Five Weeks later

Hansel staggered into his little room and collapsed on the bed. He was exhausted and hurting in places he didn't even know he could hurt. Kaspar, the fascist slave driver, was relentless in his supposed training, which if Hansel was being honest, was not going well. Maybe it was because he felt absolutely ridiculous doing the man's stupid exercises, both physical and mental. Really, where did the man come up with some of this stuff? Meditation? Hansel was pretty sure there weren't a lot of thoughts in his head to clear to start with, but being told to think about nothing seemed to spur every thought he ever had to come and overload his brain.

It hadn't stopped the weird magical outbursts, but they hadn't increased in frequency either; a small victory among the many and endless amount of losses. At least he had a better sense of when they were about to erupt; the feeling becoming uncomfortably more familiar. Understanding of their forewarning had kept Gretel out of the line of fire and their host, though Hansel couldn't conjure up feelings about the latter, one way or another. The fact that the people he did care about weren't being hurt anymore was one of the only things that kept Hansel from wandering past the magical walls protecting Kaspar's attempt at paradise.

Out of the two of them, Gretel seemed to be more interested in what Kaspar had to say, the wisdom he decided to grace them with. Then again, she had always been the one to show more interest in understanding and studying the monsters they were hunting. Hansel just wanted a good weapon and someone to point him in the right direction. His survival had always been attributed to Gretel's brilliant and inquisitive mind. It still sent chills down his spine at how fast she picked up what Kaspar was spewing out. If he wasn't sure this was his only chance, he would drag his sister from this place and this man, so obviously not squarely on the side of right, kicking and screaming, if only for her own good.

Hansel wanted to be grateful, at the very least for saving Gretel from sharing his fate at the hands of the Lamiae, though there seemed to be an undercurrent of ulterior motive to be too grateful for Kaspar saving him. Still, he had promised Gretel he would put the effort in and so like a trained animal, he instinctively reached for the thick, black, leather bound book that was permanently located on the side table in his room. The pages well worn before he even received the book, becoming creased and tattered with his repeated use.

The secrets within the black book, written in Kaspar's hasty scrawl, documented his own struggle from the same position Hansel found himself now. The literature was clearly written by someone blessed with an education far greater than anything the hunter was capable of, let alone could dream of acquiring had he had every advantage in this world, and when the man got on a roll, Hansel's understanding dropped from every third word to every tenth, but he muddled through all the same.

Days all followed the same pattern. Mornings were for chores around the house and the only time Hansel felt particularly useful. Hard labor he could do without question and it was a nice break from the constant torment of the supernatural world he was being submerged in. It was the one time of day he didn't feel like he was drowning. Gretel had been tasked with the cooking, much to her distain and Hansel couldn't help but smile every time she not so subtly dropped their plates of subpar food in front of the men.

Hansel dredged the afternoons and their apparent nothingness that stretched on until the sun began to set. Kaspar called it progress and gaining self-control, while Hansel called it a lot of sitting around chanting and performing ridiculous exercises that never produced the same results as when Kaspar did them. The nothingness, however, always left him exhausted and aching.

The hunter placed his leather bookmark between the pages and set the book back on the side table. Barely summoning enough energy he leaned over and blew out the candle plunging the room into much welcomed darkness.

The nightmares were the worst, not that Hansel's dreams had become anything other than weird. They varied between being roasted alive at the Candy Witch's house, to Muriel peeling off his flesh, to Andrea's cave, to being drowned in bright green light. The latter always left him breathlessly tangled up in the sheets with Gretel gently trying to wake him. He had always had the occasional nightmare about the work he had devoted his life to; usually they decreased in frequency the further away they travelled, but these ones were different, more relentless, more vivid, more real.

Stifling a yawn, Hansel stumbled to the kitchen table and plopped down in the nearest chair. The shining sun of moning and chirping birds a stark contrast to how he felt. Kaspar didn't bother to pry his nose out of a rather large and ancient looking book he had propped in his lap but Gretel paused in setting Hansel's breakfast down.

"You look like shit," she mused.

"Didn't sleep much," muttered Hansel. Pushing his plate of Gretel's attempt at oatmeal aside, he pillowed his head on his arm and let his eyes drift close.

"We're going to need some supplies from town," informed Kaspar in his usual cold detached voice.

"I thought you had everything you needed up here?" asked Gretel, joining the men at the table.

"I'm self sufficient in most things but there are a few things I have to procure from town." He picked up the rather flat looking biscuit from his plate and tapped it against the edge of the table to demonstrate its hard inedibleness. "Besides, it might be nice to have some fresh bread by someone who can cook."

Gretel scowled and took a bite of her own breakfast. It took some effort but she wasn't willing to let it show that she felt the same way about the food. She was a witch hunter, not a housewife. Baking fresh bread wasn't exactly a skill she needed to perfect. "How long will you be gone?"

"I'm not going, you are," Kaspar corrected.

Hansel had only been partially following the conversation and snapped his head up, clearly having misheard. "Who's going where?"

"Your sister is going to town and get us some supplies," clarified Kaspar, enunciating each word as though Hansel was being especially stupid.

Gretel looked surprise but it was Hansel who bit out, "The Lamiae are out there."

"They're not looking for her, in fact, they want nothing to do with her. Where ever you are, that's where they'll be lurking, as long as you stay here, they'll stay in the area; kept out by my magical barrier of course."

Hansel clenched his jaw. It was one thing for Gretel to treat him like a child sometimes, it was another thing when Kaspar did it. "It's too dangerous for her to go alone!"

Kaspar placed his book down on the table and looked Hansel square in the eye. "You can't go for obvious reasons and I can't leave you alone, so that leaves on option. She got you this far, surely this task isn't beyond her. Besides, there's a trail known only to me that leads to an off the trail village. They're happy to supply me with what I need and Gretel shouldn't run into any problems. It's the least she can do for the hospitality I've shown you two."

Hansel wanted nothing more than to punch the smug man sitting across the table from him and tell him where he could shove his hospitality but Gretel's hand on his arm stopped him.

Gretel looked at her brother imploringly. "It's fine Hansel. I can do it."

The 'we need his help' went unsaid. Hansel hated being indebted to anyone but he especially hated Gretel being indebted to anyone because of him. It always came down to the same problem, Hansel had to take Gretel away from here but if he did that before he had his curse under control, then he was a big a threat to his sister as anyone else. He resolved to work harder, to try harder.

"I'll show you which mule to use to pull the wagon," offered Kaspar, rising out of his seat and heading to the shed that housed the animals.

Hansel leaned against a fence post watching Kaspar hook the mule to the wagon. He couldn't hide his glare and part of him didn't want to. He softened slightly at Gretel's touch.

Gretel let her hand slip off Hansel's shoulder to help hoist her bag that was slipping down. Her smile was bright in an attempt to reassure. "It will be alright," she whispered. "It's not like I haven't done things on my own before," she added, gesturing to her bag and the weapons undoubtedly hidden within.

Hansel tried to conjure up a smile but it didn't reach his eyes. "Just be careful out there. I have a bad feeling about this."

"You always have a bad feeling," she teased.

"And I'm always right. One day there and one day back Gretel. Any longer and I'm coming to get you, Lamiae be damned."

Gretel ruffled her brother's hair before walking over to throw her bag on the cart. Grabbing the mule by the reigns, she began her long walk down the mountain through a trail in one of the crevasses Kaspar had carved out.

Hansel stood there ignoring the feeling of unease turning his stomach, until he could no longer see any sign of Gretel. She was right, under normal circumstances he wouldn't' have thought twice about her going off on her own but then again, he never had such a foreboding feeling before.

"Now that your protector has left," started Kaspar as Hansel turned towards him.

Before the hunter could say anything a bright green light enveloped him setting every nerve on fire. His legs buckled as the ground rushed up to meet Hansel and then he knew nothing but black.

"We can begin," finished Kaspar as he stood over Hansel's unconscious form.