Boy, you guys went right after me when I got the hawk's name wrong. At least you guys didn't have a problem with me calling Dell's palisman Fritter. I thought it was a clever name.

Anyway, here's chapter 7. Enjoy!

I do not own 'The Owl House'.


Chapter 7

The Cross and the Pentagram


"Is it true that rain doesn't boil in the Human Realm?"

"It is. You know, I've been there before. Did I ever tell you that?"

Hunter watched as the rain fell in the darkness. Sitting under the lean-to on the top of the steps of the Noceda household porch, the Grimwalker beheld the Human Realm. Flapjack nestled on Hunter's shoulder, offering his warmth and comfort. Hunter was wearing a borrowed bathrobe and a pair of blue slippers over his lent pajamas.

'You were really good at lying...uncle.'

"Hunter?"

Hunter looked behind him and saw Luz holding the front door open.

Hunter took note of the human's Witch Azura pajamas. "Couldn't sleep, either?"

Luz sighed. "Nope."

"The others?"

"Oh, they're all out cold." Luz shrugged. "Guess they found the pull-out couch comfy."

"Your couch is pretty comfy."

Luz smiled a little. "Can I sit with you?"

Hunter shrugged and looked back out in the rain. "I am a guest in your home. I will make no complaint or argument against your requests."

Luz came out and sat down next to Hunter. The two of them listened to and watched the rainfall together. The streetlamps illuminated the rain crashing onto the pavement.

"Human rain is very soothing and relaxing," Hunter commented. "It's just as gloomy as the boiling rains, though." He inhaled through his nose. "But the smell…the smell of human rain is what I really love about it."

"Yeah. I didn't realize how much I missed it." Luz smiled sadly. "I'm…happy to be home."

Hunter watched in fascination as a car drove by in the dark, window wipers and headlights active. "It's gonna take some getting used to for me."

"You and the others, I bet," said Luz. "By the way, are you gonna tell them that you're a…you know what?"

"Are you gonna tell your mom about you and Amity?"

Luz blushed. "Uh…n-no. Not…not yet, no."

Hunter nodded. "Your mom seems really nice. I doubt she'd flip out if you told her. It's not like you want to tell her that you're a copy of someone else who your 'uncle' probably killed hundreds of years ago."

Luz stared into the rain, a haunted look shimmered in her eyes.

"Hunter…what are we going to do?"

"For now, let's all just take a moment to catch our breaths," said Hunter. "After that…I don't know. There might not be anything we can do."

"We can't just leave the Boiling Isles at the mercy of that Collector psycho," Luz said desperately. "All of us have family back on the Boiling Isles."

Hunter remained still and silent for a moment. "...Not all of us."

Luz blinked. "...Oh…uh…" The embarrassed human bit her lip and looked away. "Sorry."

"You're fine, forget it," Hunter said with a wave of his hand.

Luz titled his head at Hunter. "...Do you…really not have any family?" she asked. "I'm sorry if I'm prying into something you don't wanna talk about, but…was Belos really all you had?"

"The only family I've ever known, the closest thing to a father I've ever had, and I watched as the Collector splattered him all over the wall," Hunter said, a slightly haunted look in his eyes. "He was the only family I ever knew, yes."

"Well…you have us." Luz offered with a smile. "We might not be much, but we look out for each other."

"Don't get me wrong, Luz, I'm happy to have met you guys," Hunter said. "But best case scenario: we get back to the Boiling Isles, we somehow stop the Collector, and everyone goes on with their lives. Gus goes back to his dad, Willow goes back to her dads, Amity goes back to her siblings, her dad, and her awful yet at least existent mom, and you'll either stay with Eda or your mom, depending on how things play out."

Hunter took a deep breath. "...I have nothing to go back to. The Emperor's Coven was all I've ever known, and with everything that's happened, the Coven is finished. I…I have nothing now."

"That's not true," said Luz. "You could start a new life. You can go to Hexside, you can be on Willow's Flyer Derby team, heck, with your previous profession, you might even go into politics. Eda would definitely let you move into the Owl House if you have nowhere else to go. You have and deserve a chance at a normal, happy life."

"Normal? Happy?" Hunter asked. "I grew up without parents. I grew up without siblings or friends. I kept an echo mouse for a pet once and Belos made me kill it. My very first friend is sitting on my shoulder and I've never casually interacted with anyone my age before making an idiot out of myself in front of Gus and Willow. I was created by Belos to be his loyal servant, as were the rest of the Golden Guards probably. Nothing special about me, I'm just the latest model. And from what I can tell, Belos cut a few corners when he made me. School? Sports? Grom? Celebrating my birthday? I never got to have any of that. No, Luz. My shot for a normal and happy life got tossed out the window by the same masked creep that brought me into this life."

Luz stared at Hunter as he brooded sadly. "...You never even celebrated your birthday?"

"I'm not even sure I have a birthday," Hunter replied. "You kinda have to be born to have one of those."

Luz gave Hunter a sad look. Carefully, as if trying not to spook him, she placed her hand on the Grimwalker's shoulder. Hunter flinched, as if startled by the contact, but calmed against Luz's touch.

"You're not alone, Hunter. Not anymore." Luz smiled. "I think, for the first time in your life…you're free. And, you just don't know what to do with that. This might not be something you've ever been asked before, but, Hunter…what do you want?"

Hunter blinked and stared off into the rain. "...I want…to have friends and do…whatever friends to do. I want…to go to school and get good grades."

"What tracks would you study?" Luz asked.

"All of them, I guess," said Hunter. "Whenever I wasn't training in the yard, I was studying in the castle's library. I know about all kinds of magic."

"Would you do sports?" Luz asked.

"I suppose I would go back to playing on Willow's Flyer Derby team, like you said," said Hunter. "That was fun."

"Who would you take to Grom?" Luz asked with a teasing smile.

"No one," Hunter replied a little too quickly.

Luz raised an eyebrow. "Have you…ever had a crush on someone?"

"No."

"Really? You've never crushed on anybody?"

"No."

"Well, if you had to pick, is there anybody you would want to ask to go with you to Grom?"

"No."

"Are you sure-"

"Drop it."

"I will not. We are so gonna come back to this."

Hunter rolled his eyes. "There's…one more thing I want."

"Yeah?" Luz asked.

"I want to know where I come from," Hunter said. "I want to know who I'm a copy of. I want to know why Belos, Philip, whatever you want to call him, made me."

"Do you have any, like, flashbacks or dream memories or something?" Luz asked. "In the Good Witch Azura books, Azura's half-brother, Farnick, has consistent flashbacks of his past life as the…you know what, I won't spoil it for you, in case you get into the series. By the way, please get into the series, I really want more people to talk to about it. It's a really good book series, I promise."

"...Uh…to answer your question, I do not have any memories, no." Hunter looked up into the dark sky. Lightning flashed up above.

"...But…sometimes…when I go to bed, right before I fall asleep, I think I can see someone. It's like trying to make out what someone hiding in the dark looks like. A witch woman, smiling at me…telling me…telling me she loves me."

"Really?" Luz asked. "Who is she?"

Hunter sighed. "I wish I knew."

Flapjack looked down at the ground from his perch on Hunter's shoulder, a sad and guilty look in his good eye.


Caleb opened the door and stepped out of the shop. "I'll see you both tomorrow," he called into the shop.

"Enjoy the rest of your day, Caleb," Morgan called back.

"I'm gonna need you to show up early tomorrow," Thea called.

"Will do." Caleb closed the door and began walking to the tavern for a meal and a drink.

"Chirp-Chirp-Tweet. Chirp-Chirp-Tweet."

"No training today, I'm afraid," Caleb replied to the cardinal on his shoulder. "Maggie's taking today to brush up on her palisman carving skills."

"Chirp-Chirp-Tweet. Chirp-Chirp-Tweet."

"Yes, helping me make you has really got her wanting to be more dedicated to the Clawthorne family business," Caleb said.

Flapjack puffed out his feathered chest proudly and flapped his wings. "Chirp-Chirp-Tweet. Chirp-Chirp-Tweet."

"Indeed. You've had a great impact on both our lives." Caleb rubbed Flapjack's belly affectionately. "You truly are one special palisman."

A fireball crashed into the ground at Caleb's feet and threw him back. Flapjack was thrown off his shoulder as Caleb landed on his back.

Caleb raised his head to see Archibald Blight with his outstretched, smoking hand aimed at him. The green-haired witch had an angry look on his pale face and his cold blue eyes glared at the human.

Caleb narrowed his eyes and rose back to his feet. "Blight."

"So you remember me. I'm flattered." Archibald replied sourly.

"Listen. Is this about that time I punched you in the face and aimed a gun at your head?" Caleb asked. "Because let's face it, you had it coming."

"And you've had this coming." Archibald drew a magic circle and an even larger ball of fire shot toward Caleb.

Flapjack flew in and extended into a staff, blocking off the attack as Caleb grabbed hold of the staff.

"What the? Where'd you get that?!" Archibald demanded. "Only real witches are meant to wield those!"

"Strange." Caleb expertly twirled his staff and got into a fighting stance. "I seem to wield mine rather well."

Archibald ground his teeth and let out a feral yell before firing off fireball after fireball at Caleb. Caleb and Flapjack went to work blocking every one of the attacks. Caleb swung his staff and subjected each fireball to Flapjack's magic, canceling out every one of the attacks.

"I've been practicing, can you tell?" Caleb asked. "Come on, Blight, hit me."

Enraged, Archibald drew a circle the size of a wagon wheel.

Before the shot could be fired, Caleb fazed in a rush of yellow light toward Archibald and swept his legs out from under him. The Blight did a flip before he landed painfully on his back and Caleb placed the head of his staff against his throat.

"Neat, right?" Caleb asked. "First time I tried that, I fazed right into a tree. Had to have my…friend, carve me out. Right after she finished laughing at me, that is. It was quite embarrassing, I won't lie."

Archibald shook with anger. "ENOUGH!"

A glowing, purple phantom shot out of Archibald and grabbed Caleb. Flying him straight into the brick wall of a nearby building after dragging him across the road. Caleb crashed into the wall and the mummified phantom roared in Caleb's face before disappearing like a fading light.

"...Ow." Caleb tried and failed to get back up. The pain kept him from rising.

Archibald laughed as he got back to his feet. "Didn't see that coming, hmm?"

"No. No, I did not." Caleb shifted his body painfully. "Well played, Blight. Well played."

"You are down," Archibald stated as he stalked toward Caleb. "You are weak. You are fraudulent. And you are-"

Caleb drew his pistol and shot Archibald.

Archibald screamed in pain and stumbled back, taking a knee. Caleb had shot him right between his left shoulder and his pectoral and the Blight gripped his shoulder in pain.

"You bastard!" the witch man screamed. "You dare you try to murder me?!"

"Oh, relax. I'm good with a gun." Caleb winced from his own pain as he lowered his shot firearm. "I didn't hit anything important. You should have a doctor dig out the lead ball, though."

"I will destroy you!" Archibald drew another circle.

The circle was canceled when the ground below Archibald's outstretched hand erupted in the shape of an arm and a fist. Archibald screamed in pain once more when the stone fist broke his hand. He cradled his broken hand against his chest and looked up at the large, bearded man suddenly looming over him. The large man and his parrot palisman both glared down at the Blight.

"Clawthorne." Archibald hissed. "That explains where this freak got a palisman."

"You will leave," Hector growled in his deep baritone. "You will leave now."

Archibald rose to his feet and hurried away, not stupid enough to risk a fight with the experienced witch.

"You'll pay for this, old man!" Archibald shouted behind him as he scurried off. "You, your family, and that pet human of yours!"

Hector shook his head in disgust before walking over to Caleb's aid. The Blackbeard-looking witch knelt down next to the human.

"How are you feeling?" Hector asked.

"Better days," Caleb replied. "I've had better days."

Hector chuckled before placing his hands under Caleb's shoulders. "Ready?"

Caleb nodded.

Hector lifted Caleb onto his feet. Caleb gritted his teeth at the pain but took a breath of relief once he was standing.

"When we fall, we rise," Hector said. "You know how to take a hit."

"That phantom thing came out of nowhere," Caleb said. He held onto and leaned on his staff. "Haven't seen that yet."

"Oracle magic. A potent talent to possess." Hector said. "The Blights have always had a knack for it, as well as abomination and illusion magic."

Hector raised his hand and traced a magic circle over Caleb's chest over and over, until the cuts and bruises on Caleb and his clothes mended and faded.

"Wow," said Caleb. "Thank you, Mr. Clawthorne."

"Good thing nothing was broken. Ethel is the better healer, not me." the big man said. "And come now, boy, call me Hector." the big man said.

Caleb blinked and smiled. "Thank you, Hector."

Flapjack came to life and flew off his staff, taking perch on Caleb's shoulder and chirping with concern.

"I'm fine, Flapjack." Caleb rubbed the bird's head. "Thanks for having my back."

The old palisman carver's eyes sparkled at the sight of the young palisman. "So that's Flapjack. Margaret told me about him." Hector raised a hand toward the cardinal. "May I?"

Flapjack looked at Caleb for permission, who nodded that it was okay. The bird flew onto Hector's hand and stared up at the big witch.

"Hmmm." Hector examined Flapjack with the look of an old pro who enjoyed what he did. "Remarkable craftsmanship. Margaret continues to make me proud." He carefully lifted Flapjack's wings and stroked his feathers. "Great quality of palistrom wood. Near-flawless carving. Your blood was used to paint him, yes?"

"And my gunpowder," Caleb added. "And my liquor."

"Both are from your world and are of your possession. Very good." Hector lifted Flapjack's leg to look at the bottom of his foot.

"What are you looking for?" Caleb asked.

"His interlock," Hector said. "Did Margaret not show you that? Look." He turned Flapjack to show Caleb the small hole in the palisman's foot. "Every palisman has one, in some shape or form. He'll only fit on your staff. Never seen one like Flapjack's, though. Does 't' stand for anything?"

Caleb looked at the bottom of Flapjack's little foot. "Oh, how about that." he remarked. "That's not a 't'. It's a cross."

"A cross?" Hector asked. "Like the one you're wearing around your neck? Is it some kind of symbol?"

Caleb reached up and held his new necklace in his fingers. The pale cross he wore was held by a thin, gold cord around his neck.

"The cross is the symbol of my religion," Caleb explained. "It represents the sacrifice of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ, who died on the Cross for our sins."

Hector squinted at the pale, wooden cross Caleb wore. "It's made of palistrom wood."

Caleb nodded. "I crafted it out of the leftover wood from when Maggie and I carved Flapjack. I found a big enough piece to whittle into a cross to wear."

Hector hummed thoughtfully. He rubbed Flapjack's belly, earning a happy chirp and a flap of his wings. "You and your palisman share a strong and incredibly unique bond. It must have served you well with your brawl against Archibald."

"I could have beaten him, but I'm a bit tired is all," Caleb said. "Maggie has been wearing me out these past few days."

Hector's left eyebrow went skyward.

"...Wha-I meant from training!" Caleb cried, developing a severe blush. "She's been teaching me how to use a staff! What you thought it meant has not happened, I swear it!"

Hector continued to stare at Caleb, an unreadable look on his face. Flapjack flew back onto Caleb's shoulder and Hector folded his hands behind his back.

"Walk with me."

Caleb fought the urge to gulp, feeling as though it was a command and not an offer. Flapjack flew onto his staff and became inanimate, leaving Caleb alone with Maggie's father. Caleb and Hector walked down the street side by side. The human made a silent prayer for God to lend him strength and courage.

"You and Margaret made Flapjack together?" Hector asked.

"Yes, sir," Caleb replied.

"Ah, I remember making Woodrow together with Margaret." the old man chuckled fondly at the memory. "That pesky little scamp badgered me for years until I finally agreed to carve a palisman with her. Dorathea at least was a little more patient. Although she almost cut her little finger off when we crafted Blue together, she got so excited."

"Creating a palisman is a…fun and exciting experience," Caleb said.

"Indeed it is, believe you me," Hector said. "The experience has gotten Margaret wanting to become more involved in the family profession. She's with her mother as we speak, learning how we operate as a business."

"Do you know when Maggie will be free?" Caleb asked. "I had a gift I wanted to give her for all she's done for me."

"Oh, so now you two are giving each other gifts?"

"Um…w-well…" Caleb pulled on his collar.

"Squawk. Giving each other gifts. Squawk. Giving each other gifts." went Randall the parrot palisman.

"Wow, that's annoying," Caleb commented.

"Yes, I often ponder whether or not I made a mistake with his design," said Hector. "Randall's not wrong, however. You and Margaret have been seeing a lot of each. Giving gifts, sharing moments, getting to know each other."

"Well, I mean, we did save each other's lives," Caleb said. "Of course we would become friends afterward."

Hector stepped in front of Caleb, blocking his way forward.

"My daughter is in love with you."

Caleb was taken back by Hector's bluntness. The human nervously drummed his fingers along his staff and tried to find a response.

"...I…I…well…a-are you sure?" Caleb asked. "I mean, perhaps she likes me, but…i-in love?"

"Margaret has always been the cheerful sort," Hector said. "But as of late, she's had an unusual air of joy to her, like there's something in particular she's happy about. She's always smiling, there's a sparkle in her eyes whenever she drifts off into thought. This morning, she kissed my cheek and called me 'papa', something she hasn't done since she was a little girl."

"Maybe she's just feeling good about life," Caleb suggested.

"She's in love," Hector said. "And it doesn't take a genius to figure out who the man is."

"Could be a woman?"

"It's a man. I know my daughter." Hector leaned forward. "It's you."

Caleb bit her lip and looked away. "Is…this the part where you tell me if I hurt your daughter or break her heart, you'll kill me?"

"No, that should go without saying," Hector replied. "This is the part where I, her father, ask if you share my daughter's feelings for you."

Caleb hesitated before letting out a sigh. "I'm…trying hard not to forget and abandon my own world and my own reality. I've already crossed several thresholds by learning magic and befriending witches and demons. One more line and I may lose myself to this world entirely. I am…afraid of my feelings. I am afraid of what my heart is going to get me into, for there may be no return."

"You fear losing yourself?" Hector asked. "Have you ever thought perhaps you may find yourself?"

Caleb blinked.

"I'm not particularly savvy in human folklore. However, there is one story that I find rather interesting." Hector said. "The story of Icarus."

"Daedalus created a pair of wings for him and his son, Icarus, so that they could escape their prison," Caleb recalled. "The trick with the wings was that if you flew too close to the sun, the wings would burn. If you flew too close to the sea, the winds would guide you straight into the deadly surf."

"The metaphor of the story is a brilliant one," Hector said. "On any journey of the self, it is important to never fly too high, or too low."

"What's your point?" Caleb asked.

"Let us say that the Human Realm and your Christianity is the deadly surf and the Demon Realm and witchcraft is the sun," Hector said. "The men who attempted to torture and kill my daughter fell into the dark and deadly surf, while witches like Archibald Blight got burned by desire, and use their power to bully the less powerful."

Caleb titled his head. "Do I burn, or do I drown?"

"Neither," said Hector. "You are talented enough, smart enough, and most importantly, righteous enough, to stay aloft. You are becoming the better of both worlds, flying between the surf and the sun, refusing to be burnt, and refusing to let the winds guide you in the wrong direction."

Caleb stared at Hector in surprise. "...Do you write poetry?"

Hector smiled. "I wrote one for Ethel went we first started seeing each other. Worked like a charm."

Caleb looked at Flapjack, inanimate on his staff. "When I first came here, I thought my leaving to be inevitable. Now, my heart yearns to stay in this world, but the guilt of even considering abandoning my world and everything I've ever known pains me so. Not only that, but I am afraid of what would become of me. If I subject myself to this world and establish a life of my own here, who would I become?"

"Plant a blood apple tree wherever you like, it will still grow into a blood apple tree, regardless of what you do to it," Hector said. "If you decide to dig your roots here, it will not change who you are. Not drastically, anyway."

Caleb bowed his head in thought. "...Let's just say, for the sake of argument…I share your daughter's feelings for me. Let's say, for the continued sake of argument, I wish to stay on the Boiling Isles…with Maggie…until the end of my days, worshipping Christ and respecting the Titan. What are your thoughts?"

Hector shrugged. "If you make my daughter happy, then I would be happy to call you my son."

Caleb blinked and swallowed down the lump that formed in his throat.

Hector smiled and patted Caleb's shoulder. "I will see you around, my boy." the big man then turned around and walked away. "And stay out of trouble, won't you? You're almost as bad as Margaret."

Caleb watched as Hector walked away. He took a breath, feeling rather good about himself.

Flapjack came to life and stood up on his staff. "Chirp-Chirp-Tweet. Chirp-Chirp-Tweet."

"Asking for the father's blessing is a requirement where I'm from, yes," Caleb replied. "I wasn't expecting to get it so soon, but there it was."

"Chirp-Chirp-Tweet. Chirp-Chirp-Tweet."

"No, not yet. It's…not the right time." Caleb sighed. "...I'm not even certain I'm going to."

"Chirp-Chirp-Tweet. Chirp-Chirp-Tweet."

"No, let's just go back to the inn and get supper there," Caleb said as he turned around and walked away. "We'll see how Philip is doing."

"Chirp-Chirp-Tweet. Chirp-Chirp-Tweet."

"I know he doesn't like you. Don't worry, it's not you. Philip's just not an open-minded person."

"Chirp-Chirp-Tweet. Chirp-Chirp-Tweet."

"Yes, telling him I made you using my blood was not a good idea. You are correct."


Caleb knocked on the door before entering the room. He saw his brother sitting at the table. Philip had surrounded Caleb's ship in a bottle and the picture of their mother with strange books and tomes, one of which Philip was currently reading.

"Hello, Philip," Caleb greeted.

"Evening, Caleb," Philip looked up from his book, showing off the short beard he had begun growing.

"I truly wish you would shave. You're beginning to look even more like father." Caleb said. "What are you reading?"

"Well, I took your advice and I have been looking into Boiling Isles lore, becoming more acquainted with this world," Philip replied. "I met a witch named Vathic who belongs to a faith similar to ours. They believe in and worship a god, and they have little tolerance for what they deem evil."

"Doesn't sound like the best start to opening yourself up to this place, but I'm glad to hear you're getting out there and meeting people." Caleb sat down at the table and smiled. "This world has a lot to offer if you take the time to look around for it."

"Agreed," Philip replied.

Caleb shrugged his coat off and hung it on his chair. "So you've been studying some kind of ancient witch religion?"

"I'm simply looking into a topic of interest." Philip frowned at Flapjack, sitting on Caleb's shoulder. "It seems you've become attached to that thing the witch made for you,"

"Must we go over this a hundred times?" Caleb asked tiredly. "This is Flapjack the Second. He is a palisman. Maggie helped me carve him and bring him to life. Palismans are lifelong companions-"

"of witches," Philip finished. "You are not a witch,"

"I am aware of what I am," Caleb said.

"I am beginning to worry that you are forgetting who you are," Philip added. "I am worried that you are losing yourself in this world."

Caleb took a deep breath. "...We are who we choose to be, Philip," he said. "And frankly, I don't need your instruction on that."

Philip narrowed his eyes and looked away. "I'm just worried about you is all."

Caleb looked at the strange books Philip had covering the table. "And I you, dear brother."

There was a knock on the door.

"Caleb."

"Yeah, I'll get it." Caleb got out of his seat and went to answer the door.

It was Maggie who had knocked. "Hi, Caleb."

"Maggie." Caleb smiled happily. "How nice of you to drop by."

The witch leaned in through the door. "How ya doin', Phil?"

Philip scowled and ignored her.

"Ah, that's why everyone loves ya, Phil." Maggie looked back at Caleb. "My father said you were looking for me?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah! I made you a gift." Caleb reached into his pocket and pulled out a necklace. A sliver pentagram hanging on a thin, silver cord.

"Awww, you made me a necklace?" Maggie took the gift from Caleb and admired its craftsmanship as she hung it from its cord.

"So it matches mine," Caleb said, tapping his cross.

"Uh, hate to break it to you, but I think your Christian cross and our Wiccan pentagram are two very different symbols." Maggie pointed out.

"Hear me out." Caleb lifted his cross. "I made this out of a large piece of leftover palistrom wood from when we made Flapjack together. And I made that pentagram by melting down some of the shillings I had brought with me."

"So you get a necklace made from that wonderful time we spent together creating Flapjack and sharing our first kiss, while I get a necklace made from pocket change you happened to be carrying around." Maggie gave Caleb a teasing smirk. "Boy, do I feel loved."

"I don't have a lot of stuff. As you might recall, I didn't exactly have time to pack." Caleb argued. "Look, the intended symbolism is in what the necklaces are made of. Your pentagram, an important symbol of your world, is made of a valuable material of my world. And my cross, an important symbol of my world, is made of a valuable material of your world. It's…a way to connect us."

"Hmmm." Maggie smiled and put the necklace on. She lifted the silver piece and examined it with a coy look on her face. "Never took myself for a jewelry kind of girl. I always found it rather cheap when a man tried to win my heart with shiny things."

"Do you like it?" Caleb.

"No."

"Oof, ouch, thank you for your honesty, but-"

"I love it." Maggie let the necklace hang and leaned in to plant a tender kiss on Caleb's lips.

Caleb blushed and grinned like a fool.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Caleb." Maggie winked at him before walking away.

Caleb sighed lovingly before closing the door and turning around. He froze like a caught child when he saw Philip staring at him with a strange look on his face.

"Oh, right. Forgot you were there for a moment," said Caleb. "...Why are you giving me that look?"

"You're in love with her." The way Philip said it made it sound like an accusation. "You are in love with that witch."

Caleb cleared his throat awkwardly and replied with a shrug. "So? You knew I was attracted to Miss Clawthorne, it was hardly secret."

"You found her pretty, yes, that was apparent," said Philip. "But now you have allowed yourself to fall in love with a witch?"

"Will you stop using the word 'witch' like it's some kind of criminal brand?" Caleb demanded. "What has Maggie, or anybody else here, for that matter, done to threaten you, or me, or our world?"

Philip rose from his seat. "They exist."

Caleb just frowned.

"The average adolescent witch possesses enough power to take down a squad of armed, fully grown humans," Philip argued. "They are dangerous, they are capable, they are-"

"Doing far better than humanity," said Caleb. "Are these people and this world intense, extreme, and scary? Absolutely, without question. But compared to the Human Realm? After every war, every massacre, every enforcement of power? Who are we to judge these people and call them monsters? And don't tell me 'Christians' or 'men of God'. We are not better than them, we do not get to do that."

"Are you even a Christian anymore?" Philip asked. "Are you even human anymore?"

Caleb ran a hand down his face and took a deep breath. "You know what, you can have the room for tonight. I'll go back to the potions shop and sleep there, I doubt Thea and Morgan would mind. I had to arrive early tomorrow anyway."

"Really? You're going to be that way?" Philip asked as Caleb went over and grabbed his coat. "Caleb, brother, you are losing a grip on your own reality, and you're desperately grabbing hold of this reality because it's simply easier and more favorable to you. You are a child lost in a fantasy."

"And you are a bigot wandering a foreign land," said Caleb.

"Bigot?"

"It's French. Do you really want a lecture on vocabulary?" Caleb picked up his ship in a bottle. "This is mine."

Philip sighed and pinched his brow. "I hate us arguing as much as you do, Caleb," he said softly. "But I haven't forgotten where we come from."

"Neither have I," said Caleb. "But I get to choose where I'm going."

"Caleb-"

"I need to be by myself so that I may think clearly." Caleb tucked his bottled ship under his arm and headed out with Flapjack on his shoulder. "Goodnight, Philip."

Once Caleb was gone, Philip let out an aggravated groan and slammed his palm on the table.

"Blasted…cursed…witches!"

Philip took a calming breath and sat back down. "Keep it together, Philip. You have a lot of work to do."

Philip unfolded a map of the Boiling Isles and placed it on the table. He then picked up one of the tomes and began searching its pages.

"Where are you, Collector?" Philip muttered. "Where is the door to your cell?"


"It is not fitting, when one is in God's service, to have a gloomy face or a chilling look."

-Saint Francis of Assisi