So all-consuming was the brothers' dream that as children, it decided the very games they'd play- their favourite of which being Witches and Hunters. The game was simple, consisting of two roles- that of the Witch- the player who would attempt to allude capture- and that of the Hunter- the player whose goal it was to catch the Witch. Whenever the two played, Philip had always insisted on playing the Hunter- doing so wearing a crudely fashioned wooden mask his brother had nonetheless spent many hours hand-crafting for him. This was in spite of the fact that Caleb, playing the role of Witch, seemed to win every time. No matter how fast Philip ran, Caleb was faster. No matter how many times they played, the outcome remained the same. That was, until the day that Philip cheated- the day that Philip won.

The game started out like any other- with the masked Philip chasing Caleb with every bit of speed he could muster. And following a long pursuit, Philip appeared to have given up. When Caleb turned to look for his pursuer, there was no sign of him. But outrunning Caleb was not Philip's plan. Prior to starting the game, he'd set up a primitive rope trap. And now, from his concealed position in a bush, all it took was the sound of a thrown stone to lure his brother directly into it. Then, with his mask hiding his enthusiastic grin, Philip sprung the trap, quickly tangling up his brother's legs as he emerged from his hiding place.

"I did it!" Philip had exclaimed, before rushing to tag the restrained Caleb. And yet Philip stopped himself before he did so. "Uh... no, this isn't right," he'd said, his enthusiasm turning to dejection. "I..."

He leaned down next to Caleb, and quickly untied the trap.

"It doesn't count. I cheated. I... I'm sorry."

Taking off the mask revealed the tearful remorse in Philip's eyes- but Caleb simply let out a chuckle, grinning.

"Cheated?" said Caleb, placing a hand on his brother's shoulder. "No way! You totally won!"

Philip shook his head.

"But I-"

"You didn't cheat. You won by being like... super smart!"

"Smart?"

"Heck yeah! That plan was sooooo smart!"

"But... I can't catch real witches with... rope... if I want to be a real witch hunter, I need to be fast! And strong! Like you!"

"Don't be silly! You're perfect the way you are- and don't let anyone tell you otherwise!"

"But other witch hunters-"

"Who cares about other witch hunters? You aren't like the others- you're the best witch hunter in the whole wide world!"

A grateful grin spread across Philip's face as he hugged Caleb with a suffocating tightness.

"Maybe... but you're the best brother in the whole wide world!"

Memories of their old game flashed through Philip's mind as he dragged his brother through the cloud of smoke, towards the mysterious purple light.

"This is our chance-" exclaimed Philip. "Our chance to finally prove ourselves as witch hunters! Do you see it?!"

Squinting through the cloud of smoke, Caleb caught a glimpse of the target of his brother's pursuit- a strange purple flame whose light peeked through the darkness.

"I see it!" responded Caleb, clutching his dagger close as he let go of his brother's hand. "We can do this. Just... stay close to me... and stay safe."

Wordlessly, Philip nodded, drawing a blade of his own. Then, brandishing their weapons, the pair pressed further forwards- only for a violent explosion of pink to shatter the ground next to them, almost knocking them to the ground.

"Why can't you humans just leave me alone?!" came the witch's voice from some undiscernible location. "I haven't done anything wrong!"

The brothers stood back-to-back, surrounded by smoke and blades at the ready.

"Show yourself, sorceress!" called Philip.

"Why?! So you can capture me again?!"

"No," began Philip with a matter-of-fact coldness. "Beings such as yourself don't deserve such a courtesy. But hiding like a coward only prolongs your inevitable end."

A malicious cackle echoed around the pair.

"Hehehe... we'll see about that!"

With that, a sphere of pink fire came barrelling out of the cloud towards the ground where the pair stood. The brothers wasted no time in jumping clear of the fireball's path before it exploded with a bone-chilling crack. Then came another. And another. Flames of pink seemed materialise without end- and while Caleb deftly evaded the assault with uncanny grace, Philip's movements were slower- clumsier- and if not for his brother advancing to draw away the brunt of the assault, he certainly would not have survived.

"I can't... see... a thing!" yelled Caleb, evading blast after blast of magic as he pressed ever onwards. "Any ideas?!"

"I don't- I don't know!" thought a panicked Philip as he ducked for cover amidst the storm of magic. "This is nothing like the games... How could we ever have prepared for this?!"

"Philip!" said his brother, desperation creeping into his voice. "We need a plan!"

"I... can't..."

"Yes you can! You always do! Or did you forget who you are?!"

In spite of the circumstances, a prideful warmth spread through Philip's chest- a confidence that allowed him to momentarily forget his fear, and properly assess his surroundings.

"No..." thought Philip, as a realisation occurred to him.

"I'm the greatest witch hunter in the whole wide world."

The fireballs were materialising in front of them, and flying at them from all angles- yet out of the corner of his eye, Philip glimpsed a glint of pink light behind them. No attacks had yet originated from the rear- and yet there remained that same, distinctive pink glow. Looking closer, the smoke seemed to be concealing a series of glowing magical circles- circles which seemed harmless enough, but hung unnaturally in the air.

"Caleb!" called Philip, amidst the chaos of the firestorm. "It's not in front of us- it's trying to draw us away!"

"Then where-" started Caleb, getting interrupted as a fireball flew dangerously close to his face. "Where is she?!"

Philip gestured towards the forming pink circles- and then, like lightning, Caleb turned, bolting towards the location his brother had indicated. Bursting through the blackness, Caleb finally caught sight of the brothers' quarry. He approached with blade in hand, only to be greeted by an easy smile from his target. With a snap of her fingers, the witch dissipated the smoke, before letting out a delighted cackle.

"You managed to see through my illusion! Not bad- for a human, of course!"

"It's over," said Caleb, raising his blade. "Surrender while you still can."

"Not so fast, human," replied the witch, materialising a staff in her miraculously unbound hands. "Let's see what you can do!"

Philip watched on in stunned silence as the pair clashed- and though he wanted more than anything to help his brother, the fear had finally set in, turning his legs to jelly. The witch twirled her staff with impossible speed before striking at Caleb's head. Already anticipating the attack, Caleb ducked while simultaneously lunging forward with his dagger, causing the witch to reflexively draw back- but not without receiving a bloody gash in the chest. Seizing the moment of weakness, Caleb surged forwards, prying the witch's staff from her grasp with his free hand and throwing it to the ground.

"Yield," ordered Caleb, raising his blade to the witch's throat. "This is your last chance."

"Fine," replied the witch, still wearing a devious smirk. "You got me."

A breath of relief escaped Philip's mouth as he witnessed his brother's triumph- only for that relief to quickly turn into a stomach-churning dread. As the witch raised her hands in surrender, Philip watched as she subtlety traced a circle with her finger- accompanied by a strange magical glow.

Spurred into action by sheer terror, Philip got to his feet and raced towards his brother.

"Caleb!" he warned- but it was already too late. Caleb hadn't recognised the spell being cast- and even for someone of his impressive agility, evading such an attack point-blank was all but impossible. Fortunately, Philip arrived in the nick of time- shoving his brother clear of a bolt of magical lightning that the witch had conjured. Unfortunately, with nowhere else to go, the bolt was directed towards Philip instead. He felt an utterly unbearable agony as magic and flesh collided. The lightning scorched him from within- breathing became an impossible effort- and he collapsed helplessly to the ground.

The only thing Philip remembered as consciousness left him was the despairing voice of his brother, calling his name.