Chapter Text
Cover art by @lovemoroporo !
Sweet Child O Mine
**** Fatherhood ****
*******
She's got eyes of the bluest skies
As if they thought of rain
I hate to look into those eyes and see an ounce of pain
Her hair reminds me of a warm, safe place
Where as a child I'd hide
And pray for the thunder and the rain to quietly pass me by
*******
TITAN’S NOSE JOURNAL:
EXCLUSIVE! STATEMENT RELEASED BY HUNTER NOCEDA-PARK:
Hello. My name is Hunter Noceda-Park. I understand that most of you reading this may think you know me personally, even if we’ve never met.
Right now, several tabloids are talking about something terrible that has happened to me. I’m pretty used to this, to be honest, but that doesn’t mean I’m okay with it.
For a majority of my life, I have had my voice taken from me. Today, I will use it to control my own narrative. Let’s get one thing out of the way right now.
No one but me, gets to define who I am.
Now, let me tell you a little about myself – and set some boundaries.
First?
Yes. I’m a grimwalker.
I really don’t know what that means, because I’ve never met a single other member of my species.
Any record of us has been twisted into some sort of scarytale where we exist as a warning for witches who would play with forbidden magic. In these stories, we are monsters lurking in shadows, pale replacements of dead loved ones. We hunger for the flesh and bones of innocent witches.
That’s definitely not true. I generally prefer this thing called “Disco Fries” at my favorite human realm diner. If you ever get a chance to try them you should jump on it! Think of a plate of french flies and they’re covered in literally everything you could ever want to eat. Yum.
But I’m getting away from the point of this.
The only records of grimwalkers exist in books either written by Belos himself or collected and published by his most faithful followers. Since discovering my origins, I’ve spent sleepless nights looking in the mirror, terrified of myself. I’ve spent hours obsessing over the possibility that I was just moments away from harming someone I cared about. I believed that my face belonged to a dead man. That body, my bones, my blood, belonged to someone else.
That I wasn’t real.
That I couldn’t feel love.
I will stop there, because my list of “self loathing” goes on for quite a bit.
In addition to being a grimwalker, I am also a person.
I grew up under terrible circumstances – but even that is more than you need to know. There seems to be this idea that because I was considered a public figure when I was the Golden Guard, that my life story belongs to the public.
If you want to know what Coven Scout training was like, there’s plenty of first hand accounts out there. Read those, they are public record.
I did and saw so many things that will haunt me always, but please know, if I hurt anyone of you in any way when I was a scout, or Golden Guard, I am truly so sorry. I know that probably doesn’t mean much for many of you. I cannot absolve myself of the pain I have caused others. I cannot apologize on Belos’ behalf, though. Don’t try to make me, and to be honest? He wouldn’t care.
But for those who demand to know more about my upbringing, please consider this.
I was five years old when I began my scout training.
I was seven years old when I was branded with the sigil meant to end my life.
I was eleven years old when Belos made me his ‘right hand man’.
Let that sink in. What were you doing when you were five years old? Or seven? What about when you were eleven? Maybe that will put things into perspective.
Also? I had no magic. I was never permitted around kids my own age. My only source of companionship until I was 16 years old, was Belos. That should tell you everything you need to know about my “childhood”.
The rest is none of your business.
Please, don’t act like your interest in my life is out of “concern” for my well being. I have a wonderful support system of family and friends who love me. They mean the world to me. I’ll be fine.
Anyway, have we forgotten that Belos had tried to genocide the entire Isles, including you? If you’d rather ignore the purpose of the Day of Unity, and the centuries of other atrocities building towards it? If you prefer to look past that and focus on how Belos had mistreated a child in his care, maybe you need to look at your priorities, because that part of the story is, unfortunately, very much mine alone.
What I will say is this:
I will never kneel to anyone, ever again .
I will not be writing a memoir. I will not endorse any unauthorized biographies or made for CB movies. I will never sign off on any actor to portray me in any sort of production depicting my life.
Ever.
My trauma is not for sale. I don’t owe you my pain. I don’t need to see it on the front pages of the magazines while I’m out buying spidermilk, and neither do you.
If I say I don’t want to talk about it, the conversation is over .
As for the incidents of the last few months, there will likely be some court approved statements on the matter. It will make news. I will comment as necessary. But really? I just want to get on with my life.
I am a survivor, yes. But I am also a student, a friend, a brother, a son, a husband.
And now I’m a father!
Oh my Titan! Our daughter is the most beautiful witchling I’ve ever seen – other than my wife’s baby pictures, and of course my sobrina, Azura. But I’m biased. I’m told that’s allowed.
I am her father, after all!
I keep telling Willow that the baby is all her, because when I hold her I cannot possibly imagine that someone so amazing came from any part of me! But believe me when I say that our daughter does not belong to you or anyone else. I don’t care if you think Willow and I are celebrities and that means our daughter is fair game for tabloids. Please respect our privacy and let us go about our lives like regular witches.
Until I was 16, I’d never once voiced what I wanted out of my life. Now I’m 26 and I can say that right now?
I’d like to mentor a new generation of palisman carvers and advocate for the conservation of the Isles natural resources.
I’d like to explore my use of bard magic and continue to work on the Survivor’s Song organization with Raine Whispers.
I’d like to learn more about my species. Not just the grimwalkers of my own line, but those who came way before Philip Wittebane ever set foot in the demon realm.
But most of all?
Me and Willow would like to raise our daughter in peace.
___________________________
“I just can’t stop looking at her.” Hunter whispered.
He sat on the sofa in his cozy living room where Willow had been sleeping soundly.
It was their third, maybe fourth night home with their newborn daughter. Who even knew anymore?
Luz and Amity had warned both he and Willow that in those very first few weeks of parenthood, the days and nights would blend together in a big puddle of exhaustion.
Of course, years ago, during his time in the Emperor’s Coven, Hunter had felt a similar feeling. Back then he pushed on beyond the signals from his young body that he so desperately needed sleep and sustenance. But in those days, Hunter’s motivations had been ruled by fear.
Now, with his wife nestled beside him, and their child in his arms, the desire to push on without sleep came from love. Actual love. Not the one sided kind that grew from manipulation.
This was love.
“This is love.” Flapjack fluttered from within.
A few minutes earlier Willow had stirred from her sleep, stretching out like a vine over the sides of the couch and accidentally hitting Hunter in the back of the head.
“Oooof! Sorry, skrunkly,” she giggled. “Skrunkly? Hellloooooooo Hunter?”
Hunter didn’t react at all. He just sat still, lovingly gazing at the baby.
“She really looks so much like you.” he whispered. He’d done this every night so far. Taken the time to appreciate the features of their daughter that were Willow’s. “She’s got your dark hair,” he told her, “and your perfect apple round cheeks!”
Willow squeaked. Her sleepy grin widened.
“She’s even got your dimple!” Hunter choked back a squeal.
“Hmmmmm.” Willow leaned in. Hunter’s ears lit up while his wife’s eyes slipped from the baby to him and back again. “Well? She’s also got your thick brows. And I am pretty sure her nose is curving juuuuust a bit,” she paused. Hunter knew was coming next.
“And she’s got your beautiful brown eyes.”
Deep brown eyes .
“Like our eyes, Flapjack.” Hunter swallowed. He ran his hand over her tiny cheek.
“I can take her for a bit so you can get some sleep.” Willow offered, “Technically, my shift started ten minutes ago!”
“I’ve got her.” Hunter shook his head and planted a gentle kiss just above her brow. “I’ve got you both!”
Then he yawned.
“You know that we are partners in this right?” Willow arched a sleepy eyebrow. “You need some rest too.”
“Not as much as you!” Hunter exclaimed a little too loudly. The child stirred. He lowered his voice. “You grew a WHOLE baby! I just ...” he paused as a deeper blush bloomed at the tips of his ears. “I just, you know, contributed.”
Willow laughed, “That’s one way of putting it I guess.” Lazily her eyes fluttered, even with all the potions and efforts of the healing coven, her body was still exhausted from the last nine months, plus labor. And the c-section. “It’s been a really long 9 months though. For both of us.”
“Worth it.” Hunter smiled and kissed Willow’s head again. He looked at his scroll where their friends had been messaging him and Willow for updates and pictures.
How were they supposed to keep up with all of this?
Either way, no pictures could do any justice to the in-person beauty of Hunter’s family right in front of him. His heart fluttered, as the feeling of Flapjack's wings brushed softly within him filling his body with warmth.
He noticed a message from Gus that he had not yet answered.
ILLUSIONMASTER: Hey, you still doing good?
With one arm around the baby and the scroll in the other, Hunter answered.
RULERZREACHF4N: All good.
Three dots immediately appeared on the screen.
ILLUSIONMASTER: Dude. Are you seriously messaging me at 4 am?
RULERZREACHF4N: You didn’t have to answer.
RULERZREACHF4N: Anyway, why are you up?
ILLUSIONMASTER: Because I forgot to put my scroll on silent? And SOMEONE thought it would be a good idea to message me back at 4 am?
Gus was likely up anyway. Probably studying for whatever degree he was going for now. He already had gotten a degree in Master Illusion Magic from St. Epiderm, a Masters in Human Culture and a Second Masters in Ruins of the Boiling Isles from the University of Latissa.
Gus and his boyfriend Mattholomule were always competing about who could be the higher achiever. Apparently their competition didn’t end just because they were in their 20s.
It wasn’t that Hunter didn’t know what Gus was studying though. More that it was a whole new area of concentration.
“I want to learn more about the origins of the Looking Glass Ruins … and the magic amplifier.” Gus had told Hunter. “There’s still HUNDREDS of books down in that catacomb! Most of them are written in a language no one’s seen before. If I could crack that code? Imagine what we could learn!”
“I’d like to help you with your studies.” Hunter had told him, “You know, when I get a free moment!”
ILLUSIONMASTER: Hunter? You good?
Hunter blinked. His scroll had buzzed again. He looked over at the other side of the couch.
Willow was sleeping again, snoring adorably. Her palisman Clover had fallen asleep on her chest and was buzzing softly. Avery sat curled up by his feet, and mama had brought Waffles to stay in case an extra hand – or wing was needed.
The baby in Hunter’s arms stirred. She looked up at him with her beautiful brown eyes and yawned.
“H-hey!” he offered her his pointer finger, which she accepted. “Hi hummingbird!” She squeezed with a surprisingly powerful grip. “Heh. You definitely ARE Willow Noceda-Park’s daughter, you know?”
The baby sneezed twice and wriggled closer to Hunter’s chest.
“Oh Titan this is my family,” joy bubbled over Hunter's body. “This is our daughter! She is half Willow and half ME!”
Hunter’s heart swelled and he smiled.
RULERZREACHF4N: I’m great, actually.
And it was true. In spite of the exhaustion, Hunter felt wonderful.
His daughter fussed and he began to hum her a tune. The lyrics hung in his mind.
🎶 She's got a smile that it seems to me
Reminds me of childhood memories
Where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky
Now and then when I see her face
She takes me away to that special place
And if I stared too long I'd probably break down and cry 🎶
And he did. He cried a few tears in mourning for his own lost childhood, but mostly for the beauty of the new life that lay right in front of him. A child made from love. He could feel Flapjack’s soft wings against his heart. The tears broke into a heavy sob. He choked them back best he could.
“Oh, Hunter.” Willow’s eyes were half lidded.
“S-sorry. I - I didn’t wanna wake you… I just. She’s just…”
“Shhhh.” Willow straightened her glasses on her face and gathered both he and the baby in her strong arms. “If you need to cry it's okay.” she whispered. “I know I do.”
Hunter buried his head in Willow’s shoulder. They rocked their daughter together.
He thought about his last message to Gus.
RULERZREACHF4N: I’m great, actually.
Hunter’s mind briefly trailed back to just a few months prior when he was not feeling great, actually.
So much had happened across the Isles and in Hunter and Willow’s lives. Within a few days, even more had changed.
The tabloids were gleefully pouncing on the video footage of a very unkempt Odalia being dragged to prison. They laughed about her dyed hair, her very obvious use of a concealment stone to hide her wrinkles, and how “orange was DEFINITELY NOT the new black”.
They seemed to completely miss the point that Odalia had engaged in blackmail, extortion and 2nd degree attempted ritual sacrifice of a private citizen.
Those were the main charges as Darius had explained them. There were several others.
Another topic of gossip was the strange new vocal tic Odalia seemed to have gained.
One reporter had commented, “It seems that nearly every time she tried to speak, her tongue had begun to swell up.”
As Darius had suggested, extraditing the Evoldos proved a challenge. This was unsettling, but for now it would have to do. Osran and Langwidere were more than happy to slip behind the curtain of the Nommeking border and let Odalia take the fall in their plans.
Odalia’s court date was not yet set. That was fine.
“Let her stew in prison while I enjoy my time with you.” Hunter told Willow. “I don’t care how long she’s in there waiting.”
What he couldn’t say out loud (not yet) is how terrified he’d been that his plan might not have worked. What if all those theories about oaths binding to the bilesac had been wrong?
Of course, that was taken into account. But when Odalia had mentioned that he was to be brought before Osran immediately after sealing the deal, Hunter wondered if his time had run out. There would be no second chance. No moment of rescue or effort to untangle him from the deal. That he would have ended up an enslaved spirit for 900 years.
“Whatcha thinking?” Willow poked him.
“I’m so happy I’m here.” He murmured. “And I am in no hurry to face Odalia again.”
“Well, Boscha’s been on every outlet that’ll have her.” Willow groaned. “Talking about how the ‘gilded cage’ she escaped, standing up for ‘what’s right’.”
Boscha had sent Willow and Hunter a “congratulations” card for the baby’s birth.
“Maybe we can catch up in a few months!” she’d written casually as anything, “I will be very busy, though. After my book comes out, I’ll be starting a new job as a Grudgeby Commentator. If you want to know what I’m up to, subscribe to BOOP! My new blog about single motherhood!”
Boscha had helped in the end, and while there would likely be a civility when crossing paths both in and out of court, they were not friends. And Neither Hunter nor Willow wanted them to be.
Hunter’s letter to the press had gone viral. Literally. Penstagram and the rest of the interwebs had completely crashed with some sort of technological ailment that caused scrolls to cough every time Hunter’s name was searched.
As expected, there had been a huge uproar from various outlets analyzing Hunter’s “manifesto of privacy,” but he didn’t care. Or at least he tried not to. He could not control what others thought about him, and though it hurt sometimes, everyone whose opinions actually mattered accepted Hunter as he was.
“I have everything I need right here.” Hunter whispered.
“Hmmm?” Willow was dozing again.
“Will?” Hunter murmured. “Life might be hard for her, you know? I’m scared about how people will treat her. What will happen when she finds out about my past? What if other kids won’t accept her because she’s half grimwalker? What if…”
The baby was fussing again. Hunter gently touched one of the palistrom leaves that laced her air. She sneezed twice and began smacking her lips in that way that told her parents that she was hungry.
Willow sighed gently. Gingerly, she drew a spell circle and summoned a warm bottle. Together they cradled their daughter as she ate.
They rested in silence for a few beats before Willow took a breath. “You know?” she laughed, “after everything we’ve been through, you’d think none of it would scare me anymore? But that’s not true, is it?”
“Right now we can protect her.” Hunter nodded, “But one day, she’s gonna be out there in the world, and we won’t be able to protect her. But one thing I know for sure. We may not know what the future will bring, but it is so much brighter now that she’s here.”
“About her name.” Hunter yawned.
“Oh no.” Willow chuckled. “It’s too late to change it now.”
“I wasn’t gonna –” Hunter shook his head. “I love you, Willow. A-and, I was just gonna say thank you. Thank you for trusting me, Willow. Thank you for looking at that sad sneaky little loser all those years ago and seeing something in me that I never saw in myself.”
“Mmmmm.” Willow whispered. “I love you, Hunter.”
After all these years, hearing Willow say his name sent bubbles of joy throughout Hunter’s body.
Once upon a time, Hunter’s name had filled him with dread.
Once upon a time, Hunter’s name had been forbidden.
Belos had given Hunter a name that existed for control. As much as he longed for the love of the monster who had raised him, the way his body had filled with dread each time the throne room doors closed, and Belos would summon him.
“Come here, Hunter.”
Well, it was almost safe for him to fade into the identity of a title. To choose not to be a person.
To accept titles like “Recruit”, “Scout”, “Golden Guard”, “Brat”, “Pet”.
“You have no need for a name anywhere but right here. In this throne room with me.” Belos had often said. “Your title is your designation. It is what separates you from the others. If you were to tell them your name you would lose your value to the Titan, and to me.”
But even Hunter’s name had been one of Belos’ cruel jokes.
Of course, he didn’t know this back then. Telling Luz his name had been a small rebellion, but in the end, it was the beginning of breaking Belos’ control over him.
He shared his name with Flapjack who spoke his own into Hunter’s soul. And with that, he’d received his very first, “I love you.”
“Love you, Hunter. Love you my sweet witch.”
The more Hunter had begun to share his name - with Willow who would be his wife, with Gus who would be his best friend, with Camila., who would be his mother, with Vee who would be his sister. Even Amity, who meant so much to him, she probably didn’t even realize.
The more Hunter shared his name with others, the more his heart would open, and the more he would hear “I love you, Hunter. ”
And even now, Hunter hadn’t realized just how powerful the rush of emotions would be everytime he, himself told others, “ I love you. ”
Once upon a time, Hunter had asked Belos if he loved him. He hadn’t received an answer, but he still chose to believe there was love there. Because he loved Belos. He needed to, and he needed to believe that his uncle loved him in return.
Now, Hunter had grown to understand that there were different kinds of love. Love between friends. Between siblings. Between someone who you wanted to spend your entire life holding close. Love of family you found and family that found you.
Love from a parent to their child.
Naming is a big responsibility, and choosing the baby’s middle name was simple. It was something he and Willow had played with a bit when she came to him with a list of names.
“ Let’s choose a middle name first .” Hunter had insisted. “ It’s easier .”
And it was.
Eve.
A nod to the past, but also a challenge. The Eve of Philip’s Bible ate from the tree of knowledge and tempted Adam, Just like Caleb had been tempted by Evelyn. At least that’s how Philip had likely seen things. Caleb sinned with Evelyn in his eyes.
But for Hunter? He wondered if Caleb had just questioned the world he was given in pursuit of a different kind of freedom.
“ May you question everything. May you pursue knowledge .” He whispered to his daughter.
“I -I guess.” Hunter swallowed. “I just. It’s still hard for me. Saying her name. Sometimes my throat closes up and my heart can’t handle all of it. And I wanna ask you again.”
“ It’s the only name she could possibly have .” Willow brushed the baby’s hair from her face. She pressed a kiss on her forehead and then on Hunter’s. “ When I say her name, I think of someone who is smart, and brave … and very, very kind .”
Outside, the birds had just begun their morning songs. The sun’s first light rose over the rib. Spring was in full bloom all across the Isles
“I don’t think I can sleep anymore.” Hunter chuckled. He looked over to Willow. She was snoring again. Drooling with her body stretched out in the chaotic way she liked to sleep. Baby in arms, Hunter leaned over and covered his wife with a blanket.
“Thank you.” he whispered to Willow again, “Thank you for loving me. And …” Hunter turned his eyes to their daughter. “Thank you, Artemis. Thank you for letting me be your dad.”
______________________________
WHERE DO WE GO FROM HERE?
Hunter smiled at Artemis. He sat at her side, cross legged on the floor, guitar in hands. She lay across Darius’ hand sewn quilt under a canopy of vines and flowers. “Oh my little hummingbird…” his voice broke.
Sometimes saying her name was still too powerful for Hunter to handle.
But three months into fatherhood, Hunter found that even old titles could change in meaning. Just as his first name had once filled him with dread, he found himself changed just a week ago when Gus had slipped up and referred to himself as Artemis’ “Uncle Gus”. Of course, Gus had apologized at once, but Hunter responded with a warm hug.
“ It’s okay, ” Hunter had told Gus. “I think I’m ready to give that title a try. If it’s you, I think I would like to see what a real uncle should be like. ”
“How much longer?” Willow yawned. She’d had her head on his leg.
“Hmmmm.” Hunter hummed. The window was open. It framed the night sky like a stage. “I don’t hear anything yet. Another five minutes, I think?”
Willow tilted her head in that adorable way she did when she was skeptical, but encouraging. “Are you sure we should be doing this?” she asked.
Hunter considered the question. “What do you think, sweet child o’ mine?” he asked Artemis.
“You are SUCH a dork, you know that?” Willow snorted.
“It’s a dad thing,” Hunter shrugged casually.
Willow’s face had retained that healthy glow it had for so long. Her body had grown tired from the stress of pregnancy, but she had a bit of a bounce back in her step and her appetite had returned.
Her hair was a garden of wildflowers.
“I don’t think she minds.” Hunter smirked. “You don’t mind that daddy’s a dork, do you Artemis ?”
Willow drew a spell circle. The vines above Artemis bloomed to a spray of wisteria. A trio of spiders descended from their petals for the baby’s chubby hands to grasp.
She sneezed three times and laughed.
A fully bellied baby giggle.
“She doesn’t mind!” Hunter stuck his tongue out.
Kicking aside the books on the floor, Hunter slipped his guitar to the side. He rolled over on his belly, face to face with Willow and Artemis.
“Hey!” He murmured. He rested his head on his arms. “You like mommy’s flowers?”
“ Aah! ” the baby grinned. “Ah ah aha”
“She answered me,” Hunter gave a smug smile.
“Puleaaaaaaaze, guy!” Willow rolled her eyes. “She’s just making baby noises!”
“She just said, ‘Uh huh!’” Hunter gaped. “I heard it!”
“Oahahah.” The baby gurgled.
“She’s so chatty!” Willow teased.
“I know!” Hunter sniffed, “It’s great. May you always have your voice, my little hummingbird.”
Artemis kicked her feet in the air. With one swift scoop, Hunter had grabbed her up and held her in the air high above him. She laughed again, and spit up right in the middle of his favorite Pearl Jam shirt.
“Ohhhhhh! Direct hit!” Willow sat herself down next to the two of them.
“Oh! I think she may be cutting teeth already!” Hunter yawned.
“Is that even possible?” Willow eyed him suspiciously.
“Sure it is!” Hunter reached for Willow’s pinky with his own. “Most witchlings will develop teeth between 6 and 12 months …”
“And she’s only three months…” Willow narrowed her eyes.
“BUT!” Hunter wiggled her gently.
“But?” Willow leaned in. She lay down next to Hunter, under their daughter’s gummy smile.
“Some witchlings,” Hunter cleared his throat, “begin to cut their teeth as early as 3 months.”
“Still seems early.” Willow nudged him. Her eyes changed. “Could it be a…”
“A grimwalker thing?” Hunter swallowed. He eyed the books near his feet. “Maybe?” he said. “Also, she bit Steve yesterday.”
“Oh noooooo!” Willow laughed. She turned to their daughter, “Artemis? Sweetflea, Did you bite Steve?”
The baby’s smile widened.
“Bitemarks for Steve.” Willow laughed. She lay her head against Hunter’s. Slowly, he laid the baby on their chests so they could feel their hearts beating together.
“Mmmmm. Since she got here, we’ve had so many visitors, huh?” Willow whispered. “We used to have just weeks of ‘us’ time’. Now it feels like we’re hosting something new every week. Will it ever calm down?”
“Mama’s coming by Saturday.” Hunter stroked the baby’ back. “Darius too.”
Darius and Camila had been actually civil. The closer Darius got to the end of his military career, the more the two had begun to talk openly.
And as Camila became an abuela for a second time, Darius proudly joined the Parks by getting a title upgrade.
Grandpa.
“Right.” Willow yawned. “I asked my dads to come help us with meal prep. And I’m supposed to talk to Viney. I’d like to get back to coaching, if my body’d let me.”
The baby sniffed. Hunter patted her back. The sky outside had become a little brighter, and a new sound whined from beyond the quiet country night.
“Three minutes.” Hunter yawned.
“Okay.” Willow snuggled closer. “What about you? You’ve got more going on than ever?”
Hunter nodded slowly. “Me and Dell have a video conference tomorrow with the Consuls about the ethics of palisman restraints and the galdorstone market.” he sighed. “Banning Nu-Magic is not on the table to discuss as per Tigh, and Sigil removal is happening but not across the board.”
“It’s a start.” Willow yawned. “Oh… and Luz and Amity wanted to take Azura by. She drew some pictures for the baby. Also there’s new Bluey episodes?
“Cool.” Hunter had liked the quiet life he’d built with Willow before the baby. But this was good too.
It seemed that their family had grown and stretched in the past 9 months. Steve and Katya had been by weekly. They wanted to get a sense of what to expect when their own son arrived.
Steve had also made a special trip to ask Hunter to be a groomsman at their wedding.
Vee was now back to her own wedding planning. She and Masha had begun to frequently cross the portal to the Boiling Isles. Hunter knew Vee had hoped to find Eyeves, or Three, or any other surviving Basilisk – but there had been nothing. Eyeves had seemingly disappeared as mysteriously as she had arrived.
Hunter knew it hurt his sister. To know that others like her were out there, hiding alone, and she was here with a loving family. Vee knew that Hunter understood this more than anything.
Raine and Eda had been in touch frequently. King checked in frequently to see how Francois was getting along with Artemis.
The sky outside began to glow blue. A distinct whining grew from the distance.
Gus had brought a bulk of old books from under the Ruins to Hunter’s house. They’d been over half a dozen of them with Lilith, but they’d made no sense. The ones that were written in common had lists of crops and a record of the weather patterns from centuries past.
And nearly all the others were just indecipherable, but they had begun to glow as the wailing star’s crying grew louder in the air. Artemis whimpered slightly.
“Shhhh. It’s okay,” Hunter soothed. “It’s just magic. It’s unpredictable, but exciting.”
“Like her.” Willow grinned. Her face changed again. “Hunter? Lilith said this was a good idea?”
“Well?” Hunter knit his brows. “No. But it’s worth a shot! We live in a world of magic! What’s so wrong about a little more?”
The room began to glow. Slowly, the books on the ground rose high above. Hunter and Willow shot up. Each and every tome shifted in the air.
“It’s working!” Hunter shouted. Artemis cooed in their arms. “Willow! I TOLD Gus! I told him! All we needed was a little wild magic to get us some answers!”
But as the magic passed through, only one book landed on the floor in front of Hunter.
And surprisingly the title was in common, “An incomplete record of the Children of the Forest.” Hunter murmured.
⭐🌟💫✨🌙 🌠🌈 You are looking for answers in the wrong book.
“Oh.” Hunter knit his brow. “I - I –”
Made a promise to the Collector? Hunter swallowed that thought.
“Children of the forest.” Hunter whispered.
At the sound of his voice the book opened wide. A specter of the Looking Glass Ruins filled the room, from behind the tall statues the illusion of new figures wove through. Tall, short, various ages, genders, body types.
And their eyes were all a beautiful shade of red.
“They’re grimwalkers ?” Willow gasped.
“I was looking for answers in Belos’ journals.” Hunter swallowed. “I didn’t even think…”
“The original builders of the Looking Glass Ruins were grimwalkers. ” Willow said again.
“Children of the Forest.” Hunter shook his head. “I think … Willow, I think grimwalkers used to be called, ‘The Children of the Forest!” he turned to their daughter. “Artemis! We’re, ‘ Children of the Forest ’!”
“Hunter.” Willow said softly. “Look!” She pointed a finger at the title.
The tears rushed down Hunter’s cheeks. He held Artemis close as he repeated the title. “ An incomplete record of the Children of the Forest .” And then the author. “ Collected by Imogen Clawthorne.”
