Chapter 10: Tapas
"How can another see into me, into my most secret self, without my being able to see in there myself?"
- Jacques Derrida, the Gift of Death
There is no defined system for how anti-magic works and little could be comprehended when experimenting on it. Anti-Magic Scholars have been divided into four major branches with various smaller sections having grown over the years: magocentrism, which emphasizes the role of typical magic which has its origin in the blood of the titan and anti-magic as its opposite, this belief emphasizing other unexplainable forces in the world, such as the cosmic beings listed the now destroyed speculum literature records; percicentrism, the belief that anti-magic will be whatever one believes it to be, thus being malleable to upbringing and environment; lastly, Exegism, which focuses on anti-magic as a human/witch strong emergence phenomenon, where a single aspect of something within the creature is emphasized until it exceeds the system.
This is also the reason most Anti-Magic witches have memories of past lives along with parts of new ones; to add, that rationale is why most Anti-Magic users spend their lives in search of a higher purpose and are often considered tranquil and zen. Most of their religions center on this idea and some from previous existences.
Recalling your previous experience and moving on from it is considered the definitive sign of maturity and a sort of rite of passage in more primitive cultures. Those who do not follow this are not rejected or ignored, rather they are accepted with open arms and given more kindness than those who have endured this. As one scholar noted, "[The] notion of coming to terms [with previous lives] and realizing your potential in this one is not dissimilar to that of nirvana in Hinduism or ubuntu in some Africana philosophies becoming part of the world or a community. It is also not dissimilar to [Aristotelian] ideas of telos or eudaimonia. However, it does not put the needs of the individual beneath the group, rather respecting them both."
After Etheridge's imprisonment, Zadie and Florence's escape, and Kurt's kidnap and rescue, the young anti-magic woman agreed, so far as she could, to be the custodian of Etheridge the Black. Belos informed her in no uncertain terms that if he were to escape, she would be the only one capable enough to hold him. He used large words to cover his ass, but Zadie knew what was behind that garrulous guise, after all this time with him, she knew when to recognize when he was off balance. And what checked his kilter from its flawless polish, had been both the reappearance of an ancient nuclear deterrent and the arrival of someone that could only be bested thanks to clever underhanded tricks coupled with the reminder that they had been classmates. Zadie, he trusted, possibly thanks to her history, either from this world or from her original home.
The panic between Kurt and Florence died down after Zadie committed to C.Y.A. protocol in both their kidnappings at Etheridge's behest, "I wasn't absolving you of any wrongdoing with this request, but their ire should be directed toward me for acting so rashly and not paying attention more," he explained, "You were just doing what I asked of you."
"I didn't know this would happen, I just- I got so confused about what to do next," she breathed, "I never had to come up with a plan with..."
"Us. Yeah. Got it." he scoffed. "These years with Belos really just sent you into a spiral, huh? Got attached to him. To this place. All your friends, Lilith, Kikimora, and that little brat."
Zadie looked down at the pointed ends of her shoes, inspecting the golden buckles and shiny glimmer, in the massive grey stone and red brick sea, like a raft adrift in the ocean being jostled by nature, her legs shook and convulsed as he ranted.
"You took the easy way out," the voice boomed high above her. "You should have come to me before all the shit went down. Instead, we all were fucked."
In the skies above this storm, the phantom of a Rhodian colossus- no, greater than that. As the skies poured over her, she gazed up behind the veneer of a translucent pane, cerise, invincible, and triumphant, the destroyer Lady Mahadeva the Vishwas Swaroopam, snatching their trishula and pointing it heavenward. A small brown hand pushed against the glass, hoping to escape the hot trap. She did not want to be there.
"(You always take the easiest route so you don't have to experience any hard choices,)" Zadie placed her hands on her ears, "(You can't just run away from all your problems, now! I'm right here! For once in your goddamn life-)"
"Zadie!"
Etheridge's silhouette clutching the bars of the prison, with his singular hand, gripping them with vitriolic avidity, his dark visage like the serene defiance she had witnessed all those years ago. He must have been calling her name for a while since a few guards had looked their way as she began to modestly slow her breath. Doing her best to wave them off, she realized that her hands were rapidly vibrating.
"Still having those visions, then?" Etheridge questioned.
Before this world, she had a vague remembrance of her life as a normal human on Earth but coming to this world forced the majority of those echoes to compress into the little images that returned during every incident that changed her life. Why was she seeing this now?
Etheridge paused once he realized she was shaking and sighed, backtracking, "I shouldn't have said that, this space is just getting to me, I guess," then he moved away from the forefront of the locked room, wiping away the black liquids that had been forming around his forehead, dripping onto his chin and the silver and cherry brick sea below. "I just want everything to go right, come the day I-"
She looked up at that, for there was a trill in his voice when he spoke like some foreign emotion permeated his plea to her, "B-B-Before what?"
"Nothing," he responded with a false yawn following, "I should probably just head to sleep soon. You can go. Just don't forget to give Florence my letters."
During the time Eda went to search for the missing Kurt, many things both expected and unexpected happened, and their homecoming after half a week brought surprise and dynamic shifts within the relationships that they had established. After leaving, Luz informed her worried friends of the situation, who then told their parents, leading down a hysteric route to Principal Bump, a remarkable surge of worriment settling in the town of Bonesborough. She partially could not believe that her brother had caused such an uproar among the citizens until she realized that he was always with Eda whenever she was at Hexside with her friends.
Secondly, she had forgotten that the times here were akin to the Late Medieval transition to the Renaissance age, and missing children were a major deal in these times, despite nature on this Earth being inescapably dangerous. If there was nothing she learned of the customs of this new world, she was taught the importance of the interaction between the sapient and the insentient, their habits, and capricious reactions. Nature here was something that was respected more than at home, possibly because it was so dangerous and insurmountable.
Parents locked their doors and were more conservative when interacting with the outside world, keeping their heads on a swivel and always if they were able, having their magic at the ready. It was odd to see such a bustling community transform into an empty townlet, wary of everyone entering without cause. The coven guards roamed the avenues, more alert than ever before and in more abundance and structure than Luz or either of her peers expected; none of the grunts and foot soldiers were seen without their more competent and professional higher-ups hidden in close proximity.
Once the night turned to astronomical twilight, riparious and riverous blues streaming down to the horizon, Eda and Kurt landed in the dirt, surrounded by scouts and guards and guard captains, all prepared to kill the shadow that descended from the caesious sky. And once they saw who it was the empty street, illuminated only by the distant amber lanterns along the road, "Eda the Owl Lady!" they cried, not noticing the much smaller, darker figure staunch and still beside her. "You shouldn't be out this late," one Guard Captain uttered in a regal tone. She spun a circle and locked her into a mini-block house that kept both of them from running, but the stone cracked and exploded in a dusky, white light.
Kurt was holding what materialized as a black sword made from anti-magic, dissipating once he released the handle. Nothing about his stance told them he was ready for a fight, but something told Eda that if any of them were to make a sudden move, they would end up like the woman of the mansion. She looked down at him, "Since when could you do that?"
He looked up at her not saying anything, questioning if she truly did not know when. It had been over the time that passed since she first saw him under that woman's spell, and when she found him in that room. Kurt had been stuck inside that castle for such a long time and slowly began to realize the extent of his powers, which may have gone as far as what he witnessed in the black castle. There was that woman, hundreds of horrid images that tainted the back of his mind, made him feel parts embarrassed, vulnerable, and shameful, and there were images that he did not recall, but had him in the center, displaying him in the forefront.
There was so much confusion within him and he had no idea how to sort it out. So, standing here waiting for the call of someone else to determine if more blood was to be mistled away, Kurt assumed he would feel nothing in the outcome that they have to fight and eventually go home bruised and beaten or not at all, or the outcome where they were arrested, jailed and possibly executed. Neither would occur within that period, however, as a guard walked in before them, removing his helmet and revealing a familiar face.
"Hold on," he spoke, narrowing his eyes as he got close enough to descry the visage of the young teen. His hardened eyes took in each of his features and processed them all at once, "What did I tell you about getting into trouble, little girl?"
Kurt, unable to recall the facial features of this man, fell back once he stood close, the familiarity killed him, as he raised his hand for the prepared the others to stand down.
"You got it wrong, this is the kid who went missing the other day," he uttered. "She's brought him back- stand down, Guard Captain."
The woman paused, probably frowning under the mask, "You'd allow this skelpie to run free with her Dalit mother?" She lifted her staff, aiming the chape down at the three to the shock of all around, but neither to this mysterious man nor to the two protected by him, "No."
The man, with a dangerous tone, conveyed, "This is who set us free after the political arrests, Nina. Let them pass."
Nina, breathing so quickly behind the mask such that her heavy breaths came out in puffy white clouds, gripped the staff and after several junctures of sharp, bated inhales, dropped it. The soldiers stopped. She stared at the two for a second with Kurt's face lit by reflective midnight blue, Eda's, fiery orange and amber. She reached up to the stuffy mask and revealed her heart-shaped face, green-hazel irises, with one semi-red sclera, marred by a scar splitting the skin and displaying hypertrophic scar tissue. Her body tightened once the fog cleared from her face, "I can't believe that the Harbinger is just some kid," she paused before stepping aside, allowing them to leave, "Get the hell out of here."
Kurt paused, but Eda moved quickly. Picked up and placed onto Owlbert, they careened into the night, she allowed a sigh to escape her and he mused the interaction that occurred only a few moments ago. Her regard marked something that hadn't crossed his mind since the Adegast fight.
There was no fanfare for his troubles, and no collective effort to comfort him, when he returned there was only his concerned sister, his concerned little wolfbrother, and the howling screeches of Hooty. Nothing had changed, he supposed it was just the last time he was lost to someone's salacious craving. Despite being in such a safe space, he couldn't relax until he felt himself nestled into a familial hug; warm and kind, Luz holding him close, Eda crouched beside them unsure what to do but to massage their thoracic spine, that is, to comfort them as her mother did her. King had been blissfully ignorant of the horrible things he relayed to them in confused memory; Kurt was unable to tell whether he had experienced this a year ago or a decade ago.
He settled back into his role around the house, cleaning, maintaining the general upkeep, and doing his best attempt at being handy whenever Eda required it. "I can do it," he said. Ah, yes. It felt good to say that he could do something. Even when he knew that he could not. King wondered why Eda allowed it when she could handle it by herself and whenever he asked, she gave the usual adult reply-the one that Luz and Kurt had explained a while ago as the one that parents gave whenever they were trying to keep you safe or protect you from something scary. Still, King couldn't understand.
Kurt didn't leave the house as the brave heat of the season of low waves settled in and as his friends tried to goad him out of his confines. Edric, over the dog days, discovered a strong bond with him though he supposed it had a correlation with what they shared but never disclosed. Noticing such an alarming change in attitude and mood after a town panic that had something to do with him and Florence's sudden hermit status, the concerned boy took his worries to the others.
This time they were lingering in their father's workshop since he was not annoyed by their presence, even asking them if they would like to help. Adalor fiddled with his devices as Emira watched quietly in the background and passed him instruments as needed; blowtorches, drills, and other welding tools to pitch two metal slabs together into a shoulder pad.
The workshop itself appeared like a torture chamber, the walls were drab grey bricks arranged in a dome with gold outlines, and patterned marble floors. Wooden tables were stacked high with metal tools, sharp and precise-looking, and hammers; some of these were falling off the edge of the table and laid flat, instead of hanging on the wall in their proper place.
Viney was seated on a bench far away from them as Edric stood beside the bench, in front of a second heavy-duty workman's table with a buzzsaw and other woodworking tools. Zadie cleaned the flat upper portion as the two talked, sweeping off woodchips and sawdust, wiping down surfaces, picking up the scattered tools, and finally making sure everything functioned.
"So, you went to visit him?" Zadie asked Edric, finishing the area close to the two of them, and pausing to hear his response. Emira glanced at him as well with a curious blush on her cheeks and Viney followed suit, to his slight amazement.
"Yup, it was worse than we thought," Edric leaned further into the wall, a pained scowl growing on his face, "It's like he's completely gone, y'know? Nothing like when he first got here. When he looks at me or when he starts talking, almost like a different person."
"Different how?" Zadie asked, concerned. "Did he tell you what happened?"
Edric shook his head and sighed, "No, he didn't say anything I could understand."
"Did he say anything about any of us?" Emira questioned, having turned her head back to Adalor's tinkering, a frown clear on her face. Her brother glanced solemnly at her.
"He did say everyone was welcome to pay a visit, but he wasn't planning on heading outside any time soon, for any reason."
"Damn," Viney cursed.
"Oh, Kurt..." Zadie leaned on the table as she felt her knees unexpectedly weaken.
"It's fine! He'll be fine! Right? This is Kurt we're talking about! He's the one who tanked an abomination hit to the face and survived and let's not mention the time when he and Etheridge trashed those carnies!" Now, Edric tried to cheer them up, though the deafening "What could have happened that's worse than having your face torn off by solidified purple slime?"
Beside him, Zadie eyed Edric with a steely grimace, there were certainly fates worse than death and bodily torture, especially being trapped in one such unfortunate circumstance right now. Dealing with being stuck between two titanic forces, the immediate commanding power and the power of dharma and righteousness. "It isn't that simple, Edric."
"I know, Zadie." Shoving his head in his hands and sweeping them through his green locks, he loured at the woman, "Just let me hope things aren't as bad as they seem."
"But they are!" Zadie cried, "First there was Kurt's disappearance, heading off to who knows where for almost a week, then there's Florence and Etheridge! Wh- I just don't know how things can get any worse."
A silence fell as Zadie took off her glasses and exited the room, weeping. Everyone stared at the closed door, a deep apprehension setting in. After a few half-seconds passed, a sigh escaped Adalor stood up from his desk and chased after her. The door closed behind him with a quiet click, leaving all three of the teenagers alone in their worry.
Viney looked at the other two as they didn't know what to say or do. She prided herself on being upbeat, always willing and able to lift the mood with a quip and a smile, however, sometimes, she felt similar This happened to be one of those points where she would just stare off and figure out what to say to keep the conversation going, to ease the setting gloom.
Kurt had been a treasured friend in the past few weeks, he became like the feed to her zany stunts, a role Zadie had filled for the most part, however, she could only be there every once in a while. Edric and Emira were not laughers. Kurt, in the time that he began to warm up to them, became quite the laugher. She noticed throughout the few weeks they talked, in groups and outside them, that he had a knack for mirroring people unintentionally. If one were to laugh, then he would laugh in response - genuine, guffawing laughter with gusto. Emira seemed to react to it the most, so they hit it off the best and Edric found him easy to talk to since he didn't talk all that much at first. Florence had a similar relationship with Kurt, however, she supposed an important part of it was how similar he was to Etheridge, who happened to be an important part of her life.
Thinking about what happened to Florence and Etheridge ignited a fire under her. Now the woman that all of them had grown to admire so much, had fallen into a nigh-unending depression that made her tear up thinking about it. Quietly, when she heard about all of it from Zadie — Etheridge and his absent arm, Florence, and Kurt — Viney vowed that they would get all three of them back, come hell or high water. There was no way she would let this group that had grown to appreciate her, and that she loved so deeply in return, holding this much importance to each other, fall apart under her watch.
"We don't have to hope, Edric," Viney walked over and placed a hand on his shoulder and the other on Emira's, "Why don't all of us pay him a visit, just to check up on him? Hopefully, we can help him come back from whatever he experienced."
Anti-Magic is known particularly among most traditional magic users to be easy to understand from the outside looking in, however, hard to master for most users. Furthermore, the idea persists that Anti-Magic destroys or nullifies all traditional or Titan Magic; this is a grave falsehood. Anti-Magic dissipates or dampens magic. The distinction is important as it can mean the difference between a professional user and an amateur, frequently used as a gatekeeping method to pick on younger users and demonstrate ineptness or incompetence. Powerful magic can override a user's ability to dissipate it, such as with Abomination magic, and the effects that magic may have on the world cannot be destroyed, as that would break the First Thermodynamic Law, such as a Construction Magic creation or manipulated vines from the Plant Coven. This also includes displaced air or fluid.
Those who manifest outstanding abilities (~18.5% of the population) are sensed by the well-trained and brought into instruction within the year. Proper training of these abilities can take anywhere from two years to all of one's life, depending on the cap of these powers and the rate at which development occurs. Immediacy is key in training Anti-Magic witches. If a user does not receive training for their abilities, adverse effects can be displayed within the witch. Often this includes reckless behavior, irrational events occurring around them, agitation, self-destructive demeanor, and sometimes deaths related to blood pressure (high or low). Some consider this to be mysticism as well, however, it did not change the toll it took on hundreds of Anti-Magic children, adolescents, and adults who were either victims or related to victims. A few Anti-Magic users may be exempt from most rules described here, such as the Gardener, the Harbinger, and the Blest (also known as the Hallowed). In much simpler terms, those who have more moderate pools of anti-magic are exempt from the detrimental effects and after around a month of training will often be sent to commit to self-study, as proper training may cause the destruction of their mental wellbeing.
The Gardener is one of the most important figures in the Anti-Magic tradition, with their spiritual authority second only to the Blest, a symbol of forgiveness and salvation, and the Harbinger, the symbol of power and justice. Usually, the Gardener is in charge of the education of all venerable and respected teachers in the land and is chosen by both the Blest and the Harbinger. Both are understood to have higher anti-magic pools than most experts, while the Gardener will have no preference for quantity. Again, the Gardener there will be no proclivity toward either the Harbinger's power or the Blest's forgiveness.
When Adalor found Zadie, she had been hiding in the guest room crying in the darkness, her body slumped over the nightstand beside the bed. He did not approach, steadfast in the light of the hallway. He could only glance around the darkness of the room and see how she had decorated the room, to make it a little more homey. Hundreds of paintings, all painted by her, he assumed, scattered all over the plum-accented walls, the checkered floors, stacked atop one another, some even peered their painted and engraved faces out the closet.
Zadie heard the creak of the door and her breath hitched, fearing the whipping hand, the sting on her cheeks, and the humiliation. She rose quietly, a child who would be punished simply for being brought into this world without approval, her eyes wet and teary, she would turn and face the dreary, chilling eyes of her mistress, of the father she never remembered. Instead, much to her relief, it happened to be Adalor standing in the light before the dark room. The frown still present on his face. "Zadie," he uttered, composing himself as she walked slowly toward him, "If you aren't feeling well, you should take the day off. Go see Kurt. The abomatons will take your place for now."
Over the past few weeks, Adalor noticed that Zadie had been more restless, sometimes walking around the mansion at night and cleaning spontaneously, sitting isolated at the fire, muttering to herself. During the day, Odalia called her wherever she roamed around the house, sometimes even if she were outside or in town, and forced her to attend to her in depraved manners. The way she grew used to it or adapted to it forced him to believe that something needed to change, since now she seemed to be cracking under Odalia's thumb.
She was quiet. He brought himself down to her level and grabbed her shoulders, a smile perking on his lips for the first time she had ever seen. "I'm sorry I couldn't help you when you needed me, but please... do whatever you need to do."
The woman paused while staring at him, studying his gaze. He noticed that was something she did often when she was deciding a person's intentions.
He supposed the dissolution of the Blight family occurred when they first met Zadie, which was the day Odalia agreed to work with the Emperor's coven - begrudgingly. After those tense meetings with Belos, both of them were detached from what was important. Working with him became like a toxin that seeped into the family since Odalia became the only one Belos would talk to, she was on call for him whenever something was required. Adalor was his personal workhorse that was whipped to create new gadgets and weapons for him.
They drowned themselves in work to avoid losing everything they had worked for and hoped to create with their children. It had been almost a decade since he felt anything close to this mortal terror. Before Lilith came to be Emperor Coven's poster girl and primary propagandist; when they were wide-eyed beams of light that soared through the vacuum of space without care or enumeration.
Now, he hoped some of those years would shine through and point them in the right direction. All those years of happiness couldn't just go down the drain so quickly, could they...?
His eyes narrowed in muted esteem, this girl would be the start. Somehow there would be time for what little their home had left.
"Thank you," she whispered as she wiped her eyes, curly hair flashing in a pale color and shifting back to its sable darkness. After the sun fell, Zadie disappeared from the Blight household searching for Lilith in the barracks of the Emperor's castle.
Lilith never considered herself vengeful until she cursed her sister. Back in those early years, she felt inferior to Eda in every manner, in academics she was a prodigy and given more attention than her, at home she was always the one considered first by their mother and father. There was nothing else to do but boil over. Everyone she could have talked to or befriended had already been infected by the poison that was Eda, including herself. She could hardly speak ill of her sister, but that feeling of envy had nowhere to go except outward into her studies. When she came across the most curious things about curse magic, her interest only increased. And then the time came when she acted impulsively and rejected her in the worst way possible. She was a petulant child that didn't know what she was doing or what the future would hold if she were to commit to such an action.
It took years of others criticizing her actions and aversions for her to be self-aware and more years of self-criticism to realize the erroneous habits she created. Once she did, she understood that she needed to seek help for her sister, even if they were estranged after the incident with their father. Before coming to this realization, Lilith had been stuck within the Emperor's coven as the gopher. And it took years of deliberation and help from others to climb to the top of the ladder as Belos' second-in-line. Now, with Belos, she could bring Eda in for help. Heal her, finally. They could be a family again and she would not be a wanted woman.
The young anti-magic child threw a wrench in the plans, however. After a massacre at a nearby outpost, capturing Etheridge the Black became priority number one. Worse yet, in the process of capturing him, he killed a sizable amount, many that were not expecting to see battle anytime soon.
Almost a hop and a step away from her goal, Lilith, standing before the bars of Etheridge's fortified cell, was reasonably seething. Not just at this child, no, rather, she was furious at the recklessness of her superior, who comprehended the weight this petulant child would throw around, but also her inability to do anything to stop the whirlwind that was Etheridge.
"...So, this guy — uh, the bull-lookin' guy he come up, tellin' me about how I had stole something of his, right? He came right in the middle of the day on the street, while we in the middle of traffic. Me, I'm not tryin' ta have any, like, confrontation, now, so I just throw my hands up and keep walkin'. He try pulling me back every few seconds, but I pull him along, right? He draggin' his heels, heh. And when we get to the sidewalk, I stop and let him stand up. He try to clock me, but he stumbles and I land one in his chest." Etheridge guffawed, "He — he gets up and I look at him in his bloodshot eyes, that hit had done something to him, and I reach into my pocket and give him his watch while he's still on the ground writhin', y'know?
Etheridge waved his lost arm, "Somewhere there was a guy who said, a fighter, I think, who said, 'Everybody has plans 'til they get punched in the chops'. But that's not true at all, the actual truth is that you don't start coming up with plans until you get the shit kicked outta you." he chuckled while rolling onto his back, "You listening, Lilith? Of course not. Nah, you haven't had the shit kicked outta you yet."
Lilith bristled at that. Etheridge wondered if she had been listening or not. He doubted it.
"I appreciate the dedication to your cause, which is why I wanna give you the same exchange I gave ol' Bully Heel-Face," he started.
"Exchange?" Lilith finally let out, "You're in no position to make deals."
"I'm not all-powerful. I know that. I knew that coming in, but my family, my brothers, and sisters, and the hundreds of others I knew and respected that you killed — you were there, weren't you? — they'd turn over in their grave if I allowed another person to imprison me," Etheridge explained, "But... I never wanted to kill anyone. I promised that I would change a while ago and help my sister. This time, though, I wasn't prepared to handle being so angry. I came across the castle and fuckin' lost it. I tried to keep it together, but..."
Lilith was quiet, allowing him to continue with her narrowed eyes trained on him.
"Belos is to blame for everything. He knew how I would react and used them as pawns to keep me from using my full power on him," he explained frankly. He held up his arm stump, which had been mended by Belos himself, and pointed to the hole in his stomach which had regenerated after a day. "It worked."
"What is your point?"
"He offered to heal your sister, whom you had cursed. I'd like to offer you a chance to abandon him and join the right side, at least for a little while." He clarified. Lilith glowered at him, her hand raising from its stationary placing on her lap and bashing against the bars of the cell.
"Do you think you know me?" She inquired, a tinge of exasperation seeping into her normally even voice. "There is nothing you can do for me, Etheridge, that I wouldn't refuse just because of your disgusting heritage. With everything else you've done..."
"Yes, yes. I know, I should be gutted, drawn, quartered, whatever... but would you put your own pride over your own sister's well-being, again?"
"Don't talk about my sister. My sister and her issues are not your problem right now," she responded, "Besides, as I said earlier, there is nothing you can offer me that I wouldn't hesitate to strike down based on the past five years of damage alone."
Etheridge paused as her green eyes burrowed into his, "Why did you come here? To glare at me and admonish me like some kid who cussed in class?"
She huffed, taking some time to breathe after yelling for the last few moments, "I came here because I want to understand something about you." she sighed, stepping away from his cell, "You anti-magic witches all seem to know each other. Even Zadie and you."
He hobbled into the light, "Is that a question?"
"How do you know her?"
"I don't. I thought I did, but since I am here, I don't."
"But you trusted her enough to bring your sister back to her home without my permission?"
"I don't know what goes through her mind, Lilith. Maybe she pitied her or something, I wouldn't understand anything about what went through her head back then or now," he lied.
"You must know something for her to do such a kind thing."
"Were you planning on detaining Florence? Killing her?" his voice returned to the one seething with anger before.
"I'm the one asking the questions here," she responded, "Zadie looks up to me like an older sister and she sees Belos as a father. She's never done anything without permission unless she knows it will please us."
"I dunno. If that's the case, it would be because of something on your part. Not mine."
That was a true response, no matter how she looked at it. Etheridge probably had nothing to do with whatever came over her at that moment. She probably thought she was doing what they would have wanted, or the benevolent parts of them that they displayed to her.
To Zadie, they were a collective family, with Belos as the strict father, Kikimora as the staunch and firm mother, Lilith, as the fun sister, and the Golden Guard as her little brother. She had no idea why, though. Their interactions were purely professional excluding a few pleasantries and some select incidents which stayed prominent in her mind. Supposing that the recent incidents had destroyed that perception, chances were that their hold over her might have been destroyed with it.
"Do you even care about her? I've seen the face she makes when she talks about the people who took her in," he continued, "You seem like different people. Different values altogether. Like the plight of my people."
Lilith stared down at him, "...And if I said I didn't? That she's nothing more to me than a reformed wastrel?"
His eyes did not move or shift, rather, he let out a disappointed sigh, "Then I'd say you're more of a lost cause than I expected you to be, Lilith Clawthorne," a long silence enveloped the room as he grinned, his eyes, dripping with onyx tears, glared at Lilith's faltering face. Etheridge chuckled, sauntering back into the darkness and his remaining arm lighting up with white energy, "And I will say nothing more until my trial and execution."
"Don't you know what we have against you? You will be executed in a dark room after being bedeviled and wrung like a wet rag doll," she emitted. "And by the time it's all over, Florence will find a burden lifted off her shoulders and will excel in her studies. At the end of which, I will personally oversee her place in this society."
Etheridge said nothing as he watched her walk closer to him, "I understand that you think we are alike. According to Belos and his studies, anti-magic beings are transmigrated from other worlds, having lived longer lives than those of us who have experienced only one," she rationalized, "He says that only those who have done wrong in their past lives can have Anti-Magic, the devils of previous lives are cursed with another. Doomed to torment the good citizens of the Boiling Isles."
"He says you have three paragons of goodwill, aggression, and reason," she paced around, "The Blest, Zadie Bloom. The soon-to-be former Harbinger, you. And the Gardener, Claude Cullen."
Etheridge's eyes shot open at that, his gaze fixed on Lilith's smug personage. He blinked for a few moments and turned away, "So you're gathering our trinity for some grab at power," he uttered, "C.C. is some kind of shill, then?"
"There is no winning for you, Etheridge the Black."
He chuckled grimly, remembering what Ishmael's father prophesized for them. Recalling the days when he lived on Earth and his family, the promise he made when he was sent here, "There never was, Lilith Clawthorne. But I promise you that I won't die in this castle or your clutches. I will die on the same sands you killed my family on under the flaming stars of the hero."
Anti-Magic witches are not entirely peace-loving. Some Anti-Magic nations operate under stratocracies, not unlike that of Ancient Sparta and the Apartheid regime, furthermore, the southern countries fall under dispute very often, resulting in major wars where Noirlite and Høhimmel are forced to intervene. Even in Høhimmel, some keep military attitudes at the forefront of their minds, the Harbinger bringing legitimacy to particular ideologies and the Blest denying others. They stereotypically argue for parochialism over any other policy, however, for around seventy years, more liberal ideologies have won out over anarchism and conservatism. Noirlite, as a country has fallen into the fifth stage of the demographic transition and become a safe haven for citizens of other warring countries.
Some specific Anti-Magic witches seem to have more of a preference for violent resolutions than diplomatic ones, specifically those who experienced trauma in previous lives or have some unresolved guilt. Contrary to the human realm and the demon realm, studies have shown that those who also were not violent in their previous life, are often imbued with the ability to perform powerful Anti-Magic spells. Asking others about their pasts in a study showed that often those who were inactive in the previous life, show greater levels of activity now. Furthermore, those who struggled with conflict in the last learned to handle them in the second. This was later coined by Arna Lennox as the Law of Cycles, where actions in the previous life are undone by the second and adjusted in the next, creating a self-sustaining transmigratory system or a karmic negative feedback loop.
Critics of this theory have called attention to the fact that there are many who do not change their behavior in the second life, but in response, Lennox published a study he had kept the results of to himself. The abstract of which reads: "Many authorities have attempted to discredit the findings of my essays on the process of transmigration, particularly by attacking the description and the statistics of the theory. However, a study done while in the process of Transmigration and Its Effects On Nomothetic Psychology has proven that personalities in groups have changed dramatically because of death, and priorities have changed from extraversion to introspection. Those who experienced self-actualization, will not change their personality, but rather their psychology, experiencing distant memories that ultimately compel them to unlearn and relearn what they already understood in previous lives. Similar to the Decartesian Skepticism, requiring a deep analysis of all presuppositions. A couple of patients in my years as a therapist, in specific Miss A., who was a violent youth before having these recollections, and R who killed and participated in violent torture, mentioned having memories they were unable to fully recall and that those memories brought them to a conclusion to change."
Edric was the first to try and talk with Kurt after Eda determined that it would be helpful for him to talk to people, especially friends who seemed to know more about the other sides of him than Eda and Luz know about theirs. She didn't explain everything he had been through but made a point to tell the young man that being gentle to him was a requirement since he had become fragile after the violent encounter.
"The people who took him... they did a number on him. All he wants right now is to think about everything and process." She explained, keeping the boy from entering the Owl House, "If you're to go and talk to him, you will not do anything that will push him from that, understand, kid?"
Edric sighed, some part of him resenting her reaction, which was so overprotective that it made him sick. "Whatever. I get it."
"No, I need you to say it." She waggled her finger at him.
"Okay! Alright, I won't stop him from processing." He bit back, "Is it that serious that you have to talk about it like that?"
"He was kidnapped." Her eyes narrowed and she placed her hands on her hips, "How is he supposed to react?"
Edric could understand how she felt, but Kurt always seemed much stronger than what she was implying. He paused before nodding and stepping into the Owl House.
Hooty shouted, "Hey, you didn't forget about me, did you? Where's my hello?"
"Goodbye, Hooty." Edric snorted and closed the door behind him while walking further in. He could hear the demon's cries of protest as Eda guided him to the balcony, where Kurt was staring out at the Boiling Sea.
"Heyyyy..." Edric's words trailed off as he looked at the boy, his hair disheveled and unkempt and his eyes with dark rings under them. "You've seen better days."
Kurt did not reply; he gave him a dark stare as Edric raised his hands in an innocuous gesture.
"Okay, that was a bad one." He admitted.
Kurt certainly agreed with that sentiment. He could do without any snide remarks at the moment.
"Damn, sorry. No need to be sensitive."
"Snide remark," Kurt commented.
"Yeah, yeah," Edric waved off. "So, we gonna talk about what happened or what?"
~_~?
"Sure, man. You can sulk if you want. I just came here cause my sis really likes being around your sister, so we don't have to talk if you don't want. I'll just leave."
"Whatever, Edric," Kurt responded leaning against the edge of the balcony, "I didn't ask you to walk in."
Edric walked up beside him and slapped him on the shoulder, "Hey, hey. Save all that passive-aggressive bullshit for your sister or your mentor. It's just us in here. You don't have to be secretive about anything with me."
He was not being secretive.
"What the hell are you doing shelled up in here, then? Not talking about everything?" He replied, "I mean, Titan, you look like a tramp."
Kurt supposed that he just wanted to think. He was just so tired every day. All he wanted to do was focus on himself, just help Eda around the house, and be done with it.
"It? What does that mean, 'it'? You mean the kidnapping?"
After a second of silence, Kurt looked over at Edric, his brows furrowed and eyes narrowed in confusion and concentration. "Do you like philosophy, Edric?"
He had known him for a while now, and it seemed every time that someone brought up his childhood, his schooling, etc. he'd reply with some kind of non-sequitur that made no sense. "Is this how you avoid your problems? By bringing up random subjects and stories to soften the blow?" Edric asked.
Yeah, it's what this entire story is based on.
"Alright, then. Lay it on me." Edric challenged, "What you got for me? A theory or something obscure that no one else knows about?"
Kurt took a deep breath as he turned away from the sun and the ocean, the shadows covering his face, "I liked reading a lot when I was in middle school. And I've mentioned to you that I liked reading comics and thrillers and things like that..."
"Yeah, man."
"...but I also liked reading about ethics and the human spirit. You know, like whether there's a God or about why bad things happen to people. Though, I suppose that the Demon Realm already has their answers to that in the Titans, right?" He asked, glancing sideways at him.
"Yeah. You don't have titans in your world?" he asked. Kurt shook his head, and Edric snickered in response. "Damn. Who do you believe in, then?"
"Many different things and people. Especially since our creation has no origin other than what can't be proven. So far as the creation of the ground beneath their - our feet goes, we can only wonder." He explained.
"It's insane to think that you live in a Titanless world," Edric leaned his arms on the edge of the balcony. "Reverence of our progenitors is basic stuff here. Though, I don't buy into everything surrounding their story, just putting that out there."
"I didn't expect you to. I don't put much stock in everything that is meant to be basic knowledge, either," He seated himself on the ground and in the shade, "The point of philosophy is to question everything about reality and our actions, even things we consider to be common knowledge.
"One of the primary questions of ethical philosophy is what a good life looks like and what a person ought to do. Another thing we consider is whether a person can be held responsible for previous actions despite always changing," Kurt uttered, scratching his cheek. He had grown a few hairs on his cheek and under his nose and had no idea how to shave it. "Let's try an exercise. People change, don't they?"
"Yeah, I think they do," Edric whispered, imagining sickly green hair being pulled into a bun. "For better or worse."
"It doesn't matter whether it's for the good or not. But how can a person be held accountable for past decisions if they are always changing?"
"A witch never steps in the same river twice. Is that what you're saying?"
"Yes. Because it's not the same river and not the same man," he answered, "But it's not as simple as that. There has to be some kind of inextricable link between our past selves and the one that exists now. Because if there weren't, then we wouldn't be able to try anyone for a crime, call a person by the same name every time, or believe that winter trees without their leaves are the same as trees in summer."
Edric gave him an expression saying that he was confused, and Kurt lowered his head before standing.
"Alright, listen to this: There was a young prince of Athens in Ancient Greece named Theseus, raised away from the kingdom by his mother, Aethra. Upon coming of age, he was told of his true identity as heir to the Athenian throne, and so planned to claim his birthright. He wanted to find ways of proving his worthiness of succeeding to the throne, but to his dismay, he found that the King of Athens, Aegeus, was paying a terrible tribute to the Crete's monarchy - a man named Minos since he lost a war to Minos."
As he spoke, he continued pacing in a circle behind Edric, a hand placed on his chin.
"Seven girls and seven boys were meant to be given up to King Minos, put in a dangerous Labyrinth, impossible to navigate, and roamed by a mythical, ferocious monster that was a half-man, half-bull called the Minotaur, that would devour the boys and girls. Theseus volunteered as tribute to be among the seven boys who were given up to King Minos each year. Theseus had big plans; he wanted to kill the Minotaur, save the children, and stop the tribute.
"King Aegeus was very sad about his son, Theseus, setting sail to potential death, so Theseus promised his father that if he should return, the ship would show white sails. If he perished, the sails would show their normal color, black. Theseus and the other girls and boys set sail to Crete on their ship, which would be known as the Ship of Theseus. They disembarked at Crete and held an audience with the royal family. Here is where Theseus met Ariadne, the princess of Crete, and the two fell madly in love.
"In a secret meeting before entering the maze, Ariadne slipped a ball of thread and a sword to Theseus. He used the sword to kill the Minotaur and he used the string to guide himself back out of the maze. Theseus, the other boys, and girls, and Ariadne snuck back onto the ship and set sail to Athens before the king could figure out what they had done.
"Along the way, the ship of Theseus stopped at the island of Naxos. Ariadne was left behind and Theseus left for Athens without her. Ariadne married the god Dionysus. In distress or ignorance, Theseus forgot to change the color of the sail, so it remained black. Upon seeing the black sails, King Aegeus was deeply saddened and threw himself from a cliff into the waters below."
"You know, when I come across older books from the human realm, most of them end with people killing themselves..." He interjected, pushing against the edge and turning around to face him, "That can't be the normal thing in your world."
"Actually, yeah, it is. Most well-written novels end with a tragedy," Kurt responded. "Dunno why."
"I'll tell ya," he uttered, "Some of the tales in your world are dark."
Kurt nodded, looking at something in parts distant and close, "I guess some of us are unoriginal. Though, I wouldn't ever attempt to write Greek Tragedy in my life."
"Please, our lives are Greek Tragedies." Edric waved off.
"Anyway, Theseus disembarked from the ship and heard the news of his father's death. He was upset but became the next King of Athens anyway. Then, the Ship of Theseus was stored in a museum in Athens, to be a reminder of Theseus' miraculous feats, and the tragedy of King Aegeus. The ship where Theseus and the youth of Athens returned from Crete had thirty oars and was preserved by the Athenians down even to the time of a famous orator named Demetrius, who worked under King Cassander centuries after; they took away old planks as they decayed, replacing them with new wood. Insomuch that this ship became a standing example among philosophers, for the logical question of things that grow; one side holding that the ship remained the same, and the other contending that it was not the same."
"...So, what makes the ship in the past the same as the ship now?"
"That's one of my favorite thought experiments. How many planks would have to be taken away from the Ship of Theseus for it not to be the same ship? Often people will explain that - with a person - it is the brain that stays the same, but most say the only thing that stays constant is the soul or the origin of rational thought. There's another story of how a person had a metal rod shoved through their skull and they survived. Then, they went from mild-mannered and calm to hot-tempered and aggressive, like that." He snapped his fingers and paused from talking so quickly, breathing fast. Kurt stopped and fell back on his butt, "But I'm getting away from what I wanted to talk to you about."
"This is super interesting, though."
"It's not that interesting," Kurt responded, looking down at the floor. "We don't really know if we are the same person all the time, but there are a lot of theories about it. I subscribe to the idea that we are different people in distinct situations with dissimilar people."
"That can't be true, though. There has to be a thread in our personality and mannerisms or something," Edric placed a hand on his cheek. "Is there some kind of theory about that?"
"I don't want to talk about this," Kurt emitted. "I want to talk about what you think is evil."
"Evil?" he asked, "What do you mean by evil?"
"The contrast or dearth of goodness. What is evil in the demon realm?" he asked, "In our world demons or devils were considered evil, also things like disease, curses, immorality, disasters..."
"Anything that causes pain or death?"
Kurt paused at the mention of death but regained his bearings after a short silence. He could still see Washington's clipped brown hair, fluttering through the air behind a glowing ivory blade, "...yes. I suppose so."
"We think about things like that. Disasters caused by witches and just because of nature, yeah."
"The Titan is your standard for benevolence, I think," Kurt said.
"I mean, they're not all that good. They're still flawed like anyone of us." Edric paused, scratching his head, "Don't tell anyone I said this, but I think the good that Belos, coven leaders, and teachers preach about is just made-up hogwash."
"How so?"
Edric still looked reluctant, but continued anyway, "I mean, think about your people, the Anti-Magic people. He thought that they were monsters and killed them off on a massive scale, then he lectures about peace all over the Boiling Isles, and how the Day of Unity is supposed to create a paradise." He chuckled grimly, "What bullshit."
Kurt stayed quiet as he continued his spiel.
"I think that all that stuff about peace and kindness is just made by people who want everything in the world at the cost of other people. They are cowardly and gutless people who follow him blindly, like cattle - a small, almost stupid class has been made. A herd animal, something obliging, sickly, and mediocre - the contemporary witch." He explained, "No one has their own beliefs. Thoughts. They just follow him, no matter how cruel he is."
"So, is evil and good just made up then?" Kurt asked.
"No," Edric uttered, "Belos just blurs the line."
"Is there anything absolutely evil and absolutely good?" Kurt asked. "Because if the line is blurred then everything is in question."
Edric muttered to himself for a moment, seeming lost in the conversation now. Talking about his mother or something, but he quietly sighed, "Maybe murder or something like killing. Maybe that's straight-up evil."
"What about if it were to save another person?"
He hesitated, "I mean... I guess," he spoke again, "Yeah, but as long as it isn't how Belos does it. That thing with that monster guy - Adegast. That guy was killing people for fun, so it made sense. You had to kill him or he would kill you and more people."
Kurt tilted his head and laid it against the stone wall behind his head; but those were just rationalizations, weren't they? He had caused suffering when he killed Adegast. Wrath. That warden apparently had a kid. A child who would be without parents because one had run out on him and the other was murdered in cold blood, by someone he didn't even know. Did it matter if it was comeuppance?
"Yeah, it does," he noted, "If the killing is justified, then it is what should happen. Live by the sword-"
"...die by the sword," Kurt responded, "A life for a life, an eye for an eye, a nose for a nose, an ear for an ear, a tooth for a tooth, an equal wound for a wound."
"Yeah. Exactly!" Edric grinned, looking down at him. Had he the powers that Kurt had, nothing ever would have happened to him. Maybe he would be able to fend off all the shit that would have come down on his head, at Hexside, at home. Awful people deserve to have awful things happen to them in retribution, yes, if Edric could shakedown every person who put their hands on him life would be a sunny soaring sky.
Exitus acta probat. But that sentiment didn't sit right with Kurt. In other words, Edric seemed to think that. To put his hands in the tar and mud to keep others from doing so, but that was what every villain believed they were doing. There had to be a way to bring about justice without brutality. Kurt did not want to kill anyone anymore. He didn't want to be the same as Amaranta, Etheridge, or Washington. There had a way to keep his own hands clean of the bloodshed. "Fuck that." He said. "I don't wanna deal with the consequences of killing people like they do."
"Then don't be insane."
"But it drives me fucking insane just thinking about it! Why couldn't I think of anything to keep myself safe and avoid killing?" he uttered, "There has to be something better... there has to be."
"There isn't, Kurt. I know you know that I'm not an advocate for wanton killing, but there's nothing you can do to stop people from being selfish and cruel. It's the only reason we have people in power in the first place. Because our instinct is toward savagery," he said, "What you did wasn't wrong. I won't ever say that it was."
As Edric left, Kurt sat unattended on the balcony under the shadows of the falling sun. A while after Edric left, the sun rose straight above him covering him in natural orange light, making him feel warm and energized. He figured there was something else he could do around the house and came across Amity and Luz messing around outside while Eda watched them. King was inside, napping. "Hey there, Kurt," She greeted him, catching him by the neck and pulling him in for a headlock and a Dutch rub, eliciting a chuckle from him. A moment went by and she let him go, heaving a breath and turning to the pair of tweens discussing something about magic, "The green-haired boy said you had an interesting conversation about some ships or something. Tried to tell an abridged version, but he couldn't really do it. Ended up sounding like some old drunkard."
Both of them laughed for a moment, as an awkward silence washed over them. Desperately, Kurt wished that they could have a conversation that wasn't serious for once since it seemed that all they ever talked about was his life issues.
"Can we talk about something else? Please?" Kurt asked.
Eda's gaze didn't turn away from the dyad and the smile dissolved from her face, "He said you mentioned something about what true evil is," she said. Kurt looked down at the ground, "Whether it's justified to kill people or not."
He shrunk under her countenance.
"Don't do that, Kurt. Stand up straight." She interjected, flicking her hand across his head. Somehow, while he had taken to staying home, Eda resolved to be his main source of discipline, it had been about being courteous and trying to appear more gracious, but occasionally she interrupted his thoughts with a quick hand to snap him out of it. Each time it was about slouching and looking depressed. "I get how you feel, but you can't punish yourself. All you can do is live with it."
"You've never killed anyone," he said defiantly, without any hesitation. "Maybe you were there when something happened but you never experienced what I did."
"I haven't," she conceded, "But that's no excuse to resign yourself to a fate that wouldn't respect the life you've led. Or the lives they led."
"What do I do then?" he said. "How am I supposed to live after I took away some kid's father, just because he was living too close to me?"
Eda clenched her fists, then softened her expression; she had no real answer. He was right when he said that she had no experience with murder, though she could not say the same for her sister. In her head, she was summoning her memories of her estranged sibling for some kind of answer, dredging up some kind of comfort. She leaned down and grabbed his shoulders, "You have to live, because someday, maybe there'll be some other kid in your situation, asking what to do about the same kinds of people like Wrath, Adegast, and that egomaniac. The only way you can correct the action is by undoing it in the future. To follow every avenue that leads to a peaceful solution."
Kurt groaned, placing his head in his hands, wishing so much, that he never even committed such actions. But he never understood the ramifications of such cruelty, worse yet, even if he did, he wasn't sure if he would have the strength to avoid doing it again. He repeated himself, "What do I do?"
Eda lifted him by his collar to her eye line, "Before you help anyone else," she dusted him off and held him by the shoulders, "You have to help yourself."
It only took three more minutes of existing around the girls for him to find himself being pulled into the fold, with Luz asking if she could do his hair, and Amity requesting to do his nails. He, of course, did not want to do so, for a moment. But he allowed Luz to mess around with his long hair after he washed it.
After doing such, he returned with a massive, fluffy mess of hair. To which, Amity responded with a shocked look, "Where were you hiding it?" she asked, "How did you keep all of that to yourself?"
He frowned for a moment, sweeping a hand through his wet hair. Unexpectedly there was a vulnerability he felt, an unusual embarrassment that dissipated the moment following when he smiled and explained the maintenance of kinky hair as best he could.
"A what?" she inquired.
"It's to protect ourselves from the elements and ensure that we don't lose hair," he explained, "To protect, not compress."
At her response, he chuckled and explained as best he could, with Luz adding in little elaborations. There was a lot of "oh!" and "I get it" before he sat down before the two of them and allowed them to actually get their hands dirty, or, rather, wet in this case. Luz's hands expertly maneuvered through the thin follicles as they did exactly what she demanded of them, as she had been taught by her mother (and a few cousins they met whenever they were in town or at a reunion). Amity tried to copy Luz's braids and twists after a tutorial, but could not do so, and instead, just suggested things to do.
"What?" Amity asked, seeing that Luz was eyeing her with a smirk on her lips.
"Nothing, nothing." She looked back down at the fluffy coils in front of her.
"What?" Amity inquired again, shoving her playfully.
"Nothing," Luz repeated, combing his hair.
A short befuddled silence ensued between the trio, where Luz continued smirking and Amity kept glaring at her to somehow interrogate her with non-existent augury. She turned to Kurt instead, "What is she thinking?"
"She's thinking that she finally got the edge in something against you," Kurt responded quickly.
"Wh- Kurt!" Luz slapped him on his shoulder, prompting another chuckle from him. "We have a code!"
"We have no such code," Kurt responded with a sly grin.
"I knew you were thinking something smug," Amity replied, "I'll have you know that if I wanted to, I could just wave my hand and have his hair change color!"
"No, no— I think I'm fine with how it is now," he uttered. "You don't have to do anything—" he heard an echoey sound behind him and sludge started coming up from her bag. "Amity, please do not dye my hair."
"I hear violet and red are popular colors now, Luz," she said, dangerously. "Would you like to try one?"
"I-I'm good," she replied with a nervous chuckle. "Please put the sludge back in your bag..."
"Are you sure? Maybe a matching green would look nice on you, too." Amity pushed, leaning closer to her.
Luz continued laughing and stood up beside the seated Kurt, "Amity, no—"
"Relax, Luz. I'm only joking," she responded, "I wouldn't actually dye your hair if you didn't want to."
"That doesn't make you any better at doing hair!" she pointed at Amity, "That gives me seniority over you!"
"Wh— that doesn't matter, I can do my own hair at least," Amity tried, grabbing her strands of dyed green hair.
"I can do yours, too!" Luz challenged, sitting right next to her, "If you want a hairstyle, I can fix you up something!"
Amity felt her cheeks heating up at that, "R-Really?"
"Of course, I—"
"—can't." Kurt interjected. "Do you not remember what happened with our cousin Amaris? She wanted a French braid and you made her look like B. Jordan in Black Panther!" he objected.
"That was a one-time thing! I'm better at this than I was back then!" Luz boasted, grabbing a comb and some product, "As a matter of fact, let me try something with your hair..."
They watched Luz as she adamantly pulled on Kurt's hair with the wide-toothed comb, pulling his hair back and grabbing it with her hands drenched in product. When he realized what she was doing, Kurt couldn't help but be reminded of C.C.'s hairstyle, reminiscent of Lewis Gordon, but what Luz was doing made him smile. "Daveed Diggs?"
"Uh, I thought Jason Momoa, but yeah." She said as she grabbed more clumps of hair and pulled back, "Hey, Amity— can I borrow your hair tie?"
Amity froze for a second but reached up and pulled her green hair out of its ponytail, flicking her hair side-to-side, and revealing a small patch of brown hair at the roots. Luz's face heated up as she stared and Amity felt sheepish under her sight, "Is there something on my face?" she responded.
"Uh..."
"Just... do the thing!" Amity grumbled.
Luz took the black tie, "R-Right!"
"You two are unbelievable..." Kurt let out a peal of laughter.
The second Blight twin had been let in by the matriarch of the Owl House without a word said to her. Eda already knew what happened between Kurt and her before the kidnapping and understood there was a lot to be said. The one who stopped her from going any further was actually Luz, who was hanging out with Amity at the time, but excused herself to engage in conversation with Emira.
"I heard what happened with Kurt from Etheridge," Luz started, looking up at the taller teen. Her hands were clasped behind her back as she leaned forward and assessed Emira's timorous response. "You kissed my brother."
Emira's hands were at her own mouth, covering parts of a glowing red face that contrasted her green hair. "H-He kissed me. I didn't know..." but she did know. There was great tension between them, ever since they laid eyes on each other in the Hexside hallway. She could not lie to herself or keep excusing the feelings she had. She had to face them head-on.
"No— I understand. If it were to be anyone, I think it would be best if it were you," Luz responded, punching her on the shoulder. She considered the Blight twins to be just as close to her as King or Eda, trustworthy and in Emira's case, "You two are like my cool cousins or something, so, it's fine. Besides, it's not like we're going to have some kind of quarternary relationship or something, haha."
Emira eyed her for a moment as a bead of sweat rolled down her forehead, taking note of what she said (though she did not understand it), and rolled her eyes and moved on, "You kid too much, Luz," she uttered. "Shouldn't I be the one that's nervous?"
"I mean, no. You should feel mildly intimidated by my presence and if you happen to hurt my older brother." Luz leaned in close and cleared her throat, "'So let me tell you something right now. You take one step backward, one slip up, give me one reason to think you might hurt Kurt and you won't have to worry about being nervous anymore. Acabaré con tu nerviosismo. Para siempre.'"
As Emira backed away, she chuckled. "Yes, ma'am!" she responded ironically. Expecting a sarcastic grin from Luz, but instead seeing a deadly gaze set upon her. For a moment, darkness seeped into her eyes, and Emira, under the pressure of her gaze, swallowed the lump that had developed in her throat. "Y-Yes, ma'am."
Luz laughed aloud and wrapped her arm around the taller girl's shoulder, bringing her down to eye level, "Thanks, sis." She unintentionally responded with a growl in the back of her throat. Or maybe it was intentional. Emira was too unnerved to tell.
After the short interaction, Luz allowed Emira to get past her and meet Kurt under the light of alpenglow, his face was covered in a pink and red shine and his dark hair, typically spilling out from just below the crown of his head, now tied into a ponytail. He abandoned the clothing from his realm in favor of a short-sleeved tunic and black trousers. She could see his face much more clearly now, but she could not tell if it was because of the light or the framing, with both one could see the cosmos in his brown eyes. Something Zadie had pegged on him a while ago, the kind, generous eyes, which she had grown to understand after the last few weeks they spent together.
"H-Hey," she stuttered. "Howzit goin'?"
Oh, Titan, she was defaulting to awkwardness again.
"I'm alright, I think."
She hadn't expected an actual response from him, having forgotten that he was quite the dense one. Despite noticing that she liked him, it took longer than it should have for him to realize anything about the situation with her. She assumed that that whole "assume they'll let you down" thing that Edric mentioned was something that human boys had in droves. It also happened to be somewhat endearing that he overestimated her the way he did.
"...Do you wanna talk about what happened?" she asked, trying her best to be gentle. He shook his head grimly. "That's alright. We don't have to."
He glanced at her quizzically for a moment, then leaned down on the balcony edge.
"Well, we could talk about what happened before the incident, you know," she said, blushing. "The kiss."
He looked at her, once again confused, "What... about it?"
She, too, reacted with the same confusion. There was a pause as they looked at each other in the eyes, Emira's knees felt weak when she entertained the thought that voiced a moment later, "Do you... not like me? Did I misinterpret something?"
His eyes widened, and he rushed to her side, "That's not what I meant!" he said, "I just thought it was you being friendly. Of course, I like you."
"There's no way that a kiss is a friendly gesture," she responded with a blush, blinking rapidly, "Especially not one like that..."
"I mean, it's what friends and family do, right?" He asked, feeling sheepish now. "I thought it meant we were like family now or something."
She hesitated, "Kurt, your mother... she doesn't..."
"No!" he blurted, crouching down to his knees, after he regained his speech, he forgot about the "danger zone" and everything that accompanied it. Remembering just now reminded him of the flaming woman and her depraved comprachico philosophy, "She used to kiss me on the nose when I was a kid, but after..."
Emira bent her knees and looked at him, "What happened, Kurt?"
"A family member told me that it was just something family and friends did, but she was just lying to me." He explained.
"What kind of practical joke is that?!" Emira demanded, standing upright.
"Ask me about that again in the future and I'll probably tell you," That wasn't a joke. She had just been using him for some kind of sick pleasure and he did not want to talk about her, "Let's talk about the kiss, then."
She drew herself up and giggled despite herself, "I... think you're my best friend. Maybe... more than that."
"I-I see that," he responded with a matching smile, not feeling as embarrassed anymore, "You're my best friend, too."
She aired a sigh of relief; it was good to know that he felt the same way about her. For a while, she had been worried that when he came back from the kidnapping, he would be changed forever. And though it affected him, he seemed to be teetering on the edge of some decision that might change everything. A change, that might be for the better.
"But, I don't want to be any more than that, yet," he admitted to Emira's dismay and bafflement. She stuttered a weak, "why not?" and in response, Kurt just smiled and gently rubbed her shoulder, "We've only known each other for, like, a month. And it's been fun hanging out with you, but I think we hardly know each other."
"What does that mean?" she asked.
"Maybe we should get to know each other more before we start anything new," he explained. He wanted her to know what she was getting into with him and Kurt didn't want her to feel hurt if he refused to tell her something just yet. "Maybe we go on a few dates before the summer is over." he suggested abruptly, "D— uh, does that sound good to you?"
"Sure. I guess."
"Maybe... we can k-kiss again in the future?" Kurt suggested. "Not right now, but someday if we... y'know feel the same way."
Getting to know him more, huh? She guessed that was the right way to do things. They didn't have to be joined at the hip so quickly after admitting feelings and besides, she ought to learn more about him and the Noceda family anyways. Still, some part of her was disappointed that she wouldn't be able to kiss him again.
"Can I still hug you?" she opened her arms. "That's friendly, right?"
"Sure," he looked at her for a beat and embraced her, she smiled as they did. "Here's to getting to know each other."
The last person to arrive was Viney, who had come once the sun had fallen and the cool chill of evening set in. She had a ride from one of her siblings - Gunda, if he recalled correctly - who after arriving, went to have a conversation with the Eda while Viney engaged in a quiet conversation under the dim light of lanterns, the moon would not be out this night which forced them to use the lamps on the wall, "Hey," she uttered, "How are ya?"
Kurt chuckled because he missed her blunt attitude for the past couple of weeks. "I was having some trouble before, but the rest of the gang kinda just brought me back down to the real world. They really helped me get through it. I wish I could pay you back for all the pep talks and kindness."
"Hey, don't worry about it. When one of us needs something, we help each other out. That's how it works, y'know?" she replied, "Speaking of which, Zadie mentioned that Etheridge was arrested after Belos kidnapped Florence, did you hear about that?"
Kurt silently hoped that she didn't see the look of "aw, shit," on his face as the epiphany hit him, and had flashbacks to the moment before he was taken by the carny Tibbles. His actions and temperament started to make sense now. Furthermore, Zadie hadn't mentioned anything like that to him, only telling about how they apprehended the Tibbles and that Etheridge was missing.
"Fuck," He placed his head into a hand and sighed deeply, "Why did Belos want him?"
"Some of us already figured and Florence never told us, but I knew that he was either Anti-Magic or human," Viney explained with a straight face, "But we think the reason is that he might be one of the last Anti-Magic witches in this country and that Belos might be trying to finish what he started."
From everything he learned thus far, that sounded very much like him, with people like Lilith and Washington taking his side, Kurt could only assume that things as cruel as that would cross his mind, especially since the Day of Unity was coming up so soon. He still had no idea what he could do about anything like that. If Belos were to come after him, there wouldn't be anything Kurt could do, particularly if he had taken Etheridge.
"Damn," he exhaled, "Why are you telling me this?"
"Because you need to know about what's coming," she declared, "Kurt, I can say for sure, that everything has been so much more interesting with you and the gang. We made something special, all of us. Something that can't be broken. And if Belos were to come and take that away, I don't think any of us would be happy or feel safe without you in the group. Even without Florence and her brother, we feel a little hollow. That's why I want to do something about it."
Kurt could feel the energy emanating from her words and exploding outward as she grabbed him by the shoulders, goosebumps forming on his skin and every hair standing on end, "What do you have in mind?"
She only smiled in response.
Florence never liked to look at herself in the mirror. Despite having her mother's amber-brown eyes and a figure she believed to be appealing to some, she hated the sight of herself.
There wasn't any self-loathing or insecurity behind the reason, rather, it was because of a scar on her spine. One etched into her before she turned eight, as was the tradition in their culture. Worse yet, there were many faded cuts and scars from the time they spent traversing the wasteland that was the Valley of the Wretched and the bordering regions of the Boiling Isles and Høhimmel. It made her feel uneasy to think about what scars Etheridge might have hidden.
However, after the incident with Etheridge and all the worriment and sullen wallowing, Florence had begun to realize what occurred with Belos was something related to her home—the hundreds of thousands of skin splittings that made designs that told a story, a tale. A saga of celestial war, the outcome, and the primordial beings, all told with the three carvings on her spine, faded over the years. And for a while at least, she believed it to be something to be ashamed of.
Now, held up to the mirror, she quietly mused the history of Ragno. Her motherland never held any secrets she did not know of, only the ones that she refused to hear. Years passed by before she would understand the people in that previous life, broken and misunderstood, but most of all, she understood the anger, now more than ever, of the people who decided to go to war. Everything came into perfect perspective after the battle and once she came back to see her parents, a distraught Zadie, and Etheridge's empty room, she could not help but feel like she wanted something back for all this misery. If, for every few years of peace, there would be many more of anguish and longing in return.
The moon illuminated her empty room with reflection and silent admiration, the world she created around her, a perfect family, loving and attentive, a bright future where she would have greater opportunities all over the world. Back in Ragno, she had the same thing. And then her world blew up because of the world and its innumerable little systems, at work carefully shifting in the darkness, hobbling into her life to try to bring her down and send a plume of smoke over her sunny skies.
Their parents arrived at her bedroom door later that night with letters in hand that were signed by Etheridge. There was a desperate look in their eyes as they looked out windows and locked the door behind them. They cast spells to ensure they weren't being watched and once ensured that the family had been left in peace, the two listened to her read the contents of the letter with shuddering breaths.
By the end of the letter, she fell into her parents' arms once again, as they all repeated variations of a mantra: "we did not know about any of this".
Dear Florence,
I'm happy to hear from Zadie that you are alive. She brought you back after the incident at the castle and has kept me company while Belos has been trying to extract information from me. If you haven't figured out yet, I am not just from the land of Anti-Magic. I am a user of the Wretched magic, my family was originally from the Anti-Magic country and we traveled from the Isles and home before my country was destroyed by Belos in front of me. Zadie was my mother's child and I thought she died in the razing, but I found her a couple of years ago and we exchanged letters ever since. I told her about you, us, and my history. I told her that when I met you, I had been preparing to end my life, but I decided that it would be best for you that I help you before I did anything. The more I walked with you, the more I wanted to live. Nothing in this world made me happier than the time I was able to spend with you.
There is more you must know, however, something greater than anything about you or me. First, you must know that before I was Etheridge in this life, I was Xaviel Talcott Meikle, or at least, some mental part of me was. And though, you know me to be around fourteen years of age, I am truly more than five decades old. Much older than our parents and Zadie can attest to that, since she happens to be nearly seventy years old in the grand scheme, though she has lost many of her later memories in her past life. Thousands of Anti-Magic warriors experience the same thing, however, something in my situation is different. I was not reincarnated like several others, instead, I was sent here for one reason. To protect the Harbinger, Ishmael Dessalines - Kurt Noceda, safe. But now, with everything that's occurred, I will not be able to keep him and you safe while staying alive. And so, I must leave you. Everyone.
I've left everyone who will miss me letters to ease their tension about the coming days. Please give them accordingly. I understand that this is cruel to ask of you, but as my last wish, I hope you will allow them to grieve. So, too, I ask you to allow yourself to grieve. We've fought and lived for a long time together, but you have so much of your life ahead of you, so don't allow yourself to fall into a downward spiral. From now on, I got you.
Sincerely, Your Favorite Anti-Magic Brother
Again, Etheridge covered his eyes and wept.