Amongst the dust and grime, his foot made its impression on the terrain. He was certain to steer clear of the old bones half-fused into the ground. They could easily snap. Noise was a luxury that could not be afforded. They would hear it. A hand went unconsciously to his right arm, where a bruise could be felt underneath the layers of fabric. His supplies of witch-hazel and vitality potions were thinning, and he prayed he wouldn't have to replace his eye again.
The blood orange sun, tainted by the sand and debris wafting in the air, marinated the land in crimson. His path was visible but aimless; it was simply a matter of moving forward. His gaze turned upwards, holding an arm over his brow to cast a shadow on his weary eyes. The once tall and protective horns and rib bones of the Titan had worn thin and retreated into the boiling ocean, perhaps from age or perhaps from the first cataclysm.
Hunter shifted his rucksack onto his other shoulder. The worn wood beneath the synthetic skin creaked at the weight, but he had since learned to tune the noise out.
His long, dirty coat belied his figure. The layers of shirts, sweaters and robes underneath hid his malnourishment, and he supposed it would look intimidating. If there were anybody left to intimidate. He was thankful that he couldn't feel too hot or too cold anymore, because the blazing sun combined with his lengthy gear would certainly have made him overheat by now.
Keep moving, he told himself. Through the dust of Latissa.
Much of the old town was in ruins from some catastrophe or another, but there were still remnants of the old Emperor's Coven outpost. It had provided temporary respite, but the creatures had torn much of it to pieces already. He only managed to stay there a single night before they found him. He had since remembered to keep his ears covered at all times, despite the auditory impairment.
The musky hills and mountains on the landscape had been smoothed out through weathering and erosion. Hunter made his way down a worn path in the grimy ash and yellowed grass. The path declined downward, hills on both sides, until he entered a small valley in the ground. The grass was wiry, like straw, and stained with grey marks from the old ash and powdered glass from centuries of torture.
He spotted a round circle of stone, lodged in the ground. Next to it, there was another one, growing out the trunk of an old, dilapidated tree. The veins of the stone were visible seeping through the cracks in the ancient wood. Stonemeyers.
Hunter leaned down and set down his rucksack by his side. Zipping it open, he reached inside to produce a touchstone engraved with a Darkness glyph. Hesitantly, he offered it to the stone, and there was a barely audible rumble. A spike of stone shot out and speared the touchstone, snatching it from his grasp and absorbing it into itself. Hunter hung back for a few moments, at which point the creature spat out a sphere into his hands.
He examined it for its authenticity. The sphere was jet black, so much so that he could see his own scraggly reflection from its exterior. There was a gentle glow to it, barely noticeable. A tiny smile tugged at the edges of his lips. He slipped the shadowball into his bag and stood back up.
What part of King's tortured imagination had spawned these creatures, Hunter had never been certain.
The rocky hills lowered as the path dared upwards. He caught sight of the distant surroundings. A large pile of sadness, sticking out of the ground. Blight Industries. Or at least, it had been, once.
At some point, it was changed into a maximum-security prison by the Faction Parallax, shortly after Blight Industries went defunct. Eventually, that too collapsed, as eventually time emerged victorious and grinded those polished iron bars to dust. The lonely Blight Manor was a whitewashed tomb from the outside, the walls bleached and drained of all signs of life. The foundations of the once great manor had been worn away from many years of conflicts, disasters and sieges. Now its dry and cracked walls lay in a heap, with stonemeyers, detritomould and the odd corrupted stonesleeper.
The former occupants of the manor had scattered to the wind many cycles ago, along with everything else.
Hunter knew to steer clear. The ruins of Parallax Prison were infested with shadowswarms, creatures that loved the smell of suffering. The cries of anguish haunted the walls, and the hordes feasted upon the emotion hidden inside the wreckage.
What few clouds there were in the sky hovered over the grounds of Hexside School for Magic and Demonics. It hadn't been known by that name for a long time, but it was how Hunter preferred to remember it. The clouds in question weren't organic. Hunter did not know who put them there, or exactly when, but they appeared sometime after the place was overrun. His best guess determined it was meant to be some kind of warning sign. Thanks to the new season, it was now empty, but the bite marks on the collapsed archways and the colossal vines emerging out the bisected clocktower indicated it was not the safe haven it had once been.
Old graffiti was scratched onto the walls.
"KEEP QUIET"
"PORTIA, HEADING EAST
– SERANA"
"STAY AWAY FROM THE KNEE"
"Sayde, I'm sorry. I wish I could".
"LISTEN FOR THEM! THEIR WINGS SWIPE THE AIR LIKE THE TITAN'S CLAWS."
"GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GET OUT GETOUTGETOUTGETOUTGETOUT"
Relics from the many eras the Isles has seen. It was difficult to tell where the graffiti stopped, and the desperate cries began. In the beginning, he couldn't bear to read it. Now, it was just another fixture of the plane that was supposed to be the Boiling Isles. Part of him wished that, if he were to add to the collective of text, someone might respond.
But he knew nobody was coming. He knew he had to keep moving.
It had been so long since he'd been in this part of the world. He'd hoped that maybe, by some small miracle, there would be signs of life outside of the wretched creatures lurking in each corner. Alas, there was not, and whatever hope he might have had, it faded alongside everything else he once knew. All's dust that becomes dust.
Keep moving. He let out a few scratchy breaths. He wasn't there yet. Not far now.
A small canyon severed the left forearm of the Titan from the rest of its body. The shifting of tectonic plates, caused by the Titan's enormous body weighing down on the ocean floor, had created the canyon. It had escaped being filled with boiling water due to the lowered sea levels. Now Hunter had to cross between spires of rock to get to the other side of the Titan's left arm.
He set his patchy boot on the most even spike of rock he could find. When its stability proved viable, he gently moved to balance on it. Moving across this canyon was much more difficult without use of magic. But he couldn't. They would feel it.
By the time Hunter made it to the other end of the canyon, he was already feeling nervous about being out in the open for so long. He had his tactics down to an instinct, and he knew to stick to valleys, caves, and the sides of hills or mountains. In the occasions that he was in the open air, he had to move slowly so that their watchful eyes wouldn't assume he was an actual person.
He stopped a moment to catch his breath. A series of wheezy breaths ripped through his chest. It felt like knives clawing against the inside of his throat. Stonesleeper lungs had originally gifted him with advanced lung capacity, but over the years it had been nullified by the ash, dust and tar clogging up the bronchioles. His chest creaked as he thumped his fist against it.
It was difficult to note when the breakdown really began. His ortet bones started to creak just as much as the Palistrom wood; his skin sustained cuts that slowly stopped healing; his mana and stamina began to decline; and the Selkidomus scales that had helped create him had started to become visible underneath his shoulder blades.
Grimwalkers were not supposed to live this long. By all measure, his species was functionally immortal, as Galdorstones were eternal energy sources. But Belos had never fine-tuned the complexities of the Grimwalker creation ritual, had never adjusted his bones, muscles and magical blood to use energy more efficiently. He easily could have created Hunter, or his predecessors, with the capacity to age beyond their physical prime, but he did not.
Because Belos had never expected a Grimwalker to outlive him. Maybe he had been fairer to the original Grimwalker, but his repeated betrayals only finalised Belos's expectation that each Grimwalker would only live 25 years at maximum. Hunter had lived long enough to watch how his immortality did not equate to invincibility. While he could not die of old age, time could still erode him away just like everything else.
Hunter looked up. An ashy fog rolled through the landscape. He braced himself, tightening the scarf around his mouth and putting on his goggles. The hot grey ash blasted against his coat, whipping his pant leg and the multiple layers of sweaters and shirts stretched over his torso. The edge of Forearm Forest, which had stretched all the way down to the Looking Glass Ruins, had seen far better days. The ashstorm that encompassed him was seasonal, so he had been expecting it.
The pasty winds of the storm pushed against his limbs. He raised an arm above his head to resist it. Slowly, he pushed one leg forward, then another, his footprints scraping the land. Wind whipped past his ears, and across his face, depositing powdery cinder onto his goggles.
Eventually, Hunter felt the forceful winds start to weaken. As the core of their energy waned, as the air pressure evened out, he regained control of his flapping coat. The storm passed through, vanished, just as quickly as it had appeared. He reached up to his goggles and wiped away the layers of ash caking his goggles.
And that's when he finally found it. After days of walking, he reached his destination.
Perched on a cliff, completely still, was a large house with old, bleached bricks and a sloped roof. Blue paint crumbled at the edges of the roof tiles. The old castle tower jutting up from the ground was now a mound of crumbling stone, barely hanging together. Orange moss and stonemeyer veins seeped out through the crevices. Remarkably, the rest of the house was mostly intact, aside from the smashed stain glass windows.
Hunter's legs nearly gave way as he approached the Owl House. Whether it was still standing due to ancient magical enchantments, or simply because the things had grown bored of it, he did not know for certain. Clearly they had shown some investment, because part of the roof had been ripped off. His Galdorstone heart hummed with recognition. He hadn't been here since the first cataclysm. Not just out of grief, but those things had crowded this area for centuries. (They were probably attracted to the immense magical energy that lingered in the left arm of the Titan – Hexside, the Owl House, Blight Manor and Parallax Prison). Only recently had they finally departed, presumably because the accessible magic had finally expired and the old Gateway to Avalon at the Knee seemed more tantalising.
Tentatively, Hunter stepped up to the doorway. He reached out to trace the outline of the circular hole in wall where Hooty once occupied. His finger was stained with the dust from the dry, cracked wood. He leaned forward and pushed the old door open.
The door creaked loudly as it skidded across the living room floor. The red light of the dirty sun shone in on the dilapidated coffee table and the thin, worn couch at the back of the room. Books, smashed lamps and old antiques lay strewn about on the floor, caked in hair and dust from years gone by. Hunter stood in the doorway, looking like a little child who'd lost their parents at the supermarket. He drunk in his surroundings as he stepped inside the living room.
His foot hit something. He looked down and spotted something protruding from underneath an abandoned piece of cloth. With ginger fingers, Hunter reached down and picked up the object. It was a photograph frame, though the picture was covered in dust and grime. He wiped it away with the cuff of his coat jacket.
It was an old picture. It was the whole Owl House gang, taken sometime after the Dawn of the Midnight Sun. Shortly after the Dawn of the Midnight Sun, where multiple institutions had been liberated from the Faction Parallax, Amity was promoted to Head Witch of the Abomination Coven. They took this picture to celebrate the occasion. Amity was in the centre, with Luz's loving arms around her, and Willow and Gus to her left, and Hunter on the right next to Luz. King, who was an adolescent by this point in the Titan life cycle, was in the background, looking on proudly with his adoptive mother Eda next to him, and Raine next to her. Hunter remembered this moment (which was a surprise, given his fading memories). It seemed like the Boiling Isles had reached a Golden Age with the eradication of the evil organisation, after numerous social, environmental and economic disasters, they and the Isles had emerged intact.
But that's the thing about an age: it doesn't last forever. Once it got too old, balance was in order. For every Golden Age, there had to exist a Dark Age to contrast it. The Dark Age began when Eda died. He knew that for certain.
If he still had functional tear ducts, he would have stifled tears. His heart drummed with a distinct longing that only someone with his advanced age could understand. Gone now. All of them. Like a footprint in the beach, and the tide was coming in.
Hunter slipped the photo into his rucksack. It wasn't what he came here for, but it damn well wouldn't be something he would leave behind. He cast his eyes towards the stairs. The worn foundations concerned him; it might not be able to handle his weight. But he needed to get upstairs.
Ultimately, Hunter made the call to try anyway. Hopefully, if he did fall, it would not be heard. He took his steps up the stairs with great consideration. His heart nearly jumped when he made the slightest creak.
Magical relics were hard to come by in the Boiling Isles these days. But Eda had an exceptional talent for sealing it away and concealing its presence. Even after centuries, Hunter would wager her enchantments still held up. Protection against the things, and the other creatures roaming the wasteland, was paramount, now that his supplies were dwindling alongside his mana.
And he'd hoped that, perhaps, by some vague wishful thinking, there might be something in here that could counteract Titan magic.
Hunter picked the first door on the right. As he delicately pushed open the door, he immediately remembered which room this was. From the derelict chest in the corner, the portraits lying disused on the ground, the remnants of an old purple carpet, the dried Abomination goo on the walls, and the smashed stained-glass window at the centre back wall, Luz's old bedroom was instantly recognisable. The colour was long since gone. Darker hues, grey upon grey, lined the room with misery. A taste of despair hung on the tip of his tongue.
The old chest had been sitting there for years. He went to check the locks on it, and sure enough, nobody had attempted to break it. He needed a six-numbered code for it. Hunter dialled in 19-06-32, and the chest released for him. It was the date of Luz and Amity's wedding.
Hunter examined the insides. He reached inside and retrieved the first item on top. It was a long purple cloak, with a pink lining. Made from Witch's Wool.
'Hunter, look at this! Eda made me a new one!'
'What is that? A cape?'
'No, you dummy. It's ma Witch Cloak! Witch Cloak 2.0, baby!'
Hunter's solemn look never lost its definition as his mind crossed to the memory. He undid the golden button and threw the cape around his shoulders. He was going to need the cloak to repel Titan magic, but Eda's manufacturing also granted its wearer a perception filter from creatures that see in only magic. Useful to keep away from the things.
The next thing Hunter pulled out was an old hand mirror. A magic amplifier, specifically. He examined the object for a few moments, before setting it down at the side. Hunter wasn't sure how much use the object would be, if there wasn't much magic left to amplify. Not to mention its use in specifically Illusion magic rendered it almost pointless.
A few concealment stones lay on the side; Hunter doubted their usefulness. They would undoubtedly see through it. The crystal ball seemed as yet unimportant, too, so he decided to set that aside as well. He considered using the Training Wand for parts, disassembling it to harvest the shadestream inside. Shadestream was only useful to enhance the strength of potions, but in vitality potions it worked too well. It tended to cause cells to grow exponentially faster than they could die, and that was never a pretty sight.
Hunter sat back. His eyes looked down at the very last thing at the bottom of the chest: Luz's old cell phone. Eda had managed to give it an interdimensional upgrade, with just a dash of magic. As he stared at the blank screen, he silently wondered just how many enchantments Eda would have had to place on it to make it last this long.
It probably still had power. He could probably just reach down, hold that button, and switch it on. And those solemn few memories that he kept could be greeted with the many that he had lost. So much lost knowledge hidden away inside.
Hunter impulsively reached forward and snatched the phone before it could be lost to him somehow. He inspected it. The glass was surprisingly well-kept; the metal chassis was dirty and dull, but it was largely unblemished. He pressed his crooked fingers on the power button, squeezing down as hard as he could. The button was almost jammed. It gave way after some persuasion.
After a while, Hunter was greeted with a bright white light. The phone booted up, though its age meant it took some time. If Eda hadn't modified the device, the phone definitely would have degraded – the battery especially.
When the home screen greeted him, he couldn't meet the bright eyes of Amity Blight posing with Luz Noceda at one of their anniversaries. Hunter unlocked the phone – the passcode being the same as the chest – and tried not to let out a tearless cry at the home screen. Another picture of the gang, though this one was during Luz's King-ceañera.
Hunter went to the camera roll. In true Luz fashion, she had recorded numerous vlogs throughout the years. He reached out and plucked some earphones from the bottom of the chest and plugged it in, before wedging the speakers into his ears. His finger hovered over the phone, just above the numerous videos on the phone gallery. He couldn't bear to choose which one to watch.
His finger spasmed for a moment, and he ended up tapping a completely random one. This one was one of the oldest videos. Luz was sitting in her bedroom in the Owl House.
Hiiiiiii future-me! Or…future person watching this! Which could be Amity…or Hunter…or Gus…or Willow…maybe not Willow. Anyway!
You won't believe what happened today. Well, you will believe it, if you remember it, but anyways, King…he's awakened some of his powers! It happened just after the King-ceañera, but he created this cute little stone thing. Well, it kinda bit me at first, but King said he was trying to think of what life could be in other dimensions…and the stone popped out.
Once King gave it a little engraved stone, it puked out a ball. After that it seemed happy. Honestly, I dunno how King thought of it, but still…he created new life! I mean, can you imagine what you could do with that?! Vee…we could bring the Basilisks back! I mean…only if she was okay with that, but still…it's gonna be so cool!
I wonder what else King will make with these powers!
Anyways, this was just a quick update, so byeeeeee!
The video ended. Hunter wanted to vomit. If he could. The cruelty of it all brought bile bubbling up his throat. Luz seemed so hopeful. If only she knew. If only she knew what would really happen.
Hunter decided to skip a few years ahead. Luz was there again, though her hair was longer and a little more unkempt. She still had a gleam behind the eyes, a smile on her face. He played it.
HEYO! It's your girl Luz, again. Heh. Well, uh…to be honest, this isn't GREAT news. It's not too worrying, but a little concerning. I've spent the last ten years or so trying to rebuild society. I've made progress, sure, but now it feels like it's about to be reversed.
There's a new player in town. Some group from another dimension. They call themselves the "Faction Parallax". LAME. But they're offering order. Respite, to the citizens who lost their homes. They've established new properties in the outer islands, and they've even managed to build NEW islands. New islands for people to live on – by THEIR rules.
They've garnered a lot of support in the Right Arm lately, and I'm worried they're going to go a step above private contractor. Their strict dogma…it's like the Emperor's Coven all over again. Raine thinks I'm just being paranoid, and their government won't be disturbed, but Eda agrees with me. The Faction CAN'T be trusted.
Did I mention they have MAGIC too? I don't really understand it…it's not like the new glyph magic from King. It's something entirely different.
I asked King about it, but he doesn't know. Well, I say that, but he didn't really say much about it to begin with. He went off to hide under his fort again. I think he's still under the weather about Raine rejecting his ideas to sell Stonemeyers as pets. The poor guy is barely out of his room these days.
*Sigh*.
I've got enough problems to deal with. I hope he'll be okay, but I can't put my attention on him right now. I will when I've got the chance, but I'm so busy. I've got a wedding to plan, a shady organisation to oppose, I've gotta support Gus's trips to the human world, and I'm still trying to get my actual qualifications from Hexside. I'll talk to Eda. She can help him.
I wanna say it's not all doom and gloom though! As I said, I've got a wedding to plan! MY wedding! To one beautiful Amity Blight! I think we should keep our maiden names. Well, if Amity wants to take mine, she can, but she'd never force me to take hers.
I know just the dress to wear too! Sssssh, don't argue future-me (or future viewer), I'm not gonna spoil it. Wait another time.
Anyways, this is Luz Noceda, signing off!
Why couldn't he go back to that time? Why did time have to move on? Simpler times, these were. Where Hunter felt safe, surrounded by a group of people he could comfortably call his friends. The impulse to fall into the darkness was overwhelming sometimes. But instead, he kept going. For them, perhaps? To live because there was nobody left to keep their memory alive. Or did he live simply for the sake of living? Because death was too scary for a Grimwalker.
His finger skated across to the next video. He pressed it without even thinking, and he knew instantly this one was bad. Luz didn't look sad, or depressed, or otherwise downcast. No, she looked angry. Very angry.
Upon playing the video, Hunter could say he almost regretted it.
They took him. The Faction. THEY TOOK KING! Snatched him right in the alleyways of Bonesborough. And it was MY fault. I've been trying to get him to leave his fort for months…God knows what he's being doing in there…and when I finally get him out the house…the Faction TAKES HIM!
Those LOSERS…they can't win us in a fair fight, so they play dirty! I knew they could never be trusted but knowing what I know now about them…about what they do with magical creatures…I swear I'll find them if it's the last thing I ever do. They took King…THEY TOOK HIM!
I don't…I don't wanna think about what they're gonna do to him. The things they were doing at their main base…the experiments… She swallowed the air in her throat. If they so much as hurt a hair on his head, I'll have THEIR head…
We've had to delay the wedding for this. Not that I mind. I want King to be safe. That's what matters. Amity understood just fine. Hunter worries that King's dead by now, that the Faction have already messed with his mind and his body, but I'm not giving up on him. He's never given up on me. Time I return that favour.
The video ended abruptly there. Hunter had so many things he wished he could have said to Luz back then. So many things that could have changed what happened. But it didn't matter. That time had passed. Now it was just a memory, a vague set of emotions hanging on the wind, waiting to be remembered. Until one day, nobody would remember it at all. And it would be gone. Forever.
If only she knew. He could never stop his mind from running wild with the possibility. All the ways they could have averted their fates. Even if he knew it was pointless. His imagination – his mind – was the only thing left to keep him company.
Next video. Luz looked…different in it. She was only a year and a half older than the previous video, but…her cheeks looked a little sullener. She was smiling in the thumbnail, but it didn't reach her eyes. Her hair was a little messier. But…she still seemed a little hopeful.
Hi. Luz again, heh. But you probably already knew that. Sorry, I've been missing some vlogs. I was meaning to get round to recording another one.
We found King last year. Got him the hell out of that Faction compound. What the Faction Parallax did…
She shook her head.
We healed him of his physical injuries, but…I look at him and I can tell he's different. He's quieter. Never seems to leave his room. Doesn't talk to me much anymore. Barely even speaks to Eda. Always says he's busy. Says he's trying to practice his Titan powers. I'm worried he's sneaking off somewhere, doing something, but let me tell ya…his Titan magic makes it damn near impossible to follow him.
And…something's wrong with the Isles. People are going missing. Even the Faction Parallax are scared, and we practically drove them out of the mainland after the Dawn of the Midnight Sun. I saw…something, on the way back from work this morning. A creature I've never seen before. Definitely not native here.
I didn't catch a good look at it. It was in the shadows, but it was big, like a giant rat. Made this…shrilling noise. I couldn't stand it. But it was gone before I knew it.
I don't know where these things are coming from. But if they're the reason people are going missing, we need to do something about it. But it's like I'm the only one who's noticed! Amity says she hasn't seen anything, and she runs the whole goddamn Abomination Coven. Hunter fashions palismen for a living, and he said he couldn't detect any disturbances in magic. Surely he'd feel it if new demonic creatures popped up out of nowhere, right?
I don't even think those rat things are the only things out there. People have been going missing in the Knee. Rats don't like big, open, cold areas like that. They'd want dark shelters. To stick to the shadows. Right?
But where are these things coming from?
"LUZ!"
Luz looked up. Eda's voice hollered through the house. It had been so long since Hunter had heard it. Luz looked down at her phone.
Sorry. Gotta go!
Hunter wasn't sure he could bear to keep watching. But he had to. He had to, or else his memory might fail him forever. He forced himself to skip ahead to a random video. This one was near the end. A couple years on.
Luz looked different now. Not just older. Her eyes looked wide and distant, confused and dilated. Her hair was wild and wiry, like a straw hat stained with squid ink. Her strands of hair were scattered with dandruff. Her pallid face was thin, lacking the definition it had once had, and her cracked lips and bloodshot spelled doom right from the beginning of the video.
I…uh…
Luz couldn't quite manage to look at the camera.
I…I can't…
She bit her lip.
She's gone. Eda. They finally got her. And now…the Owl House…we don't know what to do. We're just…running. I…I don't know…if anywhere is safe…
And King –
Brrrr…brrrr…
There was a siren audible in the background. It sounded like a space-age alarm, blaring distantly in the background. Luz shut her mouth instantly. She looked hastily in front and behind her. Her breathing quickened. As the alarm started to die down, she took a few deep breaths.
The…the portal door…it doesn't work anymore. The magic's just…gone. Like someone sucked it all out. We're trapped here. The Faction…the Faction built outposts. They can resist it. We can't. Ha.
Her laugh was cold and humourless.
The irony. They're the ones surviving…we're the ones left to fend for ourselves. With Eda…*sniff*…with Eda g-gone, the Owl House w-won't be safe anymore. Hooty…Hooty's not gonna last. They feast on things like him. Maybe Lilith can take him…take him far, far away.
I haven't seen King since…the blowout. I should…I should have stuck closer to him. I-I knew he wasn't right…after what the Faction did to him…
"Luz?"
Hunter felt his heart drop. Amity walked into the room. She stepped through the very door Hunter stepped through just moments ago, centuries apart.
Oh, hey Ami. Just doing a little video log.
Amity managed a tiny snicker. She walked over to her and sat down next to her.
"Good. We need these little things just to keep sane."
Yeah…I just…I can't believe she's gone…
"I know Luz. I can't either. She saved our lives."
I don't know what to do now. What would Eda want for us? To run? To hide? To fight?
"She'd want us to keep moving; to keep going. For her. We can't stay here. All this magic…it's like a goldmine. Eda's magic might hold them off for a while, but they'll find this place. And they'll feast on the magic."
Yeah…you're right.
Luz reached around her Witch Cloak and took it off.
Not sure it's safe to keep this. I don't know how those things work, but I know they love magic. I'll have to hide all these relics in here. *Sigh. *
And the phone too. That touch of magic Eda gave it. I bet they'd want this too.
The camera wobbled as Luz started packing away various objects in the same order Hunter had found them in, aside from the phone itself. Before she put that away, she held the phone up and stared directly into it.
For whoever finds this, remember us. Remember our story. And believe me when I say…we did everything we could…and I'm sorry…please do not judge…
With that, the video ended, and Hunter presumed she stuffed the phone at the very bottom of the old chest, just as he had found none of them ever returned to the Owl House, except for him, hundreds of years later. He sat back for a moment, contemplating on the phone in his hand, when the mulling over Luz's words hit him like the lash of a stonesleeper's tail to the face.
The phone! Luz hid it away because they would sense the magic. But whilst it was switched off, it gave off so little magic that it was basically background radiation. But now that it was on…and those things were more widespread than they had been back then…
Hunter's eyes widened. He immediately shut off the phone, hurling it into chest so hard that the screen cracked. He shut the chest with a renewed speed and redid the lock a second later. He looked around the room. Nothing but silence. That's what he could keep hope for. He breathed a sigh of relief. Just a little too late.
Brrrr…brrrr…brrr…
A loud siren blared in the near distance. It was high-pitched, sort of like a techno rhythm. It rang through his ears louder than it had for a long time.
Hunter paled. They shouldn't be here! But their senses were almost omnipresent. He looked up at the smashed window.
A silhouette in the distance, winged and fluttering, descended from the sky. He bolted out the room, running down the stairs with the fastest speed he had mustered in well over a hundred years. As he did, he tightened the collar of the Witch's Cloak. He rushed down the stairs, no longer concerned for the noise it made.
He cast his eyes to the front door. He caught a glimpse of something shifting past through the circular hole in the door. Hunter knew it was too dangerous to go that way. Instead, he hurried through the kitchen to find the back door entrance. When he heard the distinct siren blaring again, followed by the dreaded buzzing, Hunter ducked under the kitchen table.
The old window was smashed, with only a small remnant of the glass remaining. The kitchen tale was barren, the metal legs worn and rusty. He spotted one of the old lamps lying on the ground in front of him, having fallen off the walls and smashed at some point. The kitchen was a complete mess, pots, pans, bones and trays lay scattered on the ground. All the old food had gone rotten, the potions and alchemical ingredients Eda once owned having been harvested, the kitchen tools rusted with age, and the chairs were split down the middle.
Gently, he edged himself, inch by inch, towards the back door. The cloak might be blanketing his presence from the things, but Hunter wasn't going to take any risks. If they saw his magic through the window, then it was all over. He couldn't let them get to him.
The wooden floor felt rough against his clothes. Old splinters and crevices poked at his rear. His fabric gloves were easily pierced, nearly exposing his scarred and lacerated tissue underneath. A loud wooden boom echoed across the house from the living room. They had breached through the front of the house.
This was his window. Hunter leapt out behind the kitchen table and stumbled out the back door of the building. He took a second to breathe, before he pressed his back flush against the wall. He kept his head down.
Where would he even go from here? He hadn't really had a plan beyond making it here. He wasn't hoping he would have to leave soon. He hoped he could maybe use the Owl House as shelter for a day or two, but they had found him.
Bonesborough was the next and only option. There might still be some of it left. The entire town had been evacuated shortly after the first cataclysm, and people steered clear when the place was overrun. Upon more catastrophes and disasters, no soul, human, demon or otherwise, stepped foot in the Left Arm of the Titan. With centuries past, it was possible that, with its occupation only now being lifted, some of it was still intact.
Hunter kept his head down. The alarm was still blaring. They were searching for him. He couldn't afford to look up and identify their location; he had to move down towards Bonesborough. He moved slowly off the edge of the side of the cliff. The terrain was only a few feet down. He could make it there without making much noise.
He dropped off the edge. There was the tiniest of crunches as his feet hit the ground. Hunter immediately hugged the wall and waited. No sirens. They hadn't heard it. Somehow they had missed it. Phew.
He let out a small, hot breath.
Keep moving. The path in front of him was open. No clear valleys or caves to obscure himself through. Hunter knew he had no other option. He took his next few steps towards Bonesborough. He could see its outskirts from here. Most of the buildings were still there, maybe he could –
Brrrr…brrrr…brrrr…brrrr…
Hunter froze. The alarm was accompanied by a distinct buzzing underneath. He felt air whip past him. Silhouettes just out of the view of his hood. One step; one wrong move, and he was done for. Without the Witch's Cloak, this ploy wouldn't have worked. He would have had to run. As a Grimwalker, with a Galdorstone humming away in his chest constantly, he was constantly on their radar. They desired to feast on the magic within him – the potent, pure kind that could satisfy them more than a hundred demonkind.
He felt them flutter and move around him. The noises got louder and louder, until Hunter could tell they were inches against his face. He felt his fake heart pounding away inside his wooden chest.
Do. Not. Move.
Hunter could not even breathe much without fear of them hearing. They were surrounding him now. He could hear their buzzing. He could hear how their wings sliced through the air.
Feathers sank to the bottom of his lungs. It felt like his inner chest was being tickled. The ash, dust, tar clinging to his alveoli, starving him of oxygen. A groan rumbled inside his throat. He needed to move. He tried not to gasp as he slowly started to breathe in through his nostrils. Steady now…steady…
'Hrrk!'
Hunter couldn't stop the sporadic cough that tore its way out of his mouth. Warm blood trickled out of his mouth and down his throat. His magic blood.
Instantly, Hunter felt an unstoppable force smash into his chest. He was knocked off his feet and hit the cliffside with a loud creak. His hood fell down, and he got one more look at the main creatures he had been running from all this time.
They always had wings. Long, translucent wings sprouting from their slender backs, with edges sharper than obsidian knives. Their long, segmented bodies were covered with the sheen of a shiny metallic exoskeleton, though it never seemed to rust or corrode. Each one had an oval-shaped head which varied in size, some being the size of crystal balls, others larger than an Abomaton's. Their compound eyes glowed emerald, constantly drenched in magic. Magic was all they saw. Like echolocation, they detected the subtleties of magic and descended upon it with their voracious mandibles. The alcoves on either side of their head hid a powerful olfactory system, that could pick up the slightest abnormal movement from miles away.
The things. He was certain they had a name, razorflies, or arcanomorphs, or something like that, but names lost all meaning at this point. They were the things. The things that hunted him and everything magical with limitless appetite.
BRRRR! BRRRR! BRRRR! BRRRR! BRRRR!
Hunter hurriedly unzipped his rucksack. He reached in, fishing desperately, until he felt spherical objects sitting at the bottom. He ripped it out and glanced at the jet-black, pinball-sized spheres in his palm for only a second. He clenched his fist and flung them at the things.
As the balls shot towards them, they dissolved into shadowy mist. Being of magic, the things sucked them up, gorged on it, without much concern. Their green eyes dulled, turned black, and they flapped their wings desperately. Hunter got to his feet now he had the chance, bolting it towards the nearest hill where he could be out of sight.
The things scattered around the air, desperately trying to rely on their ears to find him. Hunter couldn't afford to look back –
He screamed in pain. Something shot past his shoulder, slicing the top of it clean off. He held the shoulder, as the magic blood spilled out. Hunter looked up. Another one of them descended upon him.
Its head twitched for a moment.
Its eyes fell upon his magical blood.
It flapped its wings harder.
Hunter tried his best. He drew upon the diminishing well of mana inside him, and a yellow aura encompassed him. Flash Step – the accelerated speed iconic of the golden-less Golden Guard – activated, if only for a moment, to try and shift him out of the trajectory of the thing as it shot towards him. But the Flash Step faded away.
The thing opened its proboscis. The yellow aura of Flash Step was pulled away from him, drawn into its waiting mouth. Whatever was left of his mana reserves was entirely depleted. Hunter felt the wings slice into him again, ripping up Luz's cloak.
What little speed he got from Flash Step only made things worse for him, as he stumbled over and hit his head on a rock.
Everything started to go…wobbly. He felt a deep, pulsing alert in the depths of his chest, as if his Galdorstone was trying to warn him of the obvious. He lay flat on his back, with the constant whirring and buzzing of the things glittering around him.
In his dazed stupor, he thought he saw something shiny. Something glittery skated across his view. Were those… stars? How long had he been here? The sun was only just setting mere moments ago…but now it seemed he was looking at the night sky. He hadn't seen the stars in so long…hadn't dared gone out into the night.
Was this how he would go? Watching in silence, staring at one of the few companions that still persisted? At least…he would join them. Luz. Willow. Amity. Gus. Eda. Lilith. Raine. Darius. He had been running so long…maybe it was time to rest. The shooting stars up above skipped across the sky, like the demiurge watching over him.
Hunter knew this was the end. But that was okay. He was comfortable, sitting here.
Watching the silent stars go by.
Thanks for reading!
Honestly, I dunno what compelled me to write this one-shot. I was writing the latest chapter of a different story, then I decided to rewatch some episodes of the Owl House, and this idea suddenly sprang to mind. I had an idea for where this would go - namely where it would start, and where it would end - but a lot of what was in between were things that came to mind as I was writing it. I had it in my mind the lore behind it (which you can probably figure out by what it is implied in the text!) but some of what was just what I thought of in the moment.
I can be sporadic like that. I'm proud of this one, though, I think it oozes style. At least, I hope it does. I wanted to implement enough mystery and intrigue to be thought-provoking.
Feel free to write your theories in the comments section if this fic scratched an itch you couldn't describe! Writing it certainly scratched an itch for me. I've been wanting to write an Owl House fic for a while now. Here it is!
Once again, thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Leave a kudo or a comment if you wish! It'd be much appreciated.