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Months passed. The young witches lost track of time, but continued to try. And try, and try and try. To nothing. No progress was made on reopening the door no matter how hard they believed in their methods. Certain things simply did not work in this realm. Their magic did, but the magical elements of the portal were not a thing.
It was tiring. Night after night of restless sleep, topped with nightmares on all sides of never seeing their families again. Never going back to the way of life they had before. Exhaustion took all of the young teens hostage, chaining them down to beds and couches for weeks at a time when it needed them to rest.
Hunter ached. The pain was beginning to subside, the dazzling string of lights hung in the basement acting as a distraction to his mind. They glowed in different colors, reds and blues and greens, flashing if Gus hit the button to do so. It was hypnotic, to lay there on the sleeping bag and watch the lights blink by. Sleep began to take him naturally; a feeling he had not had in years.
He faltered to know all his recovery was being set back.
His elbow was sore from the crash against the toilet, ankles crying from when he tripped over his own feet. The image that stared back at him, the image in the mirror. Why did he think to look at that cursed book? Faces of his supposed relatives reflected back at him, the resemblance as clear as day. Hunter was no more than a clone of a long gone brother to Belos.
It shattered his reality.
The panic had knocked him down. He sat on the bathroom tile, slowly regaining his breath, calming himself with the allusive breathing technique Gus had taught him. Flapjack had perched on the edge of the countertop, his one open eye staring down at his half-a-witch owner, feathers ruffled from the sudden fright. His chirps were of concern, worry he had been harmed.
He had to do something.
"Are there…"
Hunter did not want to risk standing, hurting himself more than he already had. It was surprising no one came to check on him after the sound of his fall. From his spot, his lone and pitiful spot on the floor, he tried to see the blades he seeked. A pair of scissors, from what Luz had told him, to fix himself. He could not change the way his face was built, the scars that covered his body, the way his eyes resembled that cursed donator.
He needed a haircut, anyway.
Seeing his reflection was enough to show how much of a wreck he had become. He neglected himself, only taking showers when he felt it was needed. Though his sleep was more consistent, it was still troublesome, the images of the Emperor and the masks emerging anytime he dared close his eyes. His previous scrawny frame had begun to build mass, Camila's cooking being some of the best he's had in all his sixteen years. Willow helped keep his muscle with small daily workouts in the afternoon. He felt like a new person, a different person. Someone who was their own individual and not some mere clone of a rebellious murder victim.
Seeing himself in the mirror. Seeing how he had let his hair grow out of control, how it fell around his face and neck just as the Emperor's did. Hunter was reminded of his truth; that he was a clone, a young boy from a long line of grimwalkers, all created by the same person for the same purposes.
Flapjack had caught wind of his plight. He took flight, opening the cabinet of the mirror with a strong flutter, handle in his beak. The door creaked open, items clambering in cups on shelves, Hunter finally gaining the confidence to stand on his own two feet. A flurry of red worked from shelf to shelf, hunting for any pair of silver blades that could help him out.
"Flapjack, I can do it. Come here…"
He snatched the palisman up in his hands. The bird squeaked in protest before being placed on his open shoulder. The pain from the day they arrived was gone. Whatever caused such agony had vanished seemingly overnight, or washed off in the rain on that night they arrived and the pain simply lingered.
Taking the place of Flapjack, Hunter grabbed each cup to examine their contents. Unused toothbrushes that seemed to gather dust, fresh rolls of the toothpaste with colorful labels and eye-catching pictures. Hair ties, hairpins, hair bands; it was expected, being a home with two women. He finally saw the red handles of his prize, his heart skipping a beat as he snatched them up and slammed the cabinet shut.
"Now… how do I wanna… do this…?"
-
Willow awoke to Clover headbutting her cheek. She rubbed her eyes, worn out and weak from the previous day of portal attempts and overall adapting. Getting used to the human world was much more work than opening a portal between realms could ever be. Everything was so different, and not using magic to assist her? Though it worked fine, Luz suggested leaving it behind as much as possible. She did not want them being questioned, or worse, captured like Vee had been back at the museum.
"What is it, Clove?"
He wake! He wake!
It was then she heard a sound from downstairs. Camila had been kind enough to let her and Amity take a guest bedroom for whenever Luz had friends over, Amity still asleep on the top bunk. They decided for Willow to take the bottom due to her own night stirs and tendency to wake up at the high moon. She was slightly confused as to what Clover was referring to; her first instinct told her of a break in, that someone had discovered that four witches and a basilisk were living with humans until they got back home. The other option, the much more likely option, was the one she settled with.
Willow nearly fell over when she stood, the blood rushing quickly down her body. Her vision temporarily spun before it went fuzzy, Clover picking up her glasses in her small grasp. Blinking a few times, the world became more clear, a dim light radiating under the door of their room. Someone was awake. The light was not bright enough to be anyone on the top floor; it had to be downstairs.
"Hunter…"
She knew it was him. Her suspicion was confirmed when she saw the time on the new alarm clock Camila had bought them. One thirty-five. He usually woke around one to walk off any terrors that haunted him in the miniscule hours of sleep, Willow herself encountering him in her hunts for midnight snacks. She expected to walk down and see him out on the couch, hair soaked from a fresh shower to freshen himself up, wrapped in blankets despite how high the thermostat was.
She cracked the door open to step out, closing it again silently to not wake Amity or anyone else on the second floor. Their room was close to the staircase, but not close enough for light on the first floor to blind them in the hours of midnight. Even so, the light was dim. She was still unfamiliar with the layout of the Noceda home. Herself and the other refugees were more concerned about having a shelter than the exact intricate details of the walls and flooring.
"Hunter?"
No response.
Her footsteps creaked the staircase, a light gasp being heard from further down the first floor.
His gasp.
"Yeah, he's awake."
Her chest felt tight at the thought. She thought he was getting better; he thought he was getting better. His night terrors were less frequent, but still common enough that it left him tired in the mornings. Willow was more surprised that he never managed to wake Gus whenever he had a freakout.
Reaching the bottom of the stairs, she saw where the light was coming from. The door to the first floor bathroom was cracked, light leaking into the hallway. It was bright with how the door was placed in relation to the stairwell; and the light was just literally bright. Her eyes stung for a moment when she saw it, head falling with painful static. As much as she wanted to grab a quick snack and head back to bed, Hunter was awake.
He needed her.
Her pace was slow, not wanting to startle him too much with her approach. He knew it was her from her calling his name, so her bursting in would not scare him too much; if anything, it was to give him some respect. Even with her slow pace, she still felt herself rushing to reach the bathroom, to throw the door open and set him down, coddle him, assure him he was safe.
The shock was plain on her face when their eyes met, his cheeks flushed red from embarrassment.
"Oh, uh… hi, Willow."
"Well good morning, Hunter."
His head was over the sink, strands of blond hair littering the countertop and floor around him. He sucked his teeth, eyes dropping down to the ground to hide his shame. Flapjack sat on his back, cooing with delight at the sight of the plant witch, wings fluttering. She laughed to herself at the sight.
"What are you… doing awake?"
"I could ask the same to you."
"I, uh, needed a shower… It's been awhile."
"And you're cutting your hair?"
"Hey, I need one! It's not like we can just waltz into a barber and get one done!"
He seemed hesitant once she walked in, flinching at her approach. She kept her gaze on him, soft in the bathroom light, a smile on her face. He had to tell her eventually. Even slight progress to tell her and the others the truth he and Luz knew was better than keeping it bottled inside. But the lingering fright of how she would react ate away at him anytime he dared to think of confessing. His eyes slammed shut, head dropping back over the sink. He tensed as her hand landed on his shoulder.
"You okay?"
Willow's voice was motherly. Hunter's body relaxed once she started speaking.
"I-I'm fine! Never been better-"
"You're lying."
It was a kind of voice he had not heard in a long time, let alone from any of his friends. Camila was one thing; she was a parent. Caring words was a requirement of her. But Willow and the others? After everything he did? He felt his eyes burn in his fight to contain his emotions, flopping down to sit on the toilet, scissors falling from his head, clutched in his hands.
"I… I don't wanna be Belos's image anymore. I looked in the mirror and all I saw was him. When I look at myself, I don't wanna see Belos. I wanna see me.
"And I thought, "Well, I can't change my face or my body that much. It's a…" genetic thing? Whatever Luz called it… passed down through our family. So why not try and change my hair a bit? I have been forgetting about it, I didn't realize how long it had gotten until I went to wash it… I think I have split ends, heh…"
He hated lying to Willow. He was an unfortunately good liar, so she would never know unless she was told. But knowing he was doing so to save himself from guilt and her own emotions clutched his chest.
She took in the state of his new style, stifling a growing laugh. It was choppy, but she admired the attempt. His bangs were uneven, undercut spotted with mismatched patches. She had to admit that she would miss his old style, but had a plan for a new one. Holding out her hand, she crouched in front of the young teenager.
"Give me the scissors and spin around. I'll help you out if you trust me."
With hesitation, he handed over the blades before spinning on the seat, anxiety flooding his thoughts. He could only hope she knew what she was doing.
-
"You think I'll be able to get into Hexside? Obviously once we get back and fix everything…"
Strands of hair fluttered to the bathroom floor. Willow had left temporarily to find more supplies, mainly a razor and some brushes to fix his poor attempt at a shave and comb out loose strands or knots. Hunter tried to make small talk, starting with how school was going before leading into conversation about magic and spells. It was comforting to hear her voice. To hear her talk about her passions and interests.
"You probably could. What tracks would you study?"
"Beastkeeping for sure. Working with the Emperor's Coven had me face so many creatures, it would be awesome to have them under my control and be able to understand them. Imagine if I can get a hand dragon like Kikimora did, or gather an army of fire bees!"
"You? Keeping fire bees? That's like having Hooty keep quiet!"
"What, don't have faith in me? I think I could be a good fire bee tamer."
The conversations made the time pass faster. Hunter grew anxious whenever he sat still for too long, especially in silence. They had lost track of the time, caught up in their talks backed by the buzzing of the electric razor. Plastic caps clicked to the blades, Willow cutting the undershave with shorter and shorter caps until she thought it looked good. She smiled at her work, pride swelling in her chest.
"You almost done? I wanna see it already!"
"Calm down, Mr. Impatient Pants. It's almost ready…"
A few more minutes of cleaning up edges and trimming dead ends would be the end. Hunter had been begging for a mirror to see how he looked, to see if she was even doing a good job. If not, he figured that Camila would help fix it up in the morning. He had no idea Willow had knowledge of cosmetology.
He remembered the small smile on her face as she fixed up his bangs probably a half hour earlier. His face flushed darker the longer he thought about how happy she looked. Would he ever find that joy? It seemed like nothing but a distant dream.
"And that's it!"
The buzz of the razor stopped, Willow stepping to the side for a brush to sweep away any stray hairs. She moved in front of him, her hand tracing the edge of his face to adjust his new short bangs out of his face. Hunter felt another hot flash looking at her, that precious smile he had learned was pure content. She was happy with her work, and he was happy for her.
"Stand up."
She took his hands, cold against her warm palm, not taking too much note that it had been chilly in the bathroom. It did not help that he was wearing much less than usual, a collared shirt matched with shorts. Willow wanted to ask about the crossed pair of scars that covered his knee, but decided against it. The last thing she wanted was for him to have a breakdown over it. Especially after the calming conversation they held for the last hour or so.
Helping him to his feet, almost falling onto her from the weakness in his legs, he held her for support. Hunter diverted his eyes from her, locked on the wall behind her, not wanting her to see the look in his gaze. She obviously saw it; Willow took note of everything. With a breath, calming his nerves, he stared at himself in the mirror.
"Wha-?"
The young teen staring back at him was someone new. No resemblance of the Wittebane's anywhere on his face, the new short cut of his hair light weight on his head. He never realized how heavy his hair had been, or if it even was always that way. Now, with the cool breeze tickling the exposed skin of his neck, he nearly buckled at the sight of himself. Willow held him up, supporting him with soft hands on his shoulders. Hunter raised a hand over his mouth, the shock on his face pure and true.
"I… Willow…"
"I think it suits you. You look handsome."
Handsome.
That was the first time anyone had ever called him that. At least, the first time it was genuine. His thoughts kicked up a storm in his head, unable to get the words out without a fear of crying. Could he thank her? Would he snap and hold her forever, unwilling to let go as he sobbed gratitude into her shoulder? Normally it was one of the trained Coven scouts that did his hair, pampered it up and trimmed it to the Emperor's standards. Any thought of changing it was shot down by the stylist. The fear of Belos lashing out guided that scout's trimmers.
"How do you feel?"
"I feel…"
Wonderful. Individuality. Free.
"I feel… like I'm me."
His cheeks flared again when he saw her face, her hand moving to brush some more fallen strands from his face. She had done a perfect job at making sure his sideburns were even, in both length and cut, the length of his hair about that of Luz when she first arrived on the Isles. It flowed forward compared to back, as Belos had perfected it to be. He saw some parts beg for their freedom, to comb back to their usual spot, but he was too overwhelmed to care.
"Where did you…?"
"Papa would do my hair a lot when I was younger. He had to do his sister's hair when he was my age when their mom died. I used to watch him trim up Dad whenever his hair got too long. It isn't much different than trimming a hedge, really."
They remained silent for some time, Hunter admiring himself in the mirror while Willow shuffled her feet nervously.
"I… know the feeling, Hunter."
"What feeling?"
"When you get a new style. I felt the same way when I let Amity braid my hair for the first time in years. When I had Papa help me in dying the green streak."
She took his hand in hers, nearly having to drag it out from the bathroom into the hallway. It was awkward for her to hold a sentimental conversation like this in a cramped space. It was even more awkward now that they stood in the hallway, just silent in each other's eyes. Willow rubbed her hands together against her chest before she continued.
"I can already tell you look a lot happier, Hunter. That's the magic of it all; something as simple and small as a haircut can turn someone's mood around. I could see the same look in Amity's eyes when I saw her hair was purple. I saw that same glint that I now know was freedom."
He saw her face flush for a moment, a small pink flower blooming in her dark hair. He had never seen that happen before.
"You don't have to tell me anything you don't feel safe sharing. But if you ever need to, I will come help you. We can work with Flapjack and Clover on a little emergency retrieve system for when you wake up with a fright, okay?"
Hunter nodded in understanding. Another flower bloomed in her braids.
"Now c'mon. We gotta clean up the best we can."
-
The living room was quiet. Camila stood in the kitchen, huddled over the stove as she cracked a few eggs into a frying pan. She heard the footsteps of Luz and Amity coming down the stairs, knowing the sound of her daughter more than anyone, regardless of how long she stayed with them.
"Buenos días, mamá. Ooh! Eg-"
Camila shushed Luz as she rushed over to the stove, a finger pressed to her lips. She stopped in her tracks before she remembered that the others were likely still asleep. Luz was unsure if Hunter and Gus could hear from the basement, though.
"Be quiet, Luz. Willow and Hunter are trying to sleep."
"Willow and… huh?"
She glanced over at Amity. She stood at the end of the stairwell, her attention locked on the sofa in the middle of the room. Luz dragged herself over to her girlfriend, who pointed at the arm of the sofa to answer the unspoken question.
There they were, Willow resting her head on Hunter's chest, their breathing synced with one another. She took note that his hair looked different, much shorter than it was when they first arrived in the human world. He looked near to nothing like the man he was cloned from, or even the one who had molded him. In fact, she did not even fully recognize him at Hunter until she saw the scar on his face.
Small green buds rested in Willow's hair, pink petals poking from the top of the closed leaves. Luz glanced over at Amity with confusion at the sight, only to be met with a shrug back. Neither of them were masters at plant magic, despite Luz's expertise in using the plant glyphs; glyph magic was nothing compared to being a student in a track.
"Guys!"
The girls flinched at the shout of Gus coming from the basement stairs, Amity seeing Hunter scrunch his face from the sudden loud sound. She glared at the young illusionist as he stomped upstairs, a new and fresh roll of bubble wrap held in his hands. He stopped popping the pockets when he reached the top, staring back at Amity before his attention went to the couch.
"Oh… sorry. You know, I was wondering where he went. His sleeping bag was empty. Did he cut his hair?"
"Looks like it, but keep your voice down. He's actually sleeping for once, don't ruin it."
"What'd you mean, "for once"? Guy falls asleep every night after the magic blinking things put him to sleep!"
"They're called fairy lights, and they really don't…"
Gus and Amity continued their argument in hushed sounds, the girl slamming her hand over his mouth when he looked ready to shout in his defense. The act had startled Camila, a small bit of egg flying from the spatula to the countertop. Luz watched with a smile on her face. Seeing how her friends were adapting made her heart swell.
Looking back at the couch, she swore she saw the slightest grin on Hunter's face.
For the first time in years, he was in the lands of well dreams.