Disclaimer: This book contains sensitive topics such as Violence, Blood, Death, Depression, (implied) Self harm and Suicide. This is not recommended to audiences who have triggers relating to those subjects. Read at your own risk.

This is it.

This is the end.

Well, not for Hunter, that is. But it may as well be. How ironic. Dying, trapped in his own mind, when just weeks before, he was stuck inside his killer's. He distantly feels his– no, Belos's hand stretch out at something Hunter couldn't see. He couldn't see anything, for that matter. It was just him and a dark, empty space.

Despite coming to terms with his fate, Hunter could not help but feel a twinge of panic at the thought of something new. I never read about this in any of my books. What is happening to me? Is this what death feels like?

But there was a flaw in that theory, for Hunter felt, quite literally, nothing. No pain, no emotion. His mind was void of whatever made him feel. However much he tried, all he could do was grunt and wheeze until tears sprung to his eyes.

It figures. Of course the 'special boy,' the 'chosen one' would get to die tragically, as befits someone like him.

The first shred of emotion he felt was a searing pain in his face, his legs, arms, everywhere. It felt as if he had spent the last hour running and jumping off a cliff, hitting sharp rocks and thorny branches instead of being captured in the prison walls of his own mind.

The second shred of emotion, or, well, evidence of emotion was the single teardrop that had found its way out of Hunter's eye. It seemed to burn and tickle at the same time as it traced a wet line down his face. Realization set in. Hunter was, in fact, not ready to die. He didn't want to die yet. He didn't want to die.

I don't want to die!

His eyes fly open in fear. Race around the barren wasteland he is in. In contrast to Willow's–even the Emperor's–mind, his mind only has 10, maybe 12, memories that it deemed memorable. Something was wrong though. Just as soon as he saw them, they started to burn.

Flames licked Hunter's clothes, white-hot pain blossoming immediately, but he was too scared to notice. He clenched his eyes shut once again, pain and fear and death taking over.

The flames engulfed him. But he didn't feel the burn. He felt water. His lungs filling up with water. He was drowning. He couldn't breathe because of the smoke choking him or the water in his lungs but he needed to breathe and to live because he wasn't done with life yet. It happened so fast, yet it seemed so slow.

He began to lose consciousness, faced with the reality that he was dying not because of Belos, or Luz and her friends, or anyone but himself.

Realizing that, his eyes close slowly in a victorious embrace of death…

And he woke back up, face to face with Flapjack.

The moment Flapjack saw him, he erupted in a flurry of chirps, so fast, too fast. Hunter couldn't understand them until Flapjack became quiet.

Flapjack chirped once, this time.

You're dying.

Hunter chuckled, but the searing pain in his sides stopped him from making a sound. 'I know, Belos has made it painfully obvious.'

I can help you.

'You can't. You can't.'

Let me heal you. I won't make it, so let me help you.

'No, Flapjack, you will make it, please don't save me, please.'

Have a good life, my friend.

'No, no, no!'

A warm feeling engulfed Hunter. But it wasn't a good feeling. It was the feeling of someone trying to comfort him after a loss. A feeling of seeing your pet lying dead on the street as a car rushes past, a feeling of betrayal. Of sadness. Of doom. The type of feeling you get when everything is just fine but then something happens and you're just left there, hollow both inside and out.

Flapjack laid his head on Hunter's chest. And as if in slow motion, he slowly faded away into spheres of beaming bright light. The globules bounced and danced, Hunter's tears reflecting the blobs of brilliant light.

He was gone.

Hunter's eyes shoot open. He's on the ground. His clothes are ripped and muddy, and he's ice cold.

He can't feel the warmth of Flapjack anymore. Not anymore.

Distantly, as if still underwater, he feels his friends screaming his name, desperately, sadly.

Hunter? Hunter! Guys, he's okay. Hunter, speak to me.

Hunter opens his eyes. Out of appeasement, more than anything. He feels weak, much too weak to talk, let alone keep his eyes open. But he pushes through, not for himself, but for his friends.

'Hey… is everyone okay?'

Hunter… Flapjack-

'Don't, I already know.'

And just like that, the tears start streaming out. Tears of pain, of sadness, of grief. Hunter knows, in the back of his mind, that he deserves it. Flapjack is dead because he let Belos get in, manipulate his thoughts, take control of his brain. He could still feel Belos's inhuman claws crush Flapjack's fragile body.

Hunter… let's go home. The portal will still be here tomorrow. You need time.

Hunter obliged, feeling too weak to put up much of an argument.

Flapjack would've liked a nap, too.

What have you done to me, Hunter? I thought you loved me.

Flapjack is lying in the room. His eye is gouged out, his wing torn off. What's worse, Hunter got to see it all happen. He got to see who did this to Flapjack.

It was himself.

Hunter woke up in a cold sweat. He was trembling all over. Luz whipped her head to Hunter, who was delirious from the dream. He could've sworn he saw Flapjack standing in front of him.

'G…- get it away! S-stop it! Please, not again-! Please-'

Luz sprung into action and grabbed Hunter abruptly around the stomach. She wrapped him in the tightest hug ever, and he went limp through the crushing embrace. When he turned around, he was crying.

'Luz… I still see him. It's like he's haunting me. He knows it's my fault-'

None of it is your fault, Hunter. It was all Belos's fault. So let's focus on defeating him, kay?

'…Kay.'

But it wasn't okay.

Every day was the same repeat of another. Everyone conversed without him, decided that they should stay another day to 'recover from their injuries.' But he knew they just felt pity for him. They just wanted him to be in a good mindset, otherwise they would never have stayed for more than a couple hours. Almost a week later, Hunter was done being treated like a baby for something he had caused. If anything, they should skin him and gut him and throw him out, like he deserved.

He was afraid he might take matters into his own hands if they didn't.

Luz walked into the room. Hunter, per usual, was lying in his bed, unable to sleep.

Hey, me and the others talked, and, well…-

'I want to go through the portal.'

Oh? A-are you sure?

'Mhm. Please, I can't stand doing nothing.'

Very well then.

Luz exited the room after surveying Hunter for a minute. Hunter, alone at last, reached under his pillow. He pulled out a blood-stained knife. Better throw this away, Hunter thought absentmindedly.

He walked into the restroom to dispose of the weapon. After it was thrown in the trash and buried under paper towels and toilet paper rolls, he opened a cabinet to reveal an army of bandages. The ones covering his arm were reddened and ripped. He quickly took them off, looking out the door then shutting it locked. He wrapped a bandage around his arm, and, quite unskillfully, enveloped the deep cuts on his arm over and over with the dressing.

It calmed him, for some reason, to see the dark dried blood covered with sheets of white. He was like an angry bull. Red set him off. Crimson red, Light red, Brick red, the shade of red Flapjack was…

The very hour, they were off to the portal. It, surprisingly, hadn't closed. Although the light was dimming. Luz stepped forward as always, the brave heroine, the main character of the story. But Hunter stopped her.

'Let me go first.'

…I'm right behind you.

Hunter took a deep breath. Tears sprang to his eyes once again. 'For Flapjack.'

The Boiling Isles was surprisingly, unusually happy. Dolls and toys and especially puppets were scattered about the land. Bright pink shooting stars rushed past the group's vision. It was all too joyful. It made Hunter sick to see everyone in awe at the night sky. Rainbows of stars shone. Green ones, purple ones, and red ones.

Red birds, red grass, red trees were everywhere. All he could see was red.

It was all red. All red. All red.

There was nothing else. His eyes were full of red. Stinging, blinding red. It was everywhere. He stumbled. He fell. The red was engulfing him. Oh god please make it stop I swear I'm so sorry Flapjack just please don't hurt me I'm so so sorry please-

Hunter! Come back to us, Hunter! Please…

Eyes opened. Willow and Gus were trying to hold him upright. The rest watched in the background, clearly worried.

Hunter… you had a panic attack. Are you sure you want to be here? You can still go back, the portal has some-

'No. Don't make me go back there, please don't. I'm sorry, I promise to do better. I'm sorry.'

Willow wrapped Hunter in the tightest hug imaginable. She whispered kind stuff in his ears. Patted his back. Made him feel loved, even though he shouldn't be. He pulled away after a while. Moved on. He knew what he had to do. He had priorities.

They walked to the Owl House. Along the way, Hunter kept taking his notebook out and scribbling things. Like he was writing a story. Ripped pieces of paper littered the ground. Willow picked one up, she tried to unfold it, but Hunter had caught her looking and smacked the paper out of her hand.

Although, not before she read the bottom line.

I'm sorry.

They arrived at the Owl House before dusk. The stars were dimming, even though it had only gotten darker. It made Hunter feel trapped, even more so than he already was. Lying in bed, he could only think about what had happened in his life. Flashbacks came and went, and he could do nothing but cry silently under his sheets.

Hunter, a fitting name for a growing witch hunter like you

'Uncle… If i may interrupt, I am a witch, I cannot see myself hunting-'

I never said you could speak. Must I discipline you again?

'Wait, uncle, please don't! It was an honest mistake, I- wait, no! Please, please stop I didn't mean it-'

Once again, Hunter woke up from a sleepless night. People were snoring in bed beside him, relieved after being back home after so long.

But the closer Hunter was to magic, the closer he was to Belos. And he never wanted to see his sorry face again. He wanted it gone. He wanted it all gone. And it was time to take matters into his own hands. His life was hopeless anyway. It was over before it began.

willow.

Willow heard footsteps in the distance. It was nothing unusual, she was all too familiar with Luz's late-night escapades. She thought nobody heard her creeping around, but, in addition to the creaky wooden floors, she was a lot louder than she thought.

The footsteps were a lot heavier, and yet they sounded softer than Luz's strides. Willow disregarded it, maybe Luz had a leg cramp. Through the crack in the door, Willow saw the light shut on momentarily, and off just as fast. Then the creak and whir of the ceiling fan gradually stopped.

Is it just me, or did Luz take a huge step back in sneakiness? Eh, she's probably recording another video.

A second later, Willow's phone rang. She was surprised to get reception at all, but assumed it was because the portal hadn't fully closed. She ran into the bathroom to pick it up.

'Willow…?'

Hunter… Why are you awake? Where are you?

'Oh… I thought you wouldn't pick up. I don't know what to say.'

What do you mean?

Silence.

Hunter…?

'…Have you ever wondered what's after death?'

What's this all about?

'Nothing. Never mind.'

Is something… wrong?

'No. Nothing. Uhm.'

It's late. Where are you?

'Nowhere! N- Never mind, just… I'm sorry, I'm a mess right now.'

Ok… I'll go back to bed now. Uhm, goodnight. Get to bed soon. Long day tomorrow.

'Mhm, yeah okay. Bye, sorry. Uhm. Love you.'

Ah… love you too.

Silence on the other end. Willow put the phone in her pocket and buried her face in her hands. She heard creaking outside of the bathroom, then a clatter and a door slamming.

She ran out of the bathroom. Luz, Gus, and Amity were all standing at a doorway, staring at something. There was hardly any space in which Willow could peek over without making too much noise, but through the tiny crack, she saw shoes.

Those shoes.

His shoes.

Tears welling. She ran out. The ceiling fan was still faintly moving. But his weight slowed it down until it came to a stop, his back turned toward the crowd. His back. His wolf shirt. His stupid blonde hair. His scars. The ones Willow so lightly caressed whenever he cried. His chocolate brown eyes, the ones Willow couldn't see in the midst of the tumult.

It all happened so fast.

I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry

Shameless apologies.

That he would never hear.