Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Luz was the only one who thought the book was real. 

Not that the others outright called her crazy, or delusional, or desperate, or the millions of other jabs she used to receive on the daily from her classmates. All things considered, when she came home after sprinting straight from her school’s library with a tattered, ancient-smelling book in hand, they’d been pretty excited. It was only when she’d cracked it open and read out the first few pages to the others that reality caught up to her. 

There were entire continents home to only frogs, toads, and newts, the book claimed. It was possible for a soul to be cleaved in two, human and spirit, if under enough emotional duress. The most powerful magical artifact in all the realms was a magic wand powered by the miniature unicorn floating inside. 

Yeah, even Luz wasn’t idealistic enough to believe that. 

The worst part was that the others hadn’t been disappointed or upset over the busted opportunity, like Luz had been. When she’d looked up from the weathered pages, she hadn’t been met with worn frowns, tired eyes, or even a stray tear or two. Gus had just yawned, already glancing back toward whatever cooking show he’d been watching, and Amity offered something about it being a good story, if nothing else. 

They hadn’t believed, even before it became obvious that they shouldn’t. They didn’t think that the book was the key to getting home. 

Did they even still believe that returning to the Boiling Isles was a possibility? Sure, it’d been – a while since they’d last made any real progress. And yeah, they had run through all feasible ideas they could come up with. And it was true that even with an entire realm of magic in her pocket, Luz had never been able to build a fully functional portal, and Hunter had only paid passing attention to the designs of Belos’s portal, and even if they could build one, they didn’t have any Titan’s Blood – 

It didn’t matter! The point was, they couldn’t give up! That wasn’t how stories like this worked. She’d make it back to her found family, beaten and battered but victorious against her own struggles, and she’d slay the foul villain who’d laid waste to the lands in her absence. It was on TV Tropes for a reason, after all. 

So that night, when the boys were downstairs, Mamá was pulling a double shift, and her roommates were fast asleep, Luz slung her backpack over her shoulder and crept down to the kitchen. 

She kept her footsteps careful. Hunter was a light sleeper, as evident by how many times he’d sprinted up the stairs when Mamá’s car rolled into the driveway late into the night, and it felt like Vee went down for a midnight snack more nights than not. It almost made her nostalgic for the times when there weren’t as many prying eyes capable of getting her caught. The things she’d gotten away with because the white noise machine she’d gifted her mom for Christmas had covered her tracks… 

But when she made it to the table, she caught sight of seven pairs of shoes stacked beside the front door, Willow’s thrifted coat slung over one chair and the pieces to a board game still stacked on the counter, she didn’t regret the additions to her family. The house had always been too big for two, anyway. 

Then she remembered why, exactly, there were so many children huddled under one roof, and her throat went dry. If she hadn’t left King alone to make a deal with a child god, would Gus cry over seeing his first non-boiling rainbow without his dad? Could Amity getting food poison from a human realm meal be traced back to the moment she’d shaken hands with Philip? 

“I have to fix this,” she murmured, alone in the kitchen, “para mis amigos.” 

Luz tightened her grip on the book and took a seat. 

Flipping through the pages made her feel marginally better about staking her faith in Dr. P’s Extraordinary Guide to Magic & Mystery. The more iffy legends were kept to a minimum, and really, most of what she read lined up with what Hexside had taught her about demonkind. The section on curses could have been taken straight from what Eda had begrudgingly explained to her in the early days. 

What really drew her attention was the potions chapter. While glyph magic was completely kaput here and the wild magic medley her friends had fallen into worked just fine, potions were something none of them had really attempted. It wasn’t anyone’s strength, and beside, most of the ingredients were items that they just didn’t have access to anymore. 

Except the recipes Luz was reading didn’t need items from back in the demon realm. Most ingredients in potion-making fell into three categories, she remembered Lilith explaining. Creatures, commons, and contexts. They either came from some sort of magical being, were easily found stabilizing components home to virtually every environment, or were ordinary elements that became imbued with magic once something special happened to them. 

Every concoction, tincture, and tonic Luz found only needed commons and contexts, which tracked for a spellbook from the human realm. The more she read, the more she realized how genuinely attainable a lot of these brews were. This might not be what would directly lead her back to the Isles, but it could expose her and her friends to the first bit of fresh magic in months! 

All thoughts of return slipped away when her eyes landed on the Persona Polishing Potion. 

“Originally used as a means for rehabilitating the wicked and impure, this drink adapted to more recreational purposes with its age,” she read, tracing the words with her index finger. She felt something in her chest shift. “Once coming into contact with the user’s skin, an individual is able to witness the core aspects to their personality and subsequently expand, minimize, or outright erase any trait.” 

Too wild. That was what her teachers used to call her. Eda and King said that was what kept her alive in a place like Bonesborough, but that recklessness and desire to leap before she looked was what had led her to sticking her head into issues it didn’t belong to. If she was just a little less impulsive, a little more careful, maybe she wouldn’t drag so many people into her problems. 

She’d learned how to brew from the best. Maybe the mornings spent listening to Eda boast about her potion track days before she’d shirked the coven system had been leading to this. Surely if she was more focused, Luz would be able to come up with a way to build a new portal. No distractions, no side quests. Just action and results. 

Maybe before Mamá had sent her off to summer camp, Luz would have insisted that she was perfect the way she was. That she didn’t need to change for anyone. But that Luz hadn’t doomed an entire realm because she hadn’t thought through the consequences of her actions. She hadn’t grown up and realized sometimes, just maybe – she was the bad guy. 

It was character development, more or less. Her later seasons self looking back on her pre-canon days and grimacing. And maybe while most people grew into different versions of themselves over time, Luz could just – speed up the process! Cut and trim instead of waiting for pieces to wither away. She’d always been impatient, anyway. 

Swallowing, Luz reached into the drawers and pulled out the biggest cooking pot she could carry. 

Surprisingly, a lot of what she needed was already in the kitchen. She squeezed a lemon to get acidic juice, chopped up a carrot for a being born in dirt, and tossed in a handful of the mint that Willow had been growing so that she’d have something that both burned and chilled. A lot of it was water, believe it or not, and also Tapatío? Yeah, she wasn’t super sure about that one either. 

It was when she reached the end of the page that she faltered. Printed in big, bold letters was the last ingredient. Hair of a witch-hunter. 

Unabidden, her eyes drifted toward the door to the basement. Then she pushed the wooden spoon around the edges of the pot, letting the flame from the stove bring the whole concoction to a bubbling boil. She couldn’t. Could she? Would it even work? Hunter had indirectly worked to bring about the end to all witchkind, but he hadn’t consciously tried to eradicate them. Then again, his hair was the hair of someone else that Belos had known well. It was a stretch, just like this whole plan, if she could even call it that. 

She sucked in a breath, then let it out. Even if the spell would work, she wouldn’t get away with it. The minute she went down the basement steps, Hunter would be up, and there was no way she’d be able to calmly, clearly explain why she needed to shear him like a sheep. Besides, the scissors were still – 

Her eyes widened. The scissors were in the bathroom. Nobody had moved them since they’d shown up at breakfast one morning to quietly gawk at Hunter’s new haircut, the one Willow immediately changed the subject from whenever someone tried to ask about it. If she could bet on one thing, it was that in a house full of teenagers, the bathroom was still cluttered. 

Floorboards creaking, she flew down the hallway, swinging a hard right toward the bathroom. Behind a rubber duck and next to the curl-friendly conditioner, there it was. Best of all, she could still see a bit of Hunter’s blonde bangs clinging to the sides. She snatched them and went back to the kitchen, glad beyond words that this wasn’t a potion she had to ingest. She’d probably end up gagging on Hunter’s dandruff anyway. 

As she tossed the last few ingredients in, she skimmed the directions one final time. It really was a pretty straightforward potion. There were the standard warnings listed at the end she barely gave a second glance, because really, did every potion feel the need to restate the core principles of potion-making? Brew under a full moon for double the potency, never combine with Grimwalker saliva, stir counter-clockwise at least once before the last bubble popped, yadda yadda. 

Once the color changed from orange to pink, she spooned the mixture into a glass mason jar Mamá had taken from an overpriced restaurant a while back. It wasn’t Eda’s vials, but it was close enough, if only for the ambience. The recipe ended up making two doses, so she’d probably pour the extra down the sink once she was done. She waited for the hour hand to tick past the twelve one final time, just so she didn’t end up accidentally using it right at midnight, and then tilted it toward her open palm – 

“What are you doing?” 

“Ay!” Luz stumbled away from the stove, bringing the cup close to her chest. She could see a figure on the taller side standing in the hallway, but it was just too dark to make out who it was. Talk about creepy. “Jeez, warn a gal next time?” She set the potion onto the counter so that she could flip on the light switch with one hand and bring down the flame with the other. 

Bleary-eyed and with maybe the worst bed head out of everyone in the house, Hunter glared at her. He had the blanket from the aquarium wrapped around him, which was interesting because Luz could have sworn that Willow had laid claim to that one a while back. “You woke me up. I’m not the one who needs to give notice.” 

She waved him off, heart beating a bit faster at the realization that she’d left the book lying open on the kitchen table. “Uh, my bad. I’ll turn on some soothing whale noises next time I get the wiggles.” 

Hunter just rolled his eyes, already turning back toward the basement, but his hand hovered over the doorknob for a beat too long. He looked back at her, frowning. “You didn’t answer my question.” 

There was an edge to his voice that hadn’t been there a second ago. It wasn’t rough, exactly, or even angry. It was just – confrontational. The way he used to speak when he had a mask to hide behind and an uncle to defer to. If she squinted, she could pretend that it was the glow of his artificial staff that had his face reddening. 

“Question?” 

“Yeah. What are you doing?” 

Her grin made her face hurt. She kept smiling anyway. “Making a smoothie! I got the munchies.” 

“On the stove?” 

Dios. “Yeah, I’m just – boiling milk! To blend into it, so that it’ll help me go to sleep. That’s a thing that humans, uh, totally do.” 

She couldn’t look at the book. If she did, Hunter would follow her gaze and she’d end up ruining everything before she could fix things, and then she’d never find a portal back and Eda would stay lost for all time and King would be stuck with a devil child and everyone that’d ever shown her a scrap of kindness would pay the price for her mistakes – 

Hunter stepped closer. “Are you… crying?” 

Distantly, it hit her that she was. She bit down hard on her bottom lip, but a trio of tears still rolled down her cheeks and off her chin, plinking softly into the jar. They were quickly absorbed into the mixture, and she felt herself quietly calculate how the extra salt would affect the magic. It probably wouldn’t mess it up too much. She could balance it out just in case with some honey if she really needed to. 

This was a bad idea, she realized. It was a bit late for that, though. 

“Uh, I’m just tired,” she mumbled, wiping her eyes dry. “Having weird night thoughts, you know how it is.” 

“Yeah. I do.” Hunter shifted his weight from one foot to another. Luz could practically pinpoint the moment he decided to stay, rather than turn tail toward the stairs. “I used to run into Head Witch Whispers a lot, especially during the cold season. They’d always try to send me off to bed whenever I spent the night catching up on work in the library. They said that no good came of fresh ideas that late into the evening.” He shrugged. “After a while, I stopped leaving my own quarters after sundown.” 

“Because you didn’t want to be lectured?” 

Hunter’s frown tightened. “Among other reasons.” 

Her mind filled in the blanks, even if she didn’t want to think about why someone her age would have to stay barricaded in his room when the sun went down. Death threats, probably. He’d mentioned the kind of things the other coven heads would attempt on each other with, though he’d never specified if they were ever followed through. Maybe it was because he’d been too injured to get out of bed. He did have a funny way he walked when he got tired. 

“Do you ever wish,” she started, not really sure where she was going, “that you weren’t who you were?” 

Hunter’s gaze drifted downward, toward his hands. They were scarred badly, like his ear or the mark on his jaw. The first time he’d peeled his gloves off, Mamá had instinctively reached for the antiseptic, only for him to grit out that by now, they were as healed as they were going to get. “I don’t even think I am who I am. I mean, you heard Belos. I’m – someone he used to know.” 

“No, I mean…” She leaned onto the counter, swiping her curls out of her face even though she knew that’d only make them frizz up more. “Like, the choices you made, the things you did, the mistakes you stumbled into – if you could just get rid of them. All of a sudden, they were somebody else’s. Would you?” 

He stared at her, brows creased. His eyes were magenta, she remembered. No other witch she’d met had eyes like that. “But even if they weren’t mine, they’d still exist and they’d still hurt people. At least now, I’m here to carry their weight. I can try to make up for them. They’re not just – just – freefalling.” 

“But they’re so heavy.” 

“Luz,” he sighed, looking up, but he froze before he could finish the sentence, fixed on the table and the book and the pages and the words written on them in big, black, blocky letters; Refinement to user’s personality, altering essence of the soul, create uniquely new individual. 

Belated, she realized that this looked a lot like building a body out of old bones. 

She reached for the glass. Hunter snatched it off the counter before she could grab it. He backed away with it, white knuckling the rim until he bumped into the closet door. That left the book vulnerable, though, and she was quick to slam it closed before he could figure anything else out. Once that was done, she made her way towards him slowly, hands high. 

“It’s not that bad,” she tried. 

“You’re breaking yourself,” Hunter spat, ears pinned to the sides of his head. The hand holding the potion dipped to the ground, and before she thought better, she made a dive for it, but Hunter just threw himself out of the way. He slammed into the stair post hard enough to send the wood rattling. “Titan alive, do you even know which parts you were going to get rid of? You might not have anything left!” 

Upstairs, she could hear footsteps hit the floorboards. Hunter had a talent for letting his voice ricochet like nothing else. “Keep it down,” she hissed. If Mamá found out about this – Hell, if Amity did… 

His eyes widened. In one quick motion, he sprinted up the stairs, feet slapping against the steps as he shouted, “Captain! Captain, come quick!” 

No, no, no, he couldn’t. He just – He couldn’t. 

“Shut up!” she shrieked, and yanked him by the arm sleeve, hauling him back down to the ground floor even as he wriggled in her hold. The only way she was able to stand a chance against him, she knew, was because Hunter had developed this soul-deep fear of hurting any of them, and he was trying his best not to bruise her as he struggled. 

“Mrs. Noceda! Blight – Ow!” Abruptly, Hunter shoved her away, hard. Her fault, in all honesty. He’d made another move up the stairs and she’d panicked, digging her fingers into his hair and wrenching his head back towards the kitchen, desperate. She tripped on the bottom step as she stumbled and ended up landing bad against a coffee table. 

A few feet above her, she saw Hunter absently swipe at his own forehead, blinking slowly when his hand came back with his own blonde hair clinging to it. The change was immediate. His breathing quickened to a dangerous speed, knees knocking together as his chest rose and fell, rose and fell. 

“Uncle?” he said softly. 

“Shit,” Luz breathed, then instinctively stiffened, old memories of her mami giving her looks when she swore in the house. Even something as small as that had the chance to set Hunter off, though, and she watched it happen in real time, her friend catching sight of her reaction and mirroring it, flinching hard into the railing. “Hunter, it’s alright. No one’s here, it’s just you and me.” 

That was the moment that the lights upstairs turned on. Someone taller, Mamá or maybe even Vee, peered down from their bedroom while two other forms raced down the hallway. 

“Hunter!” 

“Titan’s sake, what’s going on?” 

“¿Mija? ¿Qué haces?”

Hunter lost it. He jolted like he’d been struck, a thought that made Luz’s stomach hurt, and scrambled down the steps, one hand to his heart while the other still clutched around the same stupid jar. His foot caught on something, maybe the kitchen table leg or the hoodie pooled on the floor or maybe even Luz herself, but it happened so fast that she couldn’t tell, and it ended with him heaving on his knees. 

“I don’t – I don’t want – ” Hunter pressed his fingers to his lips and keened, gritting his teeth. His eyes were squeezed shut, yet he still shuddered when Luz tried to reach closer. “Please, don’t make me, I – I – I can’t.” 

Her eyes welled up again. “No one’s making you do anything. Hunter, please, I need you to breathe.” 

“It tastes bad,” he babbled, and she realized his hand was covering his mouth, but why – “My heart, Uncle, I – it burns.” 

The others were nearing, and Luz couldn’t decide if she wanted to snatch the potion and dump it down the sink, or take it while she still had the chance, or ignore it in its entirety and bring Hunter back from wherever he’d gotten stuck this time. There just wasn’t time. This was the moment where she would’ve tossed up a wall of vines or a mass sheet of ice, if only to buy them a few more uninterrupted seconds before – 

She swallowed, shoulders heavy. “They’re gonna find out,” she whispered to herself. 

Hunter sat up straight. He stared at her, tears almost dried on his skin. “Oh. Okay,” he said calmly, as if he wasn’t in the midst of a panic attack. 

Then he tipped the potion back and chugged the entire thing. 

“Hunter!” 

She knew better, she knew better, but she still couldn’t stop herself from reaching out and smacking the glass out of his hand. It hit the ground hard enough to shatter on the floor, which was really the least of her worries, because nothing spilled out of the shards once they settled. He’d drinken all of it, dios, double the dose of an entire potion that was supposed to be triggered by skin contact, with the tears and the extra witch-hunter hair and – and the Grimwalker saliva, shit – 

Hunter was back to trembling but she had to ignore that as she threw herself on them, prying open his mouth to see if he hadn’t swallowed it all yet, and she couldn’t help but sob because this was exactly what she used to do with King or Hooty or even the Owl Beast, except this wasn’t the same, not at all – 

Gone, all of it. Not a drop left. She felt her blood run cold as her breathing picked up until it was practically on beat with Hunter’s. “Why did you do that? I – You – You don’t know what that’ll do to you!” Hunter just looked up at her, eyebrows tilted in that way she knew, she knew, meant he didn’t understand, and the whole thing just had her swiping at her eyes because she had no idea what the broken potion was going to do – 

And Hunter just said quietly, “I know how to get rid of evidence. Like you taught me, Uncle.” 

Luz pushed herself away from him, hands fuzzy as it all went quiet. The shift from unbearably rabbit-quick to syrupy slow sent all the blood rushing to her head. It was all she could do to back away as Vee came thundering down the stairs, Gus freezing with his jaw dropped while Amity pulled her away from the scene, Willow kneeling beside the body on the floor, holding it down as it writhed, which they really shouldn’t be doing, but she couldn’t get her mouth to open. 

She just let herself be taken away as Hunter seized on the ground.

It kind of got blurry after that. Best she could tell, Amity brought her to the living room while the others dealt with Hunter. More simple than taking her back up the stairs, she supposed. She caught glimpses of Mamá with the hydrogen peroxide, of Vee racing back up the stairs and coming down with something clutched in her hand. At some point, Gus attached himself to her side, squeezing her arm whenever she forgot that existing was something she needed to do. 

This wasn’t healthy, floating above the world when its inhabitants needed that. She knew it. But sometimes, when it all got crazy and she heard crying from a trademarked Trusted Adult and it hit her that bursting into tears herself would only increase the burden, she went quiet. Easily palatable. Less – Just less. 

After a little while, though, she felt her palm running up and down Gus’s back, the way her dad used to do for her when she couldn’t sleep, and she bit down on her tongue until she came back. Also not healthy, just in a different flavor. It was fine. She was fine. 

It didn’t go unnoticed when she came back. Gus looked up at her through bleary eyes and jolted, gaze flitting toward the door to the kitchen before settling back on her. He offered her one last side-hug before murmuring, soft, “Feeling better?” 

She nodded. “How long…?” 

“Um, an hour? Maybe less.” 

“How’s Hunter?” 

He pressed his lips together. Again, he turned toward the door, pausing, before saying, “Something happened. I mean, you know that, but – He’s not hurt. He’s just not fine either.” Gus gave her a hard look, the kind that he wouldn’t have known how to make back way back when he was Augustus with the high-pitched voice. “Luz, what happened?” 

All the air in her lungs escaped her in one breath. Once, back when she still played soccer, a bigger girl on the other team had jammed her shoulder against her ribs and sent her flying. When she hit the ground, she hadn’t been able to breathe. She’d just gaped, not understanding how something she’d done for years just wasn’t working. 

Thinking about what she’d done felt like that. 

“The book, it’s real. Its potions are, at least.” Either that, or she’d just about won the lottery with the myriad of ingredients she combined actually totalling in something genuine. “Hunter caught me working on a potion. Once he realized what it was, he took it, and we started fighting. I was rougher than I should’ve been and he – Well, you know how he gets confused sometimes.” 

“He got scared?” 

“Yeah? But not just scared, like, all of a sudden, he was just super calm. I have no idea what was going on in his head, he just chilled out in a blink. That was when he drank the potion.” The words felt leaden in her throat. Or maybe that was the shame. Each syllable was an effort in itself, and she had to dig her nails into her palms to keep from floating away again. 

Gus took Mamá’s old flip phone out of his pocket, already typing something in. “What was the name in the book?” 

“Uh, I think the Persona Polisher? Something like that.” When Gus stopped typing, she couldn’t help but shift in her seat as if she was eight years old again and getting chewed out by the principal for freeing the fifth graders’ dissection frogs. It would’ve been a good plan if only she’d known that the biology teacher had already pre-emptively killed them. Yeah, hurling a bag full of frog corpses out of the second storey lab hadn’t been a great look for her. 

“Luz.” 

“Gus.” 

“Luz.” 

She groaned into her hands, slumping forward. “I know! I know. I just – You know when it’s a quarter ‘till twelve and all of a sudden you have, just, the best idea that has to be done right that moment, and it’s only later that you realize how dumb you were?” 

Gus just sighed, snapping the phone shut. “Yeah, I guess. Except when most people are up by themselves, all they do is doomscroll on Penstagram until they find a really good recipe for mummy dogs and end up accidentally starting a small fire because they forgot to pre-hex the oven.” He blushed. “You know. In general.” 

“You guys have mummy dogs too?” 

“Yep! I have an aunt in Palm Stings who sends us fresh ghoul guts right from the Sarcophagus Office!” 

Oh, right, she should’ve expected something like this. “So no bacon?” 

“Yeah, I said they bake in the oven.” Gus climbed up closer, clapping his hands over her round ears and shaking her head around like a magic 8-ball. “Did you mess up your hearing too?” 

Before she could push him off, Amity stuck her head through the doorframe, yawning widely enough that Luz could see her fangs pop up. “You texted? Oh!” She lit up despite the eyebags. And the bruises, dark splotches marring her neck and forehead that definitely hadn’t been there at dinner. “You’re up!” 

She didn’t even realize she’d risen until she was crashing into Amity, pulling her close and burying her face into the lavender-brown strands that’d especially grown out in the last few weeks. Amity didn’t say anything, just wrapping her arms around her and holding her for a moment, and for a few seconds, Luz got to pretend that she hadn’t messed up everything. 

When she leaned back, she realized that there was more than just bruises to the update she’d missed. That morning, Amity had been teaching Willow how to braid, using herself as a model. She’d looked so pretty with her hair like that, which Luz had of course told her, and she’d kept the braids up until they’d all gone to bed a couple hours ago. 

Now, though, the neat twists were all undone, and more so than a night’s sleep would’ve been responsible for. One of the hair ties was outright gone, with the other barely hanging in its spot. The somewhat curtain bangs that’d popped up were in disarray, and her whole head was surrounded by a halo of frizz. 

Amity looked absolutely beautiful, obviously, but just – much messier than she usually preferred to be seen as. While she’d gotten more comfortable with looking casual lately, it was still a rare sight to see her without eyeliner sharp enough to cut a man and her hair brushed through nearly a hundred times. 

Not to mention the scratches running up and down her arms. They didn’t look deep enough to draw blood, except for what may have been hiding underneath a pair of circus Band-Aids, though they were still fresh. What had she gotten into while Luz was – uh, let’s say processing? 

Amity must have caught her staring because she slipped her fingers between Luz’s and gave a squeeze. “It’s not that bad. He just caught me off guard while Camila was putting away the medical supplies.” 

The pit in her stomach got heavier. “Did – Did Hunter attack you?” 

She frowned, looking over to Gus. “You didn’t tell her?” 

“I was establishing context!” 

Rolling her eyes, Amity took Luz by the hand towards the kitchen. “And you wonder why I take charge during crises!” she shouted over her shoulder with a huff. Gus gave some sort of affronted gasp, which Amity ignored as they passed through the hallway. Once they were alone, she paused, right in front of one of the sketches Vee had done at her camp. It was a landscape in all black and white, but she’d gone at it with some watercolors once she’d gotten back. “Okay,” she breathed, more to herself than to Luz. “How should I…?” 

“Gus says he’s not hurt,” Luz offered. 

“That’s accurate,” Amity said, nodding, “if vague. Listen, I’m – not really sure how to explain what happened. I mean, I’ve never heard anything like it, and I once wrote a letter to the textbook publisher asking for more workbook problems to be included in their next volume.” She blushed a little at that before shaking her head and adding, “I think it’s best if I just show you.” 

With that, she pushed the door to the kitchen open. Luz steeled herself, preparing for anything from a rabid blonde werewolf to the Ghost of Christmas Present, then stepped through. As soon as she saw the kitchen, though, she understood exactly why Amity hadn’t been able to explain what had happened. 

Hunter was huddled underneath the kitchen table, knees pressed to his chest, inching himself farther into the crevice as Willow crouched beside him. Hunter was also sat on top of the counters and kicking his legs back and forth against the cupboard doors as a fountain of words gushed out from his mouth. Not to mention, Hunter was halfway into the fridge, munching on an apple. He was sitting on a barstool with his eyes glazed over. He was gesturing wildly with a steak knife as he shouted at Vee. 

He was doing all of this, because somehow, against all logic, he was in five places at once. Because there were five separate Hunters in the kitchen. Because Luz had messed up the potion one two three four five different ways, and if she’d learned one thing from Eda, besides identity theft, it was that potions were precise, they were exact and they were specific and they never did the same thing once they were messed with. 

“Oh my King,” she mumbled. 

Amity’s lip quirked up. “That’s kind of funny.” 

Five heads swiveled toward her, ten eyes landing on her. Each a distinct color, she realized, emerald green and ruby red and – shoot, she didn’t remember much from her Esteban Universidad hyperfixation, like, onyx black? Something like that. Either way, point was that each Hunter’s eye color was different from each other, and all of them were unnaturally bright, even for witches – or Grimwalkers, she supposed. 

The Hunter on the countertop lit up. Beaming, he hopped off the counter and raced toward her, deftly sidestepping his copy huddled on the floor. He brought her close, spinning her around with a hug as he giggled. As Hunter giggled. Hunter. Giggled. 

“You’re back!” he cheered. “That’s so great, really, ‘cause none of these clowns want to hear my Cosmic Frontier theories, which, like, all we had to read for almost two decades was protocol, manuals, and legislation, so they should be excited! Seriously! First book we ever read was Geography of the Titan, and Belos wouldn’t let us leave the library until we memorized it all from the Heel to the Crown.” 

The Hunter who’d been slowly cornering Vee with the knife whirled around, pointing the blade toward his twin’s chest as he white knuckled the hilt of it. “Don’t fucking tell her that! Goddamn idiot. Uncle should’ve scalded you when he had the chance.” 

“Don’t speak ill of our Emperor,” said one of the Hunter’s dryly. He didn’t get up from the stool he was sitting at, but Luz saw the way his muscles tensed. Not like the one under the table was tense, bracing for something she couldn’t place, but springlike, coiled tightly in preparation of exploding. 

Another Hunter took a huge chomp out of his apple, letting the fruit crunch loudly underneath his teeth. “It’s sort of funny how we never questioned the language Phillip used,” he commented, leaning against the fridge door in a way that Luz knew would leave marks that Mamá would have to scrub clean. “We didn’t even know what God was and still we never asked follow-up questions when he caught him praying.” He shook his head. “We really are stupid.” 

“We are,” came a whine from the table, wet and wobbly. 

Luz felt herself raise her palms like a traffic cop, trying to make sense of it all. “Wait, wait, what – ” 

The Hunter who’d giggled and hugged her and jumped off of the counter stuck out his tongue toward the angry Hunter – jeez, this was getting really confusing really fast. “Better a happy idiot than a miserable prodigy. Tell me, how many nights did we go without sleep just to please him, only for him to take our work and leave us hanging?” 

“Shut your ugly mouth,” the other one snarled. 

“We have the same mouth!” 

“It is ugly,” the Hunter by the fridge muttered. “It never healed right after he busted it with the switch. Remind me, how did we piss him off that time? Bled too strong? Ate too slowly? Oh, don’t tell me. That was when we got lost trying to navigate our way back to the castle all by ourselves because he couldn’t be bothered to give us a map.” 

He was given a cool glare by the tired-looking Hunter, the one on the stool. “We were receiving discipline from our Emperor.” 

“We were seven.” 

One of the Hunters burst into a fresh round of tears, carefully shushed by Willow as she tried to push a box of tissues toward him, while another started to snicker. Teeth were bared, the steak knife was raised just a bit higher, and next thing Luz knew, she was shoving herself between two copies of her friend as they swiped wildly at each other like animals. 

“Get off each other! Hey, hey! No biting! I know you aren’t vaccinated.” 

Mamá poked her head into the kitchen. “He’s not? Ay, mijo. I’ll get the Vicks.” 

“He doesn’t need it, Mamá!” Luz tried, but her mom was already rummaging through the cabinets. Great, just great. Maybe she could get Gus to sniffle a bit and take the attention off from Hunter – Hunters? Plural? Hmm, there was an anime joke to make her, if she got three seconds of peace before – 

Willow rushed to her feet. Her eyes lit up a glowing green as a bright ring snapped into existence around her wrists. Luz knew from experience that the only reason she hadn’t already summoned a horde of snap-crackle-dragons was because she didn’t want to ruin the floorboards. “Hey! Let him go!” 

One of the Hunters had the other one pinned in a headlock, grinning wildly with sharp teeth as his twin writhed in his hold. It was the one who’d been crying under the table. He kicked out wildly, heaving, but he didn’t try to push back against the other Hunter. It was just pure panic in him, not a genuine attempt to free himself. 

“Why? He’s being a bother.” Hunter shrugged. His eyes caught in the lamplight, this cutting yellow so deep that it was almost gold. It was the same shade his old uniform had been, and it made him look almost sickly in comparison to his typical magenta. “This is what Uncle did when he was crying so much he wasn’t functional.” 

He pinched the other hard enough that he shrieked while the wooden Hunter sighed. “Typical. Always making a fuss and then leaving us to clean up his messes.” He crouched down and yanked his double – quintuple? – by the shirt collar, but by then, Luz had easily had enough. She nodded toward Amity, who’d been hovering by the door. 

“Sweet potato?” 

“On it.” With a flick of her fingers, a wave of Abomination goop swarmed the three. The one who’d already been crying screamed at the contact, even when it diverted to pin the other two against the wall and the pantry, respectively. It hardened to a cement-like texture in seconds, leaving one of the Hunters clawing at the substance with his bare nails and the other blinking dully at it. 

“Fuck – Fucking – Let me go! Useless fucking piece of shit – ” 

“You might be the most dangerous one here,” the other one said calmly, looking Amity dead in the eye. She shifted from one foot to another, gripping Ghost’s staff tightly. “Powerful with the smarts to actually make use of your strength. But your affinity for the human weakens you substantially. It has in the past and it will again.” 

She narrowed her eyes. “Is that a threat?” 

“In time, it will be.” 

“Alright, enough.” Luz stepped in between the two stuck to the wall and Amity. The angrier of the two snarled at her with his sharpest teeth. She glanced behind her, at the Hunter curled up on the ground, one hand clapped over the back of his neck and the other on top of his stomach, as if he was readying himself for an earthquake. The other two Hunters were by the counters, one leaning forward with an awed look while the other rummaged through the cabinets. “What in the world are you guys?” 

A snort came from the breadbox. “You don’t want us to answer that.” Hunter looked up, blinking innocently. “Unless you’re prepared for an extended debrief of the life and times of Phillip Wittebane?” 

Luz felt herself blanch, even as she shook her head. “You know that’s not what I meant. What are the five of you, and where’s the real Hunter?” 

“Ooh, a bagel.” 

Another copy tilted his head, humming softly. He was the only one who actually seemed to be paying attention, all the others distracted while he just stood there and listened, one foot idly tapping away. “How do you know any one of us aren’t the real Hunter?” 

“Because I’m not a pathetic sack of shit,” snarled one by the wall, “and the rest of you don’t have the spine to serve a man as grand as Uncle.” 

“Because of our eyes,” said the double beside him. 

“Because none of you are acting like Hunter,” Luz filled in. She found herself twisting. She’d spend a second studying one of the versions before moving onto the next one, spinning in slow circles in the kitchen. “You’re too nasty,” she said to the one who kept cursing, “and you’re so empty.” 

“Thank you,” said the Hunter with flat affect. 

“Not a compliment, my dude.” 

“All the better to carry out my Emperor’s wishes.” 

She felt her eye twitch. “Oh. Great. Um, anyway, and you!” She pointed at the first one who’d spoken. He grinned easily at the attention. “Not gonna lie, I love your vibe, we are seriously gonna put a pin in your theories ‘cause I’m very hyped for them, but Hunter is not that chill. He’s also not that…” she trailed off, trying to find an easy way to put it for the fourth copy. 

“Weak.” 

“Sniveling.” 

“Toothless.” 

“Miserable.” 

“Pathetic,” spat out the witch in question. He hugged himself close and gritted his teeth, even as his voice shook. 

Luz blinked. “Scared,” she finished. She felt her hands tighten into fists as a lump in her throat settled. “He isn’t so scared all the time.” 

“What about me?” The last one finally tossed the breadbox back into the pantry. He wasn’t eating anything. Between that and the apple, she really didn’t know if he’d been hungry in the first place. It was a stark contrast to the original Hunter, who only ever took food if Mamá directly put it in his hands. 

Luz paused. She thought about all the Hunters in the room, the crying one and the smiling one, the one that called Belos Uncle and the one who called him Emperor, Hunters who lashed out at each other and Hunters who tore themselves down at the first chance possible. It was a contradiction like no other, but somehow, it was something Luz had seen before. 

In Hunter himself. She’d seen him at all these stages during one moment or another. 

And with that, it fit together. “You’re his personality,” she realized aloud, thinking of the potion’s intended purpose. Instead of letting Hunter edit his own traits, they’d split apart and formed entities of their own, leaving the true Hunter lost. “Just – separated into five pieces.” 

She heard someone gasp, Willow or Amity or maybe even Vee, who’d eased herself out from the corner under the cover of all the commotion. The book, still on the table, sat heavy. It almost seemed wrong how it was still there, in the same spot, even hours later. It was even flipped to the correct page. Gus’s doing, probably. 

For a moment, none of the Hunters reacted. They just stayed shock still, staring or glaring at her the way they’d done even before she’d put the puzzle together. Then one of the Hunters chuckled. He tossed his apple core into the trash can, brought his hands together, and clapped slowly. It wasn’t condescending. It wasn’t genuine either, though. “A prize for the winning girl!” 

“Shut up,” his twin hissed. 

Willow’s head snapped toward the one who’d spoken. She raised Clover high, letting the stinger hover over the hardened Abomination slime that pinned him. “How do we bring him back?” she pushed out. “The original Hunter, I mean.” 

He just raised an eyebrow. It was mismatched with the other, a bit thinner and lighter from a burn he’d picked up at one point or another. Er, a burn Hunter had picked up, one that all the copies in the room shared. “I’d shrug if I could. Why do you think I’d know? That’s like asking a baby to climb back into the spider sack.” 

Luz’s stomach turned. “Wait, huh?” 

“Spider sack,” Gus repeated. He glanced at the pinned Hunters and stepped closer to Willow. His voice shook a bit as he explained. “You know, the threshold from our world to the netherrealm.” 

“The what?” 

At her dumbstruck look, he added, “When a couple wants to raise a kid, they go hunting for the hugest, most-legged creature they can find. The more limbs it has, the younger their child will be. Most people pick arachnids and get a newborn out of it.” He fanned his hands out and wiggled his fingers, for effect. “Then they split the sack at midnight and pull their new kid out before the portal closes.” 

What the hell. That seemed – so much easier, actually. “Dancing daisy, that’s real crazy,” she breathed, trying to picture it. Now that she thought about it, a lot of the witches she knew didn’t look that much like their family. Did they? No, they couldn’t, unless there was some sort of genetic component to it after all? 

Willow leaned in, curious. “How does it work in the human realm?” 

“Uh.” She felt her cheeks heat up. “Well. There’s, like, tubes? And eggs and – other stuff that’s like – It’s like there’s a flower in your – uh, after you get old enough, some birds and bees and – dios I hate this.” Luz straightened as a thought came to her. “Wait, does that mean you guys don’t get periods?” 

Amity wrinkled her nose. “Huh?” 

Gus tilted his head. “Periods of what?” 

Oh, that sweet summer child. Luz felt her hands raise to massage her temples, trying to quell the already rising headache. “This can’t be real. You guys get to learn magic and you don’t get a personalized crime scene once a month? That’s so unfair – Wait a second!” She whirled toward Vee, who’d pressed a palm to her own mouth. “You borrowed a pad last week!”

Vee blanched. “I –” 

“ Have you been making the conscious choice to menstruate?” 

Her eyes widened to dinner plates. Like, the fancy kinds that needed three different spoons and a whole arsenal of forks. “ That’s what that was? I thought I was dying! You do that once a month?” Pulling a face, she looked downwards, gesturing vaguely. “How do I turn it off? I don’t need a baby!” 

Feeling the weight of four of her closest friends and four copies of her fifth closest friend all listening to her every word, Luz squeezed her eyes shut hard. She took in a breath. “I’ll show you a diagram later. I’m sure we can, like, DIY you bottom surgery or something. Jeez, that’s something I never thought I’d have to figure out. In the meantime – ” 

Luz froze. Something was wrong, like when she got up from the couch to grab a charger, but when she came back, she didn’t sit in the same spot again. It was slightly off, at a near imperceptible degree. She ran it back again. The weight of four of her closest friends and four copies of her fifth closest friend. Four copies. Uh oh. 

The only Hunter still pinned to the wall nodded toward the window facing the backyard. “He left as soon as you said tubes.” 

The realization hit her that Hunter may have been the only witch in all of the Boiling Isles who was aware of menstruation. That was – such a statement. “How did he…?” 

From the counter he’d sat back on again, another piped up. “Belos taught us all this when we were, what? Nine?” 

“Ten.” 

“Ten,” he said with a nod. “After chipmunks and before non-boiling rain.” 

Luz’s entire head was in her hands by now. “You mean he taught you human biology?” 

“Nope. Just this.” 

“Just this?” 

“Just this.” 

There was really no way this was Luz’s life. “The Puritan knew about periods,” she said to no one in particular. The room at large, maybe. “That Puritan knew about periods, at least, and I really don’t have it in me to Google if that was common knowledge for the time and we really reverted since then, or if he’s an outlier for that.” 

A bit awkwardly, Amity set her hand on her soldier. “Should I – uh, bring that other Hunter back?” 

“Please and thank you.”

Luz’s pen scribbled a handful of swirls onto a scrap of paper, frowning softly when the ink died out halfway through. She tried to force more out, and when that didn’t work, she tossed the pen into the trash and grabbed a new one. Once she had all of the colors she needed, she folded the sheet of copy paper into halves, then thirds, and carefully cut out five rectangles with Mamá’s craft scissors. 

She slid a piece to each of the Hunters, all of which they’d managed to corral close to the couch. Close enough, really, because while three of the copies were parked on a seat, one was wandering around the fireplace mantel while the last one had curled up on the floor. Amity had said she wasn’t sure if he’d chosen to sit there or if the others had kicked him off the sofa. 

“It’s gonna get way too confusing if we don’t figure out some way to keep track of you all,” she started as she passed out the pens. They matched the eye color of each of the Hunters. “So we’re adapting. Write the name you want us to call you and I’ll attach it to your shirt with a safety pin later. If there’s duplicates, we’ll figure out some sort of tiebreaker.” 

“We could just number them,” Gus suggested. He was balancing on his tiptoes, craning his neck this way and that, clearly trying to watch one of the Hunters. She didn’t know which, though. 

Vee’s eyes flashed, equal parts fear and something with more bite to it. “Let’s not,” she muttered. 

“Why? Oh, shoot, my bad.” 

“It’s fine.” 

“I – ” 

“I said that it’s fine.” 

Amity pursed her lips, fingers drumming along the top of Ghost’s head. Maybe it was the lighting, maybe it was the exhaustion pulling on Luz’s eyelids, but something about Amity looked sharper. The angles cut a little cleaner, and she was left reminded of the mint-haired witch from a few months ago. “We should assign each of them a chaperone. Make sure no one gets up to any funny business.” 

“There are five of us and five of them,” Willow agreed. “Besides, I think some of them should be supervised so they don’t end up hurting themselves.” 

They were all pretty well-versed with that calming breathing technique by now. Mamá had even shown them a few pamphlets the clinic had for soothing distressed animals, and they’d all quietly integrated those tricks into their repertoire. Gus and Willow were the best at helping Hunter when he got too panicked, while Amity was surprisingly skilled at snapping him back to reality when he lashed out. 

Vee gave one of the Hunters on the couch a glare, scales shifting under her knuckles. “Is it wrong if we place dibs?” 

“Um.” Luz twisted a curl around her finger until the skin went white. “Maybe?” 

“Definitely,” Willow said with a nod and far more confidence that Luz had. Despite the heaviness of the situation, Luz couldn’t help but feel a bit lighter at that. It was always amazing to see Willow handle herself with so much assertiveness. She’d come such a long way, and Luz didn’t think she could be more proud. “Like it or not, all five of them are parts of Hunter. If we care about Hunter, and we do, then we can’t favor one aspect of him over the others. That’s not fair.” 

Gus nodded, one firm motion. “Even if one aspect of him is that he’s a dick.” 

“I think it’s more than one,” Vee said dryly. 

Amity dipped her head, conceding. “Forty-sixty.” Then she gestured behind Luz. “You have a friend over there.” 

She was right. Standing behind her – cowering, really – was the Hunter who’d been curled up on the floor. His entire frame was trembling as he held up the scraps of paper she’d handed out. Though his gaze was fixed onto the floor and she couldn’t catch what color his eyes were, she knew from the pen he had squeezed in his fist that he was the one with the dark black eyes, so deep that she could barely catch the pupil in the middle. 

“We’re done,” he whispered, and held up the name cards until Luz took them. He sort of reminded her of those plushies she used to collect when she was little, the Beady Babies. She’d had this one vintage penguin whose previous owner’s cat had practically torn to shreds, she remembered. It’d always been just a strong breeze away from completely tattering. 

“Thank you, uh…” Quickly, she shuffled through the papers until she found the one with the darkest ink. When she found it, though, she froze in her tracks, the breath in her lungs escaping in one foul tumble. She had to swallow hard and force a tacky grin on her face to keep herself from blanching at the small, neat print on one of the cards. “Thanks, Grim.” 

His shoulders hiked up to his ears. “The – The others took the names that made sense and I didn’t – I didn’t wanna – ” Teeth chattering together, he waved out his hands at his sides as his eyes welled up. “I couldn’t think of anything good. I’m sorry.” 

“You fucking should be!” one of the Hunters on the couch barked. Grim flinched hard enough that he fumbled the pen. He scooped it back up the second it clattered to the ground, but by then, the tears were readily flowing down his cheeks. “Get your ass back here!” And before Luz could do anything, Grim was hurrying back to the others as fast as his legs would let him. 

The sight made her gut hurt. She felt Amity step closer to her, bringing her into a side hug and pressing her lips against the top of her head. Butterflies flitted in her stomach, even as they died a swift death right after. “This is a metaphor for something,” she managed to say, instead of Hunter is going to hate what he did or He’s going to hate the fact that we saw it even more or even He’s going to hate me most. 

“Maybe.” Amity carefully took the stack of names out of her hands. She shuffled them around, turning them face down, and then offered them back to her, fanned out. “Or maybe it’s just bad luck. Either way, pick your poison.” 

Reminded more than a little of her short-lived stage magic phase that’d been closely followed by her circus animals phase, Luz grabbed the bottommost one. She didn’t let herself read the name on it until the others each got theirs; Vee, then Gus, then Willow and finally back to Amity left with the remainder. 

There wasn’t one Hunter in particular she was especially avoiding, though if she was being honest, she deserved to be stuck with the angry one. Even if she was just going off of the real Hunter’s tendencies, he was due for an outburst at some point, and taking the heat of that was the least she could do. 

She saw the bright red lettering on Willow’s paper almost immediately. A quick scan of the eyes on the other side of the room told her that Willow had matched up with the gruff, strict Hunter who’d only spoken so far to talk about his Emperor. Woof, not an easy assignment, but Willow could absolutely handle it. She was tougher than anyone else, in this realm or any other. 

Case in point, as soon as she connected the name with the face, Willow marched over with her head held high, Clover thrumming in her calloused hands. “Golden Guard. It’s nice to meet you. 

His spine was impossibly straight as he sat on the couch. Luz watched his gaze start low, by Willow’s shoes, and slowly rise up, up, up, until he was glaring daggers at the frames of her glasses. He huffed softly, and otherwise kept his mouth firmly shut. Not typical from a chatterbox like Hunter. 

Willow didn’t falter. “I’ll be blunt, since I get the feeling that’s your style.” With a flick of her wrist, a circlet of dripping vines twisted themselves over her biceps. They were gnarled and thorny, sharp to the touch. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been sizing me up when you think I’m not looking. I’m a threat, and we both know it.” 

Through the reflection of her lenses, Luz could just make out the faint green glow coming from Willow’s own eyes. It was almost as bright as the set from the Hunter flipping through Mamá’s old magazines. “I don’t want to hurt you. I really, truly don’t. But I’m not afraid of protecting my friends, so you better decide which side of that you want to be on.” 

The Golden Guard leaned forward until his elbows rested on his knees. His hands didn’t tremble the way Grim’s did, and his foot didn’t fidget the way the chatty Hunter’s had. He was just uncomfortably, abnormally still. Like a predator who felt no need to chase after its prey. The last time Luz had seen something like this, it was when Hunter had held a birdcage above the Boiling Sea and ordered her to slay a Selkidomus. 

“Why,” he said quietly, “the fuck would I be scared of a little girl who’s only been practicing Plant magic for two months?” 

Willow didn’t blink. “I think that says more about you than it does me.” 

“I – ” 

“Get up,” she interrupted, before letting a sweet smile peak out through the angles and adding, “please. There’s still a mess left in the kitchen, and I think it’d be real nice of us to help pick it up.” 

He was standing before she finished, already filing out of the hallway. “Yes, ma’am.” 

The tension in the room eased out, slowly but surely, when they left. Luz felt her own fists smooth out once it became apparent that the two weren’t going to brawl. Not that she’d be much help if things turned violent. Without her glyphs, she was barely better than useless in a fight. Even Mamá, with the baseball bat she kept tucked beside the nightstand, would be more helpful than her. 

Gus flipped his card over the second Willow left. He brightened a bit at reading the name, tilting even further than he’d already been. Beaming widely, he waved over a version of his friend. “Grim, buddy! Looks like we got each other! It’s already pretty late, so we can grab a snack, if you – Oh! No, you don’t gotta – ” 

At the first mention of food, Grim had lunged for the bowl of fruit sitting on the coffee table. He wordlessly offered it to Gus, and when Gus didn’t take it, he tossed the bowl onto the floor and started to unpeel all of the contents, first bananas and then oranges. All Gus did was kneel down beside him and pick up the remnants, saying something soft as he did so. 

He was good at that. Being gentle with Hunter, that was. According to Hunter, that was the only reason he hadn’t booked it for the Clavicle instead of chancing another encounter with Belos. It made her heart feel all full and stuff to see little Gus stepping up like that. She could only assume Willow’s pride was ten times hers. 

While those two were busy, Amity took a look at her own card. Her features smoothed out with a soft, “Huh.” She turned toward the green-eyed Hunter, who’d abandoned the magazines in favor of rummaging through the DVD drawer, at some point. “Caleb? Did I get that right?” 

He perked up, dropping the issues right on the floor. “Oh! Yeah.” In a quick step, he was just a scant few inches away from Amity, one hand outstretched toward the brown face-framing pieces peeking out from her otherwise lavender strands. Amity jerked away with wide eyes. “Your hair is abomination-purple! I just noticed that. Say, do you think you’d be able to get it moving like Darius’s? Or would that be an extension of when he morphs his physical form to that of a golem?” 

“Um.” Amity blinked. “I’m… not really sure? From what I’ve researched, Darius only discovered how to transform like that after he ranked high enough within the Abomination Coven to live at the – the Castle, and once he was there, most of his findings became classified. The previous Coven Head didn’t want amateurs attempting the trick, I guess.” 

Caleb nodded along as he bounced on the balls of his feet. “Yeah! That’s right! I stole a glance at his notes a couple of times, and from what I read, you’d definitely be able to match the power level he’d needed to get it done. Especially with your palisman! I heard the first time he shifted like that, his bile sac was so depleted that he took three months leave. But Ghost could absolutely help shoulder that burden!” 

Amity’s hand flew to the wooden cat sitting on her shoulder. She took a half-step back. “I wouldn’t want to put Ghost in harm’s way like that. She’s one of the younger palismen and she’s not as familiar with her limits.” Disantly, Luz remembered Ghost curling up in her lap the night she’d snuck back into school. She was one of the cutie patooties who’d been snatched up by Kikimora. And, she didn’t forget, by Hunter. 

Caleb just got even more excited, if that was even possible. Luz saw his hands fluttering at his sides, a behavior that Hunter only recently practiced, even though she could catch his stifled fists under the dinner table sometimes. “Oh, yeah, of course! You know, I read this book theorizing that palisman magic grows exponentially with age, like a tree standing firmer over the years. Personally, I think that the deficit in the groves also has something to do with it. Of course, one could also presume that the decrease makes pre-existing palisman magic even more potent, which opens a whole new set of doors – ” 

“Do you like potion-making?” Luz interrupted. Caleb’s jaw clicked shut, a twinkle in his green eyes fading just a bit, but she brushed it aside as she could practically feel the cogs in her brain turning away. Maybe there was a way to fix this that they hadn’t considered. 

“Yeah. I like all magic.” He brightened again. “I’ve read up on experiments challenging the strength of witch-brewed potions compared to those made by biped demons, or even non-magic-wielding entities. Surprisingly, the inclusion or lack of a bile sac doesn’t make any difference at all!” A chuckle wormed its way into his words, only a little forced. “You know, first time we found that out, we asked Belos why we were using a fake staff instead of brushing up on the Potion Track, and Belos got so mad he burned, like, half the library.” 

One of the only Hunters left rolled his eyes. “It was just the Theoretical Study section and you know it.” 

With one hand, Luz pointed right in his smug face. “You! Shut up. You’re not being helpful. And you!” She turned back toward Caleb, who was giggling into his palm. “Keep talking, rockstar! Your potions whiz plus Amity’s gorg-tastically beautiful brain means that you two could definitely figure out some sort of cure to this!” 

Amity worried her bottom lip. “I don’t know. I haven’t really studied that track – ” 

“Yes!” Caleb pumped a fist into the air. “Yes, yes, let’s do that! I’ve never mixed magic before! Abomination and Potions – Ooh, and we’ll probably need the Captain’s help with some of the ingredients, and I’ve read about fooling brews into believing more time has passed than what’s true through illusions. This is gonna be great!” He turned to Amity, practically jumping from one foot to the other instead of Hunter’s typical shuffle, shifting weight from side to the other. “Can we? Please?” 

Amity’s eyes got shiny all of a sudden, her mouth pinching closed. Abruptly, the excitement drained from Luz, and she was left remembering the night they both had snuck onto the roof, where Amity had curled up under the blanket with her and listened to her track the stars of a new constellation. 

Sometimes, she’d whispered into her ear, when he’s being gentle with Gus or goofing off with Willow, he reminds me of my brother. Ed used to hang out with me all the time when we were little, more than even Em. Then she’d held her breath, not until her face went red, but close to it. Then Mom made him quit distracting me. She liked the twins more as a matched set anyway. I missed him, even when he was just in the other wing. 

“Yeah,” she croaked. Then, stronger, “Yeah. Um, sure. We can – Let’s do that.” 

“Yes! Thank you, thank you!” Caleb threw his arms around her, far more easily than Hunter’d ever done. Even on his best days, touch had to be carefully telegraphed around him. When contact from another person’s skin finally landed, though, he soaked it all up like Willow’s plants to fresh sunlight. “Let’s start right now!” 

“Wait – ” 

Hand locked in Amity’s, Caleb sprinted toward the kitchen, Amity along for the ride. 

One of the Hunter’s leaned back against the cushions, arms behind his head. “And then there were two,” he drawled. 

His counterpart scowled. “There’s four of us.” 

“Titan, stop yapping,” he groaned, dragging a palm over his face. The skin underneath smushed funnily, and if Luz didn’t know better, she might have missed the way he winced at prodding his own scars. But Luz did know better, so she just wondered why he was hurting himself so casually in front of others, instead of behind closed doors, like usual. “Nobody cares about your stupid ass-kissing, boot-licking loyal soldier routine.” 

“I am not a soldier,” he spat, ears pinned back like a rabid dog’s. “The Plant Witch’s iteration may heed at orders, but I do not. I give them. I am the nephew of the Emperor of all witchkind.” 

“You know that he did everything in his power to slaughter all witchkind, right?” 

“He was culling the herd, as is his right as the Titan’s hand – ” 

“As the Titan’s right hand? The one with all the noxious gas plumes?” 

He paused with a wrinkle of his nose. “No. What? No. You know what I mean.” 

“Do I?” he said with a yawn. “I mean, besides finding the caverns of the still-beating heart and building a castle around it, which we both know was actually discovered by a spelunker he quietly killed off, he hasn’t done much Titan-translating these days. Maybe he’s just a crazy old coot who’s lived way past his prime and doesn’t know how to silence the voices in his head.” 

“Watch your mouth – ” 

“Alright,” Luz pulled the blue-eyed Hunter out of harm’s way before the copy practically foaming at the mouth could launch himself his way. “While this is super entertaining,” she started, then mumbled out of the side of her mouth, “and surprisingly revealing, that’s enough out of both of you. Last thing we need is to explain to a pair of nice doctors that not only did some kids without social security numbers wind up in their emergency room, but twins with identical scars were the ones who popped up.” 

Light on her feet, Vee pressed forward and held back the other Hunter. She was stronger than she looked, able to keep him away for the most part, but he was able to crane over her shoulder and growl, “No problem. I’ll just slit his throat with the knife out of the jam jar. Problem fucking solved.” 

Luz felt the stomach acid in her gut crystalize on a dime, because that was far too specific of an example to be pulled out of thin air, but Vee just scoffed. “Who keeps a knife by the jam jar? Matter of fact, who owns a jam jar? Mamá just steals single-serving packets from IHOP and you know it.” 

“Freak of nature reptile – ” 

In a blink, Vee was nearly two heads taller, toned with a six pack and more muscles than Luz knew the name of, and easily picking up the seething Hunter by the scruff of his neck. His legs kicked out in frantic jerks. He pounded at her grip with little fists, the way a tiny Hunter had done in the crevasses of Belos’s mind, except when he bared his teeth, Luz didn’t think it was solely because he was terrified. 

Vee had fangs too. Not the normal ones that studded round divots like molars with height, but elongated, needle-thin spikes. They’d watched a documentary about the Mariana Trench yesterday, Luz remember, and Vee had been utterly fascinated by the anglerfish. She’d tracked the pole on its head sway back and forth, back and forth, in a pendulum arc. 

“Shut up,” she hissed, forked tongue and all, flipping one a dime. “Shut up, shut up! Shut your dirty colonizer mouth! You’re going to quit it and you’re going to listen and you’re going to shut up before I put you in the grave you so clearly desire.” Her grip on his shirt twisted harder, sharper. Her words cut deep, which Luz didn’t think was possible with how quiet they were. “I know what you’re capable of. If you think I’m gonna let you try it here, then you’re even stupider than your uncle thought.” 

The shift from zero to a hundred made Luz’s head spin. She watched, frozen, as Hunter tore at Vee with unraked fingernails. Vee didn’t budge. “I’m not stupid. I’ve earned more degrees than braincells you have rattling around in that thick skull of yours. I’m a genius!” 

Vee’s eyes flashed. Not flashed like how Willow’s gleamed a bright, magic-laden light, or how Amity’s went slanted with anger. The irises shifted red-yellow-blue, sickly blue, the same watery blue that belonged to the other Hunter who’d gone deathly silent throughout this whole encounter. Phillip’s blue. 

She hurled him into the ground. He smacked into the hardwood floor at a bad angle, leaving him cradling one arm as he glared up at her through the fringe of his bangs. It was a hateful look, one that she’d never seen before, because he was always so worried of disappointing Mamá and so scared of displeasing Belos. 

“Then why haven’t you learned your Titan-damned lesson?” 

Luz launched herself forward, clapping one hand around Vee’s shoulder and pulling her toward her. Her own chest felt weighted heavily, like someone had slipped rocks down her throat. Was this what Hunter’s galderstone heart felt like all the time? “Jeez Loueez! Vee! I know he’s being a jerk and a half but you can’t throw him around like that. What’s gotten into you?” 

Vee just glared at her now, hateful gaze, blue eyes, not quite human but not distinctly other just yet. “You heard him. He was being vile.” 

The word choice stuck out. Vile. Vee didn’t talk like that. She’d picked up the vocabulary of a girl Luz’s age when she’d snuck into the gaping hole in her life she’d left. It was brainrot and slang that expired after a week in the spotlight. At most, sometimes she worked in a smattering or two of Spanglish. She didn’t talk like – like a stuffy old professor. Like Lilith, spine impossibly straight, or Darius with his clean white gloves. Like someone out of the Emperor’s Coven. 

Luz didn’t know what point she was trying to make, just that she didn’t like it. Not one bit. 

She ran a hand through her hair, the curls parting easily under the new product Willow had brewed for her, and sighed with her whole chest. “Look,” she said, feeling the weight of the late hour on her eyelids, “it’s late. Tensions are high. It’s understandable. But we can’t turn on each other or we’ll bring the whole house down. So you take your Hunter, I’ll take mine, and I’ll look at his arm to make sure everything’s alright.” 

Vee, who’d never once disagreed with her in the weeks they’d all been back under the same roof, pursed her lips. She shook her head softly, then gritted her now-blunted teeth as her eyes went hard. “Check your paper, Luz.” 

“What?” 

Vee nodded toward the scrap still clutched between Luz’s fingers. She’d forgot about it, to be honest. Everyone else had put on such a show that it’d slipped her mind. She opened it like a book, then promptly lost all the breath in her lungs. It took one, two, five long blinks to confirm that she wasn’t misreading the words on the page. She even ran her finger over the letters, testing for an illusion-damning ripple. 

The blue ink didn’t so much as smudge. 

She turned toward the Hunter who hadn’t spoken since his counterpart had been thrown to the floor. “You can’t be Phillip.” 

He just shrugged. “Someone has to atone,” he said, and it didn’t sound smug with knowledge she didn’t have, or even snarkily bearing an inside joke that’d been kept from her, the way he’d spoken before. It was just simple. A handful of syllables, as if he didn’t have the energy to build them up into something bigger. 

It wasn’t a conscious decision to shake her head, but that was what she found herself doing as she backed up, one step, two, and whirled back toward her sister. “Vee,” she tried, then snapped her mouth shut at the sight of the slip clutched in Vee’s death grip. It was nearly the same amount of letters, yet it took double the space with how wide-sprawling the handwriting stretched. 

Hunter, it read in the glitter pen Luz had gotten for her last birthday from a primo she hadn’t seen since she was eight years old and obsessed with childish things like unicorns, instead of the mature high fantasy she now designated her time toward. 

The first time her bio class had explained the digestive system, she’d eaten handfuls of grass and dirt in an effort to see what her gut was capable of dissolving. It was lined with acid, after all. She’d just gotten a stomach ache out of it, the end result of most of her childhood experiments. That was how it felt now, this sudden realization that there was burning acid in her system, followed by the subsequent pain in her abdomen. 

It was déjà vu to look at the Hunter still on the ground and mumble, a bit distant, “You can’t be Hunter.” 

“I am Hunter.” He just sneered at her with such unadulterated loathing in his gaze that she wanted to cram that stupid Golden Guard mask over his face again, solely in the hopes that the slits would block that foul look from escaping. He nodded to Phillip – no, no, she wasn’t calling him that. “Do you have a problem with that?” 

“No. You got a problem with mine?” 

“I have a problem with everything about you.” He rolled his eyes. “Your name isn’t special. You aren’t special.” 

Anger rose in a crackling wave strong enough to crash through the shock. “You don’t get to break the rules. All of the others chose different names!” 

“I’m not like the others.” 

She pinched above the bridge of her nose, taking a deep breath in, before abandoning it and snapping, “You literally are! That’s what this whole thing is! You’re all the same person, and some of you are the hidden parts and some of you are the enjoyable parts and some of you are the  sucky parts of him that he’s constantly making an effort to overcome! Hint-hint, that’s you. You suck, and I – I – I’m so done with you.” 

Hunter – Fuck it. Sure! Why the hell not? Fucking Hunter! His already-balled fists tightened tenfold, nails sinking into skin. “We knew it,” he muttered, so quiet that Luz only heard him because of how close she was standing to him. “Kikimora was right, Uncle was right. I knew it.” 

The part of Luz that talked to squirrels like they were stuffed animals and build cottages out of scrap wood for the pixies she swore lived in the attic wanted to press him on whatever in the Titan’s name he meant. But it was close the three in the morning, and she’d already messed up so catastrophically bad, and at a certain point, the well dried up. So she just absently waved in his general direction and grumbled, “Well, you wanted him, Vee? He’s yours. Try not to let him kick a puppy.” 

Then she grabbed Phillip, because this was the direction the train had decided to barrel towards, and brought him to the upstairs bathroom. 

She didn’t say anything at first, just rummaging through the cabinets like she’d never been in them before, since for all intents and purposes, they were largely foreign to her. Hunter – the real Hunter – had taken to reorganizing every square foot in the house, and with all the new residents, they’d filled up on hygiene products. 

Toothpaste for sensitive gums, dye-friendly shampoo, extra-strength deodorant, as opposed to Luz’s extra- extra- strength prescription. The bathroom was unrecognizable from its state hardly a year ago. If Mamá wasn’t such a coupon-clipping queen, Luz might have worried about the money this was all costing. As it was, she just sat back and trusted her mami was giving CVS the shock of their life. 

She felt the irritation seep out of her slowly, leaving her bleary-eyed and more than a little guilty for how she’d snapped. When she’d emptied the entire upper drawer and still hadn’t found what she was looking for, Phillip shifted from one foot to another and said, “I think you got me confused with the other one.” He dug his fingers into the muscle of his elbow. “I’m not the one who fell. Or, got thrown, I guess. You don’t need to patch me up.” 

“You’re right. And you’re wrong.” Oh, jackpot! Prize in hand, she finally crawled out from under the bathroom sink and tossed a bottle toward Phillip, who caught it with minimal fumbling. “I didn’t mix you guys up. I know Vee went at – uh, Hunter. But I caught you picking at your scars. That’ll help.” 

He blinked at the bottle of aloe vera. A brace-faced monkey beamed on the side of the label. “Oh. I don’t…” 

“That one’s the most gentle, so it’s best for sensitive areas like the face. I have another one that’s more of a lotion than a gel. I usually break it out for sunburns, but I think it’ll be good for your knees or stomach.” Where he had even more scabbing wounds, which Luz only knew about because she’d watched some of them land from her few short hours in Belos’s mind. 

Phillip still didn’t flick open the cap. Instead, he just set it on the counter and slid his gaze up, onto the glass of the mirror. His reflection looked right back. That was a metaphor of some sort, Luz was pretty sure. Or maybe an analogy? She usually left the meta-analysis for other blogs to deal with. 

“You didn’t say what was wrong with me.” When she just frowned at him, the dots not connecting, he clarified with, “When you were piecing together what happened to us. You said that Caleb was too chatty, that the Golden Guard was too empty. But you didn’t say what I was. So – What am I?” 

Wasn’t that the million dollar question. The thing was, she was getting a feel for the beats the other Hunters fell into. They were aspects of Hunter she’d caught glimpses of for, just condensed into a single solid entity. Phillip, though, was a wild card. He’d been snarking unfunny jabs earlier, yet now, it was like all the air had deflated out of him. She wouldn’t have thought those sides of Hunter would stem from the same part, whatever that part was. 

“I’m not sure,” she admitted, and knocked her shoulder against his. He didn’t flinch away like she suspected Grim would have. But he did look at her, eyebrows creasing, and she didn’t know how much better that was. “Any chance you’ll tell me?” 

He sighed. “I’m kinda clueless myself, to be honest.” 

“Don’t worry. We’ll figure it out.” She glanced at her reflection. Her eyebags were deep enough to give the real Hunter a run for his snails. “And we’ll figure out how to put you back together. And how to make a portal back to the Isles. And how to defeat the Collector. And how to hex the tax witch into forgetting to stop by Eda’s, while we’re at it.” Might as well. 

The joke was dumb. Hunter normally laughed at dumb jokes, especially when they were Willow’s. Phillip just ducked his head. “You’re gonna have to tell them we’re a Grimwalker sooner or later. Blight knows we don’t have a bile sac, but if it gets down to it, the potion might not work if it’s calibrated for a witch.” He rolled his eyes. “That’s if the blabbermouth doesn’t let it slip first.” 

She swallowed. It felt like everything she’d learned on that one awful night was linked together. The true intent behind the Day of Unity, the history of the Golden Guards, Grimwalkers, Phillip, the Collector. If she let one secret slip, the rest would come tumbling out and she – she couldn’t. She just couldn’t. 

In the mirror, her head dipped to rest against Phillip’s. The little ponytail she’d managed to scrape her curls into bobbed wearily. With the blue, blue eyes and the gold frame lining the glass, she couldn’t help but think she’d seen something like this before. Around town or in a TV show, maybe. Something almost identical, just slightly to the right. 

“That’s tomorrow’s problem,” Luz managed, as if they weren’t already three hours and change into the morning. 

And Phillip said, “It is tomorrow,” because Hunter was never really all that good at picking up on subtly. 

Chapter Text

When Gus was born, his dad had been part of the news’s research division. A history major at his finest, he used to spend hours pouring over huge, old tomes to ensure that the on-screen talent stayed accurate. It was only when Gus was seven, maybe eight, that he was promoted and started doing the actual newscast. Porter reporting! he used to mutter under his breath as he made Gus’s lunch. No, not that. Perry Re-portering? No… 

With the promotion, he couldn’t work from home as much, so Gus had been watched by his neighborhood Day Scare program, with the other kids too young to look after themselves while their parents went to work. He’d always been a mature kid, so he sort of fell into a couple responsibilities to pass the time. Pass out the Hex Mix during snack time, convince his classmates to pick up their toys, let Mx. Umbrio know if one of the pacifiers fell on the floor. 

He’d liked it. It wasn’t super often that he got to hang out with kids his age, so he jumped at the opportunity. Playing board games, exploring the backyard, teaching each other silly sets of rules they had to follow. His favorite thing, though, was helping take care of the babies. It was crazy to him how little they were, how they giggled when he jingled a toy above their heads. Mr. Mortenmeyer used to say he could make any baby stop crying. 

Then his dad had realized how easy his homework came to him, set up an appointment with the gifted program, and enrolled him in their after-school babysitting. Instead of eating peanut butter off his fingers with six year olds, he got to crack open a textbook and try his hand at sixth-year spell conjugations. 

It wasn’t bad, he honestly really liked what he got to learn, but he never got over how, all of a sudden, he was the little one. Shorter than even the shortest ones there and with half the social skills to boot, it felt like he was the baby. Part of him kept looking for an older kid to flock to, the way the toddlers at Day Scare had, but there was no one there. Until high school, that was, and Willow reached out to him in that classroom that day. 

In a lot of ways, Hunter was that older figure he’d been searching for. He’d travelled all over the Titan and learned tons of weird things along the way, all of which he was always happy to tell Gus. At the slightest hesitation from Gus, he’d jump in front of him, eager to protect him. When the pain in his chest got heavy enough at night that he couldn’t keep it at bay anymore, it was Hunter who gave him the extra blanket and flicked the light switch on. 

But in even more ways, it was Gus looking after Hunter. For as tall and as smart and as mature as Hunter was, sometimes, it felt like he was the younger of the two. He was even less socialized then Gus, if you could believe it, and he panicked just like the toddlers used to when their parents dropped them off. Maybe that was what having a brother was like, stepping up for them and having them step up for you in return. 

Gus wasn’t totally sure. He wasn’t the expert in that, really. Of all of them, only Amity had any experience on that front, and he could tell that she hadn’t had the most – representative perspective there. Wait, gross, maybe Mattholomule was more educated on that than he was. Ugh. Not something he wanted to consider. 

No matter what, Gus had a sneaking suspicion that the Hunter he’d gotten matched up with, Grim, was more on the younger end of the spectrum that Hunter tended to swing back and forth between. He caught the way he’d shrunk into himself the moment another’s eyes went on him, the nervous fidgeting of his fingers underneath the kitchen table. That wasn’t the Emperor’s Golden Guard. It was the kid who’d stashed all his possessions in a rinky, rat-filled public school. 

Case in point, the instant the louder of the Hunters had started getting into it, Grim’s muscles had locked up, ears pinned to the sides of his head as his eyes went wide, and Gus had taken the initiative to bring him back down to the basement. Grim hadn’t protested, though Gus doubted he would have even if he had absolutely no interest in leaving the living room. 

He let Grim go down the steps himself as he got to work, uh, securing the perimeter? He was pretty sure that was how the real Hunter referred to it, anyway. Whenever they retired for the night, he insisted on double-checking the locks, setting up over a dozen small toys on the stairs. The idea was for intruders to trip on them and wake the two of them up, or at least indicate that someone had been there once they noticed the difference in the morning. Luz said there was a movie like that, but that they couldn’t watch it until a few more months. 

“I’m not sure if you have all of Hunter’s memories, so just letting you know that the door doesn’t lock from either side,” he called over his shoulder. “And Camila won’t come down here until ten, at the soonest.” As much as she liked to get an early start on the laundry, she said she didn’t want to risk twisting her ankle on their security system. She didn’t make them take it down, either, which was really cool over her. 

When he finished and hopped over the banister, he faltered at the sight of Grim curled up beside the sleeping bag, sitting with his back to the corner where one wall met another. It was almost impressive how he’d managed to compress himself into such a small form, knees to his chin and arms wrapped vicelike around his legs. His eyes were shiny, though Gus was pretty sure they’d been like that even before they’d left the living room. 

“Oh. Hey, buddy, you alright? We can – We can prop a chair in front of the door, if you’d like?” 

“Please,” he whispered, so softly that Gus felt his ears twitch in an effort to pick up on the sound. “Please don’t. I – I don’t want him to get me.” 

There was only one person who he could be referring to, and Gus felt his fists ball up at just the thought. “You mean Belos?” When Grim nodded, Gus leaned forward on the couch, hands clasped. “He can’t get you. I mean it, he’s – he’s gone, Grim. He’s never gonna hurt you again.” 

Grim just shook his head miserably. Upstairs, there was a thump, the sound of tussling feet slamming against the floor and their ceiling. “Tell that to him. He – He’s gonna get me, like he does every night. I can’t – I’m not the strong parts, I don’t think. When he gets me, I won’t be able to fight back.” 

Like he did every… Oh. Gus thought about the times he’d wake up to the sound of utter silence in the absence of a whistle coming through the gap in Hunter’s teeth. He’d peel back the blanket, swing his legs over the side of the couch, only to freeze at the sight of Hunter bowing with his head to the ground. His arms would be wrapped around his stomach, sometimes a hand slapped over his own mouth, and he’d heave in-out these great, heavy pants through his crooked nose. He was good at having quiet nightmares. 

Gus glanced up toward the door. There were still a couple voices arguing on the other side. No one to ask for help. That was okay. It was fine. He was a big kid now, he could take care of the little ones all by himself. “We can cover the windows? With that and the door, there’s no way he’ll be able to get in.” 

He sucked in a breath, staring at an unfixed spot in front of him. “He always gets in. Once, he – ” With a huff, he clamped a hand over his lips, blinking hard. “No, no, I can’t – I shouldn’t say. He doesn’t like when I say.” 

“He’s dead, Grim,” was all Gus could think to say. 

Grim looked up at him with wild eyes. “You think that’s going to stop him?” 

Shoot. That’s – Okay. Gus could work with this. He was adaptable, he was great at thinking on his feet. A pleasure to have in class, that was what all his teachers always wrote on his report card. So much of a pleasure that they kept transferring him to other classes with thicker syllabi and older kids. 

“How about we trick him?” 

At that, Grim hesitated, tilting his head almost like a dog’s. “Trick him?” 

Gus nodded. “Yeah. We’ll hide you in the closet for the night.” Not like they’d catch much sleep anyway. The sun was almost back, and Hunter was a notoriously early riser, so Gus was sure they’d all be up soon regardless. “I’ll keep watch outside with an illusion of you so that even if he gets here, he won’t be able to find the real you.” 

He untensed the slightest bit, like a rubber band looped one less time around. “You – won’t lock the closet?” 

Beneath his eyelids, Gus had the faintest impression of a recollection of a memory. Little, battered hands slamming against stone wall, the handle too high up to reach. You must stop wandering, Hunter. Titan knows where you’ll find yourself. The knowledge that he’d seen something he shouldn’t have in that lab tucked at the bottom of the stairs. 

Gus swallowed. “I won’t lock the closet. I promise.” 

“Oh – Okay. Let’s… yeah. I can do that.” 

So they did that. 

Hunter’s sleeping bag got stuffed into the closet, running halfway up the way in some sort of nest-like thing that Eda would probably approve of. The small space was too cramped for him to lay down in, but Grim didn’t seem to have any problem with curling up in the back corner, sitting up with a pillow in his arms. Gus waved when he shut the door, Grim just blinking back with bright eyes that almost seemed to glow like a Palisman’s in the dark. 

He actually did make a copy of Grim. All things considered, he didn’t have to. Belos was gone for good. The only things coming for Grim were in his own head. But his stomach felt funny at the thought of lying to his friend, so he kept up a low-level illusion as he sat with his back propped to the door.

He drifted off at some point, a testament to how exhausting the events of the night were. He didn’t even remember it happening. After a while that didn’t seem all that long, he opened his eyes, sprawled on the floor, only to be greeted by the sun shining through the windows. That must’ve been what woke him up, the light. Back home, there was a big tree covering the whole back side of his house. He’d never had to deal with that before. 

Sitting up, he stretched his arms high, feeling the muscles pop. It was only a few hours on the ground, but dang, did his neck hurt. He wasn’t sure how Hunter did it every night. Years of camping out in forests, probably. There’d been a mention here and there about some sort of mountain, if Gus was remembering right. 

He knocked on the closet door, twice softly before ending with a heavy thunk. “Hunt – uh, Grim? You awake?” He was met with silence. Checking the time on the alarm clock, he frowned. It was way too late for his friend to still be asleep. Even if he was only part of Hunter, he doubted he was capable of sleeping in past eight. 

Slowly, Gus took the handle. It opened outwards in a short arc, just barely missing where he’d been on the floor. On the other side, Grim was in exactly the same spot Gus had left him in. Crammed in the corner, pillow huddled close. Only difference was, instead of tears brimming in his eyes, they were rolling down his cheeks in shiny lines. 

“Oh, buddy…” Gus kneeled down in front of him, the carpet in here softer than the hardwood floor outside. 

Grim just pushed himself impossibly further into the corner. His legs kicked out like a bug’s, gangly and scrawny. Hunter had been small for his age, Gus knew. Belos used to say that a lot, and in response, Hunter would balance himself on his tiptoes and stuff blocks of wood toward the soles of his shoes. Belos always thought it was funny, tree relying on tree. 

“I’m sorry,” he gasped, and leaned forward, hands at his sides. The same way Hunter had done that night on the shore, when Darius had caught their escape attempt. Gus shook his head before he could pick up on stolen memories of why the heck he’d picked that up. 

“Grim, buddy,” he tried. “I just woke up. What could you have possibly done that you’d need to apologize for?” 

A sob wrenched its way out of Grim’s chest. He tipped forward even more until his head met the carpet, hands clenching and unclenching. Gus felt his heart thunder in his chest. Titan alive, how had he managed to get this freaked out? He’d been by himself all night. Or, maybe that was the problem? He hadn’t considered what isolation would do to him. 

“I’m not him,” he spat out almost angrily. Gus could hear the words flung out from his chest, hurled like spaghetti onto the wall. Then he wilted into himself, shoulders pinned together. “I – I can’t be him. Not the parts you like.” 

“I like all the parts. That’s what it means to love somebody, and I love Hunter.” 

He shook his head. “No, no you don’t. You wouldn’t if you knew…” Grim trailed off. When he angled his head just right, the tears leaking out of his black eyes almost looked dark, like oil. 

“If I knew what?” 

“I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I shouldn’t have – Titan, I need to shut up.” 

Gus worried his bottom lip, weighing his options. The thing was, he did know. Probably. He thought he knew, at least. “If I knew why you decided to call yourself Grim?” he guessed. 

His friend flinched, a full-body motion. “No,” he murmured. Then, louder, “No! No, no, no. You can’t. I – We didn’t want you to know. You couldn’t know, how the hell did you find out? How long have you known?!” His hands were shaking as they clapped over either side of his head, rocking himself in sharp movements. 

Shoot, he might’ve fumbled that one worse than Skara during their last practice. Time for some damage control. “Grim,” he said, keeping his voice even and steady. He raised one of his hands, fingers splayed. “You need to chill out. I know you’re scared, and believe me, I totally get why, but you’re just gonna hurt yourself if you keep freaking out. Wanna do the breathing trick with me?” 

“How long?” 

He bit out a sigh. “Since the Day of Unity. Now I’m serious, dude. You need to calm down before you break a rib.” 

“Already did,” he mumbled, a bit dazed, but he matched his inhale-exhales with Gus’s counts nonetheless. “Couple of times. Uncle Belos liked landing the rod there. Didn’t have to risk a head injury or fucking up our hands. We needed complete control for fine movements, he said.” Grim looked up at Gus, blinking slowly. “Oh. I shouldn’t’ve said that.” 

Titan alive. 

Gus knew for a fact that all the color had drained from his face. His own breathing came out in rattles between his lungs. Throat dry, it was all he could do to keep his muscles as still as possible, because he saw the way Grim was studying him, and he knew that any reaction he gave would define their relationship forever. 

The thing was, he’d known Belos was sketchy. Even before he took Eda, before Luz peeled back the curtain to the entire institution he’d grown up intertwined in, he hadn’t trusted the system the way most of his peers had. There was just something off about it, and when he’d put two and two together to realize where Caleb Jasper Bloodwilliams was really from, he hadn’t figured he’d had all that happy of a life. The pieces Hunter let slip aligned with what he’d thought, and that’d been that. 

He hadn’t thought that meant the head of the government was casually beating his only living family, though. 

Whenever he’d been faced with a sour implication here and there, he’d been quick to brush it off. There had to be a line, there just had to be. So maybe Hunter refused to take off his gloves, even when the weather turned scorching. Maybe he tended to duck his head when Amity spoke with her hands, maybe he was more experienced with a med kit than he was with a jump rope. That didn’t have to mean anything. 

Except it did. And it had. And Gus had been too stubborn to see it. 

Grim shivered. “I’m sorry,” he said again, quietly. His eyes flickered downwards, toward his clasped hands. “You can pretend I lied, if you want. We lie a lot, so – not like it’s anything new.” 

Gus forced a clear breath in through his nose, out his mouth. Willow’s papa had taught him that one, during one of their sleepovers. “I’m not gonna do that. And you don’t have to be sorry. Just…” He stopped before he really started. Just what? “Just, will you come to the kitchen with me? We can get some breakfast, maybe figure out what our game plan is.” 

“Game plan?” 

He shrugged, careful to telegraph the movement beforehand. “Unless something changes, we have the whole day to ourselves. We might as well do something fun! I’m just not sure what yet.” 

Grim surveyed him with an odd twist to his mouth, flexing the corners of the pillow with his fingers. “I usually clean the house when Ms. Noceda is out. There’s a list of what needs to be done and everything.” 

“I’m sure another one of you will get it done,” Gus tried, because he really didn’t think it’d be helpful to spend their free day working on chores, but Grim just shook his head. 

“No, it’s me. It’s always me.” 

Well, he seemed pretty certain. “It doesn’t have to be you, though. I’m sure Camila won’t mind if the chores get pushed back a bit, and even if she does, we can work out some sort of agreement with the other you’s. Maybe get one of them to cover today, make a chart and all that.” 

“They won’t,” Grim bit back, with surprising ferocity. Gus nearly jumped at the change. “It’s always me. Always. I’m the one who grovels and begs and cries for him to forgive us, and it’s them who gets his affection at the end.” His eyes flashed all of a sudden, the black impossibly soulless for just a moment. “You know, every time he breaks out the switch, it always ends with him embracing us and making us apologize for acting out.” 

Gus felt his stomach lurch in a somersaulted tumble. “I – ” 

“And it’s me who takes the beating, and I’m the one who has to say we’re sorry, and it’s them who get the hug.” Grim’s eyes welled up again, but Gus could tell that they were angry tears this time. Frustrated tears running toward gritted teeth. “How is that fair? What if I want a hug, where’s my hug?” 

Unsure of if it’d help, Gus felt himself raise his arms tentatively, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. That must’ve not been the right choice, though, because Grim just growled and turned, slamming his socked foot into the wall hard enough to make a thunk. “Fuck! Why is it that I’m only ever in control when we’re miserable?” 

He turned toward Gus again, and – remember that thing Gus thought earlier? That he had to be careful with how he responded, because the way he reacted would forever impact the way Grim-slash-Hunter saw him? Yeah, well, he kind of buffed that one, because Grim moved toward him, and Grim was tall, and Gus was off-guard, Grim was angry, and Gus didn’t know him, and Gus, against all logic, flinched backwards. 

Grim froze like he’d been petrified on the spot. 

And Gus remembered the few late nights where he’d managed to coax a couple words out from his roommate, and, I’m just like him. Any minute, any day now, I’m gonna hurt people just like he did. He’s in my blood. He is my blood. 

Gus swallowed past the lump in his throat. “Grim, I – ” 

Grim slammed the closet door shut.

Gus drifted around the house for a while. Normally, he liked how big it was, especially with how many of them were under the same roof. It just made him feel kind of hollow now as he wandered through the hallway. Everyone else was paired up, Amity and Caleb hunched over the spellbook with a cooking pot bobbing in the bathtub, Willow trailing behind the Golden Guard as he got up to Titan knew what. 

He didn’t particularly want to get caught up in whatever blood feud was going on between Vee and Hunter, which had him end up laying on the grass in the backyard, face pressed against the ground as he sighed. Maybe Luz was up to something cool. She’d let him tag along, probably, except then he’d have to deal with the rotten feeling in his gut over abandoning Grim. 

Hunter made it look so easy. Through his wins and losses, it was always obvious to anyone paying attention that he was so earnestly trying. For Gus, on the other hand, he’d made things so much worse. That horrified look that Grim had given him, just completely self-loathing like the mirror held every monster he’d ever been afraid of – it made him feel sick. 

The backdoor opened. There was the sound of twigs snapping underfoot. “Ay, mijo. What are you doing in the dirt?” 

Gus looked up to Camila. Her hair was still wet from her morning shower, yet she’d scooped it into her typical veterinarian-official bun anyway. Luz said she hated when she had to do that, that it creased her hair badly enough that the dent would stick until she washed it out again. It’d been happening more and more as she picked up odd shifts at the clinic. She must’ve woken up late from everything that’d happened last night. 

“I don’t really know where else to go,” he sighed. 

“Are you not feeling well?” She pressed her palm to his forehead, which was sweaty but that was more of the product of witch puberty than a human illness. 

“I’m not sick, it’s just… Hunter.” 

Camila’s nails drummed against the strap of her bag. She hesitated for just a moment before she was easing herself onto the ground, scrubs browning from the soil. It was funny, how she muttered about needing motor oil for her bad knees. Gus’s dad did the same thing whenever he lowered himself to Gus’s height, except it was snake oil instead. “You were paired with the pobrecito, yeah? The one who cried a lot?” 

He nodded, leaning his chin on his fist as a little bug crawled across his index finger. It was red with little black spots. He cracked a smile at how its legs tickled his skin. “Yeah. Grim. He was really upset, and I thought I was cheering him up, but I guess I made it worse.” He shrugged like it wasn’t a big deal, even though just thinking about what’d happened made him feel like scum. “I dunno. I don’t think I’m good at this.” 

“At what?” 

“Being, like…” he trailed off, before burying his head in his arms and mumbling, muffled, “responsible for someone else.” 

She hummed in understanding. He liked Camila, he really did. She was like if his preschool teacher met Willow’s dads; kind and compassionate, but still kickass enough to scare away the monsters that hid underneath the bed. He hoped that once they found a portal home and rescued the Isles, she’d still come see him whenever she popped by to visit Luz. 

“You’re younger than the rest of your friends, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah. I skipped some school.” He said it casually, like it was just an unimportant fun fact about him, rather than the most impactful decision of his life. Sometimes, when it was late and he was squeezing his eyes shut hard enough to hurt as he pictured every little detail about his dad, he wondered what would’ve happened if he’d stayed with his age bracket. Would he have been at the Collector’s mercy, or worse, tricked into getting a coven sigil? 

“And you don’t have siblings.” Camila looked up to the treetops, where a tiny nest is being guarded by a tweeting bluebird. Huh. He hadn’t noticed that a minute ago. “Then it makes sense that you aren’t an expert yet, nene. You haven’t had very much practice. Not like your friends, who have been watching out for you long enough for it to be easy.” 

“The excuses don’t matter, though,” he argued. Inside, Grim was probably still shut up in that closet, and it was all his fault. “Grim doesn’t care about why or how. All that matters to him is that he’s scared, and I did that.” Gus sat up, rubbing his eyes with his grimy fingers. “And I’m just leaving him to panic because I’m too scared that I’ll make it worse.” 

Camila tutted softly. “You know, when Luz was little, she used to get into all types of problems out on the playground. Baby turf wars, protests over reptilian rights, those kinds of things. I think Manny let her watch too much of his shows while I was at the night shift, I don’t know.” She laughed it off. “But I’d tell her that as long as she fixed whatever mess she made by the time I picked her up, it was water under the bridge.” 

Tilting his head, Gus thought of the itty-bitty Luz dotting the hallways and the walls of the house. He tried to picture what it would’ve been like in his Day Scare if she’d been there too. It was a hazy image, one that all but faded from reality when he tried to add Hunter in there. From the glance he’d gotten into Belos’s mind, Hunter hadn’t been young for long. It was hard to believe that Belos would’ve wasted time on a thing like prosocial growth. 

At Gus’s likely clueless expression, she chuckled again. “I’m telling you this because I’ve always been a believer that we should encourage our children to improve their surroundings any way that they can. They’re our future, after all.” Camila took Gus’s hand in her own, blistered but smooth. “You have to keep trying, mijo. If you fail, try again, and again after that. Your friend needs you.” 

He hiked up his shoulders. “I don’t know if I can be what he needs.” 

“But you can make an attempt, yeah? Sometimes, that’s all we need to get started.” Camila reached over, smoothing some of his fringe away from his forehead. She did that to all the kids, except for Hunter. Gus had caught Vee deliberately pushing her bangs into her face, only to turn and squawk when Camila inevitably fixed them. “I have to run before I’m late to work, but you keep at it. I want to hear all about it once I’m back.” 

He nodded as she made it to her feet. “Bye, Camila! Thank you!” 

“Don’t mention it, sweetheart!” 

He watched as she fished her keys out from her purse. She was just unlocking her car when she passed through the door and he couldn’t see her anymore. It left him alone with his own thoughts, which was a fate that most kids his age shouldn’t have been subjected to. He took a moment for himself before getting up himself, brushing the brambles off of his knees. 

A loose plan swirled in his mind, where he’d grab something sweet or salty from the kitchen that he could use to barter his way back into the closet. He could probably work out an apology while Grim munched on the treat, maybe even coax him out enough to take a walk down to the park. That was Gus’s usually post-panic attack routine with Hunter, at least. 

But when he stepped in from the porch, he saw that Grim had already beat him to the kitchen. 

He had his back to the entrance, which wasn’t a typical move, though Gus guessed it made sense given the fact that he was working on something in the kitchen sink. Two stacks of dishes were on either side of him, one for dirty plates and the other sparkling clean. There was still water pouring in from the spout. From the way the sink was full to the brim with steaming bubbles, it wasn’t hard to assume what Grim was doing. 

Swaying awkwardly a ways away, Gus cleared his throat. Grim didn’t flinch, which was a welcome reaction but an odd one nonetheless. Gus began to cross the distance between the two of them, making sure his feet landed loudly on the tiles. By the time he was at the sink, Grim still hadn’t moved, but Gus was close enough to see that Grim’s eyes were hazy and far-off. He was scrubbing a spoon rest with absent gestures. 

“Grim?” 

He sucked in a breath, his hands sinking a bit deeper into the water. There was a choked-off sound buried deep in his throat. “M’yeah?” 

“You alright there, bud?” 

“Yep.” 

“Oh… kay.” Gus hopped up onto the counters. He was careful not to jostle the stacks of dishes. Once he was up, he let his legs swing back and forth idly. “I wanted to – uh, apologize for earlier. I don’t know what was up with me, I wasn’t – ” 

“It’s fine.” Grim kept his eyes down low. “My fault anyway.” 

“That’s what I wanted to talk to you about! It’s no one’s fault, ‘cause, like, we’re both super traumatized kids and all that, so as long as we aren’t hurting each other, we’re allowed to, like, buff things every once in a while! You know?” 

“I’m not a kid.” 

Gus scoffed. “Okay, yeah, Mr. Sixteen. I’m sure you think you’re so mature – ” 

“Uncle Belos lowered the age of enlistment to fourteen so that he could increase military efficacy. Once you serve, it’s accepted that you’ve reached maturity.” Around a ladle, Grim’s fingers tightened until they turned as white as the bubbles. “When we go back, I’ll be tried as an adult.” 

“What? I – You never told any of us that!” 

He shrugged. “The law is open information. You could’ve figured it out yourself.” 

“Well…” Gus felt his teeth grinding despite himself. Shoot, no, he had to calm down. Hunter always did stuff like this, pushing him away instead of accepting the help. Come to think of it, it might’ve even been Grim at the wheel when he did that. “That’s a dumb law anyway. Weren’t you the youngest scout around by far? I mean, the only person I know under twenty that’s served is Mattholomule’s brother.” 

Grim’s already far-off gaze got even more dazed. He stopped scrubbing the pan in hand. “I liked Steve. Not everyone did,” he said softly, and for a second, Gus thought he was talking about other scouts. “He made us angry sometimes. Uncle Belos didn’t think he was much good at taking initiative. Just another body for our cause, that’s what he said. We always figured it was Lilith’s liking of him that kept him around for so long.” 

Gus’s fidgeting stilled. It was hard, separating Hunter from Grim from all the pieces that bridged the two. “Have you talked to Lilith since you both – um, defected?” 

“No. That’s probably for the best. She was always so annoyed with us. With me.” Grim squeezed the sponge until it was all skinny and wrung-out, before dipping it back into the water with a hiss. “Steve had my favor because when I was younger, he’d go easy on me. Slip me rations when he wasn’t supposed to, lighten my bag in favor of adding more to his. Lilith noticed every time. She always made us fix it. Always, always, always.” 

“She did some messed up stuff,” Gus agreed. He stared at the dishes Grim was washing. Something wasn’t right. “But she’s trying to be better. For Eda and Hooty and Luz. That’s what’s important.” 

Grim’s eyes welled up with heavy tears. They rolled off his face, plinking softly into the dishwater. “You know what the difference between the Head Witch of the Emperor’s Coven and the Golden Guard is? They haven’t always been one and the same.” 

He didn’t. At the same time, he wasn’t particularly interested in knowing. “Grim – ” 

“The Head of the Emperor’s Coven handles the details. The permits and the papers, all the nitty gritty that the Emperor can’t be bothered to figure out. “Grim sucked in a breath. “And the Golden Guard doles out the Emperor’s will. The punishments. We petrified people as repentance for their transgressions, sentenced souls to the Conformatorium. Their blood is on our hands, and I – I can’t get it off.” 

He was scrubbing his own palms now, a skillet sinking to the bottom of the sink. Gus watched as he dug the sponge in between every finger, roughly swabbing in-out, up-down, as he bit down on his lip until it paled. They were shaking, his hands, as he held them under the water like he was drowning them. 

“Grim, buddy.” Gus reached for his hands. He dipped his own under the water, only to immediately pull back with a cry. “Ow!” 

All the air in his lungs escaped him. Grim froze, eyes wide. Silently, he took his hands out of the water and turned off the faucet. 

“That’s boiling,” Gus croaked. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. He still wasn’t facing Gus, empty-gazed, his teeth chattering like he was cold, except he wasn’t cold, he was fucking burning himself. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You weren’t supposed to get hurt. I didn’t – I shouldn’t have. I should’ve been more careful.” 

Gus saw his fingers inching toward the water again, and he dove forward to clasp them in his own. Grim winced but he didn’t pull back, and Gus took that as go ahead to keep them there, hanging about the Titan damned sink. “Dude. I’m not – I’m not mad that I felt that. It – It was fine. I’m fine.” 

“Okay,” he whispered. The tears were flowing freely now. He sounded so small. 

“Okay,” Gus repeated. He took in a breath. Titan alive, his head was spinning. This was so far past toddler tantrums. “Now, buddy, I need you to be honest with me. If I wasn’t supposed to get hurt with that, then who was?” 

His shoulders tensed up as soon as the words were out. “It doesn’t scar,” Grim said quickly. He shoved his own palms toward Gus, like he needed to show him for himself. “It doesn’t damage me. I’m still useful, I promise.” 

Gus’s heart shattered at that, just a bit. “Grim. You can’t be doing this.” 

“You know what I am. A – A Grimwalker.” He whipped his head toward the door before turning back. “I’m different. It doesn’t do anything to me. I can handle it.” 

“But it still hurts.” 

There was a twitch. Grim stared at him as if Gus had struck him in the jaw the way Belos used to. “My lungs are stolen. It hurts to breathe sometimes.” 

Gus choked on his own breath. “Then – Then you need to tell someone!” 

The volume was too much. Of course it was. As soon as Gus’s voice rose, Grim was flinching back, ripping his hands away. He backed away in a flurry of motion, tripping over his own shoes until he landed sprawled under the floors. Even still, he scrambled so far away that the crown of his head cracked against a cabinet door. 

“I’m sorry, I’m – I’ll go back to the basement! I’ll be good, I promise. Just, please, I…” 

Gus screwed his eyes shut. He was messing this up so badly. This was why he was never in charge of issues like this. It was up to the emotionally in-tuned members of their group, like Luz or Willow. Even Amity, for all her uncharacteristic uncertainty that only bloomed when she was this far out of her depth, would know what to say. She’d read enough dictionaries, after all. 

Behind him, he heard the stairs creak, and he couldn’t help but hope someone would step into the kitchen with them. He’d take anyone, really. Vee, fleeing the crime scene after she’d finally lost her cool against her Hunter. Camila, back early from work because she’d remembered that she hadn’t turned the house gravity off, or whatever that little box in the hallway did. 

But no one came in. Because Grim was Gus’s responsibility, one that he’d been insistent he could take care of. Grim was literally part of Hunter. Looking after him was the same as protecting Hunter’s conscience or kneecap or favorite book. For all the people that had left Hunter to rot over his lifetime, it was up to Gus to be one decent break in the pattern. 

Thinking about all the awful encounters his friend had undergone, Gus eased himself onto the floor, in front of Grim. He had an idea, and however small of a chance it had at actually working, he owed it to Hunter to give it a shot. To keep trying. 

“I found out Hunter was a Grimwalker when I used Graye’s amplifier on Belos.” His pointer finger traced meaningless shapes into the floor tile as he spoke. “I got a glance at Belos’s memories. A lot of them were vague enough that I don’t understand them, but some of them…” He shrugged. “I understood more than I didn’t.” 

“You saw him,” Grim said quietly. “With the switch and the dungeon and the chains and the mountain and – and everything. All the things.” 

“Yeah. All the things.” Gus looked up at him. He could see his own reflection in Grim’s dark eyes. It was such a change from Hunter’s. “Grim, I swear to you on the Titan that I will never do any of the awful things Belos did to you.” 

Grim hiccuped, swiping at his eyes. “He promised he wouldn’t either. That if I was good enough, if I was loyal and smart enough, he wouldn’t have to. It’d get better.” 

“And I’m saying that no matter what, I’m not gonna do any of that to you. Point blank.” Grim still didn’t look convinced, so Gus let his motormouth run. “You can – I dunno, stop doing your chores or start making messes or even tell me that you don’t want to be friends anymore, and I’ll stand by what I’m telling you. I’m not gonna hurt you.” 

“What – What about the others? Mrs. Noceda and Blight and the basilisk?” 

“I’ll fight them tooth and nail to protect you, and I’ll win. You got my word, man. I’m not abandoning you on this.” 

He turned to the door again. There was a little line creasing the space between his eyebrows. It deepened as he studied the exit, nails sinking into his arms. A bit of clarity returned to his gaze. With it, his breathing picked up again, a little harsh but not too heavy. Gus didn’t offer to break out the breathing trick. 

“It’s my job to make sure he forgives us.” 

Gus thought back to what he’d said in the basement. “Yeah. You said something like that.” 

“The others, they don’t like what I have to do.” He scratched an angry white line down his skin. “It’s pathetic. I’m weak for it, that’s what they say, and I – don’t – get it.” 

“Get what?” 

Grim dug his fingers into his hair and twisted. “They hate me for the things I do, but it’s all for them. I’m benefiting them by doing these awful, horrible things, and they think I’m disgusting for it. I never asked to be their scapegoat! They need me, yet somehow I’m always the one in the wrong. It doesn’t make sense.” 

Gus reached for his hands. “Hey, buddy – ” 

“I think I’m useful in the same way as a coffin.” 

Grim removed his hands himself, slowly. He didn’t seem to have pulled out any of his hair, which was good, all things considered. They dipped back into his lap, where he stared at them silently. Gus followed his line of vision. This was one of the few times there hadn’t been gloves obstructing his view. As soon as he registered the sprawling bruises curling around his knuckles, he looked away. 

He wasn’t sure if only Grim carried these scars. 

“You know what’s good about this whole split situation? Splituation, if you will.” That at least got a small smile out of Grim as he shook his head softly. “You have the opportunity to tell someone about this. Whether it’s me or an adult like Camila, or even the other parts of yourself. You don’t have to carry this all alone.” 

Grim picked at his nail beds. “I’m not supposed to tell anyone.” 

“Well, Hunter may have been told that, but I don’t think Grim was.” 

He looked up, shocked. Then a small smile crept along his face. “Yeah. You’re right.” 

“I am. So what we’re gonna do is have some fun today. Maybe go down to the park, spend some time in the garden, something like that. And the second you want it, we can talk to whoever you want. You and me, ‘cause I got your back. If you wanna speak your piece to the shouting Hunter or the one with Willow, anyone, just say the word and I’ll help you. And if you’re not up to it, that’s alright too. Whatever’s gonna help you out.” 

“Really?” 

“Sure thing. Now, what are you thinking first?” 

Grim kept his mouth shut, but his eyes flickered toward the window. After a slow, stretching moment, he murmured, “Outside? I – I like how the sun feels. It’s not usually me in charge when we’re outside.” 

“Yeah, for sure! You know, Camila showed me where some blankets are. We can have a picnic? Oh, and make those flower crowns like Willow showed us!” 

He nodded. “I’d – like that.” 

Gus met his eyes. “But you gotta promise me that if you think you’re gonna hurt yourself on purpose again, you come talk to me.” The segue made Grim tense, but Gus pushed through. “There are ways to get through moments like that, where you feel like you have to do that. I can help you through them, just please talk to me. You’re important to me, buddy.” 

Grim sucked in a breath. “Oh. Okay. Yeah, okay. I will.” A bit stronger, he added, “I promise.” 

“Thank you. That means a lot to me, really.” Slowly, telegraphing each movement far in advance, Gus set his palm on Grim’s shoulder. When he wasn’t met with a flinch, he squeezed it softly. “In that case, can you go find a good spot out there while I run down to the basement? I’ll grab some snacks and stuff while I change out of my pajamas.” 

“Got it.” 

Grim got to his feet, balancing against the counter. Gus watched as he swung open the door and stepped outside, a satisfied breath escaping him as soon as he was out in the fresh air. He probably hadn’t gotten much of that back at Belos’s, what with all the studying and training he said he’d been responsible for. 

He didn’t want to be a creep, watching his friend without him knowing and all that, so Gus made for the basement before long. There was still Hunter’s security system sprawled across the stairs, toy soldiers lined in formation, three bouncy balls stacked in a crack, a plastic lizard angled just so. Idly, Gus counted them as he hopped over the railing – 

Only to land with a squawk, because one was missing. 

He scrambled to his feet. How many times had he watched Hunter set his trap? At least once, sometimes two or three or five times, every night since they’d gotten stuck in this realm. Even when he was freaked out of his mind, Hunter never ever forgot, and Gus hadn’t either. He’d put it up perfectly, he knew he had. 

Scanning the steps, he couldn’t figure out what was missing. There were sixteen small figures where there should’ve been seventeen, but nothing was jumping out otherwise. The stuffed penguin, the bottle cap, it was all there, except it wasn’t. He backed up a pace. Two. Then he was practically tearing apart the basement, because if he couldn’t find the lost piece, that meant – It couldn’t. It couldn’t. 

The logical part of him said that it might’ve been knocked aside when Gus went up to the ground floor, or even when Grim had. This could all be for nothing. But the more knowledgeable side reminded him that Hunter was meticulous about this. Grim especially would be, from Gus’s understanding, as he was pretty sure the whole setup was Grim’s doing. They both knew how to hop over the traps. 

There was nothing tucked behind the washer or the dryer, or scattered near the rug. He searched from the staircase to the window to the back wall four times over, then checked the steps again for good measure, and still nothing. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest as the time ticked on, because up there, Grim was waiting for him, and he couldn’t afford to ruin everything he’d built up to. 

It was as he went over to the closet again that he tripped over the blanket he’d been curled up underneath last night. He went down hard, banging his knee loudly enough that he just knew he’d bruised it. With a sigh, he folded up the linen and tossed it back over to the couch, only for a small slip of something to clatter to the ground. 

He picked it up. It was a tiny, pointy witch hat, and it was supposed to be propped up right on the other side of the basement door. Even if he’d knocked it aside when he left this morning, it couldn’t have landed underneath his untouched blanket. The only way it could’ve ended up underneath was if it’d been moved while he’d been asleep – 

“If someone was in here last night,” he mumbled. 

Chapter Text

Willow had made a mistake. 

Yeah, yeah, what a surprise. Ever since she was little, nine times out of ten someone came across her and asked why she looked so blue, she could give them that same answer. It came with the territory of being the class half-a-witch. It used to make her spitting mad, she knew. She’d stomp her tiny feet and burst into angry tears over her slime staying stagnant, all while dirty weeds shot up from the grass. 

Then, once the heat died down, she’d catch the way all her classmates stared at her. How they’d whisper into each other’s ears, giggle like it was the funniest joke in all the Isles. It’d made her stop getting mad and start getting embarrassed, because not only could she keep up in class, but she couldn’t keep her own temper in check either. 

It was manageable when Amity was by her side, nudging the book with the correct spell into her line of vision whenever she blanked. Magic was always easy for Amity, and Willow remembered lying awake at night, hoping against all hope that some of that innate talent would rub off on her, like glitter. She just needed to believe. 

And, well, they all knew how that’d turned out. Eventually, not even Amity would touch her with a ten-foot staff. Papa had stopped insisting she was a late bloomer, though he didn’t listen to her pleas to switch tracks either. It was only recently that her parents stopped being convinced that she’d grow up and work for Blight Industries. 

Finally, after finding herself and finding her true calling, she was becoming the kind of witch she wanted to be. Plant magic, flyer derby, even going toe-to-toe with the most powerful witch in all the Isles for the sake of her friends. For the sake of her friends, plural. It wasn’t easy, not by a long shot, but when she put the hours in, her success was reflected on her. She wasn’t the weak link anymore. 

Which is why she felt sick to her stomach over making someone feel less than. 

The Golden Guard was just so – ugh! The cold calculation than Amity had described, the strict rigidity from Luz, even the uncompromising stubbornness she’d observed for herself. As unhelpful as it was, Willow tended to try to separate her mental image of Hunter from all that he’d done as an instrument for Belos, and for the most part, she was pretty successful. Until now. 

He’d made his other self cry. Not just tear up, but double over and wail like the world was ending. Like the world had ended, a child god rising up and moving celestial bodies as if they were playing cards. It may have been the yellow-eyed Hunter who’d spat vitriol, but it was the Golden Guard who’d driven the knife in with his cruelty. 

He just didn’t care. 

Willow, whose heart was so full, brimming with passion and heartbreak and remorse and devotion, couldn’t even fathom that. It was just – unfathomable. Unable to be fathomed upon. Her fathoming was at an all-time low. 

So she’d leaned in close. And she’d let her voice run dry, like Amity’s when she really wanted it to hurt. And she’d called him out, let him dangle in front of everyone, just a worm on a hook. And she’d met his bluff. And she’d won. And you know what? It wasn’t even hard. Not even a tiny bit. 

But it was a mistake. Because it was exactly what she’d been on the other end of her whole life, what she’d sworn she’d change about the world if only she had half the chance. When everyone’s gazes had passed from them, onto the next Hunter, the Golden Guard had looked up at her, and for a fraction of a second, he’d looked scared. Of her. Of Half-a-Witch Willow. 

She’d nearly vomited into Camila’s tupperware of albondigas on the spot. It’d just made her feel so slimy. 

When she left the others, the Golden Guard had followed her. He was perfectly in step with her, she noticed. If she closed her eyes, just by the sound alone, she wouldn’t be able to tell that there was anyone with her. Their footsteps just melded into one. Had he picked that up organically, or had Belos made him practice for hours and hours in that throne room? 

She went to the living room. It was a quick toss-up whether or not to sit first, but when the Golden Guard didn’t make a move for the couch, she realized she had to be the one to take a seat and nod at the other end of the cushions. The Golden Guard didn’t hesitate to follow her directions, a notice that made her stomach twist even worse. 

When he was settled, he didn’t say a word. Just kept his mouth pressed shut, looking at her with single-minded focus. She didn’t have any doubt that if Luz were to come in with a chicken suit and pair of roller skates – again – he wouldn’t pay her the slightest bit of attention. Against all logic, she couldn’t help but picture Belos in her mind, flesh rotting off his terror-farming bones, and ask, Did he look at you like this? Did you hurt him until he forgot this isn’t the way it’s supposed to be? 

Willow cleared her throat. “Um, it’s late enough that I don’t think either of us will be getting much sleep. Plus, Camila has that whole rule about boys and girls bunking in separate rooms, but I’m supposed to be watching you, so – not really sure what we’ll do about that, but it’s tomorrow’s problem.” 

The Golden Guard blinked. 

“Haha,” she chuckled awkwardly, “yeah. Anyway, I’m pretty sure Gus and Grim went downstairs, and I heard something about Amity and her double working on a potion antidote. Titan knows what Luz is up to, and I don’t want to get in the middle of Vee and her Hunter, so that leaves us in here.” 

He didn’t respond. Willow wasn’t sure he was breathing, actually, which was crazy. He had to be breathing. Except, when she studied his ribcage, it was dead still. 

She swallowed. “I figured we could play on Luz’s Switch? I don’t really understand the controls, but neither does Hunter, so it evens out. There’s a couple slower games where we can work together to solve puzzles, or some more intense ones if you want to get your blood pressure up. We can even – ” 

Willow cut herself off. She had to, on account of her not being entirely able to move her mouth. On account of Hunter’s lips on hers, the pressure ever so slightly herding her chin up, the crown of her head resting against the back of the chair. It was good. It was really good. Without thinking much of it, she braced her palm on Hunter’s chest, only to freeze. His lungs were barely moving, but his heart was as quick as a wasp in a jam jar. 

“Wait, wait, stop.” She pushed herself back, scrambling so far away that she nearly toppled off the couch cushions. Hunter – the Golden Guard, Titan alive – stayed exactly where he was, staring at her with wide eyes. There wasn’t any excitement in his eyes, like the fizziness that’d been sparking in Luz and Amity’s whenever they pecked each other on the cheek. This was just – emptiness. 

Willow felt the tears rise. Her first kiss, and the boy she’d shared it with looked like he’d been filing taxes. 

“Why did you do that?” she hissed, swiping at her eyes in sharp, angry movements that must’ve left marks behind. By the Titan, Willow swore she could actually feel the bile in her heart threaten to burn her alive from the inside out. Dad was right. Boys were awful, just awful. 

Quietly, like he was giving a bullshit field report, the Golden Guard said, “You’re in charge. I’m supposed to do what you want. What makes you happy.” He shrugged, bored. “You have a crush on Hunter, don’t you?” For a second, all the thoughts in Willow’s head vanished, and she was left gaping. The Golden Guard just nodded like that was confirmation. Was it? “Well, he and I are the same in that regard.” 

Willow opened her mouth. Closed it. Resisted the urge to grab an embroidered throw pillow and scream into the downing until she’d upchucked her own guts. She settled for holding her head in her hands and shaking her head softly. How could it be that just that morning, her hand had brushed against Hunter’s while they both made for the butter knife, and she’d smiled through the fluttering butterflies? 

“You felt scared,” she croaked. Her mouth was dry. The realization just made her feel worse, because had she kissed the Golden Guard with raisin lips? 

Flatly, he said, “An improperly suppressed physiological reaction. It won’t happen again.” Then, as if he meant to prove it, he leaned forward, one hand on her shoulder. 

She had to shrug it off in what felt like a millisecond to keep him from following through. “No, stop it.” Willow got to her feet. She began to pace from one end of the short, shagged rug to the other. As she turned, she couldn’t help but replay just about every interaction she’d ever had with Hunter. What had she missed that’d devolved into this? “You – You didn’t want to kiss me. Don’t want to kiss me.” 

“It doesn’t really matter what I want.” 

She stopped midway through the turn. “What are you talking about?” 

The Golden Guard stood. Willow felt herself hold her ground, though her toes curled against the floor, prepared to pounce. There were fifteen plotted pants on the ground floor alone. It was fine, she was fine. She was grown enough to protect herself now. “I’m to serve my commanding officer. That’s always been my emperor, but in the case that he is unavailable, it is only just that I default to the next most powerful witch. That’s you.” 

“I don’t want you to kiss me,” she said sharply. It felt important that she spell that one out. “Don’t do it again. Do you understand me?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“And don’t call me that!” 

“Of course.” Then, before she could do a thing about it, the Golden Guard was kneeling at her feet. One leg propped at a ninety degree angle, his head tilted downwards. He wasn’t meeting her eyes anymore, she realized. This was just like how he always looked on his uncle’s broadcasts, she realized. This was what he’d molded him into, she realized. 

“Hunter,” she tried, and immediately caught herself. A sob caught in her chest, and she had to cough it out like spoiled pollen before it suffocated her whole. “Golden Guard. Don’t – Did you ever want to kiss me?” 

It wasn’t what she meant to say. She’d intended to tell him to stop kneeling like a forgotten worshipper, to get up off the dirty floor Luz hadn’t vacuumed in three weeks, despite what the chore chart proclaimed. But when she saw the boy in front of her, all she could think of was Hunter, who blushed so often for her, only for her, to the point that she’d been certain they were going to end up together. 

“No,” he said simply, as if the single syllable wasn’t doing years of damage to Willow’s psyche solely by existing. “Not once. It sounded horrible, to be honest. Like shoveling bodies into a furnace after the end of a battle. The bladder completely empties itself when a witch dies, did you know that?” 

Like touching corpses. That was what Hunter pictured when he thought of kissing Willow. 

She couldn’t help it. The next time she blinked, Willow found herself sitting on the floor, back to the coffee table as she pulled her legs up close to her chest. She tugged her kneecaps toward her eye sockets until she saw sparks in the dark expanse. The tears threatened to run down her face, but she didn’t let them. They wouldn’t do any good. 

There was a half-hearted effort at mustering that anger that’d risen when she was little, but it slipped through her grip before she could really gather it. She hiccuped, once, twice, before clapping her palms over her mouth. It wasn’t even that Hunter didn’t like her back the way she liked him that bothered her. It was the fact that he seemed to be disgusted by her very existence. 

Awkwardly, the Golden Guard reached out and patted her slippered foot. When she looked up at him, she saw the first notable expression on his face all night. His eyes were crinkled at the corners, a pained frown settled over him. It was discomfort. The thought nearly sent her doubled over again. Of course this was the only response she could elicit from him. 

“It’s not your fault,” he said quietly. Willow just huffed. “No, really. It’s not. Hunter doesn’t – We don’t feel like that for anyone. Ever.” 

“Feel like what?” 

He made a vague gesture with his hands. “Kissy. The need to be more physical than a hug. You know.” 

It clicked. Oh. Hunter was like Lilith. He was more interested in being the type of friend who’d stick by your side for the rest of your life than capping off the relationship with a ring. Easing out a breath, she leaned back. Thank the Titan. That was a much better alternative than – than being so uniquely unlovable that she’d revolted one of her closest friends. 

Then she replayed the last few minutes in her head, and all the relief disappeared. “You felt scared,” she said again. “I felt your heart, it was way too fast.” 

Again, the blank, detached look to the Guard returned. “I do things while scared all the time. It comes with my responsibilities as the Emperor’s right hand. Cowardice has no place in my coven.” 

Mouth dry, she asked, softly, “Have you ever done that before?” 

“No.” Then, because it’d be too simple for that to be it, he added, “The Emperor never asked that of me. I would, though. If he wanted it.” The Guard squared his shoulders. “Serving my Emperor is the greatest, most imperative mission of my life, and I will complete whatever requests he gives of me, by the Titan’s name.” 

“That’s,” Willow breathed, acid in her lungs, “horrible.” 

“It’s what I was created to accomplish.” 

“No,” she said, and she was back on her feet before she knew it. There was a buzzing in her fingers that she couldn’t seem to shake. “You were created to see the sun and to make friends and to laugh and to smile and to be happy! You don’t owe loyalty to anyone who treats you the way Belos did!” 

The Guard just gave her a cool look. “That’s idiotic. What other purpose does a tool have than to serve its owner?” 

“You’re not a tool. You’re a person.” 

“I’m not,” he said dismissively. “When it came down to it, Hunter wasn’t. He leeched onto others for survival, more akin to clinging ivy than a soul. I’m just a shred of a scrap, so how would I somehow gain personhood when my source doesn’t maintain the same privilege?” 

“Hunter’s a person too!” she snapped. Titan alive, it was like leading a raw-king horse to water. Try as she might, she just couldn’t get the regal beast to drink. “You see this? You feel it?” She snatched the Guard’s hand in hers, pressing it over his heart. It’d slowed drastically, but it still thrummed almost on rhythm. “That’s your proof. That’s how I know you’re a person.” 

“What about Viney’s griffin? Or a selkidomus? The heart of a beast still beats.” 

“They still deserve to be treated with respect and dignity. You deserve those things. They’re not conditional.” 

The Guard rolled his eyes. “Maybe you’re weaker than I thought.” 

Something in Willow cracked. “I’m kind,” she snapped, her eyes flashing with a glow even she could see. The petunias on the counter thrashed. “I have a good heart, and I care about people, and I refuse to let myself dehumanize another witch just because they’re too brainwashed to see the truth. And if you have a problem with that, then get in line!” 

She stilled the writhing buds with the swipe of her hand. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the Guard open his mouth, only to close it with a snap when she fixed him with a sharp look. In one quick motion, she snatched Luz’s Switch off the table and thrusted it in his direction, not budging until he took it from her. 

“There. Play on that or take a nap, I don’t care. Just don’t bug anyone until the sun comes up.” She took a seat on the couch, already cracking open a book. It was the one on mammals Hunter had been reading. She had the feeling that the Guard wouldn’t remember very much about it. 

Slowly, the Guard eased himself onto the other end of the couch. He looked down at the console in his hands like there was some mystic, unseen property to it that he wasn’t familiar with. “I don’t understand you,” he said. 

“Back at you,” she said, and turned the page.

Willow wished she could say it got easier. But that would be a lie, and she tried to reserve those for when it really mattered. 

The night was bad. The book she’d chosen had seemed interesting enough when she’d had Hunter reading out the chapters, animatedly interjecting with his own takes and tidbits on the creatures, but without his extra input, the words started swimming around her head. Her head dipped down once or twice without her notice, though she was quick to snap awake as soon as she realized. Every time she checked, the Guard had yet to move, though, so she wasn’t too hard on herself for it. 

Apparently, in taking her stance on, like, basic humanity, the Guard had decided he didn’t have to obey her without question. Which was good in theory, but left her with quite a few issues in practice. The instant the sun rose enough that she didn’t need to use Luz’s weird, trapped glass light to see anymore, he was done sitting still. 

He set the Switch down carefully on the cushion beside him and got up, not speaking a word to Willow as he went down the hallway. Cursing under her breath, she rushed to follow him, sparing a split second to glance at what he’d been up to for the last few hours. She almost lost her footing right then and there. It was the Sims, still open on the character creation page. Had – Had he been up to that all night? 

The little model on the screen was a tall, pale man dressed in flowy clothes. Part of some wizard or medieval expansion pack, Vee had explained, though why they would settle for only moderately evil was beyond Willow. There were little lines running up the character’s face, almost buried by his long, ash blonde hair. Willow bit down on her lip until it hurt. 

The Golden Guard had spent hours recreating Belos. 

She didn’t have time for this. She kept staring for another minute anyway. 

A quick glance told her that the Guard wasn’t in the kitchen or the garden. She considered checking the basement, but she remembered how Hunter always freaked out when someone entered the space unprompted, so she decided to save that for last. Had anyone slept in the girls’ bedroom last night? It was worth seeing for herself, so she took the stairs up to the top floor. 

It was only when she entered the upstairs bedroom that she noticed all the clutter lining the floor. Coats, umbrellas, scarves. They looked like they’d been tossed haphazardly, without any regard for where they fell. It sent prickles running down the back of her neck. She followed the mess forward, toward the closet. 

To the closet where the Guard was dangling from the ceiling, what in the Boiling Sea? 

“What are you doing?” Willow reached up to rub her eyes. Ugh, it was too early for this. She was already counting down the hours until she could go back to bed. 

The Guard just grunted, readjusting his grip on the clothes rod. He raised himself upwards, until his chin just cleared the horizontal pole, before slowly lowering himself back down. Then he was at it again, eyes boring a hole in the wall straight ahead. There was barely room for him behind that small door, which must have been why he’d cleared all the clothes from the inside. 

“You know that I have a set of weights in the backyard, right? I mean, Hunter was there when I used my allowance to buy them, so you must know.” When the Guard kept his teeth gritted, muscles shaking as he completed another chin-up, she took a seat on the ground and kept chatting. “How does that work, by the way? Like, did the potion split Hunter into five, or have you guys always sort of been this way?” 

The Guard raised himself high above the bar and stayed there. His face was turning red, though it was kind of always like that. “Hunter wasn’t aware of the split, but we’ve always been there. There’s certain situations where we know to take charge.” 

“Is everyone like that? Or just Hunter because… you know?” 

“Because he’s been forged by the fire of the Isles themselves in order to achieve his true purpose,” the Guard said solemnly. 

Willow bristled. “Because he’s been through some awful things.” 

“We’re saying the same thing.” 

“No,” she bit out. “We’re not. How can you view everything Belos has done like it was a good thing? I saw the bandages underneath Hunter’s shirt when he changed into his Emerald Entrails uniform. I hear how he screams at night. He was terrified. I mean, just look at Grim! Clearly he’s the embodiment of all the genuine trauma you’ve all undergone. How are you so oblivious?” 

The Guard dropped to the ground. His feet were flat against the floor as he slunk forward, breathing heavy. He didn’t stop moving until he was right in front of Willow. In an instant, she regretted sitting down. It made it terribly easy for him to tower over her. Despite herself, her hand slid toward the pack of seeds she kept in her back pocket. 

“I know exactly what he did. I remember the fire poker he used to shatter our ribcage if we were dishonest. I remember the cupboard he locked us in to teach us a lesson on gratitude, and the rope he bound our hands with when we were in there. Every punishment and terror, I remember it all.” The Guard blinked, slow. “And I don’t care, because it’s not my job to care. It’s my responsibility to see through the fear and glean the lessons we need to learn and keep us alive.” 

Willow’s throat was dry when she said, “Do you actually enjoy obeying him? Or did he just teach you to feel that way until you couldn’t tell the difference?” 

The Guard offered her a hand. She took it, and he helped haul her onto her feet. “Does it matter?” 

“I think so.” 

He quieted for a moment, clearly thinking it through. Through his furrowed brows, Willow was just barely able to make out his eyes. They looked painful, that shade of red. It made her think that every time he blinked, he’d begun to bleed. They were nothing like Hunter’s soft, warm magenta. 

“I think that the moment Hunter learned obedience, I came into existence. It’s all I’ve ever known, but not all Hunter’s ever known.” His gaze went distant, like he wasn’t all that focused on what he was seeing. “I’m actually not sure if I exist without that loyalty. Maybe one day, he’ll finally shirk his training for good, and then I won’t be around anymore.” He met her eyes. “I bet you’d appreciate that.” 

“I love all the parts of Hunter.” 

“But you don’t like all of them.” 

“Why,” Willow said, “are you so intent on making me hate you?” 

The Guard gave her a dry look. “That’s how it’s always been with my superiors. Lilith, Kikimora, Belos. I’m not making any attempt. It just happens.” 

“You don’t think Belos liked you?” That didn’t track. Willow remembered holding Hunter close on the bathroom tiles, tightening her grip as her friend whispered that he was nice sometimes, that he made it okay sometimes, that it was really just Hunter’s fault for ruining things. Hunter would always shake off the daze and come to his senses sooner or later, but the musings stuck with Willow. 

The Guard wrinkled his nose. It was more animated than he'd been in the whole time Willow had known him. “He’s the most powerful witch in the Isles. I’m a rusted staff in his eyes. Of course he doesn’t like me. But if I make my efforts worth his while, he tolerates me, and that’s more than enough. That keeps us safe.” 

It made sense, as confusing as it was. In the rare instances she managed to coax Hunter into talking about the Emperor’s Coven, much less Belos himself, he tended to be very contradicting from one moment to the next. One second, he’d be describing how little affection and attention Belos had given him, so much so that Hunter had driven himself crazy searching for so much as a scrap. But the next, Belos was known to suffocate Hunter under the weight of his scrutiny, showering him with kindness that kept Hunter eager to keep obeying. 

What if all the pieces of Hunter viewed Belos differently? She’d heard them refer to the man in more than one way. Uncle versus My Emperor. Just between the Golden Guard and Grim alone, it was night and day. Willow had a feeling that if she really studied the Hunter with the golden eyes against the Guard, she’d be able to pick out subtle differences. 

“Do you like him?” she asked. It probably wasn’t important. It might be important. It could be important. But it probably wasn’t. She was just curious, and a little revolted by it all. 

The Guard pressed his lips into a thin little line. “I would lay down my life for him if it meant the slightest satisfaction in his days. Every breath I take, every decision I commit myself to, is made solely in the hopes of serving him. I am his extension. To betray him is to betray the very bones he has given me.” 

“But do you like him?” Willow pressed. 

He frowned. “No. Why would I?”

The Guard marched down to the kitchen next. Willow followed him, faintly hearing voices in the other rooms. Amity, she was pretty sure. From what Willow could understand, almost everyone was still fast asleep. Hunter had always been the outlier in rising with the sun. Willow was pretty sure that last time someone had tried to wake up Vee pre-brunch hours, they’d descended the stairs with four incisor-deep bite marks buried into their forearm. 

In unrelated news, Luz should probably change out her bandages one of these days. 

By the time Willow caught up to him, the Guard was already all but tearing the cabinets apart, with no regard for the others asleep in the house. Willow’s eyes flickered from the diced spinach to the frozen strawberries, and finally right at the blender in the Guard’s hands before she caught on. 

“Absolutely not,” she said. Already plugging the appliance in, the Guard shot her a tired glare, then jammed the tail into the wall anyway. “People are still asleep! You know we’re only supposed to use the stove and the oven this early.” 

“It’s late enough,” he said dismissively. He started to spoon the yogurt into the blender. 

“We were up past one last night.” 

“And whose fault was that?” 

Willow swallowed. The last thing she needed was a guilt-ridden Luz tucking herself away from everyone on top of all that was already going on. “That’s not fair. Don’t be like that.” When the Guard didn’t look up from the banana he was peeling, she added, “Besides, isn’t it your fault too?” 

“No.” 

“No?” 

“No,” he repeated. The Guard reached toward the block of knives Camila kept on the counter. He took out one with a wooden base that Willow was pretty sure had lived life as part of a charcuterie board at one point. It had a crooked edge to the blade that always made her nervous. “That was Grim toward the end.” 

“And in the beginning?” 

He hesitated, fingers curled around the knife. “Phillip, mostly. A little bit of Grim, maybe me? I don’t…” he trailed off. “It’s not very clean-cut. I mean, it’s not like you flip a switch and one of us is in charge.” 

“Then what is it like?” 

“Like – looking back, I can tell who would probably do what. If it’s Grim, it’s a lot of crying and heavy breathing. Caleb usually gets the happy moments, Phillip the mushy ones.” 

Willow popped a blueberry into her mouth. Unlike the ones she grew on her windowsill, this one didn’t immediately bring tears to her eyes. “And you’re the one behind the mask,” she guessed. “Aren’t you?” 

He didn’t answer. Willow watched as he tossed the fruit into the blender, along with a handful of spinach. There were some chia seeds that’d been soaking overnight that went in too. It was the meal Hunter tended to eat on weekday mornings. Saturdays usually involved him, Gus, and one other lucky participant braving the pancake griddle, and Camila liked to make them breakfast on Sundays. 

“You’re a lot less – stern than you were last night,” she said conversationally as the Guard filled the blender to the halfway mark with oat milk. It was a better choice than the alternatives that first came to mind; rigid, strict, severe. Was there always a part of Hunter that was inclined to be so distinctly unfriendly? 

“You’re not my Emperor,” he answered. “You’re closer to my age, with more of an obvious attachment for Hunter. It’s better to act this way.” 

“You’re acting?” 

He looked at her. “Is it acting to make decisions regarding your behavior that you know will elicit certain reactions from your audience?” 

Wasn’t that the million snail question. She thought about Amity, who’d turned on her for her own sake. After a while, the half-hearted insults began to strike true, and it’d become a wonder that they’d ever been friends in the first place. Had she been acting? Or had she just been practicing a new way of life until it became second nature? 

“Thank you,” she said quietly. 

The Guard froze, one finger pressed over the power button. “For what?” 

“For protecting him. That’s what you do, right? You kept him alive.” Willow took in a breath. Then another. “Hunter is very important to me. Even if – Even if we don’t feel the same way on certain levels, he’s still one of my closest friends. I’m really, really glad that he made it through all the scary stuff that happened to him when he was younger to get him here today. So, you know. Thanks.” 

He just stayed so very still, giving her a look she couldn’t quite decipher. “I wasn’t trying to keep him safe,” he said evenly. “I was obeying higher orders, from the most powerful being the realm has ever seen. It wasn’t strategy, it was common fucking sense.” 

“I think,” Willow said, matching the Guard’s rising tone, “that you got so good at repeating Belos’s nonsense, some got stuck in your head and you actually started believing it.” 

The Guard’s face turned a bright red. With his eyes, it made him look – wrong. “I’m not the hapless victim you’re responsible for rescuing. There is blood on my hands. I did bad things, and I knew they were bad, and I didn’t regret any of it. I don’t regret it, because given the chance, if it was the enemy or me, I’d do it all over again.” 

“What if it wasn’t?” 

He hesitated. “Huh?” 

“What if,” Willow said again, “your life wasn’t on the line? If there was no one forcing you to do these things, if it was just up to you and your own conscience?” She gave him a hard look. “Would that change anything?” 

The Guard looked down at his own palms. He’d gotten blueberry juice on them. Willow knew that if he didn’t wash them before it dried, the dye would turn his skin a splotchy, purple-blue. Like bruises. “I don’t know.” 

“That’s an easy answer. Do you have a better one?” 

“I’m a soldier,” he stressed. “My orders always, always supersede my own wishes. I’ve never had a need for hypotheticals!” 

“Don’t you have a duty to disobey?” She remembered representatives at school from the Emperor’s Coven alluding to that when the more oppositional students began to narrow their eyes at the institution. Thank you, Viney. Truly an anarchist among archivists. 

“No. What kind of servant chooses which orders to follow and which to ignore?” 

“Well, are you a servant or a soldier?” 

“Both! A servant to the throne and a soldier for my Emperor.” 

“So you did the things you did out of obligation for your commanding officer?” 

“Yes, but – I still did them. It’s still my actions. I chose to keep myself safe over the nameless witches I was leaving to the gallows. I was selfish, Willow, and I still don’t care about those I doomed.” 

Willow sighed. “You weren’t just saving yourself,” she muttered, half under her breath. 

The Guard pulled a face. “Excuse me?” 

“It was for Phillip too, wasn’t it? And Caleb, Grim, and Hunter. You were protecting the parts of him that couldn’t protect themselves.” Willow grabbed his hand. There was a quick, barely suppressed flinch, but he didn’t pull it away. From the way he was staring at her, though, with wide eyes and a stiff movement to his breathing, he probably wanted to. 

“What are you…?” 

Willow squeezed his fingers. “How could I possibly blame you for surviving?” 

There was a moment when neither of them moved. They just watched each other like they were the only beings in the universe, linked only through this tiny bridge from one to the other. If this was a few days ago with Hunter, Willow might have leaned in for a kiss she assumed would be well appreciated. 

This was now, though, and it was the Golden Guard, so it wasn’t a surprise when he ripped away his hand and backed up fast enough to slam against the cupboards. 

“Because it was at the expense of those who deserved it more,” he spat, and left the kitchen.

She didn’t wait for him to get into something he really shouldn’t. The instant the back door swung closed, Willow was shouldering her way through it. She toed off her slippers and left them in the basket beside the threshold. Then she stepped onto the soft grass and took a moment to breathe. Her birthday was during the rainy season, but Papa said that ever since she was a baby, it always cleared up on her special day. Nature had the tendency to speak to her like an old friend. 

Well, not exactly, since Amity was her oldest friend, and she always tackled every conversation like it was a competition. 

The Guard was balancing on the highest branches of the maple tree when she caught up to him. His brow was furrowed in a deep enough ridge that she could see it even from all the way down here as he stretched toward an overhanging structure. It was the mini home they’d built for the palismen, a combination bird house-nest project they’d spent a week crafting. Or, at least Vee had, during woodshop on the days she went to school instead of Luz. 

“What are you doing with them?” she called up, already planning on how she could knock him out of the tree without disturbing the still slumbering companions. 

The Guard gritted his teeth and stuck one of his feet out further, arms stretched far apart. “I want to spar,” he huffed as his face warmed with exertion, “except the bird won’t listen.” 

Willow folded her arms. “Palismen rarely do what strangers tell them to do.” 

“I’m not a stranger! He’s never left Hunter alone a damn day in his damn life, and he’s got to be too birdbrained to tell the difference between me and him.” The Guard swiped at the palismen home, only for Emmiline to stick her head out through a window and sink her teeth into his wrist. Huh. Willow didn’t think Emmiline had teeth. Good for her. 

The Guard hissed, shuffling back on instinct, only for a cluster of twigs to snap under his foot. With a curse, he went down. Willow moved to cushion his fall under a bed of snapping-dragons, but the Guard beat her to the punch. He managed to catch himself on a stronger branch, hooking one hand so that he was launched forward rather than straight to the ground. He hit the ground unsteady, though he rolled with his momentum to end up relatively scot-free. 

Lying face-up on the grass, the Guard covered his face with his palms and groaned. Whether it was out of embarrassment or exhaustion, Willow wasn’t entirely sure. Either way, she offered him a hand, which he didn’t take. Hmm. He’d given her the same courtesy earlier, so that was odd. 

“You said that it’s usually Caleb in the fun moments and Phillip…” she trailed off before she could fully make her point. “What was that word you used? Muddy? Murky?” 

The Guard frowned. “You’re saying he knows the difference.” 

“Pretty much, yeah.” 

“So how do I get around that?” 

“You don’t.” Willow just shrugged when the Guard shot her an affronted look. “What? You can’t brush past someone’s boundaries just because they don’t conform to your own wants. If Flapjack isn’t interested in being around you, then that’s his choice and your problem.” 

“But I want to spar.” 

“Then we work around him.” Come to think of it, there was an idea along this vein that she’d been meaning to show Hunter. Maybe it’d be better to check by Luz if she was alright with it being for the Guard instead, but she was probably busy enough with her own charge right now. Might as well ask for forgiveness rather than permission. “You know what? Give me one second. I’ll be right back.” 

She heard movement in the kitchen that she largely ignored as she marched on up to Luz’s room. It was in a state of somewhat cleanliness, somewhat mess, with not a single person ever knowing where anything was. Vee had her own system of organizing that didn’t exactly match with Luz’s, and the two had a gift for abandoning all communication whenever something got lost. Willow managed to find her prize in the closet before long though, and she hurried back downstairs. 

When she got back, the Guard was already on his feet. Good. It made it that much easier to toss him a wooden sword. 

He caught it without hesitation. Of course he did. He was probably playing with weapons before cards. He did study it once it was in his hand, though, running his finger along the string of characters carved into the side of where the blade would be, dyed a dark midnight blue against the unvarnished wood. 

“Why are the times only moderately evil?” he finally said, slicing the sword through the air as he adjusted his grip. 

“No clue, but Luz has got a couple of these that we can lose.” She was very insistent on them leaving alone the one with the genuine blade. On cue, Camila had paled and shuddered at the mere mention of the tool. “I’m not as experienced with swords, but I’m guessing you aren’t either.” 

“Mastery was mandatory upon entry into the Emperor’s Coven according to an old edition of the handbook, though it’s rarely touched upon afterwards in favor of staff training.” He tightened his grip. “I haven’t practiced since I was a child.” 

“So, like, three years ago?” 

He glared at her. She beamed back. Then she charged. 

Full disclosure, Willow was a lot better than she admitted. The weight of the sword in her hand was strange, but not that much more difficult to wield than her staff, especially with Clover typically perched on the end. Not to mention, she felt a connection to the wood almost as strong as her usual bond with her plants. It was enough that she was able to fall into muscle memory as she jabbed the pointed end toward the Guard’s heart. 

To his credit, the Guard didn’t falter over the sudden start. He batted away her strike with the flat end of the would-be blade – ha, wood-be blade. As soon as she reared her hand back to swat him again, he dove to the side so fast that she nearly thought he’d done one of his high-speed dashes again. But Flapjack was still in the bird house, so it must have been real. 

Nearly shoulder-to-shoulder with Willow, the Guard jammed his elbow into her hand, hard. So hard that she nearly fumbled the sword she was holding. She had to blindly bash her free fist against him as she raced to steady her grip. One of her hits found purchase against his shoulder or chest, she wasn’t totally sure. The other missed wildly as he easily ducked under her wild attempts. 

With a momentum-building twist, the Guard smacked the wooden blade against her ribs. It was the side of the sword that collided against her, though it was still forceful enough that she felt the wind get knocked out of her. She felt herself stumble until her shins hit the ground. Still trying to regain her breath, she drove her foot into the cluster of movement she sensed dancing in the edges of her vision. 

She hit something tough and bony. The Guard’s knee, she distantly realized. Biting down on the inside of her cheek, she hauled herself on the ground at around the same time as the Guard did, who was sporting a pained expression she was likely mirroring. At the sight of him, Willow felt a giggle eek out. She moved to drop the sword, there was no sense of them both getting bruised over something so trivial, but the Guard lunged forward at the motion and she reacted. 

“Fuck!” 

The Guard cupped a palm over his nose, which didn’t do nearly enough to keep the blood from pouring out from his face. 

“Oh my Titan!” Willow rushed forward, her pajama bottoms absolutely gaining grass stains from how quick she was to dive to his side. “Are you alright?” With a snap of her fingers, out popped up a cropping of, uh – aloeviating vera, or was it alleviating aloe vera – no, it was aloeviarting – healing plant! It was a healing plant that she knew the properties of by heart, backwards and forwards, that she couldn’t muster up the name for as Hunter’s blood got all over her. 

“I’m fine. You don’t need to worry so much.” The Guard tried to push her hands away, but she just snatched a wider leaf from the cropping and pressed it against his nose. Immediately, the gushing flow eased out into a slow trickle that she knew would quit entirely soon enough. “You’re fast.” 

“Lots of practice.” Running from bullies, running toward danger, even flyer derby. So much of her world had to be done quickly, before time ran out. Even her own growth had been on a timer that’d brought consequences once it’d finished. Her whole life, it felt like she’d been racing against the clock. 

“You would’ve been good in my coven.” 

She tutted. “Because I’m capable of hurting people?” 

“Because you’re easy to believe in.” At that, Willow stilled. She looked down at the Guard. He was already looking back at her. “What? It’s true. You’re strong enough to conceivably follow and kind enough to convince people to want to follow you. The perfect blend of empathy and ruthlessness. I didn’t fully see it before, but I do now. You’ve changed my perspective.” 

In the grass, the healing plant sunk back into the soil. The dirt was disturbed where it’d sprouted. 

Willow clenched her fists. “Last night, you kissed me because you thought I wanted it. I told you that it wasn’t the case. This morning, you talked to me like a real person. You let me beat you in a spar with a weapon you’ve already mastered. You validated my views on compassion and courage.” She peeled back the leaf. There was a thin crack in the skin it’d covered, but it was otherwise good to go. “You’re so full of griffinshit.” 

The Guard tensed. “I didn’t – ” 

“Stop living your life for other people because you’re unhappy with the kind you are.” 

Bloody leaf clenched between her fingers, Willow got up and walked away. She heard the Guard calling out behind her, but she didn’t respond. At the end of the day, Willow wasn’t Luz. She wasn’t going to keep throwing her being at the wall at the expense of herself. If the Guard wasn’t receptive to her help, then that was that. She could only do what she could do, and surrounding herself with a liar wasn’t a productive use of her limited time. 

When she turned to close the door, Willow noticed a stream of blood running down the Guard’s knee. She must have torn a hole straight through the pajama pants with her kick, because she could see his scraped knee through the gap in the fabric just fine. He wasn’t tending to it, though, just staring at the fence ahead. 

She remembered what Hunter had said to her that first night, when she’d peeled back his gloves to reveal the half-rotted, already cauterized wound that was the Emperor’s Sigil. He’d hissed between his teeth when her finger tips had brushed the marking. When she’d asked him why in the Isles he hadn’t said anything, he’d just sighed. 

Belos always told me that I was responsible for cleaning up my own messes, he’d admitted. And if I couldn’t fix them, then I should keep them quiet. 

Willow looked at the Guard’s bloody knee. In the kitchen, she opened the cabinet underneath the sink and took out the first aid kit. There. He had the tools to help himself, but he had to make the effort to do so for himself. Not for anyone else. She glanced back at the yard and took a seat at the table, keeping an eye on him from a distance. 

It was as close as she could get to someone like him.