Connecticut, Gravesfield
"Mom, do you think this—" Luz, a young girl of afro-latina heritage, is currently sprawled over her couch and watching a movie. "—could've been real? All the Nobles and Royals of a land coming together like this?"
"It could've been, Mija. Many books mention the dealings of court back in those days." Camila Noceda, Luz's mother, shook her head at her daughter's enamored behavior towards all things fantastical. "Although—" Just as she spoke, a character in the movie fainted, most likely from the poison that had been slipped into her drink earlier in the scene. "—I don't think it'd have been this dramatic."
Camila is… slightly worried over Luz's interest in these things. While nothing is wrong with fantasy and make-believe, lord knows she's been very invested in some shows, Luz could toe the line of acceptable believing. Sometimes, she wondered if there was even one skeptical bone in her body.
"You have to admit that it does seem fun though, right? I mean, look at all the dresses and gowns! That dude has a fancy sword! Why can't we walk around with fancy swords?" Camila chuckled at Luz's words, bringing over a plate of nachos for their marathon, one which Luz had roped her into.
Not that she minded, this movie is part of a very popular fantasy trilogy— but she was more of a Cosmic Frontier person. Science fiction is simply the superior medium, not that she'd say that to Luz.
"I agree Mija, it does look fun, but for them—" She decided to indulge her daughter's interest. "—it's a very serious event, one that is important to the narrative and the plot. Each sentence these nobles speak to each other could make or break their future."
Luz knitted her brows together as she focused on one of the characters, a high-born Elf, attempt to strike a deal with the dwarves for a trade in craftsmanship— a very important move for his family's status. She could see his thinly-veiled stress, as he had to secure this alliance before the northerners fell upon their primary export of mystical wood.
"So… it's like politics? Bleh!" Luz threw her hands up at the realization, but quickly regained interest. "But that means you can be good at it, right? Like that guy—" She pointed at a southern industrialist, a character with a finger in every pie, one who profits off of every conflict. "—he's been playing everyone since the first movie!"
Camila nodded, regarding the strange character who dealt in potions and tonics. "Even back then, being business-savvy was a valuable skill, but just like in our world— you have to make that you don't lose your morals in the process."
She already knew that the industrialist would be revealed to be a hero in the next movie, but she wasn't going to spoil it for Luz.
"Sucks that we don't do these anymore. You think there's someplace out there that still holds balls like this? Like in Europe?" Luz asked, trying to recall anything from school that implied as such.
"Maybe, but not in an earnest and political fashion. People mainly do these types of gatherings for the fashion and celebrities now." Camila recalled the Met Gala. Really, some of those outfits are ridiculous.
"If there was someplace out there where this stuff happens…" Luz hummed for a moment, realizing that she'll probably be unable to see or attend it. "…well, I hope the good guys come out on top." She finished with a small grin, refocusing on the movie when the scene is abruptly shifted by an arrow breaking through a window and sending the ballroom into a panic.
Camila looked towards Luz, proud of her daughter's moral compass, and then back towards the screen— this was the director's cut, so has scenes she hasn't seen.
Outside of their home, from the nearby shack, a distant light faded away into the night.
Emperor's Castle, Ballroom.
Witches and wizards of all colors and hues lived on the Boiling Isles, and with this diversity came a lack of common union— a common phenomena. Birds of a feather flock together, as per the curriculum's demands, but this could be subverted by the will of the man who instated these laws in the first place.
That's how Amity found herself in the Emperor's Castle, alongside every member of a named House from the primary covens. As only under the guidance of the Emperor could the nine covens be converged for attendance of a singular event. Even if she hadn't wanted to, her mother wouldn't have let her miss out on a such an important gathering.
As heiress to the Blights, an Abomination House rivaled only by House Deamonne, it is in their best interest to garner the Emperor's favor. Even with Darius Deamonne's standing as Head Witch of their Coven, her father is quickly making Blight Industries an irreplaceable asset to the throne.
Yet, even with her family's fame and influence, Amity marveled at the grandiose ballroom.
Prominent whites and golds, with silvery shades and near imperceptible flashes of red— the ballroom stood proud with the colors of the Emperor's Coven. High ceilings matched by marble walls, carved to display images of momentous moments in the Isle's history. Her eye remained caught on one, of a Golden Guard parting the flaming fury of a dragon in defense of Bonesborough— the Guard's mask highlighted in gold. Her eyes followed the many depictions, until she was looking at the very end of the ballroom, where the Emperor's table stood higher than all others. Behind it, a depiction of the Emperor holding up… something, to the sun. It split the sun's rays into nine bright hues, the coven's colors contrasting against the white marble, retelling the day Emperor Belos shared the Titan's will with the Children of the Isles.
There's something divine about these portrayals, and even if Amity is just looking at a carving of marble, she could almost imagine how it must have felt to bear witness to a Messiah's prophetic revelations.
"You really like those sculptures." Her friend's voice broke through her reverie, and Amity returned her attention to the conversation.
Seated at the back, Amity was left to her own devices while her parents strike up deals with the construction houses. The kids tended to stray away from the groupings of adults, so she could sit with Willow until her mother beckons. The Parks were barely notable enough to be included in this Gala, but they had made the cut.
"I never really paid attention to them before, feels like I'm seeing them for the first time." Even as Amity spoke, her eyes returned to the depiction of the Golden Guard.
"Well—" Willow followed her gaze, focusing more on the dragon than the wizard. "—it's the first time for me and my Dads, but I get it." She gestured with her hands to the massively ornate chandelier above them, seemingly solid gold. "All of it feels very grand."
Amity agreed with a nod. "It feels like a chapel at times too." She glanced at one of the servers, which was essentially a coven scout with a suit under their cloak instead of their usual uniform, their masks perpetually shading their face. "Security is never lax in these either, and the Emperor hasn't even arrived yet."
"You think what Gus said is true?" It took Amity no time to remember what Willow's asking. She wasn't close with Augustus, but knew that the Porters dealt with news and journalism.
"I don't know. Could be? Boscha said something similar, and even my mom spoke about it yesterday." She couldn't wrap her around it, with how Emperor Belos is known to be immortal.
Willow giggled, a sparkle in her eyes. "Why would the Emperor need one? I don't remember there ever being an Empress either."
Amity had thought of the same. For over five hundred years, Belos has been their one and only Emperor. As far as everyone knew or cared, he was brought into this world by the Titan to save them from wild magic, and will do so for the rest of time.
"Maybe he wants to retire? Being a Messiah for five centuries must get boring." Absentmindedly, she curled a brown lock around her finger. Green, maybe? Could match Ed .
"Doesn't that go against the entire immortal savior thing?" Willow pointed out. "Ooooh! Maybe that means the 'saving' will be complete!"
"He already saved us from the savage ages, Willow. Our history teacher says the problem is in making sure it sticks." Amity pointed out, recalling their teacher's words from Hexside.
It wasn't just them talking about it either, she's sure she heard multiple different circles conversing about tonight's possible surprise. Her dad is probably the only person who doesn't care… but it's hard to find something Alador Blight cares about outside of abomination mechanics.
Then, she remembered what was left to do after she gets home. "Ugh—" Amity pinched the bridge beneath her brow. "—I still have homework to do. Fire conjuration comes so easily to me, but I can't get a handle on water. You'd think being in the abomination track would gear you towards liquids."
"I've got it the other way around." Willow thought about how much more convenient watering her plants had gotten. "I can't even make a spark of fire, but water's as easy as breathing."
"You really shouldn't let your Dads switch you into the abomination track, Willow." Amity rolled her eyes in remembering of her situation. "You're gifted in plant magic, no need to shift focus, even if—"
"—I know, even if the Snapdragons have pushed us down the rungs to the dirt." Willow finished, finding the Head Witch in question mingling about near Deamonne. They were running the Parks into the ground, the next Plant Coven's head will most likely be another Snapdragon.
Amity found Vitimir Brewer near the other Head Witches, with his daughter by his side— unlike most other adults. He was preparing Boscha as much as he can, and exposure to the Coven Head's environment seemed to part of his plan in doing so.
"No fair." Amity heard Willow mutter. "Boscha's head is big enough as it is, he's only making it worse."
Amity didn't want to badmouth Boscha behind her back, so she just nodded. It was a fair assessment.
She would've continued the conversation, but her mother had finished talking to the construction houses, and is clearly scanning the ballroom for her.
Amity turned to Willow, but she had already stood up with a short wave of goodbye, departing towards where Porter's kid is standing.
Turning back, her mother is fast approaching with her father in tow.
"Quickly now, Mittens—" In a rush? "—let's move towards the front, preferably…" She scanned the room once more. "…there."
Without waiting for affirmation, she strode forward. Dragging Alador with her, Odalia had no doubt that her daughter will follow without complaint.
"A premonition?" Alador's perpetually tired tone reached her ears, the same as it's always been.
"Yes—" Odalia kept her voice low as they spoke, no one else had claimed a free table yet, only the Head Witches were specially seated. The Oracle Houses had moved forward too, but hanged further behind. What was a premonition without some ambition? "—the Emperor is about to show, and I think the rumor is true."
Alador, even in his perpetual fatigue, seemed somewhat surprised at the confirmation. Amity, however, thought more on the… specifics.
Her mother quickly sorted their seating once they reached the upper left table, placing them as facing towards the Emperor's table, as the table is round. As per how she reminds them to be each time: Dad to Mom's left, with her to the right.
With that, they laid their attention towards the front of the ballroom, her mother counting down the seconds until—
"Noble Houses of the Isles, Witches and Wizards of proud bloodlines and fealty to the throne! Seat yourselves, as our Savior: Emperor Belos, has arrived!" A Guard Captain announced from the fore, starting the polite and yet hurried self-seating of the many Houses. In under a minute, the Ballroom went from an ambient chatter to near silence, letting the live music provided by the Bard Coven cut through the air once more. Raine Whispers lead the band, a prominent member of the coven under Head Witch Crane's leadership.
"All rise!"
The simultaneous sounds of chairs being pushed back, followed by the opening of grand doors to the right of the main table, punctuated the Emperor's presence before he even stepped into the room.
Even the most novice witch could feel the Emperor's presence. He radiated power, both warm and harrowing in nature. He stood taller than anyone present, further pronounced by the horns connected to his mask. His cloak didn't flutter, or waver in the wind, or even touch the floor— it is eerily spectral. Behind the abyssal pits of his mask, if one catches a certain angle, they'll find the electrifyingly blue gaze of their Emperor.
His presence, being as overwhelming as it is and filling up the entire room, nearly had everyone miss the shorter figure walking next to him. Amity shot a glance at her Mother, and from the pleased look, she could tell—
The rumors were true.
That must be the Prince of the Isles.
He kinda looked princely, and kinda didn't? He's dressed almost identical to the Emperor, with the same cloak and garments… just with more whites than browns— and without a mask. Pale blonde hair is swept back, styled as an undercut with a a single lock sticking out to the front. While he wore no mask, a gold and silver circlet is visible underneath his hair's tapering point, denoting him as exactly what they all thought he'd be.
Even from here, Amity could see the bright magenta of his eyes, even more odd than the Emperor's sharp blues. She couldn't see much else from here—
Until he turned ever so slightly, letting her see the large scar stretching from his jaw to his right eye.
"Children of the Isles!"
The Emperor raised his staff, and Amity wondered if the nine hues behind him were actually glowing… or if it's just her.
"The Titan is pleased with this year's progress towards Unity, and so I thank you in His name! Your loyalty to the throne, to the Titan's Will, is never overlooked! Be proud, for our Lord is truly generous in his praise!"
"You have all worked well within the Covens of your choice, and marched down the path to your Titan-given fates! Today is a day to rejoice, for it is another declaration of triumph against the evils of Wild Magic!"
"Each year, we welcome more Witches and Wizards into our Unity! Each year, I see more of those who are enlightened to the truth! Yet—" Definitely glowing. "—even as our task is a never-ending one, we shall never cease carrying the Titan's Will! We will march towards our sacred purpose, and pass it's flame onwards to a brighter tomorrow!"
Belos placed a hand onto the would-be Prince's shoulder when he spoke of passing the flame forward, silencing any doubts with naught a single direct word spoken.
"Let us revel and celebrate yet another momentous day! Enjoy yourselves as guests in my keep!"
With that, the formalities were over, allowing for the event to begin in full swing. The tables, bearing only refreshments before the Emperor's arrival, were quickly filled with varied assortments of snacks and finger-foods. While most kept to their covens and houses at first, intermingling began in earnest thereon— filling the ballroom with the chatter of aristocracy. Many deals would be struck here, important conversations that will undoubtedly impact Isles within the months.
Many would approach or linger around the Emperor's table, whom mostly interacted with just the Head Witches seated at the table nearest to his own. Outside of the Coven Heads, others approached in hopes of attaining Belos's favor or support in their House's endeavors. Even her Mother planned to acquire further support from Belos towards Blight Industries's partnership with the Emperor's Coven. Their Abomatons, a robotic application of abomination magic, had proven itself indispensable to the Empire's forces.
Her Mother hadn't moved towards the front yet, eyes locked onto the new variable in her equation. Alador may be the brains of House Blight, but Odalia is much better suited for the more delicate and conniving aspects of their dealings.
Next to the Emperor, for the first time ever, sat the Prince.
They were without expression, remaining silent even when Belos is approached by one of his Coven Heads, never joining the conversation. The boy radiated disinterest, as stone-faced as the Emperor's mask. Odalia considered keeping her approach the same as it always is, but perhaps an introduction would be beneficial?
Amity looked away from her Mother, knowing when the woman is lost in her machinations. She stood up, glancing towards where her Father had went— which is apparently back to the earlier members of the construction coven.
A tap to her shoulder drew her attention away.
"Hey Blight, I'm trying to explain to—" It was Boscha, pointing towards Skara Crane in the distance, who is lounging next to a punch bowl. "—Skara that she should try wind conjuration instead of fire."
Ah, right. Skara's in the bard track, granddaughter of the Bard Coven's head. Her mother didn't seem to need her at the moment, and so Amity fell into step with Boscha, walking towards their mutual friend.
"Let me guess. Is it because bard magic is more about air than it is about fire?" As they walked, Amity tried to spot Willow— but she couldn't see her or Gus. It shouldn't be too hard, given Willow's green dress.
"Yeah, like duh—" Glad that someone is making sense, Boscha waved Skara over to a standing table. "—I know she knows it too, but she's really trying to present fire instead of wind at tomorrow's demonstratio—"
"Boscha, I told you." Skara joined the conversation, having brought a glass for each with the help of a server. "Everyone expects a bard to use whistling type wind magic at these demonstrations. I think it's more impressive if I use fire instead!" Amity could see the appeal.
"What's the point of using B-grade fire when you have A-grade wind?" Boscha rebutted. "You don't have to stop practicing fire, just do the whole—" She tried, and failed, to mimic a bard's whistle. "—thing for the grade."
"I might get an A for effort if I pull off fire, though." Skara shot back, and then gestured to Amity. "Like her! Amity's gonna demonstrate her flame conjuration, and the teacher's definitely going to be be wowed by an abomination witch using fire instead of water. I wanna do the same!"
Both pair— a pair and a trio of eyes turned to Amity, expecting her to be the voice of reason.
"I think Boscha's got a point Skara, but so do you. If you can improve your conjuration enough to overcome the typical choice of a bard? Go for it. If not? You can always fall back on wind." Seemingly appeased, her friends shrugged and clinked their glasses together.
"Fair enough." Boscha spoke up after draining half her glass. "Speaking of demonstrations—" She nodded towards the front, but they couldn't see the target of her attention through the partygoers. "—what do you think of Prince Scarfa—"
"—not too loud!" Skara whisper-yelled at Boscha, who only rolled her eyes. Better safe than sorry, but she was still curious. "I couldn't get a good look where we were sitting. It didn't look too… bad."
"We weren't sat too close either, but it still stood out." Boscha might be ignoring her superior range of vision, but Amity isn't about to point out the obvious. "Amity, what about you?"
Oh, right. She was closest.
"It didn't look—" Amity thought on the right word. "—too bad." But, she ended up parroting her friend. "The circlet looked fitting, and his eyes are odd."
"That's coming from the girl with golden eyes?" Skara teased.
"Pipe it, grey-eyes." Amity shot back with a smile.
"It's pretty common, Boscha's only a tad off. You're the odd one out here, Blight." Skara spoke with both amusement and smugness. Boscha just blinked at being uses in an argument.
"You win this round, Crane." Amity conceded, rolling her eyes and giving the crowd another once-over. This time, she spotted Willow and Gus at another table— giggling away at some joke. Augustus is quite a bit younger than them, but the Porter's have showmanship in their blood and that extended to their comedy.
"Looking for Amelia?" Boscha asked, trying to follow her gaze. "She went to ask her grandma something, should be back soon." From what little Amity heard about Terra Snapdragon from her Dad, it's always hard to see Amelia as her granddaughter— well, except for the green hair.
"Wonder if any of the Head Witches knew about it." They had to, right? The Prince has to have lived in the castle. "Must've seen him in passing, at least."
Boscha nodded, agreeing with Amity's thoughts. "Even if the Nine Hues didn't know, Head Witch Clawthorne must've known—" Skara hummed in agreement. "—unlike the other coven heads, she's constantly in the castle."
"Same could be said about Kikimora." Skara added, reminding the two of the Emperor's assistant. "I doubt anything lives or breathes in the castle without her awareness."
"What if—" Amity turned back to her friends. "—he was kept outside of the castle?" Belos has more than enough strongholds littering the Boiling Isles. "If you want to hide something, you tend to keep it out of sight."
Skara shrugged, idly toying with a tassel on her red dress. "Then the question is if the Prince was being hidden or withheld. There's very little reason for Belos to hide someone." That's true too, what risk is there to keeping the Prince in the castle? Safest place on the Isles.
"Even if the Head Witches knew, I doubt they'd speak of it outside the castle." Boscha did have a point. If the Houses of the coven heads didn't know, it could just mean that any mention the Prince's existence was strictly kept with inside the castle.
Amity liked the level of respect and trust the Emperor, and by extension his coven, demanded. She couldn't wait for the day when she'll apply to join the Emperor's Coven.
"By the way, Amity—" Skara raised her glass questioningly. "—where are the terrible twins?"
"Home." Amity groaned at the memory. "They painted half of Dad's abomaton gear pink and blue, and Mom grounded them for it. Something tells me they did it to avoid coming."
Dad hadn't cared that much about the prank, seeing as everything was still in working order, but Mom had went on and on about respect and marketing. Suppressing a shudder at the memory of said long rant, Amity washed her distaste away with the sweet punch.
Wait—
"Skara?" The witch in question hummed in acknowledgment. "Did you get this from the kid's table or the standard table?"
Boscha picked up on her meaning, bringing her glass up for a sniff, and then a sip. Her eyebrows shot upwards.
"The one over there, why?" Skara scrunched her brow, gesturing to the earlier table, gears turning in her head as she also raised her glass for inspection. "What's wrong with it?"
The youth's section of the ballroom held non-alcoholic beverages, meanwhile the standard tables… like the one Skara just pointed out? "Skara, this is alcoholic."
Boscha giggled at the information, not too bothered. As a potion witch, she wasn't a stranger to liquor by any means. "Oh darn." Skara muttered, glancing down at the glass she had mostly finished.
While Skara looked dumbfounded, Boscha eased their worries. "It's not that strong, don't worry about it. I doubt either of you are that lightweight." Amity has had wine before, and the few odd potions that called for spirits, but only a sip or two.
Skara looked somewhat eased by the words, but she's more apologetic about the mixup. "Sorry about that, Amity."
The brunette rolled her eyes, waving off Skara's worries. "It's not a big deal." It took an entire glass for her to even notice a slight burn. "They should really label these things, plus—" She jabbed a thumb at Boscha. "—Brewer over here wouldn't have noticed after a whole bowl."
The triclops rose to the bait. "Just don't start wobbling from some punch, Blight." Turning her nose up at Amity, Boscha finished her drink to the amusement of her friends.
The trip descended into giggles from the banter, falling back to the ease of casual conversation. "Did you guys hear about the Golden Guard's return? He was out on that expedition for such a long time." Boscha brought up yesterday's BBN news.
"The Emperor sent him out to the Northern Giant, right? Titan knows what's up there." Skara chimed in. Really, no one in their right mind would go that far up North— but ever since the dragon sightings got more common, the only logical assumption was that they were coming from the other lands. The Golden Guard was sent up there to investigate, alone, and that was a couple of years ago.
"Even when he was around." Amity glanced back to the sculpture of the Golden Guard, the Isle's undying guardian. "It's not like there was much news coverage on him. The public knows very little about the Golden Guard, outside of his presence alongside the Emperor stretching back to the Savage Ages."
The Empire's greatest warrior, clad in the whites and golds of the Emperor's sigil. No one knew if it was a mask being passed down, or someone as immortal as the Emperor. There have been claims that the Guard's height is inconsistent, but those claims can't be looked into when the gilded wizard only appears at the Emperor's direct command. Some even write the claims off as the aftereffect of immortality.
Her Dad had told her once that it is most likely a position rather than a person, citing something about Darius. He'd said that the Golden Guard was inherited, but only those high up in the Emperor's Coven know about the details of selection.
Amity zoned back into the conversation, listening to Boscha and Skara argue over if the Golden Guard could be a girl under all that gold.
"Hey, have you two seen Lilith?" Amity interrupted their debate, which had escalated to Skara theorizing that the Golden Guard is in fact the Empress.
"Head Witch Clawthorne? No, I haven't seen her." Boscha answered, and with her vision— it is a guarantee that the older witch is not around. "She'll show up eventually, she wasn't there at last year's opening either. She just… appears, at some point."
She's right about that. Her mentor had a tendency towards appearing out of thin air, even with her claims of being unable to teleport— Amity couldn't fully believe her. Looking around once more, Amity felt that the ballroom is quite… stuffy, despite how large it is. Her dress wasn't doing her any favors either, nor was her hair-bun. Maybe one glass wasn't as light as she thought?
Nodding to her schoolmates, Amity walked away after a quick exchange of pleasantries. "Alright girls, I'm gonna go see if I can get some fresh air."
Except, she is faced with the lack of a terrace— with the only balcony in sight being for smokers. If she squinted, she could even see her Father out there. He didn't smoke, but he is no stranger to a smoky environment.
Approaching one of the masked servers, who's name-tag identified them as Steve, Amity caught his attention with a polite gesture. "Where would be the nearest place to get some fresh air?"
Steve looked to the balcony she had considered, realizing her situation. "Darn, little lady. None are connected to the ballroom, but—" Steve considered something for a moment, looking towards one of the entrances. "—you should be able to find one down the hallway from that door, to the left. Should be free of any guests."
Steve gave her a thumbs up, almost dropping the tray he held in the process— but Amity appreciated it regardless. It didn't seem too far away, and it's not like her mother couldn't contact her if need be. "Thank you."
The scout offered finger guns in her direction and walked away, slamming their hip into the corner of a table as they did. Amity winced— but the man was not deterred, walking off the impact as if it was nothing new to him.
Shaking off the odd interaction, she made her way to the aforementioned door, walking around the many conversation circles and avoiding anyone from Hexside— she'll talk with others later.
Pushing past the tall doors, Amity found herself in a well-lit hallway. Even here, she could hear the music of the ballroom, with the many overlapping voices growing fainter as she stepped away from the doorway.
Walking down the hall, she briefly considered if she should've just braved the smokers— but a quick turn to the left lead her down an adjacent hallway, down which she could see moonlight reflecting off of the corridor's walls, distinctively
stark against the lamplight.
A few more steps, and Amity reached the opening of the balcony. A turn to the left, and a step onto the—
The balcony wasn't empty.
It shouldn't have mattered, it was just one person, someone else who had the same idea. It wouldn't have mattered, if Amity hadn't immediately noticed the golden band encircling their crown. It couldn't have mattered, if Amity didn't just stumble upon the Prince of the Isles.
Perhaps, in another reality, she would have walked further down the corridor to the identical balcony only somewhat ahead.
Yet, she had already stepped inward, and her approach had been heard. The blonde hadn't turned to look at her, but he had shifted his posture.
"Sor— apologies, I didn't know you were here." In a rare moment, Amity considered seeking out her Mother's advice. She'd have known something better to say.
A beat of silence passed between then, Amity still only a step in from the doorway. The short moment felt long enough for Amity to consider that she'd get no reply, and should leave while she can.
"I don't see how it matters."
Aha—?
The boy turned, enough for her to catch a glimpse of the unsettling magenta.
"You came here for a break from the festivities. As did I."
She didn't think about it too deeply, nodding just before he turned away— back to gazing at the moon. Seeing as she's now in a conversation, Amity put together what could be interpreted as an appropriate response.
"I didn't want a secondhand smoking experience either. Needed some fresh air."
Another beat.
"No smokers here, you found your air."
It took her a moment, but the message is clear— right? It wasn't exactly an invitation, but he hadn't told her to leave. It'd be rude to walk away at this point too.
He stood against the balustrade, leaning against it, his cloak hanging off of his shoulders. Amity moved to join him, even if just to stop standing at the doorway, copying his posture.
She stayed quiet, not knowing of anything to continue their conversation with.
He turned his head towards her for a moment, looking at her with inquisitively.
"You're from House Blight. The youngest, I presume?" So that's what he was looking for. She should've expected that he'd be aware.
"My name's Amity—" Talking shouldn't be this difficult, especially for a Blight. "—how did you know I wasn't my sister?"
"She's older, and it's known that the twins have green hair." He looked to be considered something, and then continued. "I've also heard of you from your mentor."
Now that is a surprise. "Ms. Clawthorne? You know her?"
"I've known Lilith for some time, she's quite proud of you." Amity felt her ears warm up. She knew that Lilith recognized her skills, but enough to speak of it to others?
"That's nice to hear, I aspire to be as strong as her." It is both easy and difficult to forget that she's conversing with the Prince. "I didn't catch your name in the opening speech—" What was appropriate here? "—your highness?"
The phrase made him seem like he had bit into a bad fruit. "Don't call me 'highness' or 'lord'." He waved the title away as if it was miasma. "I wasn't introduced. It's Hunter Whittabane, just call me Hunter."
Is that the Emperor's House? She'd never heard of House Whittabane before. "Well met, Hunter." He lightened up at hearing his name.
"Likewise, Amity." He nodded in acknowledgment, appreciative. His attention returned to the moon quite quickly, and Amity couldn't blame him. The lunar object always seemed larger on days where the Houses and Covens convened.
"So—" Easing into the less-tense atmosphere, Amity started off with genuine curiosity. "—how's it like being the prince, Hunter?"
The question gave him pause. Hunter reached up to trace his fingers along the engraving of his circlet. "I can't tell. Hasn't even been a day since I've put this on."
"Sorry, I assumed—" He waved her concerns off again, easing her concern of crossing a boundary. "Don't be. I'd have asked the same thing—" A slight upturn to his lips. "—so, how's it like being House Blight's heiress?"
The tables turned. "It's—" Stressful? Demanding? She couldn't complain about her House to the Prince. "—demanding of responsibility, but still nice. Living up to the legacy and the family name, you know?"
Hunter seemed to agree. "That's about what I expected." He looked to the left of the balcony's view, where you could see the ballroom's celebrations through the tall windows. Even here, the distant noise buzzed away. "Abomination magic is your focus, right? Are you in that track in school?"
"Yeah." Most people tended to dress in the colors of their respective magic, and Amity is no exception with her purple dress. "I go to Hexside, part of their abomination track. We have a conjuration class tomorrow, elemental."
Something seemed to click for Hunter at the mention of conjuration, as Amity noticed the interest in his eyes. "Elemental conjuration? That's an interesting subject with much to do with the properties of a mage's magic, as most elements are imitative configurations of magical energy. Wind conjuration has been studied to be akin to magic being ground against itself, while water conjuration is through the fluid manipulation of energy."
Amity shouldn't be surprised that the Prince is knowledgeable about magic. "Energy usage and configuration can be telling of a mage's track. As an abomination witch, you must be skilled in water, right?"
"You'd be right, if my magic would stop contradicting me." Amity groaned, even Hunter knew she had to be good with water. "I'm presenting fire tomorrow, since I can't conjure water for the life of me."
Hunter, now invested in the magical oddity, brought a hand to his chin in thought. "As an abomination witch, you can manipulate existing water, right?" Amity nodded. She could manipulate water, just not… make water. "Conjuration can be telling of the mage. Your teacher might have mentioned how one's elemental conjurations tend to match the mage's personality and mindset."
Amity almost giggled at the implication. "I remember him saying that, but I didn't think it'd be the cause."
Hunter caught onto her amusement, suppressing another smile. "Fire usually means that the mage is passionate and driven. Studies have shown that fire is the most common element used by the stronger witches and wizards of the Isles. Water needs a calmer and more flexible mindset, a tense mage will find it hard."
"You're saying I'm too tense?" Amity raised an eyebrow, unable to muffle her giggle. Here she is, being told to relax by the Prince.
A few peals of laughter escaped Hunter too, realizing what he said. "It couldn't hurt to try, you might find it relaxing."
Two could play that game. "You got me there, Hunter. Which element do you find easiest? Something tells me it's not water."
Amity saw his expression shift, something flickering in his eyes. He didn't frown, but Amity could tell that she had said something wrong.
"Unlike most mages, I don't exactly—" He looked away from her, and back up to the stars. "—well, I can conjure all elements equally."
Amity didn't understand why that had brought him down. Very few people could conjure every element without preference.
"My bad, I—" Hunter shot her another glance, cutting her short once more. "—well, your parents must be proud. We're taught that it takes a decade to learn every elemental conjuration."
"You think so?" Hunter looked towards the ballroom, to the fore.
"Lilith would be proud if I could do it." Amity echoed the sentiment, remember her mentor's demonstration on conjuration. "Does she teach you too? As the Emperor's Coven Head, I know she has a say in the coven's training."
Hunter shook his head. "No, not really. We've exchanged ideas at times, but I've only briefly practiced with the Head Witches. My sole mentor is Emperor Belos."
Amity couldn't imagine what it's like, to be under the tutelage of the Emperor. "It must be something else to be taught by the Emperor. Professor Hermonculus gave a lecture on the Emperor's ability to seamlessly combine multiple tracks of magic with just a wave of his staff." To her, their leader represented the pinnacle of magic.
The earlier hint of displeasure faded at the mention of the Emperor's prowess. "Yeah, he's… something else. No other witch or wizard comes close to the things I've seen him do." Hunter rapped his knuckles against the stone he had leaned against. "This entire castle is the result of one powerful construction spell."
Amity marveled at that, awe in her gaze. The sheer size of the castle, all the intricate details… that should be impossible to achieve. "Anything is possible with the Will of the Titan."
Hunter recognized the saying, one which Belos had preaches quite often, humming in agreement.
"I'll be heading back in a minute, can't keep away from the celebration for too long." Belos had told him to do as he likes, but Hunter knew not to be absent for his first public appearance.
Amity had almost forgotten that she's speaking to royalty, bringing a hand up to her necklace— also remembering her own obligations. "After your debut, will the Isles be seeing you more often?"
Hunter shrugged, pushing off of the balustrade. Amity noted that, like this, he was quite a bit taller than her.
"Could be." Hunter didn't give any assurances— avoiding any certainty. "I'm technically enrolled in Hexside, even though I don't attend classes. Belos believes I shouldn't be exempt from having to properly study." While he quickly moved on from speaking of further appearances, Amity could tell that he just shoveled out a non-answer.
"My Father's the same as your's in that regard." Amity remembered her first few attempts at abomination engineering. "He won't teach me any tricks of the trade outright, only gives hints, says I should figure it out my way."
"Alador Blight is one of the greatest minds of our time." Hunter complimented, that familiar shine in his eyes when discussing magic. It reminded Amity of her Dad's unending passion for his work. "Belos holds him in high regard for his work."
Amity felt proud of her Father. It was nice to know that his work is recognized enough by their Emperor that even the Prince praises it. Just as she thought of her family, she felt the medallion of her necklace pulse with a telepathic transmission— wordless, but a request for her presence.
Hunter stepped away from the balcony, gesturing for her to come with— Amity fell into step with him. They both needed to return to their families.
"I expect to hear more good things about you from Lilith." Hunter spoke as they walked down the corridor to the main hallway. "It takes allot for that Clawthorne to admit that someone might match her abilities, even in potential."
"I promised to surpass her, and a Blight always keeps their word." A Blight's trademark pride seeped into her words. "I hope to be the greatest witch in the Emperor's Coven."
Hunter smiled, well-receptive of her confidence. "An abomination specialist? Leading the Emperor's Coven? Head Witch Deamonne would eat his heart out." Wouldn't that be something?
Amity giggled at the thought of their House's rival being envious of a Blight. "You know, I keep asking Lilith if she knows how to teleport, because I want to figure Deamonne's teleportation spell. She said she couldn't teleport, and doubted if abomination magic could really do so either."
"She's right, in a way." Amity looked towards him in curiosity. "Abomination magic can't really teleport, but it can… translocate. Think of the abomination magic's slime as a gateway, one which disassembles and reassembles someone simultaneously. Yet, for this spell to work, the mage must have abomination slime already placed at the location they wish to translocate to— or have said location within reach of their slime conjuration."
Amity… followed, but it still sounded confusing in one regard. "How is that not teleportation?"
"You could say it teleports your soul, or consciousness, but it doesn't teleport your physical being. That's why it's dangerous to use it on those who aren't skilled abomination mages, because—" Hunter looked towards her, clearly expecting her to finish the thought.
Her brows knitted as the information sunk in, and… "Abomination magic, at the higher levels, lets the use turn into an abomination." A lightbulb lit up! "Which guarantees the safety of being reconstructed from abomination slime."
"Mhm—" He nodded. "—that spell is only a mimicry of actual teleportation, only usable by becoming an abomination."
"How do you know so much about teleportation magic?" She wasn't too excited at having to become an abomination like Deamonne just to mimic teleportation.
"Because—" Ah, now it was his turn to be prideful. "—I can teleport, wholly and truly."
Amity rolled her eyes. Leave it to the Prince of the Isles to be able to do something most grown witches and wizards couldn't.
"Besides, Lilith didn't tell you the whole truth. While she may not be able to teleport, she can most definitely create portals with her staff to some extent." Hunter pointed out.
"I'm still stuck on you being able to teleport." But, it was good to know that she could ask Lilith about portals, even if they required a staff.
Hunter shrugged, still smug. "Maybe I'll get to show you one day. It's technically called warp magic, but it is the closest thing to true teleportation."
Amity, not one to give up an opportunity to sneak in some extra skills, agreed. "I'll hold you to it."
Their steps stopped.
They had reached the door leading back into the ballroom.
"Well, Blight." Hunter regarded her positively, much lighter than the beginning of their meeting. "It was nice talking to you. I look forward to your House's continued patronage to the throne."
"Same to you, Whittabane." Amity ignored the additional pulse from her necklace. "It'd be nice Prince Hunter more often."
Hunter remained… unreadable, at the mention of seeing him more.
"Maybe next year, Amity Blight."
With that, he pushed the doors open, instantly greeted by warmer air and the flow of music. She stepped in right behind him, watching as Hunter cut through the few guests near the front and found his place at Belos's side once more.
Only now did the entire encounter settle into Amity's mind, realizing that the boy who stood next to the Emperor was much less a stranger now than when she had first seen him around an hour ago.
All she had wanted was some fresh air.
The pulse of her necklace grew less sharp, but more incessant. Amity shrugged off the oddity of her experience and scanned the ballroom for her parents, finding them both seated at a smaller table towards the middle, her Mother looking towards her with a hand on her own pendant.
Amity made her way to her parents with haste, her Mother ceasing the telepathic call. As she neared, she noticed the oddly pleased expression on her Mother's face— whom patiently waited for her to take a seat.
"Well, Mittens—" Odalia started, not waiting for her to speak first. "—do my eyes deceive, or was that the Prince you just walked in besides?"
No wonder Odalia Blight is in a good mood. Any slight displeasure at tardiness faded away to her opportunistic mindset.
"Yes Mom. I—" Amity wondered what if phrasing would matter in this situation "—asked for the nearest balcony, one without any smokers, and he happened to be there too."
Her Mother believed in good fortune, and to her? This is definitely good fortune. She looked at Amity expectantly, knowing there had to be more.
"We introduced ourselves. His name's Hunter, and he knew about our contributions."
That was good enough to give Odalia some pause— though it is definitely not enough to end her interrogation.
Even her Dad looked to be interested, which is rare for the man who's mind is always in the clouds. Hoping to keep him in the conversation, Amity recalled Hunter's remark on his work.
"He called Dad one of the greatest minds of our time, and that the Emperor values his work." Amity brought up, taking pride in her Father's recognition.
The genius in question looked pleased, always happy to have his advancements appreciated, especially from royalty. Well, as pleased as Alador Blight could look. Odalia, however, marveled at the news much more than her husband.
"This is perfect news, Mittens—" Odalia looked towards where the Prince sat, contemplative. "—very good for the future of our family. House Blight, first to be acquainted with the Prince of the Isles." Amity hadn't thought of it that way.
"The others must've noticed it as well, which places us in a favorable position— elevated in just one night. Amity, dear, you stumbled us onto a stroke of good fortune. We'll capitalize on it as soon as possible, and with how close the evening is to ending—" She never liked it when Mom schemed with her as an attribute… but it's for the good of the family. "—no one else is likely to meet with the Prince tonight."
True to her word, plates and such were being cleared away by the servers, leaving behind just the white cloth that covered the tables— embroidered with the Emperor's sigil. Goblets of blue wine, Centura Vinum, were brought out and placed in front of each House's heads. The color, according to Hexside, is to represent the blood of the Titan.
"We'll have to make some changes from hereon. Especially you, Mittens." Her Mother spoke idly, swirling the contents of the goblet in one hand. The Emperor's castle truly held the most luxurious of all items.
"My grades are—" Before Amity could finish, Odalia placed a hand on her shoulder, supposedly to appease her worries.
"You grades are perfect, Amity, as Blight's should be. Do not doubt yourself. However, your choice in…" She followed her Mother's gaze, finding Willow and Augustus at the end of it. "…companions, needs some pruning. From tomorrow onwards, you'll cease acquaintanceship with the lesser folk. You have the Brewer and the Crane to associate yourself with."
"Mother, but I've known Willow for—" Amity felt her Mother squeeze her shoulder lightly, stopping her meager protest. "This is for your own good, Mittens. We're moving up in life, and people like them will only weigh you down. Besides, it's better to cut them off now, before they get any delusions of loyalty from their superiors."
Amity fell silent, words bubbled up from her throat, arguments to be made about the value of her friendships.
"You won't disappoint me now, will you?" Amity felt her Mother twirl the locks of hair that framed her face, a proud look on her face. "You're the pride and joy of our family's name, Amity. I know you'd never let me, or your Father, down." Said Father in question is lost in thought once more, the conversation might as well be in another room.
"Yes, Mom. I'll… talk to Willow at school tomorrow—" At the expectant look from her Mother, she added. "—for the last time."
Odalia hummed in approval, pleased with her daughter's devotion. "Don't be too dreary about it, dear. You'll have plenty of friends, much more worthy of your presence." Amity nodded, knowing that a lack of agreement would only extend this further.
"Oh and, didn't you say you wanted to dye your hair, Mittens? I thought about it—" Amity perked up slightly, remember her Mother's dismissive tone when she had broached the subject earlier this week. "—and green might not be a bad look on you."
It wasn't… well, Amity hadn't thought about which color she'd pick, but green hadn't crossed her mind due to already sharing eye colors with her siblings. She sees why her Mother would like it, and she didn't want to disappoint her so…
"Could I go for a lighter green?" She asked, watching as her Mother considered it for a moment, before visibly acquiescing.
"You can choose any shade you like, Mittens." Mom brushed over cheek with a thumb, a smile of approval on her face.
Amity smiled too, happy to have made her proud while still retaining some personal preference in the color she'd choose.
"Children of The Isles!"
The smiling faces turned to the front, everyone in the ballroom pushing back their seats and standing up to listen to the closing statement of the evening's event.
Amity found that Hunter had stood up, and unlike every other non-House head in the ballroom, also held a goblet of wine.
"Today has been another wonderful celebration of our victory over the forces of Wild Magic! I take great pride, both as your Emperor and through the Titan's Will, in seeing you rejoice and partake in the revelry! While our struggle against untamed magic is an arduous one, that should not stop you from enjoying the fruits of your labor!"
The Emperor raised his goblet up high, in synchrony with Hunter, with the everyone else following suit unanimously.
"Esteemed Witches and Wizards, partake in the Blood of the Titan, for He ordains you as His people!"
Following the example of their Emperor and the Prince, there is a moment of silence as the goblets were drained of their supposed ichor.
Lowering his goblet, the Emperor moved the hand in a sweeping motion towards all his guests. "With this, we end today's celebrations. I bid the youth that has gathered here today to follow in the honorable paths of their parents. The Titan has well-tidings for all who are virtuous and noble in their deeds. May you all follow in His vision!"
With that, the Emperor placed his goblet down, the guests exchanging final farewells as the rear exits are opened up by the scouts. Belos exchanged a few inaudible words with Lilith, before turning away and departing— alongside with Hunter, who fell into step beside him.
Amity and her parents made to leave, having already finished their conversations before the Emperor's speech. She saw Skara and Boscha offering her a short wave, which she returned— only to notice Willow waving at her too.
She turned away, unable to look at her friend.
As they left the castle, crossing over the bridge that lead inside, their carriage waited for them alongside many others. While most were pulled by horses and unicorns, those of the higher Houses tended to be pulled by beings fitting their magic of choice— such the runebears and direwolves of the Beast Keepers.
Their carriage, as per her Father's preference, is pulled by Abomatons that he has shaped into steeds. These weren't production models, recalling something her Dad said about structural integrity, but they had a role to play in heightening the visible status of the Blights.
After they climbed aboard, parents before her, Amity looked backwards to the grand castle— recalling the conversation with Hunter. In a way, she looked forward to seeing him again.
Next year, she'd look back to this moment, knowing that this was last time anyone spoke to the Prince of The Isles.
—
"You seem lost in thought, dear boy."
Hunter snapped out of his reverie, having lost himself in the automated action of following his Uncle down the halls of their castle. They had just reached the gates to the throne room, which opened up at a wave of Belos's hand, closing behind them a moment later.
"Apologies, Emperor. I'm still thinking about the many faces I saw today—" He paused. "—I've never seen so many witches gathered in one place, outside of the Coven's Scout training."
"No need to stand on formality when it's just us, Hunter." Belos brought a hand up to his mask, pulling it off and lowering the collar of his cloak, leaving him as just Philip Whittabane— barring the scar running down his face, currently thinner than a hair.
Hunter smiled at the more expressive and kinder visage of Uncle Phillip. "Sorry, Uncle. I'm still getting used to…" He gestured to the throne room. "…all this."
Belos hummed, understanding Hunter's situation. He had to get acclimated to the role of Emperor too, long ago.
"I didn't see you eat at the Ball, Hunter. You're a growing boy, one with a consistent training schedule." Belos reached out to his nephew, ruffling his hair affectionately. "You have to eat properly if you wish to see the fruits of your effort."
Hunter, now grinning, nodded to his Uncle's words. "Will do, Uncle. I'll go and grab a bite from the kitchen."
Belos traced his thumb along the grooves of Hunter's circlet. "Belay that, Hunter. I doubt there's anything good left down there at this hour." Pulling his hand away, Belos gestured for Hunter to follow. "Come, I'm feeling a tad hungry as well."
Hunter followed, walking past the throne and towards a door to the rear. Belos went through, holding it open for Hunter as they ventured into what was their shared section of the castle— before Hunter was moved.
"I should have some taurus cuts and griffin eggs in store. I know it's not exactly an evening meal, but we can make exceptions." Belos placed his mask on the nearest table, glancing at Hunter as he spoke.
The boy, despite his impressive ability to maintain a flat face, couldn't hide the gleam in his eyes at the prospect of his favorite meal.
Belos huffed in amusement, reaching out to ruffle Hunter's hair once more— but brushing it back as well. "I'll get the pan, grab the ingredients from the fridge."
While he's used to getting most of his meals cooked for him, perks of being the Emperor, sometimes you have a certain taste only you can fulfill. Ever since Hunter got around, Belos has made it a habit to cook meals together, just like how he used to with Caleb.
It's no coincidence that they share a favorite meal, after all.
Belos put the pan over the lit stove, waiting only a moment before adding in the appropriate amount of oil. It wasn't exactly olive oil… but Belos couldn't differentiate the two at this point.
Hunter came by quickly, placing the aforementioned eggs and slabs of steak by the counter. As efficient as ever, especially now that he's completed his Coven's training, Hunter began setting up the plates and cutlery.
As Belos went about searing the first sides of the steak, he saw Hunter place the third ingredient onto the counter, as well as their preferred spices.
Butter, at least, seems to be a universal constant.
One side done, Belos flipped the steaks over and added in a cube of cold butter, then grabbed a spoon with which to baste the meat. A close approximation of thyme and something akin to a garlic clove followed soon-after, mainly for the aroma.
Hunter, ever useful, happened to be pressing titians into glasses— a fruit Belos discovered on the Isles as a good substitute for oranges. The only difference is that titians are sweeter, which in a rare occurrence has made Belos prefer them over oranges. He isn't too sure if Caleb would've agreed.
Both sides seared, Belos took a moment to be proud of how it was guaranteed to be perfectly rare steaks. After three hundred years, you tend to master the things you enjoy.
Placing the utensils aside, he plucked a pair of tongs and moved to their kitchen's dining table, placing their portions onto their plates.
Moving back, he wouldn't waste the well-seasoned pan— cracking a handful of eggs into it. By the time the steaks were rested, the eggs will be done.
He preferred sunny-side up, whilst Hunter preferred his scrambled, creating an odd duality in the pan. The two divided sides sizzled, talking back under the high heat— a wooden spatula kept Hunter's side moving, preventing clumps,
Turning off the heat, Phillip moved the pan to the plates as the residual heat would finish the cooking process, and served their preferred halves next to their cooling steaks.
He briefly considered making a quick pan sauce, but discarded it. Hunter wasn't a fan of altering the taste or texture of his steaks, and the boy had just placed their cool glasses of juice onto the table.
As Belos went above removing his cloak and hanging it over his seat's backrest, Hunter followed suit— leaving them much more fittingly casual for the setting.
There is quite the delight in watching your own flesh and blood enjoy a meal you made for them. Phillip still remembers how much his mother seemed to feed into his and Caleb's bottomless appetite, proud that they never wasted a morsel of her cooking.
While he ate with contentment, he watched Hunter devour his meal with gusto— yet without breaking any of the table manners Belos had instilled in him. All the trouble of finding perfect substitutes for the ingredients seemed inconsequential in these moments.
Lost as he is in the moment, Belos almost forgot what he'll be going to ask of Hunter.
The Prince in question had just polished off his plate, washing it down with the titian juice.
"Hunter—"
Hunter looked up, noted that he outpaced his Uncle, and looked sheepish. "Sorry, Uncle, I got—"
Belos snorted, raising a hand to halt his nephew's apologetic tone. "Hunter, there is nothing wrong with finishing your meal before another. If you see it as an issue of idle hands, make tea."
Shaking his head lightly at the child's antics, so similar to his brother's, Belos reached towards his cloak. "I have something much more important to tell you. A legacy, one which you stand to inherit, especially now that your training is complete."
Hunter mulled the words over. "More things to do as the prince?" He wanted to help his Uncle in any way he can.
"This means much more than your position as my heir, Hunter. This relates to the Titan's Will, an inheritance of destiny far beyond simple hierarchy. Just as I am Messiah before I am the Emperor, you too have a cross to bear.."
Rustling of leather, Hunter could hear something metallic being withdrawn.
"From this moment forward, you will be a guardian unlike any other. A stalwart protector, a knight sworn to a higher cause—"
Belos placed it onto the table, facing Hunter.
Hunter saw the golden glint before his mind put it all together.
"—Hunter, you are now the Golden Guard."