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Nobody knew why the castle began to break apart. Not at first.
In the aftermath, Lilith Clawthorne, Head of the Emperor's Coven, would thoroughly interview all who had been inside. Scouts, cooks, cleaners, prisoners - even her fellow Head Witches (and Demons). She asked the same basic questions, but prodded where she needed to, trying to fill in some missing gaps. Perhaps one of the prisoners had started a riot that grew out of hand, or some inter-Coven politics got a little too dramatic. After the interviews, she sat down and she read everything she had discovered. She read it thoroughly twice, thrice, countless times until she had to cede and admit defeat.
There were blurs of red and purple light, and wordless screams. Some of the scouts reported a deep, harrowing roar. Those same scouts would hand in their resignations and resign themselves to lesser covens. But, at the end of the day, when her work was done, all Lilith had was a single, short, statement to the public.
She announced the deaths, and let the people mourn. Mourning was better than questioning, and questioning would lead to fighting. And then, after all was said and done for, she tendered her own resignation. She couldn't lead the coven, or the castle, or the Isles. Not when she couldn't even figure out what had caused the incident.
So Lilith Clawthorne went into hiding, resignedly accepting that she would never figure out what killed the Golden Guard and Darius Deamonne.
That all changed when, a day later, they found a baby in the rubble.
The baby was small and hungry from however long they had been left unattended. And yet, Lilith could feel the trace remnants of a spell blanketing them, shielding them from harm.
The spell felt metallic, and wrong in so many ways. She chose not to think about that any further.
She held the baby in her arms uncomfortably. They were swaddled in a thick, muffling blanket, and that was really for the best. Lazulas paced in front of the former Head Witch, her shrill, uptight voice demanding she be heard.
Lilith wasn't really paying attention. She found that she had been struggling to do that lately. Since the decimation of the castle. She felt untethered, as if there wasn't really anything connecting her to the Isles anymore.
The baby began to cry, and she was shaken from her stupor.
Lazulas stared at the wailing bundle she held in her arms, something between respect and anger in her eyes.
'Then there's the matter of the baby,' she said. 'Whose is it?'
'As I've said before, Lazulas, we don't know.'
She peered closer, pulling some of the blanket away to take a look at the child. 'They bear a resemblance to the Golden Guard, don't you think?'
Upon further inspection, it would appear she was right. The baby had a small tuft of blond hair the same shade as Jasper's, and their eyes were the same magenta. 'He does,' she murmured.
'Well,' Lazulas clapped, 'that's decided.'
'I'm sorry,' Lilith hesitated. 'What is?'
'You're a smart witch, Lilith. You know the Golden Guard killed the Emperor.' The thought took a moment to register, and at first, it seemed absurd. The Golden Guard had been loyal to Belos - but he'd been disobedient as well. His screams for mercy bounced in her head as the memories of the torture she'd overheard resurfaced. Could one of Belos' punishments have gotten out of hand? Could the Golden Guard have been pushed to a breaking point, to a point where his base survival instincts kicked in and he retaliated?
'The baby has to die as well.'
Everything ground to a halt, and Lilith's brain faltered, flashing with an error message. She hadn't heard right.
'Excuse me?'
'This child,' Lazulas said, waving a hand in their direction, 'has some relation to the Golden Guard. Perhaps his offspring. Either way, the Golden Guard and the Emperor are both dead. Someone has to pay the price.'
'No,' she replied, standing up straight. 'The Isles have been flung into enough chaos. We cannot bring innocent children into this.'
'How do we know he's innocent?' Lazulas questioned. The question was absurd, and Lilith took a single moment to reflect. Was she close to ending up like Lazulas? Given enough time, would she be willing to hurt an innocent child?
She held the baby closer and gripped her staff, allowing her palisman to thrum with magic.
'This is an innocent child, Lazulas. No matter your position with the Emperor, we cannot - should not - hurt a child for something they didn't even do.'
Lazulas was silent as she sized up Lilith. She stood up on her back legs, towering to her full height, and her eyes narrowed. Four spell circles were aimed at the former Head Witch.
Lilith Clawthorne swore under her breath, and leapt into battle.
The door to the orphanage rang with several knocks, forcing Xenia out of her slumber. She wondered who was up at this time of night, spinning a few spell circles to make herself presentable for whoever was at the door.
She flung them open, and was greeted with a caped figure. Their hood obscured their face, so there was no indicator as to their identity. In their arms was a bundle of blankets, a sight Xenia was all too familiar with.
'Your orphanage was said to be the best in the Boiling Isles,' the figure said.
'I'd like to consider it that,' she replied. The figure nodded, as if deciding this was the right place.
'I'm aware you may not have much space, but you must look after this child. He has no other family, and I cannot care for him.' The voice sounded tired, as if the weight of the world was resting on their shoulders. After the destruction of the castle, Xenia couldn't really blame them.
The figure offered the baby, and Xenia took them. Slumbering in the blankets was a witch baby, a tuft of blonde fair and a prominent nose. They made no fuss as the handover took place, continuing to sleep without a care in the world.
Then Xenia looked up, and noticed that the figure's hands were stained with blood.
'What ha-'
'No questions, please.' Xenia felt her mouth snap shut, and she nodded. It wasn't important. An adult could take care of themselves - for now, she had a new child to look after.
'You did the right thing,' she said warmly.
'I hope so.'
Before Xenia left to get the child a crib, she glanced up. 'Do they have a name?'
The figure paused, and then slowly exhaled, as if gathering up the courage to state it.
'Hunter. His name is Hunter.'