Thank you asherisawkward and oxblooddraws for beta reading and giving me feedback : ). Thank you conejo-sama for fixing the chapter's grammar issues : )

Chapter 31

Silas was milking the cows in his family's barn. A smile graced his face as his mind wandered to what he would be doing when he met up with Philip later. He reminisced about the moments when Philip's expression changed from one of boredom to a tender smile, or the unique stunned look that would etch across his face when Silas sprung something unexpected upon him.

An irresistible urge tugged at Silas, tempting him to abandon his chores and search for Philip so they could venture into the forest like they have been doing for months. Being in the woods, away from everyone else from Gravesfield, felt rather peaceful. Silas found a newfound sense of liberation there, and he could sense that Philip shared in this sentiment, evident by his relaxed and peaceful demeanor. Both would lose themselves in conversation, cherishing the hours spent side by side, basking in the comforting warmth of each other's embrace.

Now, he did begin to wonder why Philip hadn't asked to go back looking for the blue liquid they had tried to find months ago. He had anticipated that, with the arrival of spring, Philip would eagerly have them continue their search, yet he seemed content to spend their time wandering through the forest, as if they were in some sort of ongoing adventure.

Silas pulled away from the cow, Betsy, and stretched his arms before cracking his head to the side to relieve the tension that accumulated from his hunched posture while milking.

With a soft smile, he reached out to pat Betsy's soft flank, wondering if Philip might enjoy attempting the same gesture. Silas was rather curious to see Philip try new things, savoring the rare emotions that danced across his usually aloof expression.

Silas opened his eyes, feeling a sense of serenity, finding himself laying in a bed of delicate flowers, nestled within an open field - a hidden wonder they had stumbled upon during an early Saturday morning stroll, far into the woods.

Beside him, Philip stirred, still in a peaceful slumber, his arm draped gently across Silas's chest and his head resting upon Silas's shoulder.

Silas tenderly stroked the back of Philip's head, nudging him gently. "We should probably return," he whispered. "I think we've been asleep for a while."

Based on the position of the sun in the sky, he guessed that they slept longer than they had anticipated.

Philip let out a grumbled response, his eyes still shut, face scrunching up as he scooted closer to Silas.

"Just give me a few minutes," he mumbled.

Silas continued to massage Philip's head, his touch gentle and affectionate. "I also want to remind you that tomorrow evening I have a commitment with a friend, so we won't be able to meet."

"Yeah, yeah, I haven't forgotten," Philip grumbled, eliciting a chuckle from Silas.

"Well, I just wanted to make sure you didn't."

"I'm quite certain my memory surpasses that of anyone else," Philip retorted.

"Hmhm," Silas replied with amusement, not arguing with Philip.

"I can't tell you enough how much I appreciate this," Jordan said to Silas, observing as Silas chopped wood. Jordan's father had fallen ill, and due to his own lack of skill in woodcutting, he had turned to Silas for assistance.

Silas didn't mind at all. After all, Jordan was one of his closest friends, and he knew that Jordan would gladly lend him a hand when needed.

Jordan talked to Silas about the treats he got from a neighboring town, but Jordan's older sister, Susan, who approached them with a mischievous glint in her eyes, interrupted their conversation.

"Well, well, if it isn't Silas Harding," Susan playfully greeted him. "It feels like ages since I last saw you around here."

"Good afternoon, Susan," Silas replied with a calm smile. "I've been rather occupied lately."

Susan was always the sort of older sister he sometimes wished he had, even though she used to rile him and Jordan up a lot when they were children. She wasn't like the other girls, who were timid. So, when Susan placed a hand over her mouth and had a look of amusement dancing in her eyes, he braced himself.

"Oh, I know you have," she giggled, taking a step closer to Silas, invading his personal space. Standing at a shorter height, she tilted her head back to look up at him. "So… who's the lucky girl that has captured your attention?"

"Pardon me?" Silas blinked, thinking he had just heard her wrong, while Jordan observed the interaction with curiosity.

"Oh, come now, Silas," Susan teased. "Don't pretend to be so innocent here. I know you've been seeing a girl these past months."

Silas stared at her with utter confusion.

"You're courting someone and didn't bother telling me?" Jordan asked, sounding slightly offended.

Silas frowned at Jordan's assumption. "I am not courting anyone," he clarified before turning his attention back to Susan. "Why would you even think that?"

Susan rolled her eyes, her amusement undeterred. "Your mother mentioned it to my mother. She's been noticing changes in your demeanor," Susan explained. "She said you've been smiling more, with a dreamy look in your eyes, even while you're out working in the fields."

Silas furrowed his brows, utterly bewildered. He had no clue what Susan was talking about. Also, since when was his mother the sort of person to be discussing such matters with others? She typically kept to herself at home, knitting or cooking, and was not one to engage in village gossip. So, the notion that his mother was spreading fake rumors about him simply didn't make sense…

However, as Silas thought about it, he realized that he was indeed feeling much happier these days, especially when he was around Philip. But that was because life had become richer and more captivating ever since he befriended Philip.

Susan tilted her head, her smile warm and understanding. "You know, there's nothing wrong with being in love, Silas," she remarked, causing Silas to regard her as if she had lost her sanity. "And you can't deny it."

"I think your sister has completely lost it," Silas mumbled to Jordan, who now looked as confused as Silas about the scene.

Susan chuckled, her tone gently teasing. "Ah, young boys, always struggling to accept they are becoming men," she said. "So, who's the girl you've been seeing these days?"

Silas was about to correct her, to explain that his mother had spread false rumors about him. Yes, he's been happier, but that was because he made a really good friend. A friend who has made his life feel like it had meaning. He was about to tell Susan about Philip, but Susan beat him to it by clasping her hands over her heart and gazing dreamily at the sky.

"Love, it's such a beautiful thing," Susan said while releasing a soft sigh. "You can't stop thinking about them. They are always in your thoughts, and all you desire is to be by their side. And all you want is simply to make them smile, to hold them close and never let go. Your belly and chest flutter with warmth, and you can't help but believe that they are the only one who truly matters." Susan then shifted her gaze to Silas, who had fallen into silence, his eyes fixed on her as his mind gradually absorbed her words. "I, too, am in love, Silas. So, you can't fool me. I know exactly what I'm talking about."

Silas remained utterly still, his mind replaying the past few months - the struggles to concentrate on his word at the family's land, the constant presence of Philip in his thoughts, and the significant amount of time they spent together that he only wished could be longer. He recalled the way he held onto Philip tightly, feeling the warmth Susan had described in his belly and chest. And how, honestly, no one mattered in his life other than Philip…

And that's when the realization struck him, a surge of nausea rising within his throat.

"Silas…?" Susan's voice, tinged with concern, reached his ears. He gazed at her, feeling as if the blood had drained from his face, and judging by Susan's worried expression, he likely appeared as ill as he felt. "Are you alright?"

Slowly, he took a few steps back from the two siblings, his gaze shifting to include Jordan, who also stared at him with concern.

"I… I need to go," Silas uttered, dropping the axe, and hastily gathering his belongings. The growing dread that enveloped his heart grew worse by the second as he hurried away.

Silas dragged his feet into his room. He unlaced his boots, carefully removing them and setting them aside before sinking onto his bed with an exhausted sigh. Light barely seeped through the window next to him, yet he turned away from its gentle glow, closing his eyes. He yearned for a moment to have a clear mind, to not have a thought cross his head. But, despite his efforts, the image of Philip reached his thoughts, especially one of Philip sitting alone and waiting by the river, alone.

Guilt clawed at Silas's heart. His heartbeat quickened, pounding in his chest so rapidly and painfully that he felt it would rupture his chest. The pain and the emotions that suffocated him like a smog of smoke in his lungs forced him back onto his feet, and he swiftly put his boots back on before he was out of his room, desperate to find something else to do in his family's land to distract himself.

No… there was no way for Silas to be romantically in love with Philip in the same way a man would be for a woman. Such affections between men were sinful, a violation of God, a ticket to Hell.

Silas stared down at his chicken bits while his parents ate silently, while he tried his best to convince himself that his feelings for Philip were purely fraternal, akin to the bond between brothers. After all, he had long yearned for a sibling, and perhaps that longing was the reason he was rather close to Philip.

Yet… he recalled the vivid memory of cradling Philip in his lap, their bodies pressed close, Philip's breath hot against Silas's skin… In that moment, Silas experienced a sensation he hadn't had in so long, particularly in his most private regions.

He felt the little food he had eaten threaten to make its way up his throat, and he couldn't help but seize his fork and, without his parents noticing, impale it into his own leg.

Silas struggled to focus on Pastor Jonathan's sermon during Sunday morning mass. He had barely slept the recent days.

He was utterly exhausted, and at times he sensed the weight of someone's gaze upon him, which he did his best to ignore.

As the mass progressed, the room seemed to close in around him, and he imagined a multitude of eyes appearing to glare, point, and whisper accusations. They accused him of being a witch, as if they had uncovered his true evil nature that had been dwelling dormant in him for so long. And it was at that moment he began to question everything that has happened in the past few months.

He was contemplating his initial suspicions regarding Philip. Perhaps Philip did come to his family's farm because Philip knew that something was wrong with him. After all, Philip was a clever young man, one of the town's finest witch hunters. Maybe Philip had orchestrated a scheme to have Silas reveal his 'true' sinful nature and even enlisted Jordan to deceive Silas about the contents of the journal. Philip appeared like the type to play the long game and possibly had the strong desire for revenge for the humiliating incident at the river when they first met, all so Philip could gather as much evidence as needed to accuse Silas of being a creature of the Devil himself.

Silas was jolted back to reality by his mother's gentle nudge.

"Silas?" his mother asked with concern in her voice. The intensity of the accusing gazes that he believed were trying to drown him vanished.

Silas rubbed the corner of his eyes tiredly while he rose from his seat. "Yeah, I'm fine," he responded, avoiding his mother's gaze. "Actually, I'm not feeling well. I'm just going to go back home." Normally, his parents would engage in post-mass conversations with townsfolk outside of the building and Silas would accompany them, but this time he couldn't stand being around people from Gravesfield.

Silas left the church, making a deliberate effort to avoid eye contact with anyone as he strolled into the forest, taking the shortcut home. He focused on controlling his breathing, trying to regain a sense of composure that he had trouble keeping up the past few days, especially from the lack of sleep. Unexpectedly, Philip emerged from behind a tree, stepping in front of Silas, their gazes meeting.

Silas stood frozen, his eyes widening while Philip gazed at him with an emotionless face. However, concern soon furrowed Philip's brow.

"Silas, why are you avoiding me?" Philip finally broke the silence, his voice carrying a note of confusion that tugged painfully at Silas's heart.

But Silas didn't respond, his heart racing.

Philip held his gaze for a moment before his eyes lowered, momentarily breaking the connection.

"On the first two days, I thought you had fallen ill," Philip said. "But then on Wednesday and Thursday, I saw you tending to the land with Obedience." He glanced back before he continued, but this time frustration edged into his voice. "And still, I went to the river, waiting for you, but you never showed up."

Silas's jaw tightened, his muscles growing tense as Philip looked like he was anticipating a response. Instead of looking more irritated, Philip looked concerned.

"But I guess… now that I look at you, you don't look so well," Philip said, his eyes scanning Silas intently. "What's wrong?"

"I won't fall for your tricks anymore, Philip," Silas forced the words from his lips, his eyes narrowing.

"Pardon me?"

"I know what you've been trying to do," Silas said, annoyed. "I won't allow you and the other witch hunters to have another victim on your list just so you continue playing 'witchhunters'."

Philip's expression shifted to one of confusion. "I… I'm not following you," Philip said, moving closer to Silas. He removed the glove from his right hand and gently pressed the back of his hand against Silas's forehead. "You feel fine…"

Now, Philip wasn't one to initiate touch. Usually, Silas had to be the one to start before Philip seemed comfortable enough to do the same. So, when Silas felt Philip touching him so tenderly, he yearned to lean against Philip's hand so badly, but then he quickly recoiled as if scalded, overcome by a wave of nausea.

It was Philip who appeared wounded by Silas's reaction, though, making him withdraw his hand slowly. Philip appeared to look like the confused child he was back at his childhood home, as if waiting for someone to come into the room. When Silas found Philip appearing like a lost child, he would pull Philip into an embrace to bring a smile back on Philip's lips.

Silas felt the strong urge to pull Philip into a hug, to comfort him at this moment, but he couldn't… They shouldn't be holding each other like that, even though Philip desperately looked like he needed it.

It was then, Silas felt his own eyes grow warm. He felt like an utter fool to have thought Philip had malicious intentions with him. Well, sleeping a couple of hours a day was probably driving him crazy, leading him to believe Philip was trying to hurt him when instead Philip was just enjoying their time together.

But…

"What we have, Philip… it's wrong," Silas said, barely above a whisper.

Philip appeared to take his time in processing Silas's words, a look of confusion etching his features again.

"It's sinful," Silas clarified, his throat constricting with the weight of his admission.

"What are you talking about?" Philip's voice carried a genuine innocence. Silas had a hard time believing it, though, especially for someone so smart and quick-witted as Philip. There was no way Philip wouldn't have noticed the nature of their relationship. Philip was too astute to be so oblivious.

Unless…

Unless Philip just didn't care what God wanted anymore, which could explain why Philip seemed to have forsaken his witch-hunting duties. Perhaps Philip was straying from the righteous path, much like every member of his afflicted family.

'Do be careful, Silas,' Silas could hear his mother's warning. 'That boy is… quite peculiar.'

Others had shunned Philip, avoiding his company, and now Silas was wondering that maybe Philip and his family were indeed cursed…. Maybe the peculiar desires he felt were a result of Philip's cursed lineage. But curses… they were not real... were they…?"

Yet, how else could the tragedies within the Wittebane family be explained? Perhaps the Minister had taken Philip under his wing to guide him back onto the righteous path, seeking to save him from damnation. And somehow, Silas had unwittingly led Philip astray.

Was it his fault? Was Silas to blame for their shared sinful desires? Or was it all Philip's doing? Especially with his insistent insistence on keeping his long hair. What if Philip had no control over his sinful desires? No control for affecting others?

Silas did his best to hold back the tears that desired to come out, struggling to suppress the overwhelming emotions that threatened to suffocate him, especially as men were not supposed to cry. He also fought against the impulse to embrace Philip tightly, never wanting to let go.

"I'm sorry Philip, but we can no longer continue seeing each other," Silas said in a hoarse voice.

Philip's mouth opened as if to speak, but he quickly shut it. Countless emotions flickered across his eyes before anger ignited within them.

"Is it something I've done? Or is it because of something someone else said?" Philip's voice dripped with coldness. "Or perhaps you have no longer use for me now since you can read and write?"

Silas felt anger boil within him from the accusations being thrown at him.

"I was never using you," he retorted, annoyance lacing his words.

"Well, it certainly seemed that way to me," Philip shot back, his tone biting. "How typical for someone like you to lack any sense of honor."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Silas glared at Philip before shaking his head, attempting to regain his composure. "Forget it." He attempted to walk past Philip, but Philip grasped his arm. "Philip, please, release me," Silas said, his frustration mounting at the situation he was in.

"I apologize. I didn't mean what I just said," Philip said, his voice softened, genuine remorse seeping through his words. Silas did his best not to look at him, not while his heart felt as if it were being crushed by a boulder. "Silas, please, tell me what's happening. Did I say something wrong? Did something occur?" Panic tinged Philip's voice with each question. "Please, if I've done something wrong… I…. I'm sorry…" Philip's voice waved, his tone growing smaller, and Silas's lips quivered as finally, a tear trickled down his cheek. His shoulders shook, and he shook his head.

There was no way Philip didn't know what was going on between them.

There was no way.

"As I said, Philip." Silas's voice trembled with sadness. "What we have… it's wrong…"

Philip's grasp on Silas's arm tightened, desperate not to let go.

"It's immoral…" Silas despised the taste of those words, heavy like lead in his mouth.

Then, the sound of branches crunching underfoot reached their ears, causing both Silas and Philip to swiftly turn their gaze to the right, where they discovered Pastor Jonathan.

Silas's blood ran cold, and he felt Philip's fingers dig into his arm with an intensity that mirrored the turmoil within him. Pastor's Jonathan's gaze fixed upon them, his countenance remaining eerily composed.

The world seemed to stand still, and Silas feared that the ground beneath his feet would crumble, plunging him and Philip into the depths of hell. His heart felt, once again, like it was threatening to plunge out of his chest, especially as Pastor's Jonathan's gaze lingered on him.

Silas could already imagine his and Philip's bodies hanging lifelessly in front of the people from Gravesfield.

"Go home, Silas." Pastor Jonathan's voice carried an unsettling calmness. "Go and pray to God. He will forgive you, especially for doing the right thing."

Silas continued to stare at him before Pastor Jonathan's words brought a wave of relief to wash over him, finally allowing him to draw a shaky breath that he had been holding. He felt lightheaded and still nauseous, but he mentally gathered himself so he could nod in acknowledgement to Pastor Jonathan .

Pastor Jonathan then approached Philip, and without daring to steal a glance at Philip, Silas pried Philip's hand from his arm forcefully and a bit shakingly. Then Silas began to walk away from them both. He couldn't bear to witness the likely lost, hurt expression that would cloud Philip's face, fearing the immense pain it would inflict upon his already aching heart.

It was a silent night in the stables while Silas continued to pray silently in one of the empty stalls. He didn't want his parents to bother him while he beseeched God for forgiveness for the feelings he had for Philip that continued to cling to him.

The memory of Philip's desperate grip on his right arm lingered, though, the sensation of his fingers digging into Silas's flesh, haunting his thoughts. He couldn't help but throw his face into his hands as tears trailed down his eyes from frustration and anguish at the memory of him forcing Philip's hand off him and walking away.

But he reminded himself that he did the right thing. What he and Philip shared was immoral… yet the agony in his heart betrayed his convictions. Grief overcame him, tears continued to stream down his face silently, as he longed for the warmth of Philip's embrace, to have his cheek rest on Philip's head, to spend the rest of his life with Philip…

Silas didn't want to go into church the following Sunday. He didn't want to be near anyone from town, fearing the accusations that may be hurled his way. He believed there would be people there ready to hang him. Yet, despite his paranoia, he went to church to avoid suspicion. His gaze fixed upon the cross that adorned the room for a majority of the time.

Involuntarily, his eyes scanned the space, searching for Philip in his usual spot in the front row on the left side, where he would sit alongside Alexander and the Minister. However, the spot was vacant.

Dread consumed him, his mind racing with the worst-case scenario. When the mass concluded, he rose from his seat and anxiously surveyed the room. No sign of Philip anywhere.

He began to believe that Philip had been executed as a 'witch' without his knowledge. But… if that was the case, then there would have been whispers of it within the community, and he would have found out as soon as he had taken a step into town.

Silas mentally screamed at himself for only thinking about himself the past few days and not thinking about Philip's well-being even once.

"Unfortunately, Philip hasn't been feeling well lately," Silas overheard the Minister say to a woman as they strolled down the aisle, passing by Silas and his parents. "But the doctor assures us that he will make a full recovery as long as he remains bedridden."

Silas felt relief wash over him as he heard the Minister's words. Alright, Philip was merely unwell and would be alright. The town didn't accuse Philip of being a witch for liking men.

Yet, an unsettling sensation tugged at Silas's chest, especially when he recalled the couple of times he had seen Philip's left hand in a wooden splint.

Silas struggled to find the will to leave his bed. Every ounce of strength seemed to have abandoned him, leaving him depleted and hollow. Sometimes, a couple of tears would escape, and he would curl up and clutch the pillow tightly against his chest, wishing it was Philip he was holding, hoping Philip was alright.

He couldn't help but appreciate his mother for keeping his father out of his room. She allowed him to stay there all day.

Silas found himself seated beneath the familiar tree where he and Philip had shared countless moments. He stared blankly at the river, feeling nothing but emptiness in his chest. The journal and his drawing tools lay abandoned by his side, forgotten.

Six Sundays had passed, and still, there was no sign of Philip within the walls of the church. Pastor Jonathan requested the congregation to offer prayers for Philip's recovery.

That night, Silas prayed for hours at the stables once again, before his mind and heart raced to the point where he was left gasping for air, clutching his chest in agony for what felt like hours. Eventually, the pain subsided, allowing him to breathe hoarsely. Exhausted and drained, he found solace in the presence of Betsy as she slept, resting his head against her gentle hide as hot tears made their way down his face, each one a silent plea for Philip's well-being.

Silas treaded silently through the forest, making his way towards the spot where he had spent countless evenings alone now. Suddenly, a familiar sound reached his ears, causing his heart to leap with anticipation. Without a moment's hesitation, he sprinted toward the source, finding himself a short distance down the river, where a figure was diligently digging a hole.

For a moment, Silas felt utterly disappointed to see the figure have short hair, but then his heart seemed to stop in his chest when the figure turned around. It was none other than Philip.

Yet…

Philip's once beautiful, flowing hair had been shorn to a mere two inches, even shorter than Silas's own. Faint traces of a greenish bruise marred Philip's ghostly pale left cheek. His eyes, once filled with defiance or softness, now appeared completely hollow, devoid of any lingering sense of pride.

Philip said nothing and simply stood there in silence, looking exhausted, defeated.

Unable to bear the sight before him, Silas turned and fled from the scene.

In that moment, he couldn't help but acknowledge his own cowardice, an overwhelming sense of self-disgust washing over him.

Tears welled up in Silas's eyes, his efforts to suppress them in vain. A sob escaped his lips, and he couldn't bear to keep his eyes open any longer. He held on to Obedience, his face pressing against her neck as the tears streamed, hating himself more for showing such weak emotions for the past month.

Love… Yes… he couldn't deny the feelings he held for Philip. Why did he have to love Philip? Why did it have to hurt so much? Why couldn't one of them have been born a girl? Silas couldn't fathom why God would be so cruel to them. They were happy together, their smiles radiating just an innocent sort of joy as they held one another. For God's sake, they hadn't hurt anyone at all with what they had.

He missed listening to Philip go on about different sort of animals, plants, and other things he had learned from books. He missed reading Philip's stories, especially when he would read them out loud and feel the joy after Philip complimented him for how much he had improved over time. He missed... the way Philip leaned on him, held on to him as if he was the only one that he could count on.

As the sobs intensified, he felt Obedience try to comfort him by pressing her head against his, but nothing and no one could stop the pain that was ripping his heart in two. Especially when he envisioned the way Philip had just stared at him the last time he saw him, as if the love Philip had for him was beaten out of him.

Silas deliberately avoided the forest. He wasn't sure how much time had passed since he last set foot among those trees. It seemed like only yesterday, though he was aware that it was probably several months that had passed.

No matter. The woods were nothing but a painful reminder of what he couldn't have, so what was the point to go back there?

Silas dashed into town alongside a panicked Jordan, paying no mind to the judgmental glances directed their way. They came to a halt in front of the minister's house, and Silas took a moment to steady himself, gathering his thoughts before knocking on the door.

The door swung open eventually, revealing Philip on the other side. Silas's chest tightened at the sight of him, much like it did every time he dared to steal a glance at Philip during Sunday mass. Philip's face showed signs of stubble, and his hair had grown past his ears, and now his eyes held a dismissive, cold look to them, yet still empty.

"Where's the minister?" Jordan asked, his voice trembling. Silas sensed his friend's struggle to contain his hysteria, which he couldn't blame him for.

"He's not here at the moment," Philip responded in a dry tone.

"Where is he?" Jordan asked right away. "I need to speak with him immediately."

"Is this about your sister?" Philip asked simply, raising an eyebrow. "The witch?"

Silas had to restrain Jordan, clutching his arms to prevent him from launching himself at Philip.

"My sister is not a witch!" Jordan snapped, his voice dripping with disdain that Silas had never heard before.

Silas attempted to soothe his agitated friend. "Jordan, please, calm down."

Philip gazed down at Jordan calmly, not even flinching from his outburst, before allowing a small, amused smile to grace his lips.

"That's what everyone says," Philip dared to taunt. "Now, if you don't mind, I'm rather busy."

Jordan fought against Silas's grip, his anger rising.

"Jordan, please calm down. Attacking Philip won't help your sister," Silas said, growing annoyed with his friend. Jordan clenched his teeth so tightly that Silas feared they might shatter, but eventually, he felt Jordan relent and released his hold.

Silas turned his attention to Philip, who avoided meeting his gaze.

Silas felt his throat tighten up, but he did his best to clear it, especially since Susan's life was on the line.

"Philip, listen to me. Susan is not a witch," Silas spoke softly, hoping to break through Philip's indifference, doing his best to ignore the anxiety and pain that gripped his heart at that moment; it had been months since he had last spoken to Philip or stood face to face. "I've known her since childhood, and she has done nothing that goes against God."

"Elizabeth lied about Susan being a witch!" Jordan interjected. "I overheard Susan and Elizabeth arguing three weeks ago. Elizabeth is accusing Susan because she's jealous that Thomas started courting her. It's all a scheme to keep Thomas to herself!"

"Philip, you have to believe Jordan," Silas pleaded, desperation evident in his voice, especially with the way Philip looked rather disinterested, as if he was disregarding their words. "Susan is innocent. She has a pure heart. She's not a witch," Silas continued, reaching out as if to grab Philip's arm, but he stopped himself when he caught a glimpse of fear flickering in Philip's eyes.

Silas felt his stomach painfully drop from Philip's unexpected expression. Then Philip just shut the door in their faces without another word.

Jordan couldn't contain his frustration and began banging on the door, shouting at Philip to believe them and spare his sister's life. Silas did his best to restrain his friend, attempting to calm him down and prevent him from becoming the next target of the town's delusions.

Silas should have felt relief that it wasn't Susan with a noose around her neck, but instead, a sickening feeling settled in his stomach as he watched Elizabeth's tear-streaked face, pleading with the crowd to forgive her, insisting that her only crime was loving someone, that she was not a witch.

Silas couldn't help but look away as he listened to Elizabeth's desperate pleas, her words echoing in his ears, especially after seeing Philip stand there alongside the Minister, seemingly unaffected by the scene. Silas's heart ached, particularly when Elizabeth's sobs abruptly came to an end, just like her life.

Silas stormed into the forest, unable to contain the turmoil brewing within him. He marched along the river and found Philip digging a hole, seemingly unbothered by his arrival. Silas wasted no time expressing his outrage, his voice dripping with icy contempt.

"What in God's name was what?"

Philip simply looked up, his eyes devoid of emotion like always now. His hair had grown past his shoulders but was tied into a small ponytail. Philip had aged just like he had, both looking almost like full grown man now.

"Setting people on fire? Really, Philip?" Silas asked, disgusted. "Since when do you guys resort to such… such…" Silas struggled to find the right words to describe the horrific scene he had witnessed the day before. The gruesome images of a woman's face burning off, her agonizing screams reverberating in his ears, were surely going to leave him having nightmares forever.

Philip shrugged indifferently, as if the matter held no weight. "The Minister recently discovered that witches can reincarnate, and in order to prevent their return, we burn them back to hell."

"You can't seriously believe that, Philip," Silas retorted. "Especially you. Unless you've become a fool."

Philip climbed out of the small hole, casually brushing the dirt off his shirt and trousers. His condescending tone cut deep into Silas's soul as he spoke.

"What would an uneducated mule like you know?" Philip sneered. "You should stick to tending your little farm animals. That's all you'll ever be good for, after all."

Silas gritted his teeth, the words from Philip hurting so deep.

"You know those people you're executing are innocent," Silas said with frustration. "Deep down, you know it, Philip. You know you all have lost your damn minds, believing in this fantasy of magic."

This time, Philip's expression contorted into a frown. "Magic is real, Silas," he said in a serious tone.

"No, magic is not real," Silas said while he shot Philip a glare. "Witches are nothing but figments of imaginations, just like that blue liquid you're so desperately seeking."

Rage filled Philip's eyes this time, but he remained silent. The unspoken tension between them began to hang heavy in the air.

Silas couldn't hold back the emotions that were consuming him, propelling him to speak his mind with a mix of sadness and rage.

"And thank God that people have been realizing that witches are not real," he said. "Yes, Philip, people are starting to question everything you and the others have been doing. Because it's become abundantly clear that everything you guys have been involved in is nothing more than a cruel charade. Witches are nothing but a tale told to frighten the people into behaving!"

"Witches are real," Philip hissed. "Magic is real… you ignorant clod."

"Oh, right, because you witnessed a witch drag your brother away into some mystical portal?" Silas responded sarcastically.

"Because that's precisely what happened," Philip growled in response.

"No, Philip, that's not what happened," Silas said with annoyance, his voice raising with frustration. "Your brother fell in love with a woman and chose to leave. He abandoned you, and you couldn't bear to accept that reality. So you fabricated a story about him being taken by a witch instead of accepting that he just left you behind!"

As soon as the words escaped Silas's lips, he regretted them instantly. The tears welling up in Philip's eyes, the look of complete brokenness on his face, struck Silas like a dagger to the heart. Self-loathing washed over him as Philip's gaze transformed into a glare filled with hurt. Without another word, Philip turned away and threw himself back into digging the hole, his movements rougher this time.

Silas stood in profound silence, unaware of how much time had passed as he stared at Philip. Tears had escaped his eyes, unbeknownst to him. And with a heavy heart, he mustered the strength to turn away, forcing himself to walk away from the one that he still wished to hold on to…

Silas lay in bed, his eyes wide open, staring at the darkness that enveloped his room. The moon cast a small glow through his window, providing a faint illumination. Suddenly, a shadowy figure materialized in the moonlight, causing his brows to furrow. The sound of his window creaking open sent a surge of adrenaline through his veins, ready to attack if the figure dared to break into his home. But as swiftly as the shadow appeared, it vanished, leaving Silas puzzled.

With cautious steps, Silas rose from his bed and approached the window. On the floor of his room, he noticed a folded piece of paper. With confusion, he retrieved and unfolded it, recognizing Philip's handwriting. A single sentence stared back at him: 'I told you magic is real.'

Silas peered through the window, his eyes spotting the figure retreating into the night. Clad in a long blue coat and sporting a familiar low ponytail, it was unmistakably Philip.

What was Philip doing outside so late?

Silas frowned, thinking that Philip was planning something terrible. So, without a second thought, he threw a jacket on himself and put on his boots before he dashed out of his home. He hastened across the field and ventured into the woods. The moon's gentle glow aided him in spotting Philip while maintaining a reasonable distance from him. He did his best to avoid making any noise that might give away his presence; he was grateful there was snow in the ground that night. As Silas observed Philip, he noticed that he was carrying a bag and dressed formally, which made him uneasy. It appeared that Philip was preparing to leave Gravesfield.

Eventually, Silas found himself hiding behind a tree, gazing at the cemetery in confusion. Philip stood before an arch situated in the heart of the graveyard, reaching into his bag and retrieving something. Silas cautiously approached for a closer look, moving to hide behind another tree. Then he stared as Philip tossed the object, causing a blue liquid to splatter across the ornate carvings. Frozen in place, Silas watched as the liquid, the very thing he thought was nothing but a figment of Philip's imagination, slowly dripped down to the ground before it began to glow and stretch within the arch's threshold. Without reason or logic, the blue liquid extended, swirling and converging in the middle, before a brilliant yellow flash illuminated the whole area, temporarily blinding Silas. Silas quickly rubbed his eyes so he could glance back to the arch, his shock growing as a doorway to another world materialized before him. Green and red clouds seemed to swirl within the arch, pulsating with star-like glimmers.

Silas's eyes widened further, and he felt as if his very soul had been wrenched from his body. He watched in disbelief at what he was seeing.

No…

What he was seeing… it shouldn't be happening. There was no way magic was real.

Maybe the horrible sleep he had been having for almost a year was now making him truly go mad.

Silas did his best to calm his heartbeat, to stop his mind from racing, and he glanced back at Philip, who stood there before decisively crossing through the portal, disappearing into the unknown depths.

"Philip!" Silas called out. He lunged toward the portal then abruptly halted, his heart pounding within his chest. How could this be possible? He pinched the back of his hand, drawing blood, expecting to wake from his surreal nightmare, yet he continued to stand in the graveyard with the portal glowing within the arch.

"This… this can't be…" Silas uttered, his voice trembling.

Magic was not supposed to be real.

Witches were not supposed to be real!

Feeling overwhelmed, he fled from the scene, racing towards town. He soon found himself pounding on the Minister's door, rousing him from his slumber. Silas urgently explained the danger Philip was in and his passage through the mysterious portal. The Minister, appearing surprised, woke others in the town, assembling a group of armed men who accompanied Silas to the graveyard.

However, when they arrived, the arch no longer glowed with its strange colors and ethereal flow. Silas couldn't believe it. He was too late. Desperation gripped him as he recounted the events to the Minister. Silas pleaded to him that they must find the blue liquid that Philip must have found along the river in order to activate the portal. To his dismay, the Minister met his pleas with indifference. In callous disregard for Philip's fate, the Minister ordered the men to destroy the arch.

"You can't do that!" Silas pleaded desperately. A couple of men had to hold him back to keep him from fighting off the men that were following the Minister's command. "What about Philip?! He won't be able to return home! We have to save him!"

"Philip's soul was forever damned, Silas," the Minister said simply, not bothering to look at Silas. "There is no saving his soul. Philip is doing precisely what he's doing to save humanity. What he was trained to do, what God wants him to do."

Helplessly, Silas watched in utter despair as the men, armed with axes and hammers, destroyed the arch, obliterating any possibility of Philip's safe return.

Magic was real…

Witches were real…

Those two sentences kept on playing without relent in Silas's mind, their weight growing heavier each passing day.

Silas found himself standing outside Philip's window one evening, unnoticed by the world. He quietly opened the window and slipped into the room that had been vacant for weeks now. He made his way to the corner, his trembling hands reaching for the floorboard. Gently, he pried it loose with a knife, just like Philip had done, to reveal the wooden box and the countless journals.

His exhausted, dark-rimmed eyes, stared down at the wooden box before he picked it up and opened it, revealing a journal and a flask containing the same blue liquid that Philip had used to activate the portal. Tears welled in Silas's eyes, tracing a path down his reddened, already sore cheeks. He clutched the flask close to his heart, his voice trembling with sorrow.

"I am so sorry, Philip," he whispered, his voice quivering. "I should have believed you…. I should have gone with you… I should have never given up on us, even if it was immoral… We should have just left this forsaken town together…"

And he meant it…

He should have never abandoned Philip. They should have just run away and built a life together.

If Silas could go back in time, he would give up his soul to be with Philip again, to hold him in the forest like on those beautiful days. Because now, Silas couldn't stand living a life without Philip…

Silas drifted from his memories, his gaze fixed upon a replicated wooden box, a replacement for the original that had succumbed to the ravages of time years ago.

He felt empty, just like he had for so many years…

His mind almost pulled him back to his memories so he could feel something again, but Michael's voice drew his attention.

"The likelihood of the two of you surviving this long is nearly impossible. I must admit, it must have been a divine intervention," Michael said as he walked across the room where they worked together. He wore his uniform black robe, the same one Silas was wearing.

"Life is not predetermined, Michael," Silas said in a calm tone.

"Well, how would you describe it, my old friend?" Michael asked with curiosity. "A grand coincidence?"

Silas closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, feeling so utterly tired.

"I do have to say, you surprise me," Michael said. Silas said nothing, waiting for Michael to elaborate. "I expected you to purchase the first tickets to New York and rush to reunite with him," Michael chuckled. "Like one of those romantic movies. Yet here you are… Tell me, Silas, are you afraid he won't remember you? Or that he still resents you after all this time?"

Silas opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling above them.

"Or perhaps you fear that he isn't the same man you once loved?" Michael mused.

"It has been almost 400 years, Michael," Silas let out a sigh. "What Philip and I had is long gone."

Michael sat down by his own desk.

"So, what troubles you then?" Michael asked.

"It's Elizabeth," Silas admitted. "She has her eyes on him, which puts him in grave danger."

"Ah, yes." Michael nodded in understanding. "That is very troublesome indeed."

"And Sebastian… I cannot bear to imagine what he would do to Philip if he were to lay his hands on him."

"Especially since he knows how much Philip meant to you. Well, means to you," Michael added, looking concerned now.

"I failed to protect Philip in the past, because I was a coward." Silas looked up at Michael as he remembered the image of a young Philip with a faint bruise on his pale face and an utterly defeated empty look in his eyes. "I will not allow anyone to harm him again. I will not make the same mistakes that I've done years ago." He straightened himself up on his chair, recalling the way he held Philip, who silently cried that one night while they were in Philip's childhood home. "Not as long as I continue to breathe..."

Just a heads up, i post this story first in archive of our own and i also include awesome fan art done by readers as well there starting in chapter 15 I think (since that's when I started getting them) : ).

Peeps also engage in archive of our own more or in in tumblr. if you want to follow me in tumblr and ask questions you can do so. u can find me as chiconisroc in tumbrl and nisrocchico in archive of our own

or if you want you can leave a comment in this website too : ) or pm me