fire getting close enough for him to feel the blistering heat on his skin, a preview into the fate he'd sealed them both in. Their backs pressed against the wooden doors as people began to reach out to grab them. Their eyes wild and lost in excitement and rage. 

"Don't let go of me, I'm going to try something." Evelyn whispered in his ear. He could feel her nerves from the way her fingers spasmed around his own. He nodded stiffly, feeling uncomfortably hot. 

He didn't even have enough time to scream as the world disappeared. It was like his own body folded in on himself, sucking him backwards through the wormhole. Although, it was shockingly painless. He clung to Evelyn like a baby as it happened. 

The two of them landed in a heap on the forest floor, Flapjack landing with a cheep beside them. Caleb looked up and found they were alone, just on the edge of the lake bank. He sat up and helped Evelyn up, her face was red and flushed. As soon as she was righted, she began to laugh. She threw her head back and laughed hard. 

"I can't believe that worked! She gushed, scooping up a disoriented Flapjack, "good job, Darling." She said, fussing the top of his head. His face doing something that Caleb thought was a blush. 

"Flapjack did that, what did we even do?" He asked, still feeling dizzy, he shook his head and tried to right himself. Adrenaline still pumping through his veins like a second heartbeat. 

"Palisman magic really is something else, Love." She said, catching her breath still he couldn't help getting captivated by her heaving chest. "I can't belive it, we teleported! That's revolutionary, Cal!" She squealed, high on her own adrenaline. 

Now he began to laugh, not out of amusement but pure disbelief. He began shake his head rapidly, his cheeks growing hot. "We teleported, I teleported..." 

Evelyn too began to laugh, reaching over to shake his shoulders and eventually pressing her face into the material of his shirt. 

"We almost died!" She said, holding her head with one hand, still laughing between deep breathes. He nodded along helplessly. 

He went to respond but cut off suddenly by the familiar sound of stomping hooves. A story that had already been written which had started again but this time it would be different. Most of the Hunters seemed timid now and the townsfolk had diminished down to a few families. Lawrence looked furious, the vein in his forehead close to popping and his whole face red and embrassed. Phillip was there too but he looked hollow and a little mad. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking, his expression nothing but intense concentration. As if Caleb and Evelyn were a complex problem that he'd gotten beyond frustrated with. 

In the few seconds they waited, eager to see who would react first, he did not blink. 

"We need to go." Caleb whispered to Evelyn, who was still holding Flapjack, although he was no longer in staff form. 

She shoved Flapjack onto her shoulder and the two began to run towards the lapping waters of the lake. It seemed far more shallow than Caleb remembered and his stomach twisted at the thought of never being able to return to Earth. Behind them, the Hunters and their stallions raced down the hill, their voices sending all the birds flying and small critters scattering. 

"Wait," Caleb said, grabbing ahold of Evelyn's arm, she looked back panicked and confused. "The blood, its still in my jacket pocket." 

The very jacket that Phillip was now wearing. 

"It's fine," she replied, her words rushed. "We still have one, he'll never figure out how to use it anyway." She said, before swapping thier grip so she was now holding his wrist. She began to pull him, not roughly but urgently. 

He cringed at the feeling of the murky water surrounding him and soaking into his clothes, wrapping itself around his skin. It was cold, unbelievably cold making him feel breathless as it surrounded his chest. 

They made it to the middle of the lake, Caleb needed to stand on his tiptoes to keep his shoulders just above the water level. His hands wrapped around Evelyn's waist, helping to keep her afloat. Her hands cupped his face as they bobbed in the water. 

She leaned in close, her body shaking beside his. He pulled her in even closer until thier hips were pressed tightly together and finally, it happened...

Their lips met. 

She titled her head slightly as to deepen the kiss and his one hand slid from her waist to the back of her head. It was glorious, it was everything he'd dreamed of. Her lips were soft and molded around his own so perfectly like they were two puzzle pieces brought together as one. The warmth of her was so exhilarating, especially in the freezing body of water they were currently in. It was like an explosion of warmth in his stomach as he felt her, his legs and toes tingling with a new form of adrenaline. 

When they pulled away, he was sorely reminded of where they were. The kiss couldn't have lasted longer than a few seconds and yet it had felt an eternity long and he would've stayed like that for an eternity longer. The Hunters had made it to the bottom of the hill and Phillip was staring at him, as if he didn't recognise him. His face a mixture of confusion, disgust and frustration. 

Before anyone could properly react, Evelyn wrapped her slender arms around him again. "Now." She said firmly and as one they dived under. 

"Caleb!" Phillip scream echoed through the forest. 

Chapter Text

Sleepless nights had become a staple in Caleb's life. For the first year and a half of marriage he'd slept like a baby curled up with his wife. Their bed had become a precious place, where they could enjoy a nice night exploring eachother. 

That was no longer the case. Sometimes it was but more times than not, they were just too tired or interrupted. Tonight was the latter. 

"Mama, Dad," Robyn had said sleepily from the doorway, nearly scaring Caleb out of his skin. He had tears still drying on his face and was clutching a stuffed toy Caleb had made for him years ago. 

Evelyn had sat up and righted her nightgown, "What's wrong baby? come to Mama." She cooed, lifting up the edge of the blanket to let him in. 

Robyn ran across the room and happily settled himself between his parents, snuggling down tight. Caleb sighed and accepted defeat as he too lay down beside his son. 

"I had nightmare..." He murmured, his pointed ears drooping as he spoke. Caleb pulled him into a hug while Evelyn stroked his hair back, pouting with pity. 

"Oh, my poor baby. Its not real, don't worry, Love." She said leaning in to kiss his forehead before groaning and settled back onto her side. A look of discomfort written all over her face. Caleb leaned up on one elbow, Robyn still tucked under his chin. 

"What about kid?" Caleb asked, kissing the crown of his head. 

"I thought you'd left, daddy. Mama was crying and so was Marilyn, i didn't know what to do..." He said, his voice small and fragile, "it felt so real." 

He squeezed his son harder, Evelyn kissed the bridge of his nose. 

"No, don't worry Son. I'm not going anywhere, I promise." He sighed, sincerely. Robyn nodded slowly and then a little faster with some confidence. 

Evelyn shifted, looking uncomfortable while her hands stroked across her stomach. 

"You okay Eve?" He asked, concerned. 

She waved him off with her hand and sighed heavily, "they kicked again and wasn't expecting it, that's all. Don't fuss." She said, shutting her eyes whilst gesturing to her swollen belly. 

The skin was stretched so far, she looked ready to pop at a moments notice. He reached across the stroked her cheek tenderly, she held his hand to her cheek gratefully. Her skin was sweaty, something that always happened whenever she hit the nine month mark. It always seemed whatever she did, she simply became incaple of cooling down. 

"My sister's moving!" Robyn gushed excitedly, "can I feel Mama?" He asked, stars practically gleaming in his eyes. Forgetting about his nightmare completely. 

"We don't know if it's a boy or girl yet, kiddo." Caleb said, laughing softly. 

Evelyn opened one eye and smiled, but Caleb could tell she was ready to fall asleep at a moments notice. "Gently, then let mommy sleep." She said and then closed her eyes again. 

He took his son's wrist and gently guided him to rest on his mother's stomach. Careful to avoid to spots he knew were particularly tender. Robyn's face lit up like it was Christmas when the baby squirmed, moving under Evelyn's skin like a snake. He giggled as a foot pressed against his palm, causing his mother to grunt with discomfort. 

"She's moving daddy!" He said with glee, staring up Caleb, "I didn't get to feel Marilyn move. She still doesn't, she's boring." He said, with a huff, pulling his hand away. Caleb snorted quietly and then shook his head.

"Hey," Evelyn scolded with a sleepy grunt, "say nice things about your sister, she's not boring- she's smart." 

---- 

The birth of Caleb's third child was strange, all of them had been strange and overwhelming. All for different reasons. 

Robyn had been his first child and the first birth he'd ever witnessed. (He'd grown a little more desensitised now and had learnt go the flow a little better now.)

Robyn had cried when he was born, high pitched screams that shook the roof. His little fists still smeared with blood and fluid had bunched up tight around his father's shirt as he held him close, talking softly to him. It had been surreal, he'd been so small, so soft and so fragile. 

Marilyn had been completely different. 

Evelyn had laboured for two days straight and while the Medical Witches told them both not panic, neither of them followed that advice. Marilyn seemed perfectly content inside of her mother, already she couldn't be bothered with life. 

Finally after hours of continuous pushing and screaming (and of Evelyn almost breaking his hand, via squeezing too hard) Marilyn had been born and placed in Caleb's arms. She'd looked up at him and glanced over at her mother, who was already fast asleep with a Coven of Medical Witches surrounding her. She had then sighed heavily and begrudgingly began to cry. Soft little cries, usually followed by an eye roll. He'd kissed her, then her mother and then her again.

It was the middle of the night when Evelyn went into labour for a third time, she'd woken him up by shaking him rapidly. When he opened his eyes, he saw his wife gripping her middle and doubled over, the bottom of her nightgown wet. 

"How far apart are they?" He asked, pulling the covers off and dumping them on the floor. 

She groaned, her hair having already grown sweaty; "just under a minute- I think." 

He held her and helped her to lie down in the middle of the bed, reaching over to grab Flapjack from where he was perched against the wall. He unscrewed him from his interlock and held him up as he gave a sleepy chirp. "Go wake Marilyn and Robyn and lead them next door, the neighbours are expecting them." Flapjack gave a much clearer and awake chirp and rushed out of the room. 

He turned his attention back to his heaving wife. 

He placed towels under her spread legs and gave her his hand knowing that she would want to squeeze it.

The birth was quicker than the others, Caleb almost couldn't believe just how fast it had been. Part of him worried that he should call for the Medical Witches but he also knew he couldn't leave his wife. Especially since she had long let go of his hand and was now gripping onto the front of his nightshirt, the material desperately trying to hold together as he was yanked around. The labour itself only lasting about two hours which he already found odd but he was even more shocked when he caught his daughter after only five huge pushes and one high pitched scream from Evelyn. 

He gathered the baby up and into his arms, using a Spidersilk towel to gently swipe the mess away from her eyes and mouth. He knelt beside the bed, shifting her into one arm- careful to keep her neck secured in the crook of his elbow. He reached for Evelyn's hand and kissed it tenderly. She opened her eyes and smiled with great exhaustion and stress. 

"Well done Eve, are you okay?" He asked kissing her hand again. 

She groaned but then nodded, she opened one eye and looked down upon her husband and child. "It's a girl." She said, life and excitement bleeding into her voice as she looked upon her new daughter, who was looking around the room curiously. 

She wasn't crying, she didn't seem like she wanted to. Rather, she seemed more confused then upset. "Hey, Sweetheart." He said, tickling her belly, she turned her attention towards her father and her mouth opened into what looked like a lopsided attempt at a smile. 

"She knows her daddy at least." Evelyn said with huff, closing her eyes again. 

"Do you want to hold her?" He asked, already knowing the answer. 

Evelyn grinned, looking much more alive despite the bags that circled under her eyes, she held out her arms. He stood, holding their daughter against his chest before he slowly lowered her down, laying her on her mother's torso. She wrapped her hands around her back and neck and kissed her forehead, careful to avoid her softspot. 

"I'll go get you a drink and some food." He said, kissing her quickly and staring at his daughter, his heart near bursting with love. 

He'd been told his whole life to be disappointed by daughters but he just couldn't find to himself caring, feeling overwhelmed by natural joy. She had his mother's bright blue eyes and Evelyn's pointed ears and his olive skin. She was currently flexing her little fingers and listening intensity as her mother's whispered about love and perfection. 

He hurried out of them room before he could start crying. 

---- 

It was a peaceful Saturday, actually calm for once. Evelyn was sat in her armchair, nursing Jocelyn who was on the verge of falling asleep. Marilyn had her back pressed against Caleb's chair, a thick volume in her hands, her eyes rapidly moving back and forth on the page with her tounge sticking out of her mouth in concentration. Robyn was practicing on his new crystal ball, his mouth running at hyper speed as he rattled off random predictions. 

"We're going to have sandwiches for lunch." 

"Daddy, you'll need to go the market soon." 

"None of us are going to sleep tonight, Jocelyn's probably going to cry all night!" 

Caleb chuckled as he carved a new toy wagon for Marilyn, who was watching out of her eye, trying to contain her excitement. He'd proudly and singlehandedly funded her entire transportation collection, which was wide. 

"Well, you definitely got one thing right," He said, reaching forward to ruffled Robyn's hair; "I am going to the market, I'm all out of Varnish." He lifted himself out of his chair and placed the almost finished wagon on the end table. "I'll be back in about an hour." He declared with a nod to his family. He kissed Evelyn as he passed and reached for his coat by the front door. 

"Do you think you could take Jocelyn with you, other than the garden she hasn't gotten out much." Evelyn said, following him down the hall, Jocelyn purchased on her hip as she tried to eat the frills on her dress. 

He smiled and held out his arms, scooping his daughter into his chest. He kissed his wife one last time before swinging the door open and venturing into the bright light. The Boiling Isles was always scolding outside, even during the winter, so he didn't bother with a blanket for Jocelyn. 

The Demon Realm was a strange place, that had taken a lot of getting used to. He looked out at the town ahead of them, at all the jagged bones that sprouted out from the ground like exotic plantlife and at the houses that were held up by massive, green hands. 

When he'd first found out that the land they were standing on was the very corpse of the Titan, he'd first been in disbelief and when Evelyn had proved it, he'd been horrified. Now after 9 and a half years of living atop of the God, he simply found it fascinating. Intrigued by the strange pieces of anatomy that made up his home. 

Last year for Christmas, he and Evelyn had taken the children up the Knee, they had wanted to spend the winter in the snow. Caleb had rambled on about the Human Realm and how they didn't need to climb an appendage to find snow. Despite the disproportionated monsters that stalked the limb it had been a brilliant holiday and he smiled as he thought about taking Jocelyn this year. 

Bonesborough (their town) was located directly in the Titan's hollowed out ribcage and Caleb found that wholesome in a strange way. The ribs that circled the perimeter made it feel safe and closed in. He appreciated it, he always patted one of the massive ribs as he passed. As a silent thankyou to the Titan for his body and the home it provided. Jocelyn waved around her stubby arms, attempting to copy her father. He held her wrist gently and helped her to pat the bone. 

The market was busy, especially for a Saturday. All the stalls were swarmed by both Witches and Demons alike, chatter echoing from all around. Jocelyn pouted and turned her crystal blue eyes towards him. He tucked her in even closer, gathering her small head under his chin. She'd began to grow a thin, fluffy layer of blonde hair. 

He ventured into the market, browsing through the different stalls and making sure to hold onto Jocelyn. He froze at his favourite carving stall, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling, he tightened his hold on his daughter and swivelled around. He saw nothing but the bustling crowds of Witches trying to get through thier day. 

"Morning Caleb, you alright?" The demon asked from the other side of the stand, holding the bottle of Varnish mid air. 

He nodded slowly, looking around him still. The demon reached over to pat his shoulder, snapping him swiftly back into reality. He laughed coarsely and nodded, "yeah, yeah, don't worry about me." 

He couldn't help but feel like someone was watching him, which wasn't an usual feeling but one he hadn't felt in the last few years. When he'd first arrived in the Boiling Isles Witches were constantly podding and poking at him. Gawking at his ears and chasing him with questions. It had reached a breaking point when Robyn was born just a year into their marriage. Everyone wanted to see the first Human-Witch hybrid. Now after two more it wasn't so impressive anymore. 

The Demon shrugged and handed him the bottle, tickling Jocelyn's cheek playfully. He placed the snails down on the counter, offering a smile to the creature before turning away. He shifted Jocelyn, laying her down across his arms. 

--- 

The feeling still hadn't left his gut. He lay beside Evelyn, holding her by the waist, finding warmth in her thick hair and soft skin. The feeling nagged relentlessly, it waa similar to the tug felt whenever he was separated from his Palisman but far worse. 

He'd tried sleeping but every time the feeling simply increased tenfold, until he felt physically sick. Finally, he couldn't take it any longer, he slowly peeled himself away from Evelyn- careful not to wake her and slipped out of the bed. Tiptoeing past the roaring fire, snatching up Flapjack who refused to wake up and out of the room. 

He burst out of the front door and slumped down the wall. The cool night air was nice on his skin, he sucked in deep breathes. Admiring the view that the Boiling Isles offered at night, watching how the steam from the Boiling Sea drifted through the sky. Made clearer by the drop in temperature. How the trees swayed with an enchanted edge, which meant that they may or may not be alive. 

He loved the Boiling Isles...

"Long time no see, Caleb." 

His stomach dropped almost immediately. He jumped instantly to his feet, looking around wildly through the darkness. His heart beating out of his chest, it was so loud he was sure that he'd wake up the entire street, his palms grew sweaty. For a few seconds there was nothing, only the monstrous woodland creatures that crept by but then something moved. 

He watched with growing anticipation as a man stepped out from behind one of the trees. He gripped Flapjack so hard that his knuckles turned white, he lifted the staff into a defensive position. He prayed to the Titan that however it was couldn't see his round ears. Although they seemed to know him. 

The man continued to advance towards him, despite Flapjack, slowly and confidently. In the sort of way that a beast stalks its prey. He tapped Flapjack awake who chirped and then tensed in his hands. 

Finally the man stood before him, he held Flapjack out keeping him as far from the house as possible. The man was staring at the floor meaning that Caleb couldn't see his face but he could make out the huge, thick beard that hung off it. He seemed to be a deep brunette, he was tall and thick and was wearing a blue coat that looked familiar for a reason that Caleb couldn't place. 

When he finally looked up, Caleb involuntarily gasped and not just because the man had matching round ears. His blue eyes were no longer soft and gentle but sharp and piercing, practically slicing through the darkness and never leaving his face. His lip was curled in a mockery of a smile that made Caleb's gut twist up with the awful feeling from before. 

"No," He whispered, his voice feeling jammed in the back of his throat, "it really you, Phillip?" 

His brother was no longer a boy but a man. He resembled nothing of childhood anymore, he looked weathered and tough. His eyes didn't loose their dangerous spark even as Caleb began to laugh in disbelief. He threw himself forward and pressed onto his tiptoes to wrap his arms around Phillip's neck, careful not to hit him with his Paliman. His hair was thick and knotted and much longer than it had ever been before. Rolling past his shoulders freely. Phillip didn't hug him back, he didn't move just breathed steadily. 

Caleb pulled away when it became clear that his brother was not going to return the favour. His smile partially died on his lips as he stared at him confused. 

"What are you doing here? How did you even get here?" He asked, trying to gage any human reaction out of Phillip. 

Phillip did not answer his question instead he roughly grabbed Caleb wrist and began dragging him. Shocked, he dug his heels into the dirt and pulled back. 

"Come on, my portals almost finished, we're going home." Phillip said, although his appearance suggested rugged his voice had remained sweet and British. 

He tugged his wrist, trying to free himself from his brother's hold but he simply pressed down even harder. Frustrated he tapped Flapjack and in a flash of golden light reappeared a few feet away. Phillip paused in his administrations and stared his now empty hand and then at Caleb who was staring at him, further back. He gripped Flapjack with two hands again and steeled himself.

"What are you doing Phillip?" He shouted, confused and a little hurt. 

Phillip just tilted his head in confusion and stared at Flapjack, "so it was your trick all along and that thing helped you do it..." 

He ignored his brother, waiting for the answer he actually wanted. When Phillip saw his face he sighed, not an apologetic one but one of frustration and exhaustion. He even pinched the bridge of his nose. 

"I've come to get you Caleb and bring you back to Gravesfield, I'll find you a human wife and we'll both never have to think about this place again." He said casually, as if he were explaining which brand of tea they were going to buy. 

Caleb shook his head, rendered temporarily speechless, "what?" He managed to choke out, his head was swimming and he felt vaguely ill, "no, no, my home is here! This is my house, I'm married to Evelyn, I have children- a brillant son and two beautiful daughters, you're an uncle Phillip!" He said, looking back at the house where they were all sleeping peacefully, with the knowledge that thier father and husband would never abandon them. 

Phillip's face grew stormy as he stared up at the house, his lip curled into something of disgust and fury. He placed his arms behind his back and began to walk, slow and measured steps. Surrounding Caleb like a shark. 

"There's more than one...?" He muttered, sounding so disappointed. He shook his head, "Don't tell me you actually get off on her." He said. 

Caleb flushed red, fury bubbling under his skin and he found that he couldn't hold his own tounge. 

"How dare you! I know mama and dad didn't set the greatest example and you think a relationship is a trophy to be seen and never cared for, but I love my wife and my children and I will not let you take me away from them." His voice came out steady and confident. He stood up straight, gripping Flapjack. 

Phillip stared at him for a long moment and then he laughed, a low dangerous laugh that filled Caleb with a sense of nostalgia. He stood his ground, refusing to let his fear bleed onto his face. Phillip's face melted back and hardened once more. 

"Well, haven't you changed. Your acting has gotten much better, for a moment there I thought you might have grown a backbone but I know you're still terrified." He purred, "If you won't come willingly, then I will just take you by force." His voice had grown sharp and his face held no more warmth.

Caleb turned away from him, if he got inside he could barricade the door. Wake Evelyn and protect the children. As soon as he turned, Phillip sighed and pulled something from his pocket, a small sheet of paper which landed just in front of Caleb. He raised an eyebrow and stared it, it had strange looping symbols. 

Then it exploded. 

Caleb fell back with a scream as a wall of fire as tall as the house itself burst to life. He scrambled back to avoid his skin melting, as the flames rose higher and roared. Dangerously close to the house, too close. He felt the colour drain from his face. 

"Evelyn, kids!" He screamed, as he tried run around the wall and into the house. Watching in growing horror as Evelyn's beautiful flowers caught alight and began to shrivel. 

A hand grabbed him by the back of the throat and he was thrust to the ground. Dirt skidding up his leg as well as a sharp stab of pain. He tried to sit up but was ruthlessly kicked in the stomach, he fell back down with a groan. Phillip kneeled beside him and snatched a thick handful of his hair, shaking him before forcing him to meet his eyes. He grabbed a hold of Phillip's fingers, trying desperately to pry him off but he held strong. His scalp screamed everytime Phillip pulled, he kicked his legs blindly finding a thigh and a knee but his brother seemed unbothered. 

"Let go of me, you psycho! My family-" He cried, reaching towards the now burning building. 

"I am your family!" Phillip roared in his face, spit spraying across his cheeks. He thrust him onto the ground, onto his back, finally letting go of his hair to instead pin his hands. 

Caleb thrashed, remembering his life before in the Human Realm before. With Lawrence. 

"Evelyn!" He screamed, his fingers stretching to reach Flapjack who he'd dropped, he was now just a few inches away. Phillip must have noticed because he kicked the Palisman, watching as if skidded across the grass. "Get off me!" He shouted at his brother, panic fully taking over as the fire roared and Phillip grinned. He watched, his breath coming out like ragged pants as Phillip lifted a rock with his spare hand, preparing to bring it down. 

"Evelyn, help me!" He cried, his voice splintering with the effort. 

Phillip leaned down first, towards his ear. "I'll put a stop to all this nonsense. I'll get rid of this fantasy you've built, do you want to know how?" He shook head rapidly, fighting off the tears, "I'll break Evelyn's neck and I'll take your children and I'll smother each and every one them in their beds and if I'm feeling more cruel, maybe instead I'll burn the older ones at the stake." Phillip whispered through joyous giggles. 

Anger shot through Caleb alongside a sense of protection that he'd never felt before. Through gritted teeth, he focused and delivered one swift kick to Phillip's gut. He grunted and fell sideways off his brother, although he was still holding his wrists. Using all of his core strength he threw himself forward and headbutted Phillip as hard as possible. Finally, Phillip let go off him, holding his head and snarling. 

Caleb scrambled to his feet as Phillip swiped at his ankles, thankfully missing. Flapjack returned his physical form and began to violently peck at Phillip, his claws drawing blood. Caleb's head was swimming but adrenaline seemed to be keeping him upright. With Phillip on the ground he was able to run past the fire wall. He saw that the fire had fully engulfed the front door and so sprinted for the back garden instead. He'd never been the most coordinated person but he hopped the fence and pried the back door open swiftly and efficiently. 

Evelyn was in the kitchen when he got inside, her hair was a mess and she was half dressed, holding Jocelyn in one hand, Marilyn in the other while Robyn was gripping the bottom of her nightdress, tears streaming down his little face. 

"Caleb!" Evelyn gasped, relief dripping into her voice as tears also filled her eyes. 

"Daddy!" Marilyn sobbed, squirming in her mother's arms, reaching for him. 

He ran towards his family, kissing Marilyn's cheeks before he stopped to cup Evelyn's face. She was babbling, panic evident in her body language and tone. 

"Listen, we need to get out now. He'll kill you and the kids." He said, stopping her. He let go off her in favour of reaching for a kitchen knife and tucking it safely into his belt and then turning his attention into scooping Robyn up into his arms, who wrapped his arms tightly around his neck and sobbed. 

"What? Who- Caleb!" Evelyn spluttered, tightening her grip on her daughters, staring at him with more desperation than he'd ever seen from her before. 

He turned around and carried Robyn outside while Evelyn followed with thier girls. She had to jog to keep with him, adrenaline still pumping through his veins. His eyes darting back and forth in the darkness, he knew Phillip was watching him. He whilsted for Flapjack who came flying out from behind the house and landed on his shoulder, panting with exertion. He was bleeding heavily from side of his face, a neon green that spilt like acid from his eye. 

"Caleb, the house! What is going, who wants to hurt the children?" Evelyn cried, having caught up with him. She simply kicked the fence down rather than hop over the top of it. 

"Phillip." He said, as if it physically pained him. He felt as if his heart was breaking and he really wanted to just curl up on the ground and sob. He didn't though, instead he ran his fingers through Robyn's hair and shushed him gently, willing his legs to keep moving. He heard Evelyn gasp and then a low growl escaped the back of her throat. Her face practically convulsing in anger. 

She didn't have time to voice all of her insults before an icicle burst from the ground, missing her by an inch. She shouted in alarm, turning the girls away. He placed Robyn down, pressing him behind himself. He saw Evelyn also place Marilyn down and draw a spell circle with her now free hand. 

He called Flapjack back into staff form and held him ready. Phillip emerged from the side of the house, clapping slowly and sarcastically, there was blood dripping down from his hairline. 

"That was impressive, I didn't think you had it in you." Despite his words, his tone held nothing but distain.

He pulled something from his coat and began twirling it around his finger, he stopped and held if steady. Caleb stared at, recognising it instantly. With its jagged blade and pointed tip, so long and slender. The Kris he'd confiscated near ten years ago, looking sharper and deadlier than ever. 

Phillip must have noticed Robyn staring at him through the gap between Caleb's legs for he smiled and creepy and twisted smile. "Boo!" He hissed at Robyn who squealed and buried his face in Caleb's trousers, sobbing even harder. 

"Leave my son alone!" Caleb snapped, placing a protective hand atop of his head. 

Phillip said nothing but he didn't need to, with the way he held the knife and grinned at Robyn like he was a meal, Caleb knew what his next move would be. He turned and shoved Flapjack into Robyn's hand pushed him towards his mother. 

"Flapjack, get them as far away from here as possible." He commanded. 

"No! I want to stay with you!" Marilyn sobbed, once again waving her arms at him, tears now streaming steadily down her red face. 

"What?" Evelyn began, "Caleb, I'm not leaving you-" but it was too late, Flapjack obeyed his creator and disappeared in a flash of yellow, taking Caleb's family with him. 

He spun back around to face Phillip, shrouded by darkness and fire he looked truly evil. He looked something out of his nightmares or like he was possessed like the priest always droned on about. 

"Phillip, is someone making you do this? This isn't you." He tried. 

His brother simply laughed shaking his head, "this is me. This is what this wrenched realm has reduced me to, Caleb we don't belong here." He hissed, quoting Caleb from almost a decade ago. 

"I'm not leaving with you, I'm staying here." He reinforced, he no longer had Flapjack to hold onto and he felt rather defenceless. He reached instead for the knife on his belt, it looked rather pathetic compared to Phillip's Kris. 

Phillip rolled his eyes and produced more stacks of paper, he threw them to ground swiftly and gratefully. Caleb barely had enough to time to roll out of the way of the vines that attempted to grab him. Nearly dropping his knife in the process, he scrambled to keep ahold of it and to stay on his feet. 

Whatever magic Phillip was trying to use on him clearly wasn't enough and it seemed that he knew that too. With a growl he threw himself forward, his knife between his teeth. He caught Caleb by the middle and the two tumbled to the ground violently. 

The fire was spreading, Caleb stared at his house seeing that it had climbed over the roof and through the door. He watched in horor as his home caved in on itself and imagined all Marilyn's precious toys, Robyn's crystal ball and the crib that he had built himself for Jocelyn all engulfed in flames, crumbling away into nothing but memories. 

He tried to elbow Phillip as an attempt to free himself but he simply caught his arm and twisted it upwards painfully. Caleb shouted, feeling as if his arm were about to be ripped from its socket. Phillip took this opportunity to reach for his other hand and pry his weapon from his fingers. The kitchen knife landed on the grass softly with a thump.  

Phillip sat up off him and he began to twist himself trying to reach for the knife but Phillip yanked his ankle. Dragging him further way from his goal. He kicked out, hoping that he would let go but he never did. He only continued to pull him along the grass back towards the woods, Caleb dug his fingers into the dirt but his efforts proved futile. 

"Phillip, let go!" He shouted but his cries were left on deaf ears. 

He thought desperately about what he could possibly do. Why he'd tried to be a hero. 

"Caleb!" 

He paused in his struggle at the sound of his wife's voice. Phillip too froze and then huffed. Evelyn landed not to far from the two of them, Flapjack in hand and now childless. She looked a mix of furious and horrified. 

He felt Phillip's grip loosen as he was distracted by the Witch, he kicked again, finding his hand. Instinctively he finally let go, Caleb scrambled up and ran towards Evelyn when Phillip swore loudly. 

"CALEB!" Evelyn screamed, Phillip grabbed him by the shoulder and forcefully turned him around. He raised the Kris high above his head, before Caleb could react- before he even had time to tense up he brought it down with an inhuman snarl. The sound of snapping bone and ripping skin was louder than anything Caleb had ever heard in his life. 

His scream was cut off half way, turning into a pained gasp as pain bloomed through his chest and he stumbled back. Phillip still hadn't let go of the handle, the knife slipped back out of him as he moved. Slick and gleaming in the moonlight with deep red blood. The pain was unlike anything he'd ever felt before like molton lava flowing from his chest and into his fingers and toes. 

He tried to breathe but every breath was like getting stabbed again and again, leaving him choking on air that his body refused to let him have. His whole body felt heavy and detached, he continued to stumble until he tripped over his own feet and landed heavily on the ground. Barely even having the strength to lift his arm from where landed lazily beside him. 

He looked down himself and saw his shirt no longer white but scarlet, warm and sticking to his chest. Evelyn threw herself to the ground, gently and carefully pulling his head into her lap. 

"What have I done?" Phillip sounded less sure now, his voice soft and faint. Although may have been his ears, everything even the howling wind sounded muffled. It felt as if he were underwater and he felt so sleepy. 

"Caleb, my love...please, don't close your eyes!" He heard Evelyn plead from somewhere above him. He wanted to obey her but his body too busy being seized with white hot pain. He knew what would happen if he fell asleep but he couldn't escape it anymore than he could escape quicksand. 

"Flapjack, go! Get a Healer, quickly!" She commanded, the little bird flying off after giving his cheek a nuzzle. His little voice promising help. 

He heard the distinguished sound of Evelyn's magic as she drew spell circle after circle, it seemed like they all were sizzling out just as quickly as they were drawn. She was barely breathing, her hands clammy from where she was brushing the hair out of his closed eyes. He thrashed when her fingers ghosted over his wound, the feeling of magic seeping into the flesh was the same as a hot poker being shoved through him. 

"I'm sorry Love, I'm not good at Healing magic- just hold on." She tried again but each time was even more agonising than before. Soon, he'd screamed his voice hoarse and had nothing left to give. Blood had begun to pool in the back of his throat, the metallic taste was sweet and bitter all at the same time. He threw his head aside, hating the idea of choking on his own blood, letting it drip out onto the grass. It flowed like a steady stream from his guts and out of his mouth, continuously.  

"Stop! Please, Evelyn. It's agony, I'd rather die." He manged to gasp around mouthfuls of blood, his eyes peeking open. 

She was smeared from head to toe in his blood, it had soaked through his clothes and he shivered violently before whimpering as something deep inside of his chest ripped a little more. He was so cold, it was so cold out. 

He heard footsteps approach, soft ones- the footsteps of someone who was unsure. 

"Get away from us, this is your fault!" He heard Evelyn snarl, baring all of her fangs. She turned her attention back to her husband, her face softening into a sad, grieving smile. "I can't let you die...please, let me try again." She pleaded, her voice thick with unfallen tears. 

He closed his eyes, the pain was starting to fade, it was still strong but no longer gripping him in its jaw. 

He was dying...that was a strange thought. 

His own brother, his first friend, the boy he'd raised had stabbed him and now he was dying. 

"No, no, no! Caleb don't close your eyes, just hold on!" 

He thought about his children, how they would grow up without him. He imagined what they would be like as adults, he saw them smiling and tall. Robyn, a renowned fortune teller, Marilyn changing history with her mind and Jocelyn he wasn't sure but he thought that she would look like his mother with Evelyn's cheeky grin. He saw them sticking together, Robyn taking good care of his baby sisters. 

He gripped Evelyn's hand and thought about her sitting alone in a dark house, shrouded in black and a different type of pain shot through his heart. He imagined the children staying with her, making her smile and helping her to forget about him. That was a better thought. 

He didn't even want to think about Phillip. 

He was so cold and yet he couldn't even find the strength to shiver anymore. He tried to squeeze Evelyn's hand harder but his fingers were barely listening. Closing slowly and deliberately. He didn't even react when warm, salty tears landed on his face. He sucked in one more, shaky painful breath and held it until he couldn't handle it anymore then he let it all out. 

'I love you, Evelyn.' 

Chapter Text

She felt the moment life left her husband's body. 

He'd been so tense before, his eyes squeezed shut as blood squirted continously from the wound in his chest. Now, his entire front was cold and wet, slippery with copper. He'd been so tense and then he'd relaxed. All the tention leaving his shoulders as he slumped down, laying his full weight against her thighs. His mouth was no longer a crooked line of agony but now a thin, unmoving grimace. His eyes didn't open but they did unscrunch, fluttering for a few moments before falling still. His body stopped trembling, one final, great breath leaving his lips. He didn't breathe again after that, not even a shudder in his chest. He was eerily still, in a way that Evelyn had never witnessed before. 

He looked peaceful, more peaceful than his wife had ever seen him. His head slightly rolled to the side, his arm spread across the red grass. He looked like he could be sleeping, if she ignored the drying blood, he looked calm and fresh. All the lines that painted his face had melted away, no imaginary demons plagued him and no memories could reach him now. He could've been sleeping. 

She heard footsteps, pounding across the grass. Flecks of blood flying behind in the howling wind. She looked up, still cradling Caleb's limp torso. She saw Phillip disappearing into the tree line, his bloody Kris still in hand. 

All she could see was red. 

White hot fury, stronger and more raw than she'd ever felt before rushed through her and the desire to see Phillip Wittebane dead was all she could think about. She gently let go of Caleb, lowering him onto the grass. 

She remembered a book he had gifted her many years ago, back when they were still young and courting. Romeo and Julliet. She'd read it every night, imagining herself as young Julliet having found her Romeo. When she'd reached the ending, she'd been shocked and she'd talked obsessively to Caleb in the forest about it. 

"I think it's Romantic how they would both rather die than live apart." She'd said, through giggles, gripping the edge of the book. 

"It's just miserable, Eve." He'd respond from behind her, his skillful hands braiding her hair and then undoing it to start again. "Shakespeare gets you forcefully attached his characters and makes you root for thier forbidden love- then he gives you hope that maybe they could live happily ever after only to kill Romeo and then Julliet. I don't like books like that." He'd finished with a dramatic huff. 

She'd laughed, reaching back to caress his face- her finger tracing over his round ear. He leaned into her touch, his hands still buried in her hair and massaging her scalp. 

"Let's promise not to let our story end like that." 

Her eyes burned with tears as they fell uncontrollably, she forced herself up onto her feet. She stared down at Caleb who was still lying motionless on the throughly soaked grass. She hated the idea of leaving him defenceless but she hated the idea of Phillip getting away even more. 

She had an idea and a human was no match for a Witch. She'd be back before his corpse could turn fully cold. Ripping off her night cloak she gently placed atop of his form. Hiding both his wound and his face from view. 

"I'll be right back my love." She said knealing down, she pulled the cloak down and kissed him briefly. He didn't reciprocate, his lips were frozen as ice and were tough. She threw the cloak back over him before grief could fully take over and drag her down. She pushed away every heavy feeling that crashed over her and every sharp pain that throbbed alongside her heart. 

She broke into a run, pressing into her exhausted legs, chasing after her brother-in-law. Already drawing a spell circle in the air, using both hands to ensure it was as big as possible. 

When she was a girl, she had an uncle. An uncle who was not particularly liked by the female Clawthornes but they held their tounges. Until one of them hadn't. 

He'd committed adultery, something that made her skin bubble with fury, she remembered being so small. As her mother held her on her hip and whispered about "revenge" "suffering" and "make him hurt like you do, darling." 

The memory of the spell circle hitting him, still rooted in her brain. How he'd screamed as his body changed, how his ears grew too long and wide before flopping down. How his skin had grown even pinker and fatter, stretching too far. His nose jutted outwards with his nostrils travelling up, while his hands feet crunched into small, sharp hooves. 

She hadn't been present for the rest of the transformation before her father had snatched her up by the middle and ran from the house screaming too.

"Crazy, misguided women! Corrupt bastards!" He'd cried. 

"You just control your urges, man!" Her mother had giggled with glee, throwing her wine glass up. 

"What did you do to him, Auntie?" She'd asked, afterwards, propped up on the Widow's knee, feeling the black cloth of her shawl. 

She'd laughed, a sweet and high laugh that reached the ceiling before she petted her curls. 

"I revealed who he truly was inside, you listen to me now girl, i'll teach you the spell but you have to promise me that you'll only marry someone who you are sure will never make you use it." She'd said, with a stern expression as she pinched her cheek. 

She'd never told Caleb about the spell in fear of frightening him, she was sure anyway that she didn't need it. Besides, even if she had used it he'd probably just transform into an angel. 

A celestial being of good that he'd told her about. 

She shook her head, trying to clear her head of thoughts of her husband. She didn't need that type of emotion right now, revenge always needed to be served cold after all. 

Hatred poured into her fingers as she paused, pressing herself up against the tree trunk. A nostalgia to the action that almost made her chuckle. Phillip had apparently paused to catch his breath, bent over with his hands on his knees, panting and still holding the fucking knife. 

She was overwhelmed with rage, all she could see was red as pain laced her heart. Perhaps this was what her Aunt had felt so many years ago. 

She drew another smaller spell circle and shot out from behind the tree, letting the spell go. The human barely had enough time to register that he was not alone before he was thrown backwards by the force of her shot. He collided with the tree behind him and slumped down with a loud groan. 

He peered up at her as she stood, staring at him with such coldness and disgust. Rising high and mighty above him, even in her nightgown. 

"Evelyn." He sneered, as if her name physically pained him, his own eyes blazing with same hurt and hate as her own. "What are you doing here Witch? Want me to finish you off too?" He laughed, with no genuine amusement, the sound trailing off into a hollow snarl. 

She struck again, not moving from where she stood rooted to the forest floor, hitting him in the head with another spell, causing him to collapsed into a pathetic pile at her feet. He tried throwing another one of his paper spells. Roots shot from the ground but were instantly strangled by her own vines. 

Some of her anger fizzled out into disgust and embrassment as he cried out loudly into the dirt. Her lips curled upwards and she had to look away. 

"Don't be a child!" She snapped, "face what you've done like a man! You always wanted to fight me, you think you can take me on? Come on, try it now!" She screamed at him, as he slammed another paper down. This time a fire erupted, she waved a single finger and let the flames retract into her skin. 

"Come on! Where's all that bravado you had when you killed your brother! He's dead now, do you know that?" She continued savagely. 

This time he came back, bloody knife raised as he scrambled to his feet. He ran at her, with nothing but insanity painted across his cheeks as he screamed. A raw sound that shook the trees and hurt her ears. She merely, flashed away with a gentle hold of golden lighting. He stumbled, falling into the tree she had been previously standing in front of. 

"Shut up! Just shut up, it's all your fault!" He hissed, gripping the tree trunk as if it were his only life line, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth. 

"My fault..." She repeated with disbelief bleeding into her voice, as it shook with fury. 

"Yes, your fault." He breathed, now standing still and gripping a branch with an iron fist, glaring at her from the corner of his eye like she was the dirt on his shoe. "You turned him against me, corrupted him!" He snapped, "and now, I'll destroy your precious, sinful world, starting with your devil spawn children!" 

She moved faster than even she could comprehend, snatching him by the collar and dragging him up until they were eye to eye. He cried out in pain as nails tore through his face, her fingers growing bloody. Tearing through his cheek and up to his eye, then she dropped him as he clutched his face breathing hard and scrambling. 

"You may have taken my husband, but you will not touch my children." She whispered, glaring down at him as he clutched his cheek which was bleeding steadily and continuously. 

"You're evil..." He whispered, watching her like a cornered animal. 

Apparently not discouraged, he jumped up and let go of his face exposing the cruel wound to the forest. She didn't have time to even think before he grabbed her wrists and slammed her back into a tree. 

In terms of magic, he had nothing on her but physically he was nearly twice the size of her and much stronger and demanding compared to his brother. She tried to draw another circle but he noticed and swiftly changed his grip, claiming her fingers like some twisted vision of romance and slamming her into the trunk. Effectively pinning her to the bark. She struggled, growing increasingly frustrated. 

"I guess we're both as bad as eachother, too bad he chose my sin over yours." She wasn't sure where all this venom was coming from but it felt righteous cutting so deep.

Feel what I feel, bitch. Feel just as hurt and angry as me. 

She was rammed back into the wood even harder, causing her head to throb and seize until she smelt blood. His or her's she wasn't sure, still she forced out a sly smirk. 

"Is that it?" She questioned, silently wishing that he would just drop dead already and leave her wallow in grief. 

"Do you ever stop talking?" He growled with an exaggerated eye roll, an animalistic shine to his eyes as he bullied into her space. 

She grew increasingly uncomfortable with the proximity, the feeling of his thick fingers in-between her's, the way their chests pressed against one another's and how she could feel the tickle of his rancid breath on her cheek. Hatred bubbling with nausea and revulsion creating some fucked up potion in her stomach. She shoved back while he remained unfazed. 

He smirked at her struggled, closing his fist around her fingers, rendering them temporarily paralysed. 

"Oh, not so scary without your magic are you?" He sneered, a cruel smirk spreading across his red face. 

Caleb's blood mixing between the two of them, tainting her with his murder. 

"I could never understand what went through Caleb's mind or why he would chose you over me. I suppose in terms of lust, you'd be an easy, kinky fuck but that surely wouldn't be enough, would it?" He pulled a face and pretended to shudder, "or perhaps, you're just that good, maybe I should find out myself." 

She flushed red at the accusation and her rage subsided to make room for panic as she struggled harder. His face pressed into her neck, he didn't kiss her but breathed heavily. Her skin crawled at the ticklish feeling and she wanted to scream. 

"Don't you dare touch me!" She tried to snap but it turned into a scream as his tounge touched her skin. 

Tears rose to her eyes, as he crushed her and tore through her skin, she couldn't help but think about how kind, gentle and thoughtful Caleb had been. She wanted her husband, she wanted to collapse into his arms and cry into his shoulder while he whispered words of love and perfection. She didn't want whatever this was. 

When he moved onto her face, biting savagely at the edge of her lip, she reached a breaking point. Magic fizzled all around them, turning their hair to static as it bounced off her body. She tried to dislodge her leg to kick him or even knee him but he noticed. 

He thrust her hands into one fist and lifted them above her head, squeezing hard enough to bruise. His now free hand, snatching her thigh, digging his nails into the delicate flesh. She cried out as he forced her to lift her leg and slotted himself between her legs, she was distantly aware that her skirt had rode up. 

"Please, I just had a baby!" 

He payed her no heed. 

In his desperation, it seemed he had forgotten about her fingers. She drew a circle which sparked and let it go. The effect was instant, a wave of power irrupted from her sending him flying backwards and more importantly off her. He landed with an "oof" and shook his head to right himself. 

She stood frozen, staring at him on the ground, her whole body was trembling in a way that it never had before. She could feel tears on her cheeks that hadn't realised had fallen. 

When he looked at her with his dangerous blue eyes, she moved on autopilot. A drew her original spell circle even as her hands shook and threw it as hard as she could, letting it envelop Phillip. 

"You monster!" She cried out as she did so. 

Just like all those years ago, the effect was instant but it was different. Phillip for a moment stared at her confused and still so arrogant. He stood up slowly, chuckling dangerously low, his eyes trained on her in a way that made every hair stand up on end. He took a step towards her. 

"I'll make you pay for that, woman..." He hissed, smiling. 

He took another step towards her, as she pressed herself up against the wooden barrier at her back and breathed too fast. Her head was swimming in a way it never had before. Her chest hurt, actually hurt. Now, she truly understood how Caleb had felt. Pity mixed with everything else. 

This is horrible.  

He couldn't take another step forward suddenly, his whole expression changed. He froze as his face instantly paled and his eyes widened, his mouth falling partially open. He choked on a sound that sounded vaguely like words as he gripped his chest. Now looking at her with desperation, his eyes pleading, she was held in place by fear. 

He crumbled onto his hands and knees, spluttering and spitting. He screamed, a sudden and loud noise that shook the entire forest. She squinted forward and it seemed like his skin was actually bubbling, like the Boiling Sea. He cried out again, sitting up on his knees and clawing at his face before falling onto his back where he continued to writhe. 

It seemed that the wound she had inflicted earlier was the target, something green and slimy was crawling out of the cut and enveloping his face as the rest of his skin loosened and stretched and his eyes sunk into his head. She began openly sobbing at the sight. It was different, so much worse than her uncle. 

She heard the crunching of bone before she actually saw it. His arms and legs were growing, thinning out and stretching longer and longer until they were bigger than his body. His hands widened and his fingers grew sharp. The limbs now were made of the same, sticky substance as his face. 

He rolled onto his stomach and held out a gangly arm that she scrambled away from with a shriek. It was dripping and disportioned. Her sobs reached a new symphony at the sight. 

"Evelyn! What have you done to me? Do something!" He begged in voice that was not his own. It was gravley and distorted like the spell had destroyed his vocal chords. 

That was most likely true. 

His torso was the next victim, it followed the same pattern as his legs and arms. Stretching until his clothes tore and fell away, she covered her eyes and gagged at the green, sticky thing that wailed and thrashed in front of her. His spine creaked loudly and pressed against his new skin. 

The worst was the insane amount of eyes that suddenly sprouted from the random spots on his body. His chest, legs, neck and shoulders, all of them pinned on her. The only recognisable thing about him was his hair which was now wild and tangled. 

His face had changed in the chaos, jutting outwards in some mockery of a snout mixed with a skull. Tall, twisted horns that reminded her of antlers stood proud atop of his head. 

Finally, the noises and transformation stopped. His new, huge and mangled body collapsed on the ground. He heaved and panted, his claws tearing up the grass and dirt. 

She didn't even think, she just ran. 

She turned and ran as fast as she could. She couldn't breath, couldn't look back. She just kept moving, swiping branches out of her face desperately. 

"That wasn't supposed to happen!" She called out, to who she didn't know, the Titan maybe. 

Her heart was beating so fast, if ached and she felt like she would collapsed at any given moment. The adrenaline buzzing under her skin like firebees. Confusion, panic, grief, relief and guilt all crashing into one inside of her. 

She needed to just get to the children, take them and leave the Titan. Maybe go back to the Human Realm? She just needed a way to get them and herself away from whatever Phillip was now. 

She bawled when a huge, sharp hand closed around her waist and hosted her into the air. She kicked her legs and squealed, hitting his massive, emerald fingers that moved like slime when she touched them. She kicked her legs blindly as the ground moved further and further away. 

"Help-" She was immediately cut off as a blinding pain shot through her abdomen. 

She looked down to find his pointed fingertips had disappeared into her stomach. She couldn't make a sound, the pain was too intense. All she could do was choke as salty liquid pooled at the back of her throat and dripped down her chin. 

How Ironic, we should die on the same day. 

She thought bitterly as the claws buried even deeper, slicing through her womb and vital organs. She thought she was knew pain, she'd believed every time she'd given birth that nothing could be so agonising and yet she was wrong. 

The pressure continued to build, pressing further through her until there was nothing left to give. She swore that the last thing she heard was the sound of her own spine snapping.