A/N: Excuse excuse excuse. Busy busy- yada yada. Let's talk about the new episodes dammit! I've been watchin them and dang, I'm very pleased with the new season. And what's that off in the distance? Why it's lore of course. I honestly never thought they'd do anything with King but it looks like he might be an important narrative character. Also Lumity has been, like, really really confirmed and it's sickeningly cute. All in all the season's starting off very strong and each episode continues to prove to me that Lilith = the most compelling character thus far and therefore is my favorite. I really hope the rest of the season continues to impress. Though I am sad to see her stepping away for a few episodes.
I'm definitely noticing a pattern of themes revolving around complications with parent-child relationships. A surprisingly mature topic that I have no doubt much of the fanbase will misconstrue in unhealthy ways.
Boy I can't wait.
Are expectations realistic?
It's a stupid question; of course they are. Yet even still -expectations are a flawed concept universally regarded as being 'important' and necessary. Which they are. But is it logical? Perhaps so but many find the idea to be true lunacy and their freedom of mind comes from the abandonment of such an idea. All the of messiahs and all of the Buddha's of the world have set themselves free; but is it not hypocrisy?
The ones who claim freedom from the world did so with a goal in mind. An expectation to be an example for those to follow. Just with simple thought the greatest of the great are still bound and latched to the waking world nearly all are souls are trapped within.
Even the great gods of Oblivion, how they scoff at that description, are not free save for the one who has embraced true freedom.
And from his example many small, insignificant sacks of animated meat have been able to understand and experience true liberation.
But... does that mean the mad are also hypocrites? Or does it mean they've comprehended the folly of it all?
...
...
... Maybe their freedom isn't true after all.
Lilith eyes the children of the madgod with warry glances as she follows the supposed 'head' of the snake with her newfound family. None of the children so much as bat an eye.
Each and every child from all walks of life are so caught up in their own activities, their own worlds, that they've completely distanced themselves from true reality and become lost within their own minds. The oldest Clawthorne feels sick to her stomach. It's like watching animals following their nature without a second thought.
The tiger tears the flesh. The beaver builds the damn. The shark swims and eats. Each does so without any second thought; it is in their nature. These accursed children are the same. No thought or reason. Only mindless attention to their natural desires.
What a pity.
The child named Viney leads them into the clearing and towards a large iron cauldron already lit and filled with a bubbling potion. Purple smoke wafts from the view and the particular pungence alarms her.
"Child... this is a scrying potion! How in the name of the Titan could you have known we'd need it?!"
The former duel-track student takes her position at the head of the cauldron and holds a single finger up silencing any further questions. She fishes her scroll from her pocket and after a moment of fiddling spins it around to show Lilith her dm's.
She takes the scroll and reads aloud, "From theRealUncleSheo. Ahem... Deer veeVee, make scrying thingy... worthles frends coming... need it ready or els u becom pie and splat on wall... Kay thnx bye."
Lilith is suddenly taken by a migraine and rubs her aching head. Eda is lost in her own mind trying to decipher the language but Amity and Luz both nod their heads in understanding.
Their poor geriatric mentors will never understand the lingo of youth, dawg.
"Ugh, while reading that may have soured my mind some I understand what has happened." Lilith returns the communication device to its owner, "Once again it seems the madgod has planned ahead of us!"
Luz's face goes sour. Ofcourse she's not free. Luz feels as though she's a dying cowboy in the desert with only the shadows of the buzzards for company. Her soul is as dark and edgy-wait a second. When did someone's face get so close.
Strong hands grip the sides of her face and a pair of lips crash into her own. Luz's eyes go wide and before she can struggle to fend her assaulter off she is released and left to fall down onto her bottom.
"Hi, Luz! I really liked you so I kissed you! We're girlfriends now, bye!"
Motherfucking Boscha skips away after stealing Luz's first kiss without a care in the world for her actions. She saunters away and starts doing some sort interpretive ballet dancing? She swoops, dips and dives in and around the many piles of bodies (hopefully alive and just sleeping) whilst humming some unknown song. The (former) bully has completely changed from the bitch everyone knew and hated into something completely unrecognizable.
Weeks ago when Hexside was still whole Boscha had a sudden change in personality. Like a complete one-eighty change.
It was really creepy and the human was sort of hoping the drugged out grudgby captain didn't make it out of the ruins when the attacks began.
Luz finds her face going sour once again, "Oh my god, that was my first kiss. That was really... terrible, I feel really not too good about this. Eda, I feel kinda violated."
Her mentor grimaces but Luz can sense a familiarity. Eda, the infamous Owl Lady, had the same shit happen once long ago. A certain green-haired Blight had stolen her first kiss out of the blue. It was done unprovoked and purely with malicious intent. She hated Odalia then and still does now and while it didn't hurt like a wound it still bothered her for a long time.
The action wasn't the pain it was the intent behind it.
"Yeah, I've been there before, kiddo. Look, I'm not very good at this but you won't feel at full capacity for a while and that's okay. I don't know what that girl's deal was but it's obvious she's got issues herself. I don't think she was being malicious but that certainly was the wrong way to go about this."
Eda helps Luz to her feet. The young human still feels very weird but does feel just a bit better not being alone. She watches Boscha dancing carefree around her comrades. Her movements are like a plastic bag floating in the wind; weird, funny to watch and something that someone should really put in the trash sooner than later.
She feels pity. The once proud captain is gone. Wholly lost within whatever world the bottle she worships creates for her.
"Geez... this place is nuts! Right Amity? ...Amity?"
Amity always found the phrase 'seeing red' to be stupid. Don't get her wrong she knows entirely what it means, she is in fact currently experiencing it, but it's still stupid.
'Seeing red' is more being hyper-focused with the spice being a heap of violent intent. So the youngest and most deadliest Blight stalks after the three-eyed slut with a murderous glint in her eyes.
And in her dagger too. Mostly the dagger as it's what she's going to use to commit her first genuine murder.
The tri-clops dances so free and wild and so very far away from all the seeing eyes. Amity feels a set watching her but she knows they don't judge. They cheer for her and encourage her to let it all loose. The eyes watch from the very back of her brain. They squint and squirm around and make her brain tickle. Amity laughs at the feeling. It's like being poked in the side and makes her body feel all warm and bubbly.
Her prey is close now. She chose a nice place to die at. The flowers are so blue and spiky and pretty and will do a good job hiding her. Rays of sun penetrate the thick leaves of the trees. Oh! Boscha looks like a dancer on a stage!
The eyes start to squirm again and tell her to hurry it up. Amity hides in her bush and waits for the right time... now! She leaps from the greens and is upon her prey much as a jaguar catches a caiman. They collapse into the opposing bushes like animals and within less than a second the winner is decided.
Both are dangerous predators but the bite of the one hidden in wait always pierces the deepest.
Boscha tries to scream but she can't. The blade as black as... black makes it hard for her. Amity cheers at her success and accuracy! Very few Witches can appreciate the art of a knife. A society saturated with magic looks down on anything mundane as worthless and for lesser folk.
The look in their eyes when a simple pointy blade slides through their ribs and tickles their heart is always so very funny.
Amity grips the handle of her ebony dagger and shoves it forward through one half of Boscha's neck. The pretty crimson blood spills out and stains her hands. It's warm and sticky and Amity relishes in the feeling once again. How she missed the embrace of the essence of life! She's not finished with her work yet and pulls the weapon back towards her with a strong tug.
The flesh parts before the edge effortlessly but stops within the bone. A frown crosses her face. She was hoping the remove the head cleanly but failed. Amity's muscles are little and weak and she has always relied on skill over strength to overcome adversaries. Her body is weak now but in time she will grow stronger and hunt greater and more glorious prey.
With two good chops the bone relents to the superior metal and the head of the dancer rolls away free. Even in death Boscha still wants to move around and dance. Amity can't help but smile at the tenacity of her once friend.
Of course their past would never have saved her from Amity's wrath. Luz is destined to be her girlfriend and Boscha was simply too weak to be with someone as amazing as her Luz.
The tickling in her brain is gone now and Amity frowns. She misses that funny feeling.
She'll simply have to find more prey to make that feeling come back again.
"Oh, Amity! You're back. You were gone for a while, you feelin' okay?" The Blight blinks twice and fake-coughs awkwardly. "Yup, sorry I had to go... bathroom!"
"Wow, that sounds incredibly suspicious," Luz states cheerfully, "-but everything's wacked and I'm moments away from a psychotic breakdown constantly so I don't really care anymore!"
"..."
"..."
"...Okay. Sounds good. So what're we doing now?"
"Good question. Eda?"
The wise Owl Lady nods and turns to her sister, "Lily?"
Being the only one with a brain the eldest explains, "We're using Luz's piece of the emperor's mask to divine his whereabouts. Then we're rescuing him to see if he has some way to restore order to the Boiling Isles."
Viney snorts in response. Clearly in her eyes what's done cannot be undone. Lilith shoots the short Witchling a heated glare but it's half-passionate at best. She drops the act quickly and simply sighs despondently. Any faith and pride she had in bringing order to the Isles was smashed and bashed and pulped into nothingness long ago.
What does she have now; what do any of them have? Hope? She scoffs at the thought of it.
A hand is on her shoulder and she feels a set of eyes on her back. She turns and meets her sister's worried gaze. No word's are shared between them; even after many years apart their ability to understand one another non-verbally is as strong as ever.
Such is the power of love.
A smile returns to her face and for just a moment the spark of hope reignites something lost within her.
"Luz," She says sincerely, "Now that miss Blight has returned would you kindly place your mask shard within the cauldron? It is a necessary sacrifice for the spell."
"Right away!" The human enthusiastically fishes the ceramic shard from her pocket and slam-dunks it into the boiling, frothing maroon colored potion. The shard floats at the surface along with a few other items from her pocket as well; such as a hairclip, half a stick of gum and a lot of lint.
Everyone feels a drip of sweat forming. Would such items 'taint' the potion? Eda's used this form of potion before but she never paid attention in class and missed her former potion master's lecture on a potential incident such as this.
The items are dissolved within the liquid and a part of Luz is saddened by the loss of such a cool souvenir but she pushes the feelings aside and leans in closer to the mixture.
Nothing happens.
A bark startles everyone out of their concentration. It's Barcus, the dog-Witch-whatever the hell he's supposed to be. Viney picks up the thing and holds him over the potion.
Surely she's not-yup, she just dunked him into a vat of boiling liquid.
"Viney!"
The informal head of the cult holds a finger up signaling for compliance. Moments later she reaches elbow deep into the potion.
Her skin boils and burns instantly and a deep stench of cooked flesh fills the air. It is a stench so foul and wrong they can taste it in the very air. Gross. To the surprise of all the Witchling is completely unbothered by the serious injuries. She pulls her hands and a clump of petrified flesh that likely was once Barcus. Her skin is peeled back and the fibers of muscles normally concealed are free to the exposure of air and darkened a deep, nearing black, crimson signaling the top layer of muscles has been cooked like a steak over the grill.
Luz vomits.
Viney stares into the clump of flesh. Clearly there's something to be divined but it's lost on the resident potion master's. Both Clawthorne's have never known it possible to use a divination potion in such a way.
"Hmm, Belos is in the Conformatorium. Can't tell where but it feels deep." She offers the flesh-that once was Barcus- to the Clawthorne but Lilith politely refuses. Somewhere in the back of her mind she swears she hears faint barking.
"Yes, well thank you for your services, they were greatly appreciated, you scary fucking child."
Despite the good news received and relatively unharmed journey into cult territory (the mental damage will remain for quite some time) the elder Witches are in very sour moods.
And not because of the prospect of having to save their former worst enemy. Something about where they're going has derailed any of the positive growing mood they've been working so hard to cultivate. Luz finds this odd. She's been to the Conformatorium before and broken in about twice now she thinks. Warden Wrath was the 'boss' and essentially the only security and if Luz were being honest, he's kind of a pushover.
So what in the world is causing her mentor's so much trouble?
"That place isn't the same anymore." Eda answer's Amity's question which also so happened to be Luz's too. "After they lumped all of the diseased in there I've been hearing nothing but horror stories."
Luz frowns at the description of the imprisoned. The diseased are just mentally ill Witches cursed to be that way because of the whims of the great tormenter (Luz doesn't even want to think his name if she can help it).
They're sick but it seems mental illness is poorly understood in the Isles. Even highly liberal people like Eda seem to harbor a nearly discriminatory fear of them. It makes Luz's stomach churn uncomfortably. Surely the sane Witches of the Boiling Isles are just overreacting to the issue?
"Alright, kids, make sure you've got your big girl pants on. We can't fly over Bonesborough, too much risk of getting shot out of the sky, so we're gonna have to hike through and trust me, I'm not so keen on it either. We're stuck between a rock covered in rusty knives and a slighter smaller rock covered in just tiny bit smaller knives."
"That analogy blows."
"Yeah? And so will you if you don't shut up!"
"That one doesn't even make sense."
"It doesn't have to. I'm the adult so that means shut up and do what I say regardless of how dumb I am!"
Amity rolls her eyes but obeys. She has the smarts to know arguing with an idiot is never done successfully.
The trip to Bonesborough was uneventful. And upon seeing what remains of the quirky city Luz believes calling it by name is now too much.
There's not a Bonesborough anymore.
No building above three stories remains. Piled brick and wood and glass and sheer grey-hazed desolation is all what remain. And the silence so present and powerful, and despite the contradiction, is like a weighted iron blanket. Not even the warmth of the sun penetrates the smog and smoke pretending to be clouds that hovers low and constant over the great expanse of the ruins.
Luz feels a shiver run up her spine. An indescribable emotion wells up within the group's collective bellies. It's as though they're caught with a terrible flu that drains them of all that they are.
Amity feels as though the Hunger has returned to feed off her very life essence once again.
Images swirl within the human's mind; they're of old black and white photographs of mountains of rubble and bodies of country capitols during and after two terrible world wars.
Things crunch beneath their feet and it's not glass or brick mortar. They're bones blackened by fire that are scattered every few dozen feet or so. No scavengers pulled the bones apart as the bodies were burned as a whole so only the foot traffic of soldiers and rebels could've scattered the remains as they are now.
In the chaos of the fighting neither foes bothered to bury the dead. Magic fire was used to cremate the dead where they had fallen. Why waste time? The threat of disease is far more important to the selfish than the honoring of the dead.
No one can muster the heart to cry. Such wanton sadness, disparity and unprecedented madness has fouled the spirits of them all. They are not the same.
"Wait." Everyone stops behind their lead. The Owl Lady pulls her expression tight and sniffs the air. Her three companions share odd looks amongst themselves but shrug and let the (not)geriatric do her thing. Owlbert is tightened in her grip and she slowly tiptoes through the skeleton of some random shop long since looted of valuables.
A familiar scent fills the air and the putrid buzzing of insects cuts through the silence like a knife through flesh. Iron is in the air. Behind the shop is the remains of some sort of camp likely used for spying during the mid stages of the conflict in the city. A canopy is pulled over the top for shade and cover from weather but within the confines is evidence of a butchery far too savage to have come from the hands of anything higher than a beast.
Even in the thick shade the splatters and tearing of body and limb and spilled blood seems to cover more of the hideaway than is not. For all the horror that is the butchery there remains a question; where are the bodies?
No cadaver or corpse or bit of flesh and bone is left behind. Only the sticky blood and writhing maggots are left behind of what must've been a recent massacre. The Clawthorne sister's wrinkle their noses in disgust at the stench and sight. This style of killing in warfare is unlike anything Witch-kind could produce.
"This must've been an animal," Eda reasons, "-but I don't know of anything ballsy enough to enter a warzone for food let alone anything strong enough to take on, what, like five or six adult Witches?"
"Eda!" Luz shouts from just outside of the shop, "Look at this!"
Sure enough she finds her human apprentice staring down a dark tunnel large enough for a grown Witch to walk through without crouching or even ducking. An acrid stench like a million squished beetles oozes from the unseeable blackness. If the smell of a room painted in blood and maggots makes one sick then the stink of whatever came from the land down under would make them terminal.
Not really but the Owl Lady feels like it would.
Amity stares down into the void and finds herself taken with worry. She recognizes the smell but the severity of it suggest a very significant presence. "This is an Elytra tunnel. The same thing we ran into in the woods, but obviously the ones that did this were fully matured."
"They're tunnelers?"
"Very good tunnelers."
The complex excavations of the Elytra tunnels Amity encountered in the Shivering Isle's comes to mind as well as the potential numbers those systems could posses. If a colony is forming underneath the city and there's no unified force to stop it then it's likely the city could never be rebuilt again. The man-sized killer insects could build up and overrun the distracted Witches in short order of nothing is done to stop it. And what's to stop them from spreading further out? Virtually every city could fall victim to a slaughter if the new disease isn't stopped now.
They have to stop the fighting now before the very heart of the Boiling Isles is lost forever.
While it probably wouldn't accomplish much Lilith did her best to collapse the entrance of the tunnel with her impressive magic and finished it off by using the very pieces of the ruined building the bury the whole location. If the Elytra were to return they'd hopefully be occupied for just a little while longer before breaching the surface once again.
Amity doesn't believe it matters but keeps it to herself. Any shred of hope her elders still hold on to is the only thing keeping them going in such depressing times.
(And if she can vicariously live that same hope through them then maybe she'll feel anything at all.)
The Conformatorium stands above the surrounding land like a mountain cast eternally in the gloom of a stormy night. Quite literally too. The prison facility is always surrounded by dark storm clouds even on the sunniest days. Lilith believes it to be a spell of some kind meant to intimidate and dishearten all those who are incarcerated within the walls.
Given the unfortunately high suicide rate among the prisoners she believe it to be too successful.
Her thoughts and reservations were never considered in any meaningful way. The emperor, for all his speech was as sweet as honey, would never drop his scheme with the prison. The very threat of imprisonment and death within the walls of the Conformatorium was part of his 'vision' to stamp out criminality and unlawful Wild Magic usage within the Island.
And she rolled over and went along with it.
Lilith sighs deeply and carries on to the great bridge that connects the near floating prison with the rest of the world. Her thoughts still linger on her failures and shortcomings she's still yet to have redeemed herself for.
In truth she may never be redeemed but that doesn't excuse her from trying all the same. Perhaps that's all that she can really do. Just be a little better tiny bits at a time.
The group stops. A barricade of Empresses' Soldiers guards the only entrance into the building but... their barricades are pointed towards the building. Luz gives Lilith, the former head of the coven and the only insight into them, a questioning look but the older Witch simply shrugs in response. She has no idea why the guards would be setup like this even in despite of how tremendously stupid they are.
One of the guards turns around when he hears them approaching. Based on the shoulder pads under the cloak and the lack of any unique features on the rest of the fifteen others then shoulder-pad is the one in charge.
"Oh-oh! Miss Lilith!" The Clawthorne sighs as she recognizes the cheery voice. The Coven guards rush to surround Lilith but it's without any malice. It's more like a pack of puppies surrounding their mother Bitch before feeding time. She musters the fakest smile possible and addresses her former incompetents.
"Hello, Steve. I see you got your shoulder pads finally." Steve nods vigorously, "Yes! I finally got a promotion and a sweet gig too!"
He shyly rubs the back of his neck, "I gotta be honest, I was hoping there'd be... more to this, I really don't feel like anything better has happened."
Lilith gives him a pitiful look. She's well aware of the inner trappings and dead ends of the Coven system. Something only the truly intelligent and well connected could move through while the earnest and hardworking were left wanting at the very bottom of it all.
"Yes... It does feel that way sometimes." She quickly redirects him, "But Steve, what's happening here? Why are the barricades facing inwards like this?"
The collective group of guards goes silent. The very mention of what they're supposedly protecting seems to dishearten them deeply.
"That place is... not right anymore. After they lobbed all the Oracle loonies in there that place has been just... wrong. We're out here to make sure no one gets out. We don't go in there anymore, not after someone opened all of the cells."
That makes the alarm bells in all of their heads go off. Someone let all of the truly insane prisoners out?! As in the thousands of cursed Oracle coven members who razed hell all across the realm for days?!
Amity groans in annoyance behind Lilith. The older Witch ignores it and looks across the great bridge. Never before has the terrible prison frightened her like it has now.
"Steven. We're going in there." Steve says nothing in response. He knows when not to question someone. The four from the infamous Owl House pass through the barricades and into the wild territory of the unknown.
In a characteristically poor move Luz states, "I've got a bad feeling about this."
No one responds. They don't need to.