Exactly one year ago I started writing my first fic after 15 years of reading them like my life depended on it. Then I realized it required quite the jump from where canon left us, so I made this prologue as a jumping step into what comes next. Guess the title.

Most Boscha-centric fics give her anger and impulse-control issues. I love them! But I would have a hard time writing about them seeing as my personal experience was quite the opposite. You'll see what I mean.

Not only isn't English my native language, but also as someone in STEM the only things I've ever written are lab reports so feel free to correct me. Be kind or I'll cry tho lol

"Oh, wow. Sports"

Huh.

If Boscha noticed the dumbstruck expression on her 'friend's' face, or how it hadn't really been the physical effort that had left her breathless, she didn't think it was thanks to having a third eye. It was a widespread belief that they could pick up details normal eyesight had a hard time noticing, but this? You only had to have one single working sense and a brain that wasn't totally mush.

In retrospect, a lot of things made sense now. That didn't make the situation any less weird though.

The human problem ran much deeper than she had originally thought. What she had believed to simply be Amity going through a bout of teenage rebellion was much more complicated. That idiot was neck-deep in shit.

Eh, whatever. It wasn't Boscha's problem now. Amity had made her bed far from her, now she would have to lay in it all on her own.

Boscha's mother would be an absolute drag about it though, but in her defense it was the other girl that had decided to burn her bridges. Everything had been working just fine, everyone was just where they were meant to be, things were coming along just as expected.

But of course that wasn't enough for the little princess, who had apparently seen in the human a novelty fascinating enough to get her to drop everything else. Everyone else.

Boscha had fooled herself into believing it would only last as long as the novelty did. What, a week or two? She had seen her take up plenty of things and drop them soon after, at her mother's behest. Half-a witch included. She was just being a spoilt little brat, right?

But no. The following weeks weren't much better. They were worse, in fact. The Blight had gone pathetically soft and she didn't even try to hide it.

There was no way there was any lingering pain or weakness from the injury she got so selflessly, not considering the kinda healthcare her family could afford. But Boscha saw her, with her own eyes! Amity hadn't really changed. No, she only took her 'former' self, and repurposed it for new needs. She saw her feigning weakness, masking as someone Boscha could barely recognize, doing anything that would get her the human attention she seemed to need with desperation.

And her little loser brigade! Did the priss think she could get back to the top with her new troupe? None of them competed in anything! One almost victory was nothing, the Blight had another thing coming if she thought she could get her down with the power of friendship or some cheesy shit like that.

Boscha was on edge. She had won, but one could never be too safe around that kind of people. They were like beasts, prowling, waiting for the moment one shows the littlest sign of weakness to jump onto it and drag you down.

That's simply the way they work.

Yet, time passed by, and no other challenges came her way. None that mattered, that is. So she relaxed the littlest bit. It seems Little Miss Perfect ™ had really chosen to forfeit all and any chance at a social life. Huh.

She didn't cool down, though. One would think she must have lost something important since that infamous game, what with the way she still stomped around almost tantrum-like, anger lingering within her even though it had been weeks already. But nothing had changed, and that's what drove Boscha up the wall.

The half-a-witch and her loser friends were more popular than ever, sure, yet not a single thing had changed in her own life. Nothing major, that is. She was still admired and revered by most, as she should, she hadn't lost her footing on the top of hierarchy, people still fell to their knees and catered to her every need without prompting...

It was unnerving.

Boscha was sure it would all come down the moment the lower tiers' little meaningless triumphs started going to their heads. That's simply the way the masses work. As soon as they achieve something slightly above pathetic they believe themselves part of the top, lacking the necessary means to actually stay there. The emptiest of victories, the fakest of compliments, they were like music for the masses' ears, who ate it up without question, making their egos grow beyond anything they could manage. They think it's just a matter of getting there. Ha! That's just the first step.

That's why she did the things she did, you see! Some were born to lead, some were born to follow. It was the natural order of things. Someone like her being forced to be a mindless drone would be a tragic waste of potential, and giving importance to one of those leeches would be a waste of power. If anything, she was doing them a favor. She herded them to the place they needed to be, so things stayed nice and tidy.

Except they didn't need it, apparently. Sure, now the limits between the different tiers were blurrier than ever, but her perfect hierarchy hadn't been endangered at all.

That didn't mean she stopped her harsh discipline, oh no! But let's say she took a different approach to it, a more cost-efficient one. Most of the other students kinda stayed in their lane in spite of this new sense of liberty, but something had still to be done about the ones that started their little rebellion. So now she concentrated all her efforts on 3 very specific marks.

She would have liked to make it 4, but actual aristocracy and getting a criminal record for real and blah blah.

Direct action didn't seem to be so effective anymore, so Boscha started messing with them in more covert ways, such as rigging their lockers, or messing with their work while they looked away. Her favorite though, was catching the human with experimental potions she came up with during class, with varied results.

If anyone ever caught her she could simply pass it up as 'investigation'. No one knew if humans reacted differently to potions than witches, and having teachers experiment with students was a bit frowned upon, even in a place like Hexside. But Boscha herself? She had much more liberty to do as she wanted.

Sometimes they did nothing, it tended to happen with potions that affected magic, so it was kinda to be expected. Other times the human would fall violently ill, grow some extra appendages, or even change colors. One time it took a few days for the effect to kick in, but when it did she turned a bright yellow and promptly passed out during class.

Some days later, the human reappeared having made a -seemingly- full recovery and Boscha heard her talking with her friends about a "pathetic failure" or something like that. The dirty looks they threw her way made it obvious they knew Boscha was behind it, but she had truly perfected the art of sneaking around so they had nothing on her.

The loser squad tried, and failed, at getting back at her many times. They were so committed to doing it the honorable way that she almost felt pity when each and every time she spoiled their plans.

One day, after one of such failures, Boscha heard them talk around the corner from where she was standing. She was just about to give them a piece of her mind for daring to exist in her general vicinity, but thought better and let them be. Maybe they would say something that could be of use to her.

They were complaining about her. Because of course they were. The little half-a-witch sounded so frustrated it was almost cute. One could practically imagine her stomping down like a child at the end of each sentence.

"I just don't get it. Why does she need to put others down? It's not like she needs it to stand out."

Ugh, she should have known she would get all philosophical about that. It was so simple, yet they still didn't get it. Seeing as she was so attuned to natural magic, Boscha would have thought she would know all about natural order and tiering.

It was understandable though. Her kind weren't made to see beyond the immediate. They weren't taught about the deeper complexities of the real world.

Hopefully, having someone from the top tiers in their ranks would give them an insight on how things worked. After all, if there was anyone who had been even more dedicated than her about keeping everything in its place, it was Amity. So imagine Boscha's surprise when she heard her say what was probably the most idiotic thing she had ever had the displeasure of hearing from someone of her same standing.

"There's nothing to get, it's all a game to her. It's messed up but that's all there's to it. The best you can do is to ignore her."

What?

She couldn't believe someone who had been her so-called friend for so many years could get it so wrong. Treating her as if she were some unidimensional cartoon villain who fucked shit up just for giggles. Hypocrite! They started messing with the half-a-witch because of her, and now there she was, playing the angel with them as if she hadn't been the mastermind behind most of it.

Boscha stomped away from the scene, not caring if they had heard her go, their words replaying themselves in her head. How dare they? She was Hexside's star player, a grudgby promise in the making, she didn't need them for anything! The half-a-witch had said it herself, she stuck out already, all thanks to her own efforts!

If life was a game she was as much a star player as she was in grudgby, while they were never even players. Nothing they did would ever have an effect in her life!

She grit her teeth and clenched her fists in frustration, magic impulsively leaking out in little spurts of sparks that licked at her knuckles, but lost in her thoughts, she barely felt it.

Why do you need to put others down, Boscha?

When hearing those words echo through her mind she felt anger boil up inside her, and forced herself to rather concentrate in the drive it tended to fuel.

And boy did she get plenty of fuel today. She practically rubbed her hands at the thought of letting it all out, next practise. Her teammates wouldn't know what hit them.

She basked in the inner warmth it made her feel, as negative as the feelings themselves were. They were useful, and though sometimes frustrating, Boscha knew how to exploit them to achieve her goals.

What Boscha didn't know is that the fire that burns twice as bright lasts half as long.

For long months the fury kept her going, fiery rage being the fuel that got her out of bed every morning, ready to stomp on anyone that was stupid enough to try to get on her way -again-.

Boscha felt safer now that the social hierarchy had remained as it was even though she had actively stopped whipping it into shape. It was disconcerting for sure, and sometimes she would shake things up not because it was necessary but out of reflex, the ages-old habit having carved a deep imprint within her that was still hard to fully shake off.

She still received random gifts from random people, she still received preferential treatment anywhere she went, she could still get people to do her deeds. All because she was the team captain. Most were born to follow, would her parents tell her when she was young. She never knew how literal it would be.

It made sense, in a way. Although her parents shaped her into the winner she was nowadays, she had been born with that spark that marked her for great things. She would have gotten there no matter her upbringing. Boscha was born for greatness.

So if she had always been a natural leader, then it only made sense that some people were natural followers, right? They would always become lackeys in front of anyone more commanding. Just as she would always find a way to get things to go her way no matter the situation.

Maybe, in a parallel universe that's happening right now, a Boscha who had never excelled at grudgby still got her way, this time by means of force, just as the real Boscha had been doing until recently. Unnecessarily so, it seems.

Did she truly earn it, or was it simply given to her?

She had genuinely thought she had fought her way to the top. Sure, there must have been some predestination factor to it, not everyone was born with her power, with her talent. It made sense! Of course she would have found her way to the top anyway! It's just...

What if Amity had never left the team?

What if she had simply let others go their own way?

Had she done all of that.. for nothing? Would she still have gotten to the same place simply by playing? She was baffled. Years and years, Titan knows how much energy, put into holding herself up and the rest down, picking apart the crowds, and selecting the best to keep around… and turns out it would have ended up like that anyway? What the hell?

No. She had to keep her mind on what was important. Fated or not, she had to keep up the work, and like hell her determination would stagger over some nobodies that in a few months would fade once again into the background.

If anything, they helped her by being the ones that fueled it, that made it stronger. Never had she wanted to fuck as much shit up as she did when she thought about them. Idiots as they were, at least they were useful idiots.

For a moment Boscha entertained the thought of letting them know they were actually helping her, in a way, just to kick them in their morals a bit. She bet they would be appalled at the idea of being partly responsible for her actions, and even their imaginary suffering, irreal as it was, fed into her drive. Something feeding from nothing. Good thing witches knew nothing about thermodynamics' laws.

So the months went by, and there she went, running on empty without realizing.

As time passed, it became more often that she would forget what she felt. She would need to recall the hate, the anger, not because she forgot the reasons she felt them, she had those fresh in her mind as if they had just happened. Rather, it was as if some sort of feelings fatigue had fallen unto her. She had no better way to word it. It was as if they would only come up when she actively thought about them, as if they needed to be coaxed out, rather than bursting up on their own at any time.

At first she thought her mind had simply found a way to compartmentalize her emotions to exploit them better, to be more efficient with them. So she didn't worry about that, for a while.

Then one fateful day it just… stopped.

Boscha woke up and like she did every day she tried to call up that feeling that made her chest bubble and her pulse race and there was… nothing.

So she thought back on everything that used to get her fire going. She thought about the idiotic human and her almost admirable talent for getting on Boscha's nerves, or the stuck up little priss with her holier-than-you attitude, the hypocrite. The precocious little twerp with the useless magic and the weird human-obsession.

The half-a-witch that thought herself oh-so above her, always trying to teach her a lesson. As if she could learn anything from that glorified doormat of a witch!

Those were usually the thoughts that got her in the mood for a nice day of high school tyranny. But as she repeated those mantras in a try to call the inner fire out, inside her Boscha felt-

Empty.

Huh. Weird.

It's just a fluke, it'll go away, Boscha assured herself. She was probably gonna fall sick or maybe the changing weather was making her feelings act up, nothing serious!

The nothingness was eerie though, but for the moment Boscha thought nothing of it and kept on with her routine. Even prodigies such as her have their off days! As long as she kept it up it would be but a bump on the road. A little hiccup on her daily life that peaks up and evens out into the old normal after a while, without anyone noticing.

But that peak never arrived. The little hiccup ended up prologing itself into a seemingly endless hill. The 'slope' itself wasn't that bad, she didn't feel any worse than the day it started. But the continuous effort trying to 'climb' it became more and more tiring with the days. With the weeks.

Things that didn't take any effort at all before now took more and more of her, and the little daily habits that shaped her day started weighing her down. What's going on?

It's not that she enjoyed every single thing she did during the day, that's not realistic either. She never liked History class, or sitting through her mother's empty speeches, or having to listen to her friends' endless chatter about Titan knows what.

The point was, Boscha was forced to do plenty of things she disliked, and she always pushed through them with success, so what was going on with… whatever this was?

She kept up her basic routine because there was nothing physically wrong with her, so Boscha told herself there was no excuse to loaf around, as much as she had an impulse to. At first, that feeling of no feeling was daunting. But with time, even that went away. She wasn't angry, or sad, or frustrated. She was just… nothing.

So it was like being back to normal right? No strange feelings, no weird thoughts going through her head, there was no need to stop doing things!

But it wasn't that they went away, it was that not even that made her feel anything anymore. Her head was filled with things that didn't feel hers, a vast world full of nothing.

Now Boscha clung onto anything that gave her a sense of constancy, almost afraid of what would become of her if she gave up on whatever was left of whoever she was before. One of those things was grudgby, of course.

Even though she didn't put her heart in it as much as some time ago, Boscha was still the best player, and team captain. She still had her little entourage following her everywhere, and the people's unwavering admiration. So why didn't it feel as satisfying as it had before?

She couldn't just start dropping everything only because it wasn't as fun anymore. Who was she beside Hexside's star player? Boscha could barely even remember a time before she started playing grudgby. It felt like it had always been like that, as if one day she popped into existence, and she already played grudgby and excelled at it. So she clung onto it, not wanting to think of having to be something else.

All that meant that as far as anyone else knew, nothing had strayed from normalcy. She had successfully pushed herself beyond her limits… only to keep in the same place.

Well, not everything was the same. Unknowingly, she had neglected to keep up the lesser sides of her routine.

Maybe she had forgotten to give Matthowhatever his weekly beating for being a creep, and maybe she hadn't messed with the loser-four in a couple weeks. So what.

He still cowered under her gaze. The fear was already enough punishment to the little worm, Boscha would reason with herself. The little gang still quieted down when she walked by them. They finally learnt their place after all those tries at rebelling, Boscha concluded. So what if she backed up a little bit, to save her energy for more important matters?

Don't get her wrong! She had been giving her everything everyday since this started. It's just that her 'everything' seemed to be worth less and less with each passing day.

But even though all that time things appeared to be the same, there was still this feeling of change in the air. Most students ignored it at first, but with time it became more and more unnerving.

People would stare at her. Expectant, waiting for something that never really came, which naturally made them even more anxious. At first she didn't notice, as absorbed in herself as she was. Not the stares nor the whispers, or the gossiping, or the increasingly stranger theories about her that went around the school.

Some did end up reaching her ears, and Boscha knew, she knew deep in her heart they should have pissed her off, they should have gotten her to blast half the school on fire and dozens should have ended up in the infirmary. But nothing came of it.

A sharp hint of sorrow for what was lost flashed through her chest, but as quick as it came, it washed away. That's what most things felt like nowadays. Like lightning, they went by in a flash, ephemeral, out of reach, yet undoubtedly there.

Life went by without her noticing. Every morning she would get up, do the same thing she did the day before and would do the next, rinse and repeat.

How much time had passed? She knew it went by, and she knew she followed the steps in just the correct way, but it was as if everything was an endless continuum. Hours, days, weeks blending together in an indistinguishable mess that couldn't be separated into its components anymore.

Her stuttered actions tried to cut that endless uniformity down into smaller, easier to handle moments. It worked, in a way. Sometimes things could even feel manageable, for the slightest moments she didn't feel the overwhelming enormity drowning her, but she still couldn't shake off the feeling that it was merely a patch. That one day she would have to face that immensity on, and actually make something of it.

After quite some time of going through life a moment at a time, with practised steps, it seems that life thought she had had enough time to process things. Until then, her public life had seemingly adapted to her mental state, nothing too out of the ordinary had happened during that time of drab sameness, a convenient break from everything, to wallow in the novelty of nothing, almost tempting her to rebuild her life around that new normal.

But a blank slate, as daunting as its emptiness is, as satisfying as the tidiness of a blank void is, is never meant to stay as that, not if one is to take advantage of its potential.

Boscha didn't know it yet, and she wouldn't know it for a while. Ironically, it was her now that couldn't see anything beyond what was immediate to her, blinded by nothing. She would see it one day, though. Meanwhile...

Nothing.