Heroes Among Thorns

"Hey, Halfwit!"

Willow Park froze at her locker, her back straightening like a rabbit spotted by a fox. Not an inapt comparison given her "predator's" red hair. Willow briefly considered fleeing before rationality cemented itself and she realized that it would do her no good. So she took a breath and placed her bag in her locker space before closing the door and locking it tight.

At least messing with lockers was an expulsion-level offense at Westside school.

"Hi, Boscha," Willow said neutrally as she turned to face her primary antagonist. Heh, literature references. The school's queen bee — a slim, pink-skinned girl with fiery red hair, bangs dipped in violet and hanging to frame icy blue eyes — slunk forward, hips swaying with dark confidence, and loomed over Willow.

"What's new, Halfwit?" Boscha sneered, crossing her arms under her bust in a way that was clearly meant to emphasize it. With the policy of Westside School for the Gifted and Talented requiring white button-down shirts and sweater vests colored by student academic track with khaki slacks or skirts and tights, it hardly helped.

Willow glanced around and found a certain student absent among the milling masses who were actively avoiding looking at them, lest they become Boscha's next target. She internally winced at that as, while she detested said nameless girl's presence as a reminder, she still tended to keep Boscha a little more grounded. Her lack of presence meant that this would not be pleasant at all.

"I'm about the same as always," Willow said, unconsciously fiddling with her fingers. Maybe if she gave such a neutral answer, Boscha would lose interest early?

"Oh," Boscha said with patently false sympathy. "Still a loser in your own track?" Willow felt her cheeks burn against her will. "Can't be easy being at such a classy school and just sucking, can it?" Boscha sneered. "I mean, your parents must have to do some pretty shady stuff to send you here with their jobs, huh?"

"My dads do just fine!" Willow snapped, then paled and covered her lips.

Boscha's smile turned from sharp to cruel. "Oh, really?" she asked, placing one hand on Willow's shoulder to feel the orchid-purple fabric and fingering Willow's glasses with the other. "Then I guess buying a new pair of these dumb things wouldn't be a problem, huh?"

"Boscha."

Willow swallowed at the voice that had spoken, both in relief that Boscha had stopped and discomfort at the owner. Boscha looked backward and revealed the cold and collected form of Amity Blight, who was lightly glaring at her with her hands behind her back, the picture of confidence. Her mint-green hair with auburn roots was in its usual tail pulled back from sharp, golden-brown eyes, contrasting her pale skin and somehow emphasizing her angular features and lithe physique. "We'll be late for softball practice," was all Amity said, not even glancing in Willow's direction.

Boscha hummed in displeasure before stepping back from Willow. "Whatever," she said, then strode away as if it had been her idea to follow Amity.

Against her better judgment, Willow stepped forward with wide eyes, hoping against hope for some form of acknowledgement from Amity, her childhood best friend. Before Amity had cast her aside they'd been inseparable, and Willow's brain seemed to see fit to torment her with a quick highlights reel of their best times together.

But no, of course not. Amity's stride didn't even falter as she left her behind. Again.

Willow sighed and retrieved her book bag before heading home. Her face was still tinged with pink and she kept her head down to hide it behind her hair. So focused on that, she shoulder-checked a fellow student, though it felt like she herself had taken more force as she was whirled in a half-circle.

"Oh, I'm so sorry!" Willow said without thinking, "I- Oh …"

Standing before her, massaging his shoulder with the hand that wasn't holding a book, was Hunter Wittebane. The aloof school heartthrob — his class's valedictorian, martial arts team MVP, and the richest student in a school of rich kids, notorious for breaking hearts without actually doing anything. Everyone knew who he was and everyone who didn't have a crush on him at least respected him, even the teachers.

And Willow had basically crashed into him! She felt her blush return full-force at the feel of his gaze on her.

"It's fine," Hunter said, one eyebrow raised. His lips turned up in the faintest shadow of a grin and he shook his head bemusedly. "See ya around." With that, he resumed his pace and returned to his book as if nothing had happened. Willow blinked at his retreating form and felt her heart flutter. Yes, she was among those who had a crush on Hunter, though she mostly respected his academics … as much as his looks. Willow resumed her walk and resisted the urge to flee the school from emotional overload as she descended the steps at the school front.

Normally, she would take a shuttle, but she lived close enough to campus that she could walk and burn off nervous energy. And given what had just happened, a tiny part of her hoped that some nut tried something with her. The city of Gravesfield, Connecticut didn't have an excessive crime rate — it was actually less than average for a city its size — but things still happened.

And Willow wouldn't have minded the chance to release some tension.

As it turned out, nothing happened. She smiled at the thought of how her dad, Harvey, would react to her walking home, but brushed it off. Frankly, her walking was a little bit faster than the bus. Willow entered their neighborhood, waving at a neighbor as she climbed the steps, and let herself into the Parks' residence before finally relaxing.

Her home was her refuge. She glanced around at the plants she had potted around the living room, noting that some were beginning to wilt. She tapped a jeweled ring on her forefinger and felt a familiar sensation like mist parting from her, with what appeared to be motes of silvery dust actually falling away from her ears to reveal their true forms … pointed ears, as if she were an elf in some fantasy novel.

But she wasn't an elf. Oh no … she, like her fathers, was a witch.

Willow dropped her bag on her papa, Gilbert's, favorite recliner and crossed the living room to examine one of her wilting plants. She picked up a watering can and poured some into the pot before making a circling motion with her finger above the plant, the point of her finger tracing a line of emerald-green light in a perfect circle as wide as her palm.

For what would a witch be without magic?

Not that they had much of it. Unlike their homeland in the demon realm, the human realm had a very low presence of magic. According to her dads, who had been born and raised in the demon realm where witches like them originated, their home of the Boiling Isles was so rich in magic that all beings who lived there had evolved to harness it, lest they be poisoned by constant exposure and left vulnerable to the myriad of predators on the Isles.

Not for the first time, Willow wondered what that would be like. To live in a place where magic was everywhere, where the specialized organ next to her heart — a large sac of magical bile that stored a witch's innate power — would be teeming with magic instead of always feeling … hollow. A place where using her powers didn't mean having to wait days or even weeks to replenish her strength. Where she didn't have to hide what she was …

Willow brushed those thoughts away and continued to tend to her plants while using as little magic as she could until her dads got home. Gilbert and Harvey Park, thanks to their own rings with illusion enchantments tied to them, could and did pass for "East Asian" and "African American" humans respectively, with Willow largely resembling her papa. Both were comfortably heavyset and looked as kind as they were.

Her papa, Gilbert, smiled and hugged her. "How was your day, Willow?" he asked.

"Fine, Papa," she replied with an easy smile, deciding to keep quiet about her encounter with Boscha. Just like always.

"Really?" he asked, his eyes holding a tint of disbelief behind his square glasses.

Willow blushed and mentally grumbled that she could never hide anything from her papa. "On the way home from school … I accidentally bumped into Hunter Wittebane." Her blush deepened. "And he talked to me!" She actually had to work to hold back a squeal.

A squeal over his ash-blond hair, that strong jaw, or nobly hooked nose, the sharp brown eyes that seemed to take in everything around him, and even that long scar over one cheek or the gap she'd noticed before between his front teeth. Stupid hormones!

Gilbert chuckled. "Who knows, honey? You might have a secret admirer of your own. If his grades are any sign, he's smart enough for it."

"Papa!" Willow protested, though she laughed while she did.

"Alright, that's enough boy talk," her dad, Harvey, cut in as he stroked his short brown beard. "Willow, did you finish your homework or go straight to watering your plants?"

Willow looked away from her dad's knowing and faintly disappointed gaze. "I'll start on it now," she sighed.

"Thank you, Sweetie," Harvey said, kissing her forehead as she passed. With her head bowed in dread, she missed the quick, silent conversation between her fathers.

After two hours of trudging through her engineering homework, part of the robotics track that her dads had placed her in when she began attending Westside, Willow was exhausted and close to tears. Willow wasn't the type of person who hated anything, she was too kindhearted for that. But her engineering classes came as close to hate as anything ever had. She would much rather have been studying under the botany track, something that spoke to her passions.

But — as Boscha had alluded to earlier — her dads each worked long hours to be able to afford to send her to an elite private school like Westside, and Willow appreciated their efforts more than she could ever tell them. So she grit her teeth and dealt with it, even if her electives were barely keeping up her grade point average to an acceptable level.

As Willow finished her last engineering problem and finally slammed her book shut, she released a shuddering breath that almost ended in tears. She took off her glasses and rubbed the heel of her hand into them, stubbornly fighting them. Her head ached from all of the math she'd been put through and she wanted to scream. But she fought that feeling down too and relaxed, taking deep breaths.

She was just putting her glasses back on when she heard a knock at her door. "Yes?" she called.

The door opened to reveal her papa's face. "Hey, Willow," he greeted warmly. "Your dad was thinking we could go downtown and window shop. You know, as a family." His eyes were twinkling. "If we stop by that florist shop you like, we might even get a new plant."

Willow blinked, then she couldn't help but smile. She stood from her chair and rushed to hug her papa. "Thanks."

"Don't thank me," Gilbert said, hugging back anyway, "thank Dad."

Willow stepped back and moved around her papa, not before planting a kiss on his cheek since she knew that he had something to do with this, and raced to hug her dad, too. Gilbert listened carefully and smiled at the sound of Harvey's delighted surprise at Willow no doubt squeezing him to the breaking point.

Then he moved to get everyone's coats.


Two hours later, and Willow was in much better spirits.

Because of her tuition costs, her dads rarely had the extra cash for gifts. Willow had long accepted this and appreciated the fact that they worked so hard to give her a good education. But the times where she got new plants or books made her even more appreciative of them.

Willow felt the comforting feeling of a packet of rose seeds swinging in the inner pocket of her coat as she held her dads' hands. All three Parks were soaking in the brilliant storefront lights of downtown Gravesfield and their time as a family. Willow honestly loved times like this, when it was her and her dads and she could forget about school. She'd been tempted to call the one person she'd call a friend, Augustus Porter, but he probably-

Willow felt her belly suddenly twist with dread, gooseflesh rippling along her arms and the back of her neck. Then she heard the distant noises of people screaming in panic. Wait, what? And then something horrific sliced through the air, a hissing cry unlike anything she'd ever heard that sent primal fear racing up her spine.

"Is that-?" Gilbert gasped.

"It couldn't be!" Harvey whispered, his voice full of fear … but tinged with something like homesickness.

Willow latched into that sound and felt a sudden pull. If her dads were homesick from that sound, it meant-! She stopped thinking and raced in the direction of the sound. It meant it was from their home, the Boiling Isles!

Willow didn't even hear her dads calling her name as she wove through the oncoming crowd toward the sound, which emanated from the buildings again. She stumbled at the mouth of an alley and ducked into the shadows to creep forward. She inched toward a corner to try and peek out when something blurred past with a cry of pain to crash into the opposing wall.

Willow moved to check and gasped at the sight of a person, broken and bleeding and groaning with clear agony. Another cry of human pain lanced through the air as yet another person was sent hurtling away — only this time Willow saw what had caused it.

The alley was filled by the massive shape of a serpentine monster, its upper body vaguely humanoid while its lower was composed only of a long, muscular tail. Tan scales covered its body, aside from the claws tipping its hands and a head of lank, chestnut hair that reached its shoulders, mirrored by a tuft of hair at the tip of its tail. It's eyes, solid blue except for round, black pupils, were full of hunger as it bared serrated fangs at a victim in a red hoodie who had their back to Willow.

"Hand over the trinket," the creature snarled in a surprisingly deep voice, "and I will spare you."

"Why?" the victim asked, curiosity in his clearly-male voice rather than fear or anger. "Why would you want it so badly?" In the back of her head where logic maintained a small holding, she thought she recognized that voice.

"That is none of your concern, human," the creature spat. "Hand it over, or break like your feeble guards."

"Yeah, my guards that you probably killed!" the boy shouted, this time with clear anger. "Bring it, demon!"

As the creature roared and prepared to take what it wanted, Willow felt anger of her own rise up. This creature, the first denizen of her homeland she had ever seen, was threatening someone for a trinket, like a common mugger! Images of her own school life — of being bullied and humiliated by Boscha and Amity and their group of friends — flashed across her mind's eye and her righteous fury grew. And she seized upon a crazy idea.

Willow removed the rose seeds from her coat and tore it open, pouring a handful into her palm before returning the rest, and then dug deep into her magic — into the very depths of her bile sac — and sent it surging into the freed seeds. She felt the seeds react before they swelled with life and burst into massive flowering vines covered with vicious thorns. Vines that Willow willed to set upon the serpent-demon.

The vines seemed to catch the creature off-guard as it looked up and was beaten back by the surge. The vines lashed around its arms, neck, and tail, restraining it as the thorns bit into its flesh. The beast hissed in pain, but then it sniffed the air. "Magic," it hissed with surprise, then opened its maw and with a shrill cry, it sucked the magic from the vines, allowing it to tear them apart with a twist of its body.

Willow gasped in shock as her creations were torn apart, her body lurching back as if struck. The demon licked its lips and slithered forward, its eyes shining with something like ravenous awe. "Titan be praised. A witch," it hissed, the sound almost a gasp of relief. In a blur of movement, the creature had its tail wrapped around Willow like a python, pinning her arms to her sides. "Do not worry, witchling," it hissed in the same tone, "you will live. Though this will be," it bared its fangs, "… unpleasant."

Willow whimpered but refused to look away as the demon opened its maw again … and wailed in pain as its body seized and was wracked with jerking twitches. It grunted and writhed, its body constricting Willow with nearly-crushing force, for a few long moments before it collapsed into a steaming heap. Willow gasped as she was released from the coils, gulping in air to fill her lungs even as her ribs protested. They'd certainly been bruised, maybe even broken. Then she looked up to find the person the demon had been trying to rob, his hoodie open and a smoking taser gun in each hand.

"Are you okay?" he asked, twitching his head back to lower his hood. Willow gasped at the sight of this person, her ribs burning again. Widened brown eyes under ash-blond hair, a scar over one cheek and a gap between the front teeth visible between his lips. Hunter Wittebane!

"I-" Willow stammered, her brain seizing up from everything that had happened.

"Hey, don't I know-?" he started, and that was the trigger Willow needed. She turned tail and ran away, her face burning with exertion and embarrassment, her arms sore and her ribs aching … and her chest throbbing in a way that her dads had described as a drained bile sac.

She made it to the street and kept running until she couldn't keep up the pace any longer and fell against a street light, gasping for air as the realization of how incredibly stupid her actions had been crashed over her. What if she'd been hurt … worse, or even killed?! She hadn't considered that; she'd acted as she'd felt was right in the moment.

Willow's downward spiral was interrupted by her phone ringing, her papa's ringtone. She fumbled for her phone and answered, her hand trembling. "Willow!" Gilbert shouted. "Oh thank the Titan. Sweetheart, where are you?!"

Willow shook her head and looked for street signs. She finally blinked her brain into working and told them where she was, then sank to her knees as they kept her on the line as they went to find her. She had no idea how long it was, even if it couldn't have been more than a few minutes, before she was wrapped in her dads' arms as they held her close.

"Willow," her dad said, his voice tense with anger born from worry, "what were you thinking? You just ran toward a roar that I know frightened you! Honey, why would you do that?!"

"Harvey, that's enough!" Gilbert snapped in a tone that he rarely used. "Let's get her home, give her time to process. Then we can ask her what happened after we've all calmed down."

The rest was a blur as her dads guided her toward a bus stop, held her close on the bus, and then guided her further to their townhouse. She was set onto her papa's recliner as he prepared soup while Harvey got her some water and settled to hold her hand while she sorted through everything. At some point, she started crying and Harvey drew her into a hug and held her while she did.

Gilbert came with the soup and held her close as well until Willow's sobs eased and she removed her glasses to brush her eyes. "I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'm sorry for running off like that. I'm sorry for worrying you." Her face twisted with sorrow. "I'm sorry I blew our secret."

"What?" both dads asked.

And so Willow told them what happened. About the serpentine demon — because it had to be a creature from the demon realm, and it certainly hadn't been a witch — the boy it had tried to steal from, her fit of rage that had her attack the creature, it sucking away the magic in her vines before preparing to do the same to her, its defeat by the boy … the boy's identity … and the fact that he seemed to recognize her.

The elder Parks were silent as they processed everything their daughter had told them. Eventually, it was Harvey who spoke up. "That sounds like a basilisk," he breathed, "but … that's impossible. They're supposed to be extinct!"

"So how is one here?" Gilbert asked rhetorically. "Why was it after this Hunter boy?"

"And how do we handle that?" Harvey asked, his voice higher with shock.

"Actually, it should be fine," Gilbert said. "I mean, who's going to believe him if he says a girl from his school used magic to save him from a snake monster?" He smiled, though it was a tense thing. "Humans don't believe in magic, after all."

Harvey's lips pressed in a line, but he nodded at the point. Both men looked down to find Willow asleep against Harvey's chest. "And as to how it got here …" Harvey said, more quietly, "it's probably the same way we did."

"Or at least something similar," Gilbert agreed. He sighed and scooped Willow up to take her to bed. "At least she's sleeping soundly," he said with a smile. "She still has school tomorrow."

"So, what?" Harvey asked. "Do we just react if something comes up?"

"Isn't that how we handled being brought here in the first place?" Gilbert asked. Harvey thought that over and nodded to concede the point; he had no better ideas. They settled Willow into her bed and each kissed her forehead good night before retiring themselves. They could only pray to the Titan that nothing harmful would come up in the meantime.

Of course, they could never have guessed that the appearance of one of the most dangerous creatures in the Boiling Isles … was only the beginning.


Hours later, after the situation had been "cleaned up" by some unknown forces before the police could arrive, Eda Hawthorne — a tall, slim woman with massive orange hair threaded with silver and brown eyes that had enchanted many a man even without magic — was poking around the alley where everything had gone down.

"Find anything?" Eda asked her companion, a small, back-furred demon that resembled a dog or fox with an angular, horned skull for a head and golden eyes peering from within the sockets.

"Smells like snakes and rotting meat," King reported, his nose wrinkling. "You know, under all the garbage."

"There's gotta be something here," Eda said. "I can feel it in my boots."

Something clattered in the alley and both figures turned to face it, Eda shining a flashlight in its direction. From the shadows walked a figure in a hooded purple cloak and holding a wooden staff capped with some kind of bird carving. The figure tossed its hood back to reveal a teenage girl with short dark hair, tan skin … and pointed ears. "Are you a witch?" the girl asked cautiously.

"I'd ask you the same, but those," Eda pointed at the girl's ears, "are a dead giveaway."

The girl yelped and traced a small circle of orange light that brought a puff of blue smoke, her ears round as a human's when it cleared. "Right, uh …"

"I'm not a witch," Eda said, "but I am a friend." She barked a laugh. "Though that's what an enemy would say, too," she mused. "I guess that means it's up to you whether you trust me or not."

The girl narrowed her eyes and glanced down at King. "You're housing a demon," she noted. Then she smiled and scooped King up in a tight embrace. "And he's so cute! Who's a widdle guy? Is it you? Is it you?" She squeezed him tighter and King started to panic.

"Eda, help!" he cried out.

"And that settles it!" Luz said, passing King over to Eda. "I trust you." She gave a flourishing bow. "Luz Noceda of Bonesborough," she introduced.

"Eda Hawthorne," Eda said back, "though most people call me the Owl Lady." She held up her companion. "And this is King." She smirked, and then looked seriously at Luz. "You need a place to stay?"

"Yes, please," Luz said with a nervous grin.

"You got it, kid," Eda said, though she smiled a little menacingly. "So long as you can work for it."

Welcome to my latest Huntlow story, a superhero AU with a dash of role swap! *This premise is based upon and retooled from "The Edge of Rifts" by EldrichRaven - also a Huntlow superhero AU. Shout out to this awesome friend who let me base this work upon hers and has offered an ear to polish it.

*In this AU, Gravesfield is a large-ish city as opposed to the implied town of canon.

*The insult "Halfwit Willow" is used with permission by its originator, WaterDragonMaverick in their work, Palisman Cafe

*Hunter, Amity, Boscha, Eda, and Gus are all humans in this AU - whereas Willow, her dads, and Luz are witches. King is still a demon.

*The basilisk's design is lifted from canon: the yellow one from Vee's flashbacks in "Yesterday's Lie." ^ His voice is provided by Erik Dellums, who voices Aaravos in "The Dragon Prince" and Koh the Face Stealer in Avatar: The Last Airbender."

If you like what you see, please leave a review! It's always a pleasure hearing what you all think. If you have questions about the premise, review or PM me - I'll answer if it's not a spoiler. As always, may your inspirations flow like raging rivers.