Damn, I can't believe it took me this long for another update! Happy New Year, everyone! On the bright side, I can now start working on other works, including the Helluva Dad mid-season special, featuring an original story centered around Jake.

Enjoy!

Hellwalkers

Chapter 24: Behind Closed Doors

Moxxie was worried that Frankie and Donnie might tag along with him once the festival ended, but thankfully, the twin sharks had to join Jawns and return to Dad. He did promise them he'd hang out with them a bit more before they left—rather, Frankie 'coerced' him into promising it in exchange for not telling Dad he lived there.

How he missed those two's antics.

"Friends of yers, I guess." Moxxie turned around and saw Striker leaning against the nearest wooden post.

"Yeah, they were kinda like big brothers to me when I was a child. How about you? Jawns seemed to have taken a liking to you."

"Ye know that guy?"

"He works for my father. Turns out he's... visiting the town."

"Ye don't seem happy about it."

Moxxie shifted uncomfortably. "Let's say Dad and I didn't part on precisely good terms."

Striker noticed it was a sensitive topic and decided not to press it. "Does half the prize 'money' cover the doctor visit and the town Imp stuff?"

"That was unexpected, but it should at least cover the basics. We should find Jane and go to the doctor. I made an appointment for eight o'clock, so we really should get going–"

"Hey, Striker!" to the Hellwalker's distaste, Blitzo came from behind and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. "Congrats on winning, pal! It's a pity you tied with the shark mafioso, but– Hey, Mox!" he chirped as he noticed Moxxie. "Did you meet my new friend?"

Striker rattled his tail.

"Yeah, Blitz. He asked me where he could find the doctor to take his newborn baby."

"Oh, you're going into town? Nice! I think I'll tag along. I must get a nice bath before the bonfire at Millie's folks' place."

"Blitz, you weren't invited–"

"It's no big deal; invitations are just formalities. Sides, you might need some backup when Travers shows up—Oh, look, there's Millie!"

"He's more annoyin' than a flea in a hellbeast's mane," Striker murmured as Blitzo approached Millie and Jane.

Moxxie sighed. "You have no idea..."

They caught up with their respective wives, with whom Blitzo was chatting. He seemed to be taken aback when he recognized Jake, but Millie explained the situation. To Moxxie's dismay and Striker's chagrin, Millie and Blitzo joined them on the trip into town; Striker looked like he was trying his best not to snap at the latter as he constantly violated his personal space. They first went straight to the bank to change the check for cash; Jane, of course, carried the money, given her husband's unfamiliarity with it. Afterward, they headed to the hospital on the other side of town.

Moxxie kept an eye out for his father's men. Unfortunately, he spotted many familiar faces—mostly from his father's inner circle—scattered throughout town. How couldn't he? Shark demons stand out in Wrath; given their aquatic biology, this ring's hot and dry climate isn't suitable for them, so it's improbable to find them here unless there's... business involved. The biggest concentration of sharks was at the Inn. Dad must be there at the moment.

"Why are there so many sharks around?" Jake inquired curiously.

"They're mafiosos, kiddo, so you better stay away from them unless you want to get whacked," Blitzo warned.

"What does 'whacked' mean?"

"Grown-up stuff, boy." Striker narrowed his eyes. "And ye better not bite any more tails, ya hear? We're gonna have a little 'talk' about that once we get home."

Much to Striker's relief, Blitzo went his own way—for the time being, at least—as they finally arrived at the hospital. To keep Jake from causing a mess inside, Moxxie offered to keep an eye on him while Striker and Jane took Amelia to her appointment; thankfully, Jane was once a 'town Imp' herself, so she'd know what to do—not to mention she's the only one who'd be able to keep Striker from attacking the doctor when he takes Amelia for the tests.

Keeping an eye on the impling proved more problematic than anticipated, as Jake occasionally wandered off whenever something caught his eye or violated people's personal space. Ultimately, Moxxie took him to the nearby bakery to pick some sweet bread to distract him, with Millie tagging along. Jake's little tail wagged, eyes glowing with glee as he saw all of the shelves with freshly baked bread. There were so many choices, some of which he'd never seen before, and he wanted to try them all.

"Wait a second!" Moxxie grabbed his arm before he could wander off by himself. "Don't even think of eating them on the spot, young man!"

"Whyyy? These town tasties are for eating, aren't they?"

"Yes, but other people want to eat them too. It'd be rude to barge in and eat everything yourself. Besides, we would have to pay for everything you eat."

Jake groaned. "Again with the 'paying' stuff! Why are town imps so obsessed with it?"

Moxxie barely held back a groan of dismay and glanced worriedly at Millie. Jake's behavior didn't seem to put her off; instead, she smiled fondly.

"See over there?" she pointed behind the counter, where the baker and his wife worked on the dough for the next sweet rolls. "It takes time, effort, and ingredients to make the bread. To make a living, the bakers need to recover the money they invested in the ingredients, so they sell the bread rather than just giving it away for free. Otherwise, they wouldn't have any cash to pay for their house, food, bills, and ingredients to make more bread once it runs out."

Jake blinked. "Man, ye town Imps are weird, but I guess it kinda makes sense."

"Well, how about you pick some 'town tasties' before I change my mind?" Moxxie said through grit teeth, prompting Jake to go to the shelves and sniff the bread.

"Don't be so hard on him, Mox. He's just an impling, even if he does have some interesting quirks." Millie paused for a moment. "So... your family employs sharks?"

Moxxie's stomach sank. He'd been hoping Millie wouldn't bring that up. He wasn't ready! "Y-Yeah. My... father is kinda obsessed with sharks for some reason."

"You think he came here? I mean, there's lots of sharks hanging around here."

At last, Jake returned. He was carrying a lot of pastries. Damn it, how can that impling eat so much? With a sigh of dismayed resignation, Moxxie went to the counter to pay. They were about to leave with the big paper bag when the little bell on the door tingled, announcing a new arrival. The customers went silent when they saw the newcomer.

"I hope there's at least some decent food in this shit hole."

Moxxie paled. At the door stood an older Imp with a crooked tail and white scars on his eyes. He was outfitted in a navy blue coat and darker pants, both adorned with thin red stripes, and a matching black hat adorned his head. Accompanying him was a tall, striped, dark green shark with piercing red eyes clad in a suit similar to the Imp's. The two looked mostly unchanged from the last time Moxxie saw them both.

Let this be a lesson, Moxxie. This is what happens when you cross me.

When they locked eyes, Moxxie wanted to dig a hole and disappear into the ground.

Silence. Then...

"There's my boy! Get over here and give your daddy a hug!"

"Daddy?!" Millie and Jake repeated simultaneously.

"I only let Moxxie call me that. Unless you pay me!" The mobster Imp laughed.

Moxxie's swallowed hard and toyed with his bowtie. "Guys..." he cleared his throat nervously. "This is my father, Crimson." his tail hid between his legs as his father and the shark moved closer. "Sir, this is–"

"Millie! I'm his wife!"

"And what a beautiful wife you are." Crimson kissed Millie's hand in a gentlemanly manner. "Mox, where have you been hiding this pretty little thing?"

"I'm sure he would have introduced us... eventually."

Crimson smiled politely. "Oh, I'm sure."

"Hey, put me down!"

Moxxie's stomach sank when he saw Jake dangle by the shirt from the shark's hold. The impling must have seen his father's crooked tail and tried to bite it in his usual overly curious manner, only for the bodyguard to catch him in the act. Jake was squirming and tried to claw at his captor's arm to no avail. Then again, Moxxie was grateful Jake didn't get away with it.

"Put the kid down, Alessio," Crimson said, and the shark obeyed. "Sorry about that, kid. My consigliere is quite... protective of me."

"Consa-what?"

"So, Mox, is this kid my grandson?"

Moxxie—and Millie—instantly denied it, their faces red. "W-We haven't had any children yet, sir. This is Jake, the son of a friend of mine. We–"

"Why does your tail look like that, Mr. Crimson?" Jake asked. Moxxie barely managed to hold back a dismayed squeal.

"Occupational hazards, kid. Nothing you should be worrying about." Crimson chuckled, but Moxxie didn't miss the annoyed undertone in his voice. Alessio leaned down and whispered something into his ear. "Well, it was nice seeing you, Mox, but I'm afraid there's a little issue I must tend to in person. Hopefully, we'll have time to catch up these days."

"Y-Yes, sir..."

Once his father and Alessio left, Moxxie released the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. It had been so long since he last saw him, but he still felt tiny when he was face to face with him.

"Hey, Moxxie, what does 'coniglerse' mean?

It took Striker every fiber of self-control not to lunge at the pediatrician for touching his baby daughter during the examination. Jane's warning frowns helped considerably. Admittedly, he almost lost it when the doctor was about to prick Amelia with a tool—a syringe Jane would tell him later—to draw blood samples. Striker refused to let go of his daughter afterward.

According to the 'test results,' Amelia was in 'preemie' territory for being born before the due date. However, she was surprisingly healthy and in good weight for a preemie, so there would be no need to put her in the NICU. But he did suggest they bring her often to keep an eye on her growth and make an appointment for her vaccines. He also suggested plenty of 'kangaroo care,' whatever that meant. He gave them a list of instructions to help with her development these crucial weeks and a list of certain brands of diapers and formula for preemies.

"I thought he'd never shut up." was the first thing Striker said once they were out of the office.

"He was just explaining how to properly care for a preemie, Clayton."

"Why do Town Imps like making up such long, overly complicated words? Heck, if Brash saw me now, he'd throw a fit."

"He always did say I was a bad influence."

Striker chuckled. "

They met Moxxie, Millie, and Jake outside the hospital. Jake happily stuffed himself with town tasties, prompting his mother to take his bag away to the impling's protests.

"You shouldn't eat too much bread in one day. Besides, you are grounded for biting that shark's tail." she scolded sternly. That was enough to make Jake go quiet with an unhappy pout.

Striker, of course, wanted to go back to the forest as soon as possible. However, Millie—who still thought they lived in a neighboring town—invited them to stay the night at her family's farm. The shark mobsters had booked the Inn, and it'd be dangerous to travel at night with a hellbeast pack nearby.

"No, no, don't worry about it! We can handle a bunch of hellbeasts!" Striker said with evident hesitance. "Sides, we wouldn't like to bother ya."

"I know you can, but it might be difficult with a newborn babe that might get hurt if you get attacked."

This time, even Jane looked reluctant. It would look suspicious if anyone saw their hellbeast forms around the farm right when they were staying. Not to mention someone could get hurt. Striker also wanted to make sure the pack was okay. However, it'd be even more suspicious if they ignored the warnings and decided to leave alone with a newborn baby. Besides, they still had to get Amelia's supplies, but the general store had already closed. And so, Striker had no choice but to reluctantly accept the offer.

It was nightfall when they arrived, and Millie's siblings were setting up a bonfire and a wooden table where today's game would be skinned. The previous times he's been here—as both an Imp and a hellbeast—he's only seen the building from the outside. This time, he and his family were invited inside to a warm, well-lit farmhouse. Millie's parents, Joe and Lin, looked like decent people despite the former being a veteran hellbeast hunter. They gladly welcomed the Velkan family to spend the night at the farm. Millie's sister Sallie May—Striker was admittedly curious about why she has black-and-white male horns—led them to one of the spare rooms.

Jake, of course, began sniffing around and exploring the bedroom. His inspection soon led him to what Moxxie called the 'bathroom.' "Hey, Dad, there's a strange seat in here. It's got a puddle of water at the bottom."

Jane guessed what her son was going to do. She ran a beeline to the bathroom and pulled him away from the toilet before he could drink from it.

"That water's not for drinking, Jake! People poop and pee in there."

Jake and Striker stared at the toilet. "On that thing? How does it even work?" the latter asked. Jane sighed.

"It's not that hard. You sit and do your thing. In your case, it's like peeing out in the forest, except you have to aim at the bottom. Once you're done, you pull this lever, and all the waste goes away." She pulled down the toilet lever. The Hellwalkers watched as the water flushed down the white seat before it refilled itself with clean water.

"And where does it go to?" Striker asked skeptically.

"In big cities, it goes into a sewage system that disposes of all the waste into the ocean."

Striker snorted—typical Town Imps ruining the environment. Amelia woke up and began to cry. The Hellwalker rocked her while his wife sat on a wooden chair and lowered her blouse. Then he handed Amelia to her. The little one instantly latched on.

The exhaustion and soreness from the Pain Games began to catch on. He was skeptical about the Town Imp bed, but his aching back made him forget all precautions. Once he lay down on it, he realized how soft and comfortable it was compared to the straw beds they had in the Den. And the pillows—goodness' sake, they're so soft and squishy. Jake joined him in shortly after, his little tail wagging.

"Daaad."

"What is it, pup?"

"Can we get a Townie bed?"

"Yeah, if ye want to give yer uncle a heart attack."

Jane rolled her eyes with a grin. "A mattress wouldn't last three days in the Den. The pack would fight over it and rip it to shreds."

"Aww!"

Knock knock!

Moxxie poked his head inside. Once he realized what Jane was doing, he quickly closed the door. "S-Sorry!"

"Jake, pass me a towel from the bathroom."

"But mooom, I'm so comfortable!"

"Jake," Jane repeated. The impling reluctantly got up and fetched the towel. Jane covered Amelia and her exposed breast with it. "It's okay, Moxxie. You can come in."

Striker was so relaxed in bed that he didn't throw the thespian a glare for briefly glimpsing his wife's body, even if by accident.

"The bonfire's starting in a few minutes. Everyone, including Blitzo and Travers, is already down." Moxxie sourly uttered the latter's name.

"The guy with the ponytail? There's somethin' goin' on between the two of ya or somethin'?" Striker inquired.

"Not really. He's just Millie's childhood friend, her ex, and my in-laws wish he were with her instead of me, but nothing's wrong!" Moxxie briefly opened the door to make sure the hallway was truly empty. "I also wanted to ask you... Is there absolutely no way for you to keep your inner hellbeasts inside your bodies? Not even for one night?"

"I told ya, townie. Once you've turned, there's no way to undo it." Striker sighed. "But yeah, I know what ya mean. I don't want yer in-laws to wake up in the middle of the night and see a hellbeast inside their house."

"If you're worried about them waking up, don't worry. They're very heavy sleepers. A flaming twister might pass through here, and they wouldn't even bat an eye. It's Blitzo and Travers I'm worried about... They'll stay here too because the Town Gates have closed and won't open until morning. They're light sleepers and'll be the first to react if they hear a noise, especially if it comes from a hellbeast."

"Where will they be sleeping?" Jane inquired.

"There was no room for Blitz, so he's staying in the barn. Travers will be sharing a room with Henry downstairs."

"Look, we can figure something out later. For now, you might want to go down and have something to eat. I bet you're starving."

Striker's stomach growled as if in agreement with Moxxie. "Ye're not wrong. I hope yer in-laws didn't spoil that venison."

"I'll join you once Amelia's done eating," Jane added.

Striker and Jake accompanied Moxxie downstairs. The former's tail rattled in anger as they passed the 'trophy wall' adorned with mounted hellbeast jaws, fur, and even a head. He'd been close to assaulting Joe when he bragged about his first kill. He was sure that Brash would have done so. His brother's always been the more reckless of the two.

Everyone was gathered around the bonfire in wooden chairs, eagerly waiting for dinner to be served. Lin was working on a dish in a big, metallic pot hanging atop the fire. Striker's mouth watered at the pleasant smell of venison and spices rising from the pot.

"About time you boys came down! Hey, where's Jane and the little one?" Lin inquired.

"She's feedin' Amelia. She'll be down in a while."

"Hopefully, she won't take too long. Venison stew tastes better when eaten right out of the pot!"

Striker and Jake sat in two empty chairs next to Millie and Moxxie. To Striker's chagrin, Blitzo sat next to him. Jane finally joined them just in time for dinner—Amelia was blissfully sleeping in the makeshift baby carrier. Lin and Sallie May began handing out wooden bowls with stew. Thankfully, using a spoon wasn't as complicated as the lassoing thing, so Striker had no trouble using it—Jake, on the other hand, discarded it in favor of dipping his snout into the bowl to eat.

"Wow! That impling is certainly hungry!"

Striker couldn't blame his son. The stew was delicious. It had a different taste from the ones they always made at the Den. It was a bit spicier. It also had more vegetables, which weren't found in the woods.

"So, Strikes, where did you learn to run on all fours like that?" Blitzo asked.

Caught off guard, Striker didn't give an immediate answer. "I've lived in the woods for a long time. Ye could say I had to learn to move quickly in there."

"In the woods? Seriously? How come you didn't get eaten by a hellbeast?" one of Millie's brothers asked half-skeptically.

"There weren't any hellbeasts where I lived." he lied.

"Lucky you. We can't even stroll through these accursed forests without encountering those animals."

"Hellbeasts ain't stupid. They won't show themselves if you're wanderin' around with a weapon."

"Aye. Somehow, it seems to be common knowledge amongst this particular pack. They're smarter than we originally gave them credit for." Joe pointed out. "I got the feeling the Pale One is behind it. That animal seems smarter than any hellbeast I've seen around these parts."

"Oh, yeah! Dad's very–OW!" Striker's boot stomped on Jake's foot, cutting him off. Thankfully, the impling didn't need to ask why. "We're lucky to have never run into one of those big, furry hellbeasts."

Blitzo laughed. "Just you wait, kiddo. I'm gonna hang the Pale One's head on my wall."

Striker's tail rattled.

Travers scoffed. "I'll believe that when I see it, Blitzo."

"The 'O' is silent, dumbass!"

"Hey, Travers! How about you tell us of your first slain hellbeast?"

Striker stiffened. And he wasn't the only one. Blitzo's expression soured instantly.

"Are you sure? I wouldn't like to make some people uncomfortable," Travers said, glancing at Moxxie.

"Oh, don't worry. Surely his stomach can handle it," Lynn said, to which Moxxie murmured under his breath, and Millie frowned at her mother.

"If you insist, Lynn." Travers got to his feet and began his tale. "I was barely ten when my Pa, may he rest in peace, decided I was ready to accompany him into the forest to check the traps. The edge of the woods was closer to town and the farms, so hellbeast attacks were more frequent. And yet, while they had been sprung, none had a single hellbeast. On the bright side, we had plenty of rabbits for dinner. Then, as we were going back to town, we heard a cry of pain. We went to look, and you won't guess what we found."

"A hellbeast?" Henry asked

"Not just any hellbeast. It was the Pale One!" Sallie May pointed out.

Striker dropped his half-empty bowl, eyes widening.

"Back then, it was just a cub with no mane. Still, we couldn't believe our luck. The Hunter's Guild was offering a considerable reward for it. We were just about to shoo it when another pale hellbeast appeared and attacked us."

"There's two?" Blitzo inquired.

"There were two. The other one hasn't shown up in months, so it might have left its pack," Joe clarified.

Travers continued. "The bigger one eventually cornered Pa against a tree. I was close to pissing my pants!" Blitzo snickered at the remark. "I'd heard stories about the hellbeasts, but it was the first time I'd seen one that size in the flesh. I thought of getting help, but I was afraid Pa would get eaten. And in any case, I doubt help would have arrived in time.

"That's when I saw Pa's blessed shotgun a few feet away. He'd told me never to use it until he said otherwise because I wasn't ready, but I wasn't thinking then. All I was thinking about was saving Pa. So I grabbed the shotgun and PAM! It shot cleanly through the older Pale One's paw! The creature shrieked in pain and retreated into the forest. The little cub had escaped the trap too and followed suit."

Striker's hands trembled, tail rattling in utter rage. He still remembered Brash's screams as the blessed bullet shot through his right paw and the bleeding hole in his Imp body when they returned to the Den.

How Mother had to recur to forbidden Hellwalker magic to save his life—at the cost of her lifespan.

He shed tears of impotence as his brother went through that agonizing process, and Striker was unable to help him.

And the bastard responsible was right before him, narrating it like some heroic tale.

He was close to springing to his feet and lunging at Travers when Jake suddenly spoke up. "You're mean!"

Everyone turned to Jake, caught off guard by the sudden hostility. "What?" Travers said.

"Ye hurt him!" Jake snapped, tail rattling. "Ye didn't have to hurt his leg!"

Travers raised an eyebrow. "So, you're saying I should have let the hellbeast kill my father? What if it tried to kill me after? What would have become of my mother and siblings if we'd both died?"

"Well, you were going to kill his brother!" Striker gave his son a warning look, but Jake didn't notice. "Maybe ye and yer dad should have stayed out of the forest!"

"Look, kid, you're not from around here, so you do not know our situation. This town is nearing overpopulation, and on top of that, the Goetia Family takes the grain and produce from our farms to stuff themselves, leaving the rest of us to fight for the scraps. We no longer have enough land to grow crops or raise our cattle, so we must expand the borders. For that, we need to cut down trees, but we can't do that when hellbeasts are prowling around and attacking people."

Striker got to his feet and pulled Jake back, tail rattling as he met Travers's gaze. "Have ye ever considered that might be the reason hellbeast attack yer folks? Think about it. One day, yer people just arrived and began cuttin' down their home and hunting the animals they feed on for yerselves. As if that weren't bad enough, ye place around traps that hurt and kill 'em. How would ya feel if that was done to ya? Wouldn't ye fight back? Wouldn't ye fight the bluebloods for taking all of yer lands and food?"

Travers's reaction was not what he expected. The hunter looked down with an unreadable expression.

"It's them or use. Yes, it sucks for the hellbeasts, but we have mouths to feed, too, you know."

"'Sides,' it's not like we can talk to the hellbeasts and try to reason with them. They're animals," Joe pointed out. "It is a pity. Some think this is the last pack in Wrath."

Striker's frown softened in utter shock. That... was not an answer he was expecting from hellbeast hunters.

A dim gold glow in Travers' belt buckle caught his eye. Suddenly, the hunter's pants slipped down, revealing pink underwear with red hearts.

"What the–?!" In his hurry to lift them up, he fell backward. Joe, Sallie May, and John—the eldest of Millie's brothers—hurried to help him up. Blitzo snapped a picture and said something about 'this is going to voxtagram'.

"What in Satan's name just happened?!"

"You okay, Travers?"

"I don't know what happened! It's like someone pulled my pants down."

As Striker glanced toward the townie, he didn't miss how he tried to stifle back laughter. The Hellwalker subtly gave him a thumbs-up.

Following the instructions on the page screenshot, Octavia drew chalk lines on the floor: two circles, one inside the other, representing her brain and her subconscious, with rune language writing in the space between them. Five candles sat at intervals around the circles.

"Is the showy frippery really necessary?" Brash asked, one eyebrow raised.

"I have no idea, but that's what the instructions say," Octavia replied. "I only managed to snap the page explaining how to do it, not which parts are important. Still, it'd better not to leave them out if they are important."

At first, she'd wanted to do the ritual in her room but decided against it, as it was close to her parents' bedrooms, especially Dad's. Instead, she'd carried it out in the west wing, which was quite far from the bedrooms and isolated from any living quarters. Sides, she figured it'd be nice to have some company in case anything went wrong.

Octavia checked the time: 3 A.M. The witching hour, where magic is strongest. She cautiously peeked into the corridor outside. Not a single soul to be seen. Perfect.

"Ya sure ye wanna do this, girl? Mind-altering magic ain't to be taken lightly. If something goes wrong, it can permanently damage your psyche—or worse."

"I have to know what Dad is hiding." Octavia placed a bell inside Brash's cage. "Can you... pick it up?"

"I guess I could grab the handle with my teeth."

"If something goes wrong, ring it as loudly as you can. It will bring me out of the trance."

"How will I know if somethin' is goin' wrong inside yer head, girl?"

"My body could start convulsing or something, I guess."

Looking nervously at the circles, Octavia stepped gingerly inside, carefully keeping her tail away from the candles, and sat down. She began chanting the spell that would begin the ritual. The candles went dim, and the runes between the circles began to glow, their light snaking away toward Octavia's body. She did not move an inch as the bluish tendrils, glowing in a gentle light, swirled around her head and then disappeared into her forehead.

She began feeling sleepy. Octavia felt compelled to fight against it, but she did not. This is part of the ritual. Her body would enter a deep trance-like state while her consciousness traveled deep inside her mind.

Slowly, the young owl drifted into slumber...

...

When she next opened her eyes, she found herself in a... cloud? No, not a cloud. It was more like a nebula. Rather, it seemed to be in between cloud and nebula. It was blue with hints of lavender and black, swirling all around her, ebbing and flowing. There was a firm yet invisible surface beneath her feet. Above her head, a starry night sky with many stellar bodies stretched out into the horizon.

"So this is what the inside of my head looks like." Octavia mused. "Okay, where am I supposed to go now...?"

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw an ethereal hellbeast glowing dimly in gold light, staring right into her. Octavia noticed it was fettered in purple tendrils of energy, similar to the ones that appeared on her arm whenever the Hellwalker magic tried manifesting.

"Who are you...? What are you doing inside my mind?"

The ethereal hellbeast turned around and began walking away. It briefly halted, looking back at her, and Octavia felt it wanted her to follow. She guessed it wouldn't hurt. It's not like her own mind would hurt her, right?

As the owl princess followed the spirit through the mindscape, countless doors appeared in a shimmering haze. Curious, she approached the nearest one. It was made of crystal. All the doors were. With a trembling hand, Octavia grasped the handle and opened the door.

She recognized the palace ballroom back in Pride. It was decorated with colorful balloons and a big banner that read Happy Birthday Via. Many tables with chairs, piles of presents wrapped in colorful paper, and members of the Goetia Family were distributed throughout the room.

"Alright, everyone! It's time for the cake!"

Octavia gasped in surprise as children walked through her as if she were a ghost. They were all walking towards a table, where she saw her six-year-old self in front of a big birthday cake, flanked by both of her parents. Little Via blew the candles, followed by cheering and applause.

This is the memory of her sixth birthday party. And it was just like she remembered it.

Octavia stepped back into the mindscape, the crystal door slowly closing behind her, and glanced around at all the crustal doors. All of these are memories. Her curiosity got the better of her, and she began peeking into the nearby doorways, glimpsing into some of her fondest memories: trips to LooLooLand, etiquette lessons with Mom back when they were fun, Dad taking her to see the stars, amongst other things.

The spectral hellbeast awaited her outside the next memory door, eyes boring into her. Oh, right. She still had something to do.

Octavia followed the entity down the mindscape terrain. The further they went, the darker and dimmer the colors around them became. The nebulae changed into stormy clouds that flashed lighting now and then. The doors were made of dull gray stone rather than shiny clear crystal. Octavia swallowed hard. If the crystal doors are the good memories, these must be the bad ones. She hurried after her guide, not bothering to peek into these doors.

At last, the hellbeast stopped before a great stone door, much bigger than the rest and adorned with golden carvings. This one was shackled in purple energy tendrils, much like the hellbeast itself. Octavia's stomach churned at the sight. If she was bitten, this must be why she doesn't remember.

As Octavia reached out to touch the shackles, a strong headache made her retreat her arm. She tried again only to get the same result. To her right, the spirit hellbeast hissed and shook as its shackles pulsated. Did it feel the pain too?

And yet, it was staring at her as if expecting her to finish what she started.

Octavia took a deep breath. She must finish this. She needs to know the truth.

Her hands grasped the purple shackles in one swift movement. A splitting pain seared through her head. The spectral hellbeast twisted and trashed violently on the ground, letting out agonizing shrieks as the shackles seemed to tighten their grip

It took Octavia a great deal of willpower not to let go as she began reciting the counterspell. As the tendrils began to sizzle and flicker, the pain intensified tenfold.

She swore her head would split at any minute, but she pressed on.

At last, the shackles—both on the door and the hellbeast—vanished. Octavia collapsed, both hands grasping her head and tears of pain streaming down her face. Through her blurry vision, she sw the hellbeast on the ground, panting heavily. It definitely went through the same as her.

"H-Hey..." Octavia managed to get on her knees and move toward her fallen companion. A shiver ran down her spine as her fingers went right through the spirit's body. It left a warm, tingling sensation. "Are you okay...?"

The giant doors slammed open, enveloping them both in a white light.

The farmhouse was quiet. For a Hellwalker, however, nowhere is ever truly quiet. Striker was wide awake, silently listening to the tiniest creaks in the wooden floors throughout the house. He heard the faint footsteps of his wife downstairs; she'd gone down to the kitchen for a glass of water, AKA make sure everyone was sleeping before they transformed.

"Dad, I'm tired."

"Just a little longer, pup," Striker whispered. He heard footsteps coming down the hallway. Jane quickly entered the room and quietly closed the door behind her.

"All clear, boys."

Striker glanced at Amelia, blissfully asleep in the old cradle Lin had borrowed them for tonight. "Ye sure ye can handle it, doll?"

"We'll be fine, Clayton. You know it'll be some time before my hellbeast comes out again, so there's nothing to worry about," Jane assured him, opening the window. "Go on. Moxxie will join you shortly."

Jake was the first to drift off. His hellbeast body jumped out of his body and right next to the bed. Striker stiffened when the wood creaked underneath his weight. Jake climbed out of the window and jumped down to the ground. Realizing his hellbeast form would be too big to pass through the window, Striker knelt before it and rested his head and arms on the frame before closing his eyes. The Pale One emerged right outside and landed next to Jake.

"Is Moxxie comin', Dad?"

"Of course he is. He can't stay in there as a hellbeast, or he'll end up in his father-in-law's trophy wall." Striker's mane bristled.

He sniffed the air, eyes closed and ears open. As he suspected, everyone was asleep inside the house was fast asleep. He saw Moxxie sleeping with his wife in the room next to theirs. Then his hellbeast form manifested. The vermin tip-toed to the window, wood creaking underneath his weight.

"Hey, Moxxie– !"

Striker hissed at Jake. "Lower yer voice, boy! Travers might hear ya."

Moxxie's head warily poked out of the window. He squeezed through with some difficulty, but he tripped on his way down and landed on his back. Striker rolled his eyes. The vermin still had a lot to learn.

"Owow... I hope it doesn't leave a bruise on my body."

"Big deal, it was only a few meters high. Ye won't break a bone or anythin' like that."

Moxxie shook as he got to his feet. He looked back at the window, snorting in relief when he didn't hear Millie stirring. It was then that he realized there were only three of them. "Where's Jane? She's given birth. Shouldn't her hellbeast manifest now?"

"It doesn't come out immediately after childbirth. It might take a few days or weeks for it to manifest again. Don't ask why; it just works that way."

Jake began pulling on his father's mane. "Daad, come on! I wanna go play with the cubs!"

Striker was about to tell his son to lower his voice when his ear twitched. Wood creaked inside the house—inside Travers's room, specifically. One quick sniff alerted him that he'd stirred awake.

"Hide!"

The Hellwalkers quickly scattered. Jake ran and ducked behind the well, Striker hid behind the nearest wagon, and Moxxie, with no other hiding spot nearby, ran and lowered his body as much as he could right beneath the window. Travers poked above him a few seconds later. His long-time rival scanned through the area, blessed rifle in hand.

Moxxie held his breath as he lay completely still.

At last, Travers retreated into the room and closed the window. Still, Moxxie waited a bit longer to snort in relief. That was a close call!

This time, they didn't bother to wait for someone to peek out of the window, instead disappearing into the woods.