Hansel woke to a pins and needles feeling in his arm that was hanging awkwardly off of the bed that he had barely flopped onto before passing out the night before. His eyes had no sooner cracked open then he rolled over and promptly threw up. It was becoming an uncomfortably familiar pattern over the last seven days. Absently he flicked his wrist towards the open shutters to command them to shut out the harsh light of morning with the added benefit of not having to crawl out of bed.

Life had taken on a tolerable numbness in which the days just floated by. Anything that didn't have to do with the witchcraft or the books Kaspar was always eager to dump in front of him and Hansel went along with it. Things were just better when he wasn't fighting against his destiny, hell he even felt better physically. He wasn't so far gone that he didn't have a vague sense of what was happening; the reassuring warmth that swept through him every time he embraced his inherited gifts just made it easier to accept, to embrace. The little foreboding voice, that had served him so well in the past, promised the path to ruin lay ahead, but the euphoric feelings that silenced the voice were addictive to stop.

It didn't take long, but what was now a simple magical command to close the shutter was just enough to take the edge off and quiet the rolling of his stomach. His uncoordinated limbs had to work hard to roll him over so Hansel was lying on his back with a better view to contemplate actually getting up for the day. As the silence of early morning filled the room, leaving a soft buzz in his ears, there was something that Hansel felt he was forgetting, something so important it wouldn't allow him completely let go and enjoy the thrilling rush that came from the world he was slipping into.

Perhaps it was some small kernel of his soul that couldn't let him enjoy his new found happiness. He still knew that witchcraft was wrong but it wasn't like he was one of the many monsters he had devoted his life to hunting down and eradicating. Innocent people weren't paying for his crimes, in fact, there didn't seem to be a victim of any sort in the harmless exercises he engaged in. He hadn't had any desire to seek out children and sacrifice them to some demonic god in exchange for favors; he could keep this in check. If Hansel worked hard enough and got his powers under his control, then he could leave Kaspar's hut on the mountain and rejoin the world to do as he wished.

Leaving had been Hansel's goal the moment he first woke up in this bed and it was still the thing that pushed him to improve each day, but after mastering his craft and leaving this place was no longer the crystal clear vision it had once been. He was going to leave and after that… it was mostly a question mark hanging over his future. It had involved someone else, someone with a soft smile and steel determination. Every time Hansel tried to picture that person, tried to make out the features that seemed similar to his but slightly different, he only came up with a faceless ghost who refused to let him have peace.

Sitting up and halfheartedly smoothing out his rumpled shirt, he pushed the thoughts aside. If the ghosts of the past wanted to be elusive, they could be buried with the rush of an exhilarating future. Whoever the woman in his memories was, if she was important enough to haunt him, surely she would be there to help him.

"What's this?" asked Hansel holding up a particularly decorative vial.

Most of the jars and vials Kaspar kept around the house were simple glass vessels filled with odd colors and unique smells that Hansel didn't want to ask to many questions about. There was one cupboard that Kaspar had kept under lock and key, which after the hunter had finally begun to delve into his birthright without hesitation, Kaspar had started to pull from. The vials were porcelain with hand painted designs adorning them. Hansel never considered himself someone who appreciated art in any of its forms, but these fell squarely in the beautiful category. This one was different still. Buried deep in the back behind the vial Kaspar had asked him to fetch, was a metallic black bottle with gold and jewels encrusted around the neck.

Kaspar looked up from the book he was flipping through, in search of a spell Hansel absolutely must try. "Not what I asked for."

It felt heavy in Hansel's hand and the temptation to open it was surprisingly strong. Biting on his lip, he reluctantly put the mysterious bottle back in exchange for the one he was supposed to acquire. He moved back to the table, placing the white bottle in front of Kaspar. "Yeah, but what is it?" he insisted.

Looking slightly annoyed, like a school master having to deal with a particularly unruly child, Kaspar didn't even look up from his book. "It's a potion for removing magic and magical abilities from a person," he explained with no more concern or emotion as though he would at mentioning the weather.

Hansel felt as though he had been gut punched and he was left speechless as his brain tried to make sense of what Kaspar had just divulged. "Removes magic?"

"Yes."

Hansel stared blankly at Kapsar. Surely he had heard wrong. "So if someone takes it, then they wouldn't have magical abilities anymore?"

"Yes," confirmed Kaspar in a voice that failed to capture the revelation and betrayal Hansel was feeling at those words.

"So I could just take that and all of this would go away?" The bite to Hansel's voice barely held back the rage that was beginning to burn. It was confusing. Part of him remembered not wanting any part of this and it flared with hatred for a man that he had never real trusted. Another part craved to continue what he was doing, to pursue it at all costs and thus was thankful an easy way out wasn't possible. "Then why are we just starring at it?"

"It comes with grave consequences." The warning was clear as was Kaspar's desire to not argue the point.

"Such as?" pressed Hansel. Salvation was mere steps away and he needed to grab it with both hands before the fog of bliss removed all common sense within him.

"Far reaching consequences." With a skeptical look from the witch hunter, Kaspar asked, "Is the threat of grave consequences not enough? Surely you're not that weak?"

Hansel countered, "You're trying to goad me into something."

"Perhaps," he offered with a shrug. "You must have some inner strength, after all, you hunt witches."

"No. I protect…" The name was on the tip of his tongue but wouldn't come to him. The ghost remained elusive.

"Gretel," supplied Kaspar, noticing Hansel's pause.

"Gretel. No, I protect Gretel. Hunting witches is more her thing." The name was so familiar, he couldn't believe he had forgotten it. His sister was the reason he did everything, his one purpose in life and a couple of spells had clouded that. Pushed her out and taken her place and his devotion. He was drowning in a pit of tar and some broken and twisted part of him was alright with it.

"I think lying doesn't become you."

"She's into helping the helpless. If it was up to me, I'd say fuck them all. The only good witch is a dead witch."

"Undoubtedly. Taking what appears to be the easy way out is beneath you, otherwise you wouldn't have come this far. Trust me, this way may seem hard but it's far better than what will happen if show weakness and seal that deal with the devil," cautioned Kaspar.

"Because that isn't what I've done so far," retorted Hansel, pushing his chair back harshly before storming out of the room. The cabin door slammed shut in his wake as he headed beyond the tamed grounds of Kaspar's homestead for the wilds of the nearby forest. He moved with determination and speed, letting his anger push him further away from the house.

He needed space, a calm place to think that wasn't going to offer the temptation of anything Kaspar had to offer. His head was spinning. Recognizing the gentle babbling brook as the furthest the hunter could safely go without forsaking the safety of Kaspar's magical boarders, Hansel flopped down in the tender moss. Crawling on his hands and knees towards the stream, he plunged his face into its chilly waters. The shock of the coldness cleared his head a little and thinned the fog that had been plaguing him.

He came up coughing and sputtering, water running in rivets down his face. Wiping the water from his eyes, he caught sight of his wrist and his heart stopped. Breath seized in his lungs and for a moment it seemed like his body had forgot how to function. Disbelief drove his other hand to pull at his sleeve, yanking it as far back as the fabric would accommodate. His fingers raked over the skin, desperately trying to remove what he saw, to prove it was a mistake, a smudge of dirt, not vine like black lines curling up his arm exposing his dirty secret to the world.

He plunged his wrist into the water, desperate to wash away what he knew deep down in the very pit of his being was the permanent and irrefutable evidence of the rotting of his soul. There was no denying it and no hiding it now, he had let himself fall. Shame washed over him as he stared down at the mark, deep and dark against his pale skin. As far as the usual witch disfigurement went, it was rather beautiful, not the distorted disfigurement associated with those the hunted. It was still hideous in what it represented and Hansel had done it to himself.

He couldn't put the blame on his upbringing, abandonment or the inherited stain left upon him by his mother's lineage. He had brought this upon himself the moment he traded the cold metal of a bullet for hope at managing this. While the mark and subsequence fallout was his alone to bear, he knew Gretel would try and take responsibility for it or at the very least, try to talk him out of any solution he would devise for it. Hastily he ripped off a piece of fabric from his vest and wrapped it around his wrist concealing the evidence from the world but not his soul.

Hansel hated magic, it had destroyed their lives, it was a plague, a curse and yet for some reason, it only took one push from Kaspar for him to open up and embrace the uses of it. He cursed his weakness for giving in so easily but he was damned if he did and damned if he didn't.

It wasn't that long ago that he was willing to let the Lamiae finish what they started. Their mother who had abandoned them, even if she had her reasons, had left her stain upon Hansel, and though he would gladly bear its mark if it meant Gretel wouldn't have to. The world said male witches weren't meant to live and he was happy to oblige, for it would spare him the path he know found himself on. Now he had a taste for the very thing he hated and it was hard to let go.

Hansel knew what he had to do. He'd let himself be blinded to the dangers, to everything that was truly important. Kaspar hadn't lied to his face, but the omission of facts had had the same impact, allowing Hansel to get lost in a world he had initially wanted no part of. Now Gretel was out there and Hansel didn't know if she was in trouble or not. Time had gotten away from him, clouded in the exhilarating rush that pushed everything real out of his mind.

He needed to find her, but beyond the magical barrier lay the Lamiae, a foe he knew he couldn't beat with either witchcraft or his good old fashioned witch hunting skill. The only chance he had was evasion, but that was impossible with an enemy whose sole purpose was to both litteraly and ifuratively sniff someone like him out.

There was also another problem, one so terrifying Hansel didn't want to admit it to himself. He felt great when he and Kaspar were testing and pushing his limits or even when he indulged in magic for his own benefit, but when he stopped, the need, the craving took over. It left him almost as bad as the moments he missed a dose of his medication. Even the few moments he was taking for himself now, he could feel it, the more he wanted to go crawling back and beg Kaspar to teach him something new, something that required a greater use of his abilities.

Hansel made up his mind. His sister was more important, consequences be damned, whatever they were.