Chapter Two

At any other time, Willow would appreciate that it was a Friday.

It meant the weekend was here, and she could rush through her engineering homework before having a whole forty-eight hours to herself and her parents and plants, perhaps see a movie or read a book at her favorite hole-in-the-wall coffee shop, maybe even hang out with Augustus for some actual teen time.

But this was not any other Friday. This was the morning after the encounter — her first encounter — with a demon, a native of the Boiling Isles. The day after she'd revealed her magic to a human who was being robbed by the creature. The day after she had realized that said human was Hunter Wittebane.

And to make matters worse, it was the last weekend before the big robotics presentation on Monday. The class had been working for the last four weeks to build a functioning automaton from materials provided by the labs, and their completed project was due for presentation this coming Monday, a whole three days from now. And Willow had put it off and procrastinated to the point where she would likely have a twitching mass of disconnected wires and bad programming to be mocked and jeered at.

Needless to say, she was not looking forward to this particular Friday at all.

Her first set of classes were kind of a blur as she struggled to keep her head out of her worried thoughts for what may happen. Hunter had almost certainly recognized her! And when he connected the dots that it was her who had manifested those vines via what could only be magic … how would he react? Would he tell people, like the police or the news? Would they take her away to study her, or even her dads? Or would he just deliberately shun her at school and leave her reputation in ever greater shambles than it already was, while also stomping her heart into tiny shreds?

"Ms. Park!" Willow jumped at the sound of the engineering teacher snapping her name, not exactly an unusual occurrence. Mr. Beaks — a diminutive man with chin-length black hair surrounding a bald crown, sharp grey eyes, round spectacles, and a long, curved nose that was woefully appropriate for his name — glared at Willow as he seemed to sniff out her not paying attention. "If you wish to pass my class, you would do well to focus!"

Willow felt her face turn red as she caught whispers and snickers from around the room about "halfwit" Willow getting chewed out again. She swallowed her shame and nodded, making a show of gripping her pencil for notes. Mr. Beaks sighed through his long nose and rolled his eyes before returning to his lecture, mostly last-minute information and tips for their project.

As Willow struggled to keep up, her gaze unwillingly flicked to Amity, who was almost obviously ignoring her in favor of her own notes. Even though it shouldn't have, even that stung on this awful day.

After the veritable Hell that was her engineering class, Willow would normally be on the edge of singing praises for athletics. Though she didn't show it, Willow took her fitness very seriously; she'd read that it helped with self-esteem and had tried it, and found that she liked it. She worked out every morning before school and tended to do very well in this class. Which was good, because it helped keep her GPA afloat.

It didn't hurt that the athletics classes were co-ed, and she had hers with Hunter Wittebane. The school's provided workout clothes were as conservative as was practical, but the very fact that they were workout clothes meant they were a little tight-fitting. And though Willow herself didn't care for it … the blond made it look good.

But today was not normal, and she dreaded this class today nearly as much as her robotics classes. This would be the first time she would see him since she'd fled the demon encounter last night, at least in a place where she could not flee again. If there was any time to out her in the most brutal fashion, now would be it. Or maybe lunch … Oh no.

Willow kept her head down in the girls' locker room. Another part of athletics that she was grateful for was that Boscha didn't share this period, even if a lot of her jock-girl cronies did. Including Amity. She finished up quickly — dressing in the shorts and sleeveless shirt of the school's athletic uniform — and made her way into the indoor track of the athletics complex, a set of interconnected buildings so chock-full of state-of-the-art facilities and equipment that they could no longer accurately be labeled a gymnasium. As always, she stayed out of the way as she watched her classmates wander in from the locker rooms.

After a few minutes, Hunter made his appearance and Willow could no longer hide. As he entered, Hunter's gaze moved directly to her and locked onto hers. He looked at her with deliberate intensity, just long enough to show that it was not accidental or casual, and then moved along to lean against a wall and brood.

What? What did that mean?

As the coach — a short and heavily-muscled woman, severe but still fair with short bleached hair pulled back in a tail and a cap — came in and began delivering instructions in a manner that would make any drill sergeant proud, Willow fell in line with the rest and began their exercises. It was only after they all lined up that Willow realized with a gasp that Hunter had decided to stand next to her, and as she was deliberately at the end of the line … his place could only be just as deliberate.

The rest of the class period was filled with similar incidents. Hunter would draw close to her in the group run, his elbow brushing her shoulder, before veering away as he glanced at her. He took the position next to her in the line for every event, making a clear point to look at her, but never speaking or doing anything else. It was very confusing for Willow.

By the time athletics were over, Willow's nerves were even more frayed than before. And this did not lean itself toward a hearty appetite. Lunch came after athletics, and though Willow was clean, the shower was far too quick and cold to ease her worries. As she got in line, she was stretched to the point of hugging herself as she turned over every encounter with Hunter Wittebane in her mind.

What was he doing?!

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sudden presence of a spicy scent, one that she had smelled the previous day when she'd crashed into the very subject of her worries. Willow glanced backward to find him standing behind her in line, one hand in his pocket and the other holding another open book. He glanced up at her and held her gaze again for just a heartbeat too long to be casual before looking back down. The lunch line slowly creeped forward and Willow began to sweat. If he was trying to torture her, he was certainly succeeding!

Finally, she had her tray of food and reached into her small purse for the money her dads had given her for lunch, but before she could pay … Hunter swiped a card and paid for her lunch. Then he walked away without looking back. "T-Thank you," Willow stammered, her dads' lessons on manners rising up even past her confusion. Hunter glanced back with level eyes … and the faintest grin at the edge of his mouth. Then he turned away and continued walking toward the corner of the table where he always sat alone … and a lunch bag was sitting for him.

Willow stood there in stunned silence until someone shoved past her and sniped at her for holding up the line. She blushed and headed for her own solitary spot at a table, her thoughts whirling.

The rest of the school day was a blur as Willow tried to focus with little success. She was able to pick up a few materials to hopefully patch up her project for Monday, but little else stuck in her mind. Even Boscha's low-intensity antics couldn't grab her attention.

But everything came to a head when she was walking away from campus and a white-and-gold town car pulled up. The driver got out, a portly dark-skinned man in his fifties dressed as a classical chauffeur, and spoke to her by name. "Miss Willow Park?" he asked. Willow stopped in her tracks and the back window rolled down to reveal Hunter. "My employer wishes to offer a ride home to discuss some matters."

"Please," Hunter added.

Willow's cheeks bloomed with red as she glanced around to where students were whispering. She looked back to the boy and saw no malice in his gaze and … she found herself nodding and approaching. The driver smoothly moved to open the door for her with a nod and a friendly smile before making sure she was secure and gently shutting the door, the faint thump almost like the drop of a guillotine to Willow. As the car began moving forward, Willow looked to her host. Hunter had his fingers clasped and was twiddling his thumbs, his lips tight as if in deep thought.

"Willow?" he asked. Willow nodded, unable to speak. "Can we be honest with each other?" Another nod. Hunter sighed and rubbed his eyes before looking at her with singular focus. "I know it was you last night. You who used magic on those plants to bind that basilisk." His hand twitched. "I know you tried to help me, and … I appreciate it."

"H-Hunter, I-"

"Wait. Please," Hunter said, lifting a hand. "Willow, I know what you are." His gaze softened just a little. "You're a witch. A native of the Boiling Isles."

Willow's face paled to a ghostly pallor. "How?"

"I like to read," Hunter said with a shrug. "And my uncle has very eclectic tastes. I know quite a bit about the Boiling Isles, or at least 'quite a bit' for a human." He sighed. "There's a lot going on and … well, it's kind of a long explanation."

Willow was silent for a moment before she couldn't stand it anymore. "What was all of that today?" she asked, her voice little more than a whisper.

Hunter arched his eyebrows. "All of what?"

"You were focused on me during athletics, looked at me all the time, but you never spoke," she said. "You paid for my lunch …! What was it about?"

"I wasn't sure how to approach you," Hunter explained. "I tried so many times today but I didn't want to come off as sudden, or have anyone overhear." He snorted. "It was only when school ended that I thought about this." He gestured at the interior of the car.

They were silent for a few more minutes until the car stopped in front of Willow's townhouse building. As Willow gathered her things, her movements nervous and jerky, Hunter spoke again. "Willow, I think things are starting to be put into motion," he said seriously. "I think you might be a part of it, and I if I'm right …" His cheeks turned faintly pink, "I want to help." He fished around in a breast pocket and handed her a business card. It was engraved with the title "Empire Enterprises" and its logo of a tower with an open eye. She flipped it over to find a cell phone number. "If you notice anything strange … let me know, okay?" he asked.

"… Okay," Willow whispered before hauling herself from the car and bolting for her building's door. She entered and looked back to find the car pulling away only as the building's door closed.

"Something strange," Willow whispered, the business card still in her hand. She flat-out refused to think about the fact that Hunter Wittebane had given her his number. "What could he mean …?"


The evening found Luz and Eda — sometimes called the "Owl Lady" by Gravesfield locals — sitting behind the counter of the Owl House as Eda ground up herbs and spices and weighed them before handing off portions that Luz would mix with a thin wooden stick before carefully pouring into jars that she would then label.

That morning, after a somewhat comfortable night on Eda's pull-out couch, Luz had been briefed on what "working for it" actually meant. It turned out that Eda ran a few businesses. The main one was this very store, a curio shop called the Owl House. Eda had traveled quite a bit in her life and made acquaintances across the globe, and she bought local art pieces from any number of exotic locales that she then sold in the Owl House.

What no one suspected was that a select portion of her inventory consisted of artifacts from the Boiling Isles. A quick glance around the room showed Luz an enchanted locket that only opened for the owner, a map of the Boiling Isles that Eda was passing off as a rare fantasy map, and wooden mask carved in the likeness of a cranial demon with its narrow face and the skull cap modeled on fingers holding in an exposed brain.

Another business was dealing in traditional medicine, or "potions." Eda had collected quite a bit of knowledge on medicinal herbs during her travels and was ever-eager to sell to anyone who was interested along with instructions for use. Everything from ground willow bark tea for headaches to local honey for cuts and scrapes.

As her "rent," Luz was officially a clerk and stocker for the Owl House, in charge of greeting customers, ringing up purchases, and stocking the shelves. By its very nature the shop was not exceedingly busy, but it made enough for Eda to keep it running. Plus, the fact that she owned the building and lived on the second floor helped. And Luz could honestly say she had enjoyed her first day.

"Is anyone out there?" King asked from the "Employees Only" door.

"Nope. You're good to go, for now," Eda called.

With the go-ahead, King strutted into the shop on his back legs, freely flouting the role of "poor, deformed dog" that he had to play when customers were in the store. He scurried up onto a stool to look at what Eda and Luz were going before grunting in boredom and curling up for a power nap.

"Dah, he's so cute," Luz cooed, scratching the top of King's skull, only for him to distractedly bat her hand away without looking.

"Hey! Focus, Kid," Eda scolded with a wry grin. "Gotta get this stuff done for the shelves before the evening rush hits."

"Right, right. You got it, Eda!"


Near the center of the City of Gravesfield loomed the rising main tower of Empire Enterprises, one of the most powerful conglomerates on Earth. A varied and ever-expanding force, Empire Enterprises committed research and development into every conceivable field with the vocal goal of accumulating knowledge and nurturing culture for all mankind.

The company's many directions were all tied to the nine main "facets" comprising robotics, music, zoology, botany, architecture-infrastructure, medicine, varying apparel and equipment, communications, and chemistry. The fact that this was the configuration of academic tracks at Westside School was no coincidence, as the company donated high sums to the school, as well as dozens of schools and scores of charities across the country and the world.

As the shadows lengthened and the sun sank below the skyline, the darkening cityscape was an excellent accompaniment to the secrets beneath the vaunted business powerhouse. Far below the main campus of Empire Enterprises, accessible only to a select few, sat a surveillance grid that kept close watch over the city. Tapped into all manner of security cameras that had been installed during Empire's update to the city's infrastructure, there was little the denizens of this place could not see.

Accompanying the visual surveillance was a number of sensors and devices keyed into the detection of something a vast majority of humanity believed to be a fantasy: magic. The force and energy of magic that existed on Earth, though only as a thin and nebulous veil.

The creator of this detection system simply called it the Third Eye.

A lone figure shrouded in shadow against the glow of the wall of monitors watched carefully. Something had happened in the last twenty-four hours that made the instruments of the Third Eye go haywire. The detection had centered upon the downtown area, where he had sent his personal security to deal with what the camera array had picked up. A demon of the Boiling Isles. And if the figure's research was correct, one that was referred to as a basilisk.

And one that had attacked his nephew, all for the enchanted necklace he wore as a gift from his uncle.

After his nephew had somehow subdued the beast on his own — bless that brilliant child; his parents would have been so proud! — the security team had smuggled the demon to this very facility, after ensuring that Hunter's bodyguards would be picked up by the EMTs and given top-priority care. The figure typed a command key and turned away from the monitors to look upon the opening view of a zoological cell containing the basilisk that was pacing upon its slithering tail across the grassy interior lit by state-of-the-art sunlamps. The figure typed in another command and the viewing panels returned, the creature only noticing at the last moment and snarling at him.

The figure turned back to the monitors, pushing a button that brought overhead lights to life. They illuminated a lean, handsome man in his thirties, his long chestnut hair pulled back in a tail aside from three strands of bangs that stylishly hung over his face. His nose was round and downturned, his eyebrows perpetually arched in interest, and his full lips either pursed in thought or upturned in amusement. He dressed rather old-fashionedly in a long coat and with frills on his shirt sleeves and tie, as well as genuine buckled shoes — all of which contributed to his reputation for kindhearted eccentricity.

Philip Wittebane, the owner and CEO of Empire Enterprises.

Philip leaned over and entered a series of commands that changed the view of several monitors to a recorded feed from a week before. They showed various angles of a wavering in the air, like a mirage, that coalesced into a cleave in space that released a large, cephalopoid creature with a massive head centering a collection of tentacles ending in bizarre puppet-like figures. A clutch of eggs sat between its head and tentacles, along with a pair of spindly arms.

Philip's fingers flew over the keys as he played back a rough timeline of the creature's actions after it had arrived on Earth. It lured joggers from a local park with its puppets shaped as attractive humans, then robbed them after — judging by software to read lips — interrogating them for information. Philip had sent his team of specialized security to bring in the demon — a bug demon referred to as a Puppeteer — to get it off the streets and unable to harm more innocents. The creature had been unwilling to answer questions about how it had arrived here, and so was kept in its own cell.

"Once is happenstance," Philip said in a stately British accent.

He input the commands to show the footage gathered from a second event that spawned the basilisk and his nephew defeating it, the latter of which there was rather little due to the alley lacking cameras. Philip hummed at the feed, at the sight of some kind of vines wrapping the demon, silently suspecting a third party. His nephew, though, was unwilling to discuss it, and so he decided to trust the boy's judgment.

"Twice is coincidence," Philip said.

With that, Philip began typing furiously to bring up the data collected during the two previous incidents. He had long invented devices capable of detecting magic in Gravesfield, and the readings over the five years since their development were near-constant.

Until these two events.

During the pair of events, in the brief times that a true gateway had opened between Earth and the Boiling Isles, the readings had skyrocketed! And not only that, but the baseline readings since the first had been nearly twice the norm, and thrice since the second! Granted, the miniscule original baseline made that sound much more impressive than it was … but it raised so many questions. And if Philip was right, the answers would be coming very soon.

He typed one last command that calculated locations and timing of the two events. If his instincts were right, a third event would arise sooner rather than later. "Thrice establishes a pattern," Philip finished solemnly. "What is happening, I wonder?"

Philip's musings were interrupted by his personal phone chirping. He removed the device, a slim piece of glass and wire that was the latest from Empire's communications division (privately nicknamed the "oracle field" by Philip) to find a text from his nephew about dinner. Philip chuckled and entered a reply that he would be home from the labs soon before cutting the lights and leaving the Third Eye to its work.

As he rode the express elevator to his private office that he would publicly leave to head home to the high-rise penthouse he shared with his dear Hunter, he silently worried what he would do if — nay, when — another event occurred. He feared that sending human troops into the fray, no matter how well-trained or equipped, would end in tragedy sooner rather than later.

What was he to do?

Chapter two is here!

*Eda and Luz making herbal remedies is a take on Eda's canon potions business that didn't seem to last past episode two.

*The "facets" of Empire enterprises are based on the tracks of Hexside, as are the Westside academic tracks.

*SPOILERS FOR "ELSEWHERE AND ELSEWHEN": WE got some serious insight into Philip's canon character in this episode, and while it moves against my original plans ... I have figured out a way to incorporate it! Stay tuned to find out how.

As always, I hope you've enjoyed this. And leave a review if you have questions, critiques, or observations - I always enjoy reading them! May your inspirations flow freely!