Epilogue: Lost to Time
Willow swung her feet on the bench she'd settled on at the slayground, watching other kids around her age laughing and playing with their friends … and her heart ached.
It had only been a few weeks since Amity had kicked her out of her sixth birthday party, called her a weakling and cut ties with her. Her only friend had turned her back on her and now spent all of her time with those mean girls at Hexside who picked on Willow and called her "half a witch."
Amity did that sometimes, too.
Willow glanced to her right to find her papa and her dad watching with concern. They'd brought her here to try and make new friends, stepped aside with assurance that they would always be watching, to try and let her connect on her own.
But all of the kids she'd tried to talk to were either uninterested, or mocked the "half a witch" like the others at school. After a few tries, she'd given up and decided to bide her time alone. And yet, with every passing moment, she felt shame and loneliness pile up on her shoulders.
Her spiral of despair was broken by the sounds of something happening. Willow looked over at a stand of talon trees — tall, thin things with branches that brought skinny, curling, grasping fingers to mind. She had read that they really could lean down and grab you if you hurt them, too.
Willow's curiosity got the better of her and she ran to see what was happening. She hid behind a trunk and saw a group of boys a little older than her picking on another boy. He was dressed in an oversized sweater and torn pants, his frame too skinny like he hadn't eaten much. He had shaggy blond hair and dark circles under his wild maroon eyes, his bared teeth showing a gap in between them.
"Knock it off, you-" Willow gasped at the language the boy used.
"What're you gonna do, huh?" the leader of the group said. "You got no magic at all. You got no power, n' ya can't fight us off." The boys dissolved into cruel laughter that clawed at Willow's heart. She tried to look away but couldn't.
And then she was glad she didn't when the blond boy flew forward and his fist smashed against the lead bully's face so hard it knocked out a tooth. The bully fell back with a cry of pain and spat out blood, fear in his eyes. The blond boy smirked and crossed his arms. "What was that about 'no power'?" he asked.
"Get 'em!" the leader roared.
With that, each of the three boys surrounding the blond got ready for magic. One pulled out a recorder and blew some shrill notes that lifted the blond's shirt and wrapped it around his head, while another pulled a flask from his belt and splashed it over the dirt; the dirt bubbled and got sticky, and the blond boy fell over. Then the leader traced a circle and dirt gathered around his fists as he grabbed the blond by the front of his shirt and lifted him up.
"I'm gonna enjoy this," the bully sneered, and punched the blond boy in the belly. The blond grunted and collapsed like a sack of foe-tatoes, but then he started to rise to his feet.
"That all you got?" he asked. And then he was kicked back down for his trouble.
Willow felt fear for this boy well up, but she also felt admiration for his courage. She'd heard of witches born with no magic, and if this boy was like that, then it was even more courageous. Far more than Half-a-Witch Willow.
And then something inside her cracked. Willow felt anger at these bullies rise up, fueled by her own time at the hands of bullies and fanned by the sheer desire to protect this brave blond boy. She felt heat swell within her and acted without thinking, willing the plants around her to help.
Massive vines burst from the ground and lashed out at the bullies, wrapping them up and hanging them upside down as they cried out in pain from the thorns. "Help!" one cried out.
"No!" Willow shouted, tears streaming down her face … from eyes blazing with emerald light. "You don't get to ask for help! Only he does!" Willow clenched her little fists and the vines tightened, the bullies wailing in pain and fear.
"Stop!" Another voice pierced the air and Willow turned to find the blond boy hanging by his ankle from a thornless stretch of vine. "Please, it's okay," he said, with deceptive calm. "Let them go. It's okay."
Willow's anger faded and the vines let them all free, dropping them like sacks to the dirt. They jumped up and ran with cries for their mommies, the leader actually trailing urine. But neither Willow nor the blond boy noticed as they stared at each other, Willow's eyes fading from solid emerald to their usual green.
Then those beautiful eyes rolled into the back of her head and she collapsed into the dust. The boy gasped and rushed to her side — or rather, he stumbled despite the pain of several bruises and his aching belly. Aching from the beating and having no breakfast this morning. Or dinner last night.
He stumbled to her side and felt her pulse and breathing, just as momma had taught him. He suppressed a sob at the thought of his momma and then shook his head. "Help!" he shouted. "Someone help her!"
The boy's ears flicked at the sound of two men calling a girl's name. … Willa? Or something? He checked over her one more time, straightened her cute round glasses, and ran to the end of the slayground to hide behind the corner of a building. He looked back from around it to find two kind-looking men picking up the girl with tender care. They talked between themselves and looked around before the bespectacled one lifted the girl into a bridal carry and they left with her.
The boy, Hunter, set his back against the wall and slid down as he thought about what had just happened. That little girl, younger than him, used magic …! Magic like nothing he'd ever seen! And she had used it to protect him, too! Hunter looked up to see the horns of the Titan in the distance. And a thought came to him.
His mama would sometimes tell him stories of the syphara, champions and protectors that the Titan inspired to defend the pure of heart. Looking back, he thought of that girl with glasses and could only imagine she was one of them. A syphara.
Hunter's musings were interrupted by his stomach growling, which brought the ache in his belly back to mind. He curled into a ball and tried to ignore the pain, only somewhat successfully. He stood on shaky feet and looked around before picking a direction. He needed to eat; maybe there was a fountain he could get snails from. Mama had once said people tossed coins in for noble causes … what was more noble than feeding a kid?
As he ran, he failed to notice a distant peal of thunder that echoed across the sky.
And so the journey ends ... and another will soon begin. Willow and Hunter's adventures together will continue in the sequel: "Masks of Love and War." I'll be spending some time to get a solid lead on it before I post, so please be patient with me. After all, quality takes time as well as effort.
*This tidbit was inspired by a webcomic by "MoringMark".
*Syphara are based upon the idea of guardian angels, named as a combination of seraphim - a guardian angel - and zephyr - a gentle, warm breeze. According to Boiling Isles legend, they're not angels so much as people given the will to protect by the Titan himself.
*I was originally going to leave it up to you - the viewers - to decide if this was canon to the story or not. But I've since decided thatit WILL play into the sequel! Woo!
And on to the sequel! Thank you all once again for supporting this story! May your inspirations flow forever free!