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sergeantsporks · 5 months

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Gilded Family

Rating: Teen and Up, Gen

Ch 35/38: And Watching

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6 , Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13, Ch 14, Ch 15, Ch 16, Ch 17, Ch 18, Ch 19, Ch 20, Ch 21, Ch 22, Ch 23, Ch 24, Ch 25, Ch 26, Ch 27, Ch 28, Ch 29, Ch 30, Ch 31, Ch 32, Ch 33, Ch 34

An alternate universe in which Evelyn managed to save Caleb after his confrontation with Phillip. The two of them escaped to present day through time pools, and have been using time pools to secretly rescue grimwalkers just after Belos attempts to kill them. The story follows Darius' mentor as he adjusts to his new life, as well as changes to the course of canon.

Ao3

The keep loomed in front of Phoenix, cold and sterile. His stomach tied itself in knots, his heart flip-flopping around like he was 13 and coming back from his first failed mission all over.

I never thought I’d see this place again.

Somehow, it seemed… smaller. Phoenix couldn’t quite place why, but even though seeing the place still filled him with dread, it felt… lighter. Maybe it was knowing that if he did all the right things, if he fought back, he could leave this place behind forever. Not that there was a place for him to go after with the house destroyed, but at least the people who’d made the house worth going back to were still alive.

Hopefully.

The star swooped closer to the ground, and Phoenix tumbled off the back, rolling to absorb the impact, and springing to his feet. He took a deep breath, let it out, then started thinking of all the worst possible scenario, of what would happen if he couldn’t get away. The Isles? Destroyed. His body? Taken by Belos and used to hurt the people he cared about.

His arms shifted into mud and claws, and he twisted his fluid hand, snaking the claws to the ropes that held him tight.

Petro swooped back around, landing and dragging Phoenix closer with a wave of his staff. “Oh, no you don’t.”

“How’s possession?” Phoenix asked, desperate to keep his attention away from the slowly, but steadily fraying ropes. “Is it everything you hoped for when you went back to him? Does it hurt much?”

Petro’s jaw clenched, and he tossed Phoenix to the side.

Hit a nerve there.

The Collector’s star whirled out of control, crashing into the ground, and Phoenix winced, glad he’d rolled off when he did. Belos staggered off, twitching and lurching. The witch he was possessing must be fighting back—Belos wouldn’t be able to use their body much longer.

Phoenix slashed at the ropes quicker.

“I said,” the witch growled, “Get out!”

They whistled, a long, high, pure note, and Belos flew forward, repelled by a blast of magic that ruffled Phoenix’s hair and strained the ropes around him.

Belos snarled. “That’s fine. Only one vessel is big enough to do what I need.” He pulled up into a smaller, shriveled version of his monster form, his blue eyes latching on Petro. “Watch them.”

He disappeared into the castle. The witch watched for a moment, puzzled then gasped. “No.”

They glanced back, an agonized apology written on their face as their eyes met Phoenix’s.

“Go,” Phoenix urged them, “Don’t worry about me.”

They bolted, tearing through the front gates. Petro swore, starting to chase after them, but stopped, hovering between their quickly-disappearing form and Phoenix with a frustrated growl. Finally, he jabbed one finger at Phoenix. “Don’t. Move. I mean it.”

He leapt after the witch, chasing in bursts of magical gold that were always just a step behind the witch’s quick pace.

Phoenix finally tore through the ropes, leaping to his feet. He’d never catch up running, not with his broken ankle. Instead, he eyed the outside of the keep. He’d be heading for the throne room; Phoenix had spent enough time here that he could figure out where any room in the keep was from the outside, and he picked a likely window. He limped to Belos’ crashed star, tugging it out of the ground and kneeling on its glowing center.

Don’t think about it too hard.

Phoenix tugged the points of the star, and the whole thing shot upwards, flipping nearly perpendicular to the ground. Phoenix yelped, pressing his weight forward against the star to even it out. He slowly angled the star to face the window, then leaned forward, hurtling towards the window at top speed. He braced himself for impact, wincing as the window shattered and broken shards of glass slashed at his face and arms while he sailed through.

If I had a snail for every time today…

The witch from before faced off against Petro, whirling around and emitting sharp whistles that blasted Petro back every time he tried to attack. Bard magic. But Belos inched his rotting way towards the titan’s heart. Phoenix leapt off the star and onto Petro, tackling him.

“Stop Belos!” he yelled, “I’ve got your back!”

The world blurred gold just as the bard reached for their viola.

Petro warped outside, close to the top of the keep. Phoenix yelped, clinging to the staff while Petro kicked at him.

“You’re too much trouble,” Petro hissed, his foot narrowly missing Phoenix’s face. “We’re better off without you. Just—” Phoenix twisted to avoid a kick, still holding onto the staff with all his might. “Let—” another failed kick. “Go! Stop wiggling!” The staff slowly drifted towards the outer walls, dragged by Phoenix’s thrashing weight.

Before Petro could try to kick him again, before Phoenix could make another move, the keep exploded in green, what looked like a forest of mold and moss erupting from its center and covering the walls. Petro stopped kicking at Phoenix, staring slack-jawed at the ruin covered in growth.

Phoenix pushed off the staff while Petro was distracted, stretching his claws out and digging them into the keep walls as he fell. His momentum dragged him down in a hail of broken stone and popping, creaking joints and bones. He came to a halt a relatively safe distance from the ground, and leapt the rest of the way, landing in a roll and springing to his feet. He turned his face away from the keep, sick at the thought of what must have happened to the bard trapped inside.

Too late.

Petro circled above him like a vulture, waiting for an opening. Phoenix rolled his shoulders with a wince, shifting into a defensive position. “You’re really okay with this?!” he demanded, “He’s going to destroy everything! Are you so blindly devoted that you’ll let him wipe out everything you’ve known?”

“Even if I wanted to, what do you think I can do to stop it?” Petro snarled back. He gestured at the overtaken keep. Belos slowly crept outwards, his rot rooting itself in the titan’s very bones. “What do you think any of us could do against that?! Face it. You’ve lost. The bard lost, even without me slowing them down. Everyone but him has lost.” He wheeled around in the air, facing away from Phoenix and the keep. “Die now by my hand, or in a few moments by his, little bird,” he said gruffly, “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

He disappeared in a flash of gold. Phoenix stepped back, edging away from the growing infection. What could he do? He didn’t want to think Petro was right, but there were no more plans. Nothing left to try.

Belos wanted to get back to Caleb once he’d finished wiping out the Isles—but would Caleb even survive? Would Belos somehow be able to spare him?

Would the rest of the family survive even if Belos did manage to somehow keep Caleb alive in all of this?

The keep rumbled, and the infection shot outwards in throbbing, living spikes. Phoenix dove to the side, landing in a clear patch tucked in the shadow of a pillar. Before he could move any further, the rot had completely closed around. Bare patches dotted the ground, but nowhere Phoenix could easily jump to, especially not with his injured ankle—he was stranded in an ocean of waving green anemone.

The mass of green around the keep shifted and bulged, sprouting wings and arms and too many blue eyes to count. Phoenix’s breath caught in his throat, and he shrank back against the pillar to avoid the gaze of those icy blue eyes. His own arms shuddered and flipped back and forth between mud and flesh, as if his curse couldn’t decide whether to fight or to hide. Phoenix leaned against the pillar, his heart doing its best to spear itself on his ribcage.

This can’t be happening.

How do I stop it?

Blue flames arced across the sky, scorching the landscape, and despite himself, Phoenix let out a squeak. Belos had never been able to do that before.

A rush of wind ruffled his hair, and Eda landed next to him, closely followed by Luz, King, and the Collector.

“Phoenix?! What are you doing here?”

Phoenix flinched. “I… sort of got kidnapped? Sorry. I didn’t mean to leave the archive house.”

Collector tapped their fingers together anxiously. “Did you see Hunter? Is he alright? Did Belos get him, too?”

“Hunt—oh, you mean Petro. He’s… fine? But look, about him—”

“Is that Belos?!” Eda yelped.

Phoenix broke off his conversation with the Collector to answer her instead. “Yep. That’s him.”

Luz eyed him suspiciously. “Are you sure you’re not—”

Right. He could see where this looked bad. “I’m not the one who brought him here. I swear I wasn’t possessed, Luz. I promise. He… it was sort of a long line of possession, actually. But I wasn’t part of it.”

King waved a hand at the monstrosity that was Belos. “It doesn’t matter who it was! What do we do? There’s no way we can stop that!”

Phoenix’s heart sank. Of course he’d known he couldn’t do much—Petro was right. But he’d hoped… King was a titan. And Eda had whatever this feathery form was. But if they didn’t have any idea what to do either, maybe it was the end of the line.

Collector straightened up. “Yes, there is.” They started to glow, their feet lifting off the floor. “And I know how.”

A spark of hope flared in Phoenix’s chest as they shot through the sky like a star, flicking Belos’ attacks to the side like they were nothing. Last time, Collector had managed to turn Belos into a puddle—sure, he’d survived, but if they could do it again, it would at least buy enough time to figure out a better solution. And this time, they’d know to watch for him. No one would be taken by surprise again.

Collector seemed to collide with Belos in a blinding flash of light, but when the light faded, Phoenix saw that he’d actually stopped short of the monster’s face, floating serenely in the sky.

“No…” Luz murmured, “What is he doing?!”

“I get it now,” Collector said cheerfully, “You just need kindness and forgiveness, huh?”

Collector hugged Belos’ face. Belos seemed almost as surprised as the rest of them, blinking slowly at the child attached to his face.

Phoenix’s jaw dropped. “What did you three say to them?!” he asked frantically.

“Not this!” King protested, “Well—sort of, but Belos?!”

Luz winced. “I’d be so proud of him if it was anytime but now.”

Collector floated away from Belos, turning to face the rest of them. He waved. “Luz, look! We can all be buddies now!”

Belos opened his mouth, blue fire sparking.

“No!” Phoenix leapt forward, desperately dashing through clear patches despite the jolts of pain in his ankle, but he knew already in a sinking, sick feeling, that he wouldn’t make it in time.

“Collector!”

Luz whooshed overhead in a flash of purple and white, and Phoenix stopped to watch her, his breath stopping in his chest.

Belos fired.

Luz’s magic burst purple, dispelling the blue.

Phoenix hissed out a sigh of relief when he saw Luz and the Collector both floating in the aftermath. His legs wobbled, but he stayed up, watching. Something was wrong—he could feel it in an aching in his arms, a loss that hadn’t happened yet.

And Luz started to dissolve into light, green moss overtaking her body and changing her.

“No,” Phoenix whispered, “No, no, no.”

“Luz?” Collector asked in a small voice, “What’s happening?”

Luz slowly turned to look down at Eda and King, tears bubbling in her eyes. “Eda, King. Looks like we're gonna be split up again. I feel like I should be used to this feeling by now, but... I still don't know what to say.”

Every fiber of Phoenix’s body screamed do something, but there was nothing to do except watch. Watch as she disappeared, and her staff clattered to the ground. Watch as Collector grasped for her hand, catching a tiny ball of light. Watch as Eda and King stared in horror where Luz used to be. Collector slowly drifted down next to them. “Where’d she go?”

Phoenix stumbled his way back to the rest, wishing he could say something to Eda and King, but his voice died in his throat. What could he say?

It should have been me.

I should have stopped Belos earlier

If I’d gone for him instead of Petro

If I’d tried to push him off the star on the way, something

“Luz?” Collector said with a wobbly, nervous smile, “Luz? Yoo-hoo! You can come out now!”

Phoenix still couldn’t say anything, and the same was happening to Eda and King—they just stared blankly where Luz had disappeared.

Collector kept that same smile on their face. “Well, it's okay. She just broke, so I'll fix her.” He snapped his fingers, but the glow just dissipated. He snapped again. “What? Why isn't it working?” He kept snapping, each snap more frantic than the last. “The Archivists aren't here. They couldn't have taken her.”

Phoenix’s heart tore in his chest. He didn’t understand—of course he didn’t. He thought they were toys to be fixed.

Belos took aim again, and this time, King leapt in front of the Collector with a shout.

No, Phoenix thought dizzily, turning too slow, too slow.

But King’s shout formed a shield, glyphs glowing on its surface. He’d grown bigger, more… feral looking, his eyes and mouth glowing to match Belos’. He roared.

Collector wandered back, tugging at Eda. “Owl Lady, you know where Luz is, right?”

Eda gently pushed him to the side, her feathers lengthening, and her body hunching. “Back up, kid. I don’t think I can control myself right now.”

Collector turned slowly to Phoenix, his bottom lip trembling. “Phoenix?” he asked softly, “Is she really gone?”

“I…” Phoenix’s legs finally gave out on him, and he collapsed to his knees while Eda and King charged towards Belos, roaring. “I’m sorry.”

“But I don’t understand.” Collector’s voice wobbled, and he scooted closer to Phoenix. “I don’t understand, Belos broke you and you came back. Why can’t Luz come back?”

“Oh, Collector,” Phoenix sighed. He reached out, pausing. “…Permission to touch?”

Collector sniffed. “What’s that mean?”

“It means… it means I want to comfort you, but I don’t know if you want to be touched right now. I know I lied to you, and it hurt you, and… if you don’t want me to, I won’t.”

Collector scrubbed at their face. “It’s okay.”

Phoenix gently took the Collector’s hands, squeezing them tightly. “I…”

“You came back,” Collector repeated, “Why can’t she?”

Phoenix sighed again. “When Belos hurt me… some very special people found me, and they… they helped me. They put me back together, and… they made sure I was safe. They took care of me. I was lucky,” he continued softly, “Very lucky. But… that was an exception. And… people don’t usually come back.”

Collector looked back up at Eda and King, whose attacks seemed to just bounce off of Belos. As enormous as Eda’s beast form was, she was still miniscule compared to Belos, and King was even smaller.

“It’s not doing anything,” Collector whispered in horror, “It’s just—it’s not beating him. They’re going to lose—can’t they see?”

Phoenix squeezed Collector’s hand. “It’s all they can do,” he said softly. That sinking, hopeless feeling was back. Even powered up, they couldn’t do anything. Phoenix was useless in this fight. And Luz…

Eda scooped King up just before one of Belos’ attacks could hit him, landing behind Phoenix and Collector. She roared her fury, but before she could attack again, Collector broke away from Phoenix and waved his arms in front of her.

“No, please stop! Run away!” Collector snapped his fingers. “Why isn't anything working?”

Phoenix limped up behind him. Mold sprouted on Collector’s hands.

No.

I won’t let this happen again!

“Collector—”

Collector’s eyes filled with tears. “I don't want anyone else to go away. I don't want anyone else to go missing!” He turned to Phoenix with a desperate look on his face. “I'm sorry for everything! I’m sorry!” The tears started to pour down, and he scrubbed at his face. “What is this stuff? Why won’t it stop?”

Phoenix reached for his shoulder, but Collector collapsed to his knees, hiccupping hysterically. “No! No, no, no, no! Get off of her!”

Phoenix looked down and saw mold growing on Eda’s feet. It crusted on his own boots as well, chewing at the leather. His arms bubbled in response, the mud burning and eating at his shoulders, as if trying to climb away from his infested feet.

Not now

But the curse didn’t care—it was stressed and hungry, and Phoenix was too tired and too scared to fight it off. Phoenix’s vision blurred, but he could feel the ground tremble, and he looked up just in time to see Belos raising one massive hand to crush them all.

No.

Phoenix blinked back the fuzziness, pushed back the exhaustion, and leapt forward, scooping Collector and King up in his arms and shielding them with his body. It wouldn’t help. He knew, deep down, that when that hand came down, it would crush them underneath him. But he had to do something, even knowing it was over. Phoenix braced himself.

The blow never came. Purple light pulsed around them, and Belos drew back with a screech.

Collector gasped, pushing around Phoenix. “It can’t be…?”

Through the clouds of dust, glyphs burned and shifted, swirling around a figure in the center. Phoenix squinted, trying to see past the light. King shrank a little, and his eyes lost their glowing. Finally, the fog cleared, and Luz grinned, her glyphs coming to a halt around her. “I’m back!”

She wasn’t the same Luz who’d disappeared. Her eyes had gone purplish black with glowing gold irises. Horns matching King’s sprouted from her head, claws lengthened her hands. But it was her. Phoenix’s heart thumped in his chest. This was impossible—she’d disappeared, she’d turned into light. Maybe Belos really had killed them all, and now they were reuniting with Luz. But Belos still loomed over them, and the Isles hadn’t disappeared, so…

The glyphs faded away and Luz tugged on her hat nervously. “I—wait. Uh. Couldn’t keep me away from… hang on.” She groaned. “I still can’t think of anything to say,” she complained.

King leapt out of Phoenix’s arms and to Eda, who shrank back down to her feathered, but smaller, form with a grin. “It’s Luz alright!”

Belos roared, shaking the ground beneath their feet. Before he could attack again, Luz waved her staff. A bubble of light, shining with glyphs on its surface, formed around the five of them. It slowly rose into the air, then slammed into the sky with a jerk, sending everyone inside tumbling around. Phoenix tucked his arms in close to his chest to avoid touching anyone with his volatile curse. Out of immediate danger, the mud subsided a bit, but the bone-weary exhaustion stayed.

The ball shuddered to a halt, and Luz grinned sheepishly. “Whoa! Overshot it a little. Still… getting used to these powers!”

Belos snarled up at them, and the head of the titan started to twist. On top, the archive house shook, sliding down.

“The archive house,” Eda gasped, “Everyone inside—”

Jason, Ghost, Darius… and whoever else Collector had caught. They’d be defenseless up there, unable to move and get away. If the fall didn’t kill them, Belos’ rot would.

“Leave it to me,” Collector said confidently. They held a hand out. “…Phoenix? Will you come with me?”

Phoenix nodded, taking his hand. A star formed beneath them, breaking out of the bubble.

“Hey—” Phoenix turned back to the bubble. “There was a bard inside the keep when everything… exploded.”

Eda started. “A bard?”

“Yeah—I don’t know what you’re planning, and I know you have to stop this fast, but if you have a second…”

Luz squeezed Eda’s hand. “We’ll find them,” she promised.

The star took off. Phoenix sat down with a whump, and a glowing strand of blue energy wrapped around his waist. Collector gave him a crooked, apologetic smile. “I know you always wished they came with seatbelts.”

Phoenix gestured to Collector’s hands. The mold had spread up their wrists. “Hey…”

They hid their hands in their sleeves. “I can do this. We can do this.”

Phoenix met their gaze. They were so small—but determination flashed in those orange eyes. Phoenix still didn’t know what Luz had said to him, but whatever it was, it was working. He nodded. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

The tip of the titan’s horn snapped, and the archive house plummeted. Collector stood on the star, tendrils of purple light snatching the points of the house and holding it steady. Below them, Phoenix could see Luz’s friends and a woman he didn’t recognize snatching puppets off the shelves and moving them safely to the floor.

The seatbelt released, and with a wrinkle of Collector’s nose, Phoenix floated off the star and drifted down to the Archives below, landing so lightly on his feet that even his broken ankle didn’t feel the impact

“Phoenix?!” Hunter yelped, “Is that the Collector?”

“Yes, it’s the Collector, hi, we’re here to help.” Phoenix took a deep breath, holding his hands up. “Please don’t freak out, I promise I’m not possessed, it’s just very simi—”

A puppet tumbled down off the shelves, jarred by the shaking, and Phoenix reached out instinctively, his arms lengthening and safely snatching them out of the air.

The kids stared at him, mouths open, and Phoenix held his hands up again. “Not possessed! Promise!”

Another puppet fell, and the woman Phoenix didn’t recognize activated an ice glyph, creating a slide for them to roll down. “Hi, Phoenix, I’m Camila. Jason told us a lot about you; it’s so nice to finally meet you. Do you mind giving us a hand?”

Phoenix nodded, slinging one hand up to a higher shelf and pulling himself to the top. He gently untangled the puppet there from the pegs holding them in place and lowered them down to Camila.

“What’s going on out there?” the purple-haired girl (Amity? Phoenix was pretty sure that was her name) asked anxiously, “Is that Belos out there? Is Luz okay? Did you see her?”

“Luz is…” Phoenix searched for the right word. “…alive?”

Amity’s face paled.

“She’s fine!” he added quickly, “Luz is fine, it’s just—a lot’s happened. Honestly, I’m still figuring it out myself. Belos… I don’t know, she dissolved into light, but now she’s back, and I think she’s turned into a titan?”

“She what?!” everyone yelped in unison.

Phoenix started to lower himself down to the next niche. “Well—"

A roaring scream emanated from the titan’s chest, grating on Phoenix’s ears. His fingers released the ledge of their own volition, his curse shrinking back into normal flesh. He yelped, snatching uselessly at the ledges.

Hunter appeared in a flash of gold, grabbing his arm and teleporting safely back down to the ground. “Got you.”

“Thanks.” Phoenix limped to the balcony. The glowing ball, the bursts of magic—all signs of Luz had disappeared entirely. “Where…?”

The isles rumbled, and the archive house started to slip again, the green mold at the center of the Isles lashing out desperately.

“She’s still fighting!” Willow cheered.

A flash of purple magic sparked at the heart, and the monster raging at its center stopped, turning grey and slowly crumbling. The head slowly approached—or, rather, the archive house gently floated down to meet it. Collector crashed to the ground with a sigh, and Phoenix fell next to him. “Is it… over?” he whispered.

Collector held up their hands. The moss covering their arms disappeared just like Belos, faded into the wind. “I think so.”

The kids approached, and Collector flinched holding his arms over his head. Phoenix looked up at them, worried. They had every right to be angry. But before he could say anything, Amity held her hand out to Collector, helping them up. Hunter pulled Phoenix to his feet.

“What happened to your leg?”

“Long story,” Phoenix said wearily, “Hey—did you find Jason when you were grabbing puppets? And Ghost?”

“What? We sent Jason back home—did you miss him? And… who’s Ghost?”

“Your new baby sibling.”

“My what?!”

“Yeah, you’re not the youngest anymore.” Phoenix pushed himself onto his own two feet. “Jason and Ghost got caught—we have to find th—”

He swayed, dizzy, and nearly fell on top of Hunter. Willow grabbed his other arm to balance out his weight. “We’ll find them,” she said firmly.

“You look awful,” Amity agreed, “You need to sit down—how long have you been walking on that leg like that?”

“But—” Phoenix protested.

“Hey.” Camila smiled at him, a warm, comforting smile that almost made all his worries about Jason melt away in an instant. “We care about Jason, too. We’ll find him.” She gave the other kids the stink eye. “Don’t think the rest of you are off the hook. You all need rest, too. You’ve had a long couple of days, and just because your legs aren’t broken doesn’t mean you’re in top shape.”

“I know where all the unpuppets can meet up!” Collector declared, “You can wait for mini you there, Phoenix!”

“But—”

Before Phoenix could finish his sentence, they snapped their fingers, and the ruined storage room disappeared, replaced by a cracked, but mostly intact foyer. Phoenix slumped against a pillar, sliding to the ground and closing his eyes. They were right. He knew that. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could stay up on his injured leg, and the curse howled hungrily inside of him. He needed to conserve strength until he could get something to eat, or take an extended nap. Running around the archive house looking for Jason and Ghost would probably just result in his curse going wild and creating a new problem for everyone to deal with.

That didn’t mean he liked it. His chest ached, wishing desperately that they’d find Jason and Ghost soon, or that Darius would be freed quickly. Phoenix ran over a thousand apologies in his mind to distract from the ache in his chest, none of them as thorough and perfect as Darius deserved.

The archive house slowly filled with dull murmurs. When Phoenix opened his eyes, he saw a few newly-freed witches skirting around him with nervous glances. His gaze slowly slid down to the myriad of cuts and bruises mottling his skin. He could feel more on his back rubbing rawly against the pillar, mementos of his latest trip out the archive house window. He probably did look like someone to steer clear of.

Still, even the witches dressed in healers’ blue avoided him.

The conversation bubbled up as more and more freed citizens reunited with family members and friends. All around Phoenix, tearful shouts of joy rose up, making the ache in his chest worse. And then, two new voices rose above the rest, calling familiar names.

“Clara? Ram?”

Phoenix opened his eyes. Two witches pushed through the crowd, scanning every face anxiously.

“Excuse me,” one begged another witch, “Have you seen two kids? One about this high, she’s eight, and another shorter, about five? Our children, we’re looking for them. Please—”

Phoenix creaked to his feet, limping towards them. “Hey—Clara and Ram—I know where they are.”

One of the witches grabbed his arm. “You saw them?” he asked, “Are they safe? Where are they?”

“Hexside.” Even as he said it, Phoenix started to doubt himself. Had they made it? If their parents hadn’t found them here, then they must have escaped the Collector, but had they made it to Hexside? And what about Belos? Had anyone survived his onslaught outside of the archive house?

“Hexside? Why would they be there?”

Phoenix shook himself. They were fine. They’d made it. “They weren’t with the Collector—some family of mine took care of them. They were taken to Hexside for safety.”

The witch released his arm. “Thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

His partner inclined their head in a gracious nod. “We’ll go after them. Hey—are you alright?”

Phoenix realized he was swaying on his feet, and he blinked. “Oh. I’m… I’ll be alright. I just need to sit down.”

“Is there anything we can do for you?”

The first witch shifted anxiously, glancing at the door, and Phoenix realized that these witches couldn’t be much older than he was. They’d been separated from their family, just like him. Even though the panicky witch’s sigil matched the healing coven, he couldn’t even think of asking him to stay, despite the aches and pains tearing at him. They needed to leave. He shook his head.

“Go find Clara and Ram. Or—well—if you see anyone who looks like me at Hexside, could you tell them I’m alright, and I’ll be there soon?”

The anxious witch nodded, relief flitting across his face. “And… who should we say sent the message?”

“Phoenix.”

“Thank you, Phoenix,” the calmer witch said, “Thank you for looking out for them.”

The two melted back into the crowd, and Phoenix found a new place to sit—this time, a proper bench. Odalia waltzed by, sulking in a corner. A low growl rumbled in Phoenix’s throat, but he leaned back against the wall again with a sigh. She wasn’t worth it. The Hexside kids filed in, running to adults Phoenix assumed were their parents. Across the room, he saw Darius surprise Hunter, and his heart throbbed in his throat, choking him. He closed his eyes again, as if putting the two out of sight would make him forget they were there.

What do I say to him?

“You look shorter than I remember.”

Phoenix’s eyes shot open. There he was, with Hunter next to him looking oh-so-pleased with himself. Flesh and blood, not a puppet, but Darius, really Darius, standing in front of him with a small, sad, nervous smile. Any plans for what he could say, any possible responses he’d thought of fled his mind in an instant.

“You look older than I remember,” he shot back, lurching to his feet, “I… Darius, I’m sorry.” The words flowed out in a torrent, one after the next in an unstoppable river. “I’m sorry I didn’t contact you. I’m sorry I just disappeared with no warning. I’m—”

Darius held one hand up. “I heard already.”

Phoenix stopped midsentence. “What?”

“Near Eda’s cage. When I was a puppet. I remember it all. I heard your apology, and… I do want the explanation you promised. But for now, there’s no need to apologize again. I know. I’m just… happy you’re alive.”

“Oh.”

An awkward silence fell between the two of them. Darius’ hands opened and closed, like he wasn’t sure whether to give Phoenix a hug, or prepare for a combat lesson.

“So… Hunter tells me it’s Phoenix now?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I changed my name. Felt right.” Phoenix fidgeted, shifting from one foot to the other, completely forgetting about his injured ankle and almost immediately crumpling like a used napkin.

Darius jumped forward to catch his arms. “You look awful,” he said thickly, tears springing to his eyes, “What happened to you? Where have you been?”

Phoenix’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly, his own eyes spilling over. “It’s—it’ll be a long explanation,” he replied hoarsely, “There’s been so much going on—and I’ve missed you. Every second, I wished I could see you again. Ask what you thought. Help you through it all. But look at you!” The tears had become an unstoppable rain, and Phoenix was surprised his arms hadn’t turned to mud from the proud sadness. “You got through it! You fought back against Belos! You made new allies! And you didn’t need me for any of it—you did all that on your own. I’m so proud of you. I’m so proud.”

“I did need you,” Darius protested, “I did it all for you. To make sure no one else I cared about disappeared.”

Phoenix heard a snuffle, and he glanced over to see Hunter suspiciously misty-eyed, and looking up at the ceiling to hide it.

“Jason would love this,” Hunter mumbled when he noticed Phoenix and Darius looking, “He’d probably have some book reference about it and everything. Where is he?”

A slow horror crept over Phoenix. “Didn’t—didn’t you find him? Where is he? And Ghost?”

Hunter’s posture stiffened. “What are you talking about? He wasn’t with the other puppets—we thought the Collector found him before we did and sent him here already! He didn’t find you?!”

Phoenix shook his head. “I haven’t seen him!”

“Who’s Jason?” Darius interjected.

“He’s—he’s Hunter and I’s brother, one of the people who took me in after Belos… but if I haven’t seen him, and you haven’t seen him…”

“Maybe he went home,” Hunter suggested, “If he didn’t know you were here, he might have taken Ghost and gone back to meet up with the rest of the family.”

“There is no home,” Phoenix said bleakly, “It’s destroyed now.” He passed a hand over his face. “He could have gone to Hexside, I suppose. He knew that’s where everyone was supposed to meet up.”

“I could get us there,” Hunter offered, “Flap and I—we can fly you to Hexside to check.”

Phoenix glanced back at Darius, words failing in his mouth. “I…”

Darius gave him a pained smile. “Go. Find your brother. Make sure he’s safe. I’ve waited thirty years, I can wait a bit longer.”

“Thank you,” Phoenix whispered, “And—I’m sorry. I’ll explain everything soon, I promise.”

“Go. Oh—and Phoenix? If you and your family don’t have a place to stay, my home is open. Hunter knows where it is, he’s fond of sending ravens at untitanly hours of the night.” He gave Hunter a smile that took the bite out of the words.

“Uh—Are you sure about that?” Hunter asked nervously, “There’s… a lot of them.”

“Of course I am. That includes you, Hunter. You’re welcome any time.”

Hunter looked like he wanted to protest further—maybe by giving a more exact estimate of exactly how many “a lot” was, but he just shrugged and summoned his staff. “We’ll be back soon,” he promised Darius, and crinkled his nose at Phoenix. “I’ll fly low and slow, don’t worry.”

“You’re still afraid of heights?” Darius asked.

“With the number of windows I’ve been thrown through recently?” Phoenix joked, sitting next to Hunter, “I better be.”

Hunter took off, and Darius shrank down behind them until he was gone from sight entirely. Hunter’s definition of “low and slow” was a little higher and faster than Phoenix was entirely comfortable with, but it would get them to Hexside quickly, so he just looked up at the sky instead of at the rushing ground below them.

“Am I doing the right thing?” he asked, “Leaving him again, I mean. I’m worried about Jason, but I don’t want to hurt him again. And just ditching him without much explanation all over…”

Hunter shrugged. “He’s fine with it—or at least it’s not a dealbreaker for him. I think he needs some space to figure out how he feels, and he wants you to have that space, too.”

“How do you know?”

“It’s a two-way street,” Hunter replied quietly, “Yeah, you’re leaving. But he didn’t offer to come with you, either.”

“Oh.” Phoenix’s chest felt hollow inside. He’d spent so long worrying about what he’d say to Darius, and how to explain it all, that he’d never thought about what they would do after. They couldn’t just go back to the way things had been—Darius had progressed far past the point of needing a mentor, and Phoenix was too much younger than him to fill that role now anyway. So what next?

He and Hunter sat in awkward silence for a few minutes, just passing over the Isles. One of the titan’s hands was outstretched to the sky now—Phoenix winced at the thought of anyone who had lived there previously. There was about to be a lot of rebuilding.

“So,” Hunter said finally, breaking the silence, “Your arms. It’s… like his curse?”

Phoenix looked down at his hands, normal for now, but with no telling how long that would last. “Yeah.”

Hunter nodded, taking a deep breath. “Does it… hurt much?”

Phoenix nodded. “Kind of burns, like it’s eating my skin. And when I use it…” he rubbed his aching elbows.

“Your joints and bones feel like they’re stretched out?” Hunter finished quietly, “Worn? Achy?”

“Yeah,” Phoenix said again, “I… guess you’d know.”

Hunter nodded, and another silence fell between the two of them, but this one lasted only a few moments before Hunter burst out, “It wasn’t your fault. That it happened to you.” He looked back at Phoenix with strangely desperate eyes, “You know that, right? You know it isn’t your fault, and you don’t deserve it, right? It’s his fault. Not yours.”

Tears crowded into Phoenix’s eyes, and a weight he didn’t know was crushing him fell off his shoulders, like he’d been absolved of some sin with just those simple words. It’s his fault. Not yours. You didn’t deserve it. Hunter didn’t know the full story—how he’d kept the infection secret, and lied about how he was until it was too much—but still, his pardon rang true. Phoenix looked down at his hands again, losing the fight against the tears.

“Yeah,” he mumbled, “I know. And—you too. It wasn’t your fault, either. Any of it. You didn’t deserve it any more than I did. Probably even less.”

“It wasn’t our fault,” Hunter echoed softly.

Hexside slowly came into view, still standing and, to Phoenix’s relief, crawling with life. Hunter swooped down, landing without a single bump. He clutched his staff tightly, and Phoenix noted that Flapjack didn’t spring to life. Gashes ran through the palisman’s chest, tearing through the red wood.

“Is… Flapjack okay?”

“Um.” Hunter looked at the ground. “He… hasn’t woken up since Belos tried to kill him. I was hoping—I was hoping, you know, he was Caleb’s palisman first. Maybe he could help fix Flapjack.”

“Let’s find him, then,” Phoenix said briskly.

“Phoenix! Hunter!” Viney waved from a window, jumping out and letting Puddles catch her on her way down. “Hey! Phoenix! How do you look even worse than the last time I saw you? Geeze. Let’s get you fixed up.”

Before Phoenix could protest, Puddles scooped him up in her beak, bounding through the halls and depositing him with a sudden halt onto a cot. The healing homeroom—he recognized it from his last time here. Hushed murmurs that sounded like an argument emanated from behind a curtain sectioning off a corner of the room.

“Gentle, Puddles! Gentle!” Viney climbed off her griffin’s back. “Sorry. Let’s take a look at that leg, shall we? Nice splint, though, very practical, if unorthodox.”

“Luz.”

“That’d do it. Nice to see she was paying attention in healing class.” Viney cut the boot off, ‘tsk’ing over his foot. “I’ll get the plaster. And some crutches for you—hey, you’re not putting weight on that for at least a two weeks, you hear me? And that’s if you have regular healing sessions.”

“I’ll try.”

Viney bustled off.

“I’m not doing it,” a different, but familiar voice snapped. The curtain in the corner flew open, and Dagger rolled out in a wheelchair, chased by an exasperated healing student holding a cast saw, “Go away.”

“You have to trust me!” the student wheedled, “I promise I’ll be gentle. Hey—you can’t do it on your own!”

“Watch me.”

Phoenix sighed. “Dagger, you’re not a healer. He is. Let him help.”

Dagger came to an abrupt halt. “Oh,” he said poisonously, “It’s you.”

“It’s me,” Phoenix agreed, “Where is everyone?”

“Off using their fully functional legs, I assume.” Dagger crossed his arms. “You just had to copy me, huh? Getting me crushed in a cave wasn’t enough, now you had to go and screw up your leg, too? Not enough broken bones in the family for you?”

Phoenix sputtered. He hadn’t been prepared for quite this much aggression, not even from Dagger. “I—whoa, hey. I didn’t ask to get my ankle broken!”

“And I didn’t ask for you to forget me in a cave and never come back for me, yet here we are.” Dagger started to roll away. “I hope you didn’t expect the red carpet welcome from me.”

“That’s not fair,” Phoenix protested, “I didn’t forget you! I sent someone to get you!”

Dagger swiveled the chair around in a single, sharp movement. “You sent a stranger, someone I’d never met before, someone who could have been a threat, to find me when I was totally helpless. And you think I should be grateful?”

“I trusted Viney.”

“Well, I had no reason to.” Dagger turned his chair back towards the door, wheeling out. “Whatever. Welcome back, Phoenix. If you want someone who’s happy to see you, go find Dad.”

The healing student chased after him. “W-wait, I still have to—”

The door closed behind them. Viney set down her supplies with a whump. “Well. I can see you’re having a fun family reunion. He was pretty freaked out when I got to him. Don’t think he’s very trusting. But, hey, injuries can bring out the worst in people, and mind injuries are even worse. Don’t take it too personally. He called me some very unflattering things before. I woulda socked him if he wasn’t injured.” She moved quickly and efficiently, her magic moving his leg so imperceptibly softly that he didn’t feel a thing. “Aaaaaand last touch!” She slapped a healing patch on the cast, and Phoenix’s leg went numb. “To speed up the healing. I want you to see someone twice a week until it’s healed all the way.” She drew another circle in the air, sticking her hands through the loop until they glowed, then moving her glowing hands over his cuts and bruises. The relief was almost instantaneous, the little aches and tears disappearing in a heartbeat.

“What happened up there? We saw the Archive House fall from the sky. And, of course, there was the mold, and the titan moving… but that’s all okay now?”

“It was Belos. He came back, he tried to destroy us. But… we’re still here.”

“And he’s not? Are we sure this time?”

Phoenix opened his mouth to respond, then shut it. “I… don’t actually know.”

“He’s gone this time,” Hunter answered from the door, “Amity sent me a message—Luz ripped him out of the titan’s heart, and he collapsed in the boiling rain.”

“Nothing survives the boiling rain!” Viney remarked cheerfully.

Hunter frowned, sitting down in an open chair. “Selkidomus do. And Titans. And a lot of flora. Oh, and me, so I guess that’s a grimwalker thing. And—”

Caleb appeared in the doorway, bruised and battered, but alive. “Phoenix!” He rushed in, his hands fluttering anxiously over Phoenix’s booted ankle. “What happened to your leg? Are you okay? Don’t ever do that again!”

Phoenix winced. “Sorry. Um. Have you seen Jason and Ghost?”

The color drained from Caleb’s face. “The Collector didn’t catch them?”

“He did! But he’s been freeing people and—they haven’t made it back here?”

Caleb shook his head. “I haven’t seen them—I was hoping you had. They’re not the only ones missing, either. Venari, Silver, and A.T. didn’t make it to Hexside.”

“We had to split up to avoid the spies,” Viney piped up, “Most of the groups made it, but a few stragglers didn’t.”

“And Evelyn and I got trapped in the rubble of the house,” Caleb continued, “We got here late. Just before the…” He shuddered. “Anyway. Evelyn went out looking for them after the mold cleared. I went, too, but I checked the house—what’s left of it—and Bonesborough while she searched the woods, so she hasn’t come back yet.”

“Well… I’m sure Jason and Ghost are just taking a while because they were walking?” Hunter suggested, “I can fly out and look for them. Um. But first, I was wondering…” he offered Flapjack to Caleb. Deep cracks ran up the palisman’s chest and wings, marring the red wood. “Do you… know how to fix him? He’s working as a staff, but he won’t come back to life.” His voice cracked miserably. “I just want him to wake up again.”

Caleb delicately took Flapjack’s still body from Hunter. “I can try. It’s strange, though. Usually, when a palisman is injured, they just need to be near their witch, and the wound should heal up on its own.”

“Maybe it’s because Flapjack is yours and not mine,” Hunter said dully, “Maybe he needs you to heal.”

Caleb shook his head vehemently. “Hunter, Flapjack chose you. He’s as much your palisman as he ever was mine. I’m sure it has more to do with how he got injured.” Caleb glanced at Phoenix. “Injuries from Belos… don’t always behave the same way as normal injuries.”

“So… what do we do?”

Caleb’s foot tapped a thoughtful beat against the ground. “I might have an idea, but for it to work, I’m going to need some tools, and some palistrom wood. Viney, does Hexside have anywhere that served as a carving center?”

“Sure, but it’s been vacant for years because of the shortage. The only palistrom wood you’ll find there is shavings and sawdust.”

“That works fine. Show us, please?”

Viney shrugged, and led the way. Phoenix hopped up on the crutches, swinging slowly after the three of them. He wanted to go out and look for Jason (and the others), but Hunter had been waiting for this. It was only fair, especially given how Flapjack had gotten injured.

Viney pushed open a creaky wooden door, carved with a hammer and chisel in the center. Dust covered every surface in the lightless room, choking the air.

Hunter ran a finger through the dust, leaving a thick line. “What are we looking for?”

“Sawdust. Shavings.” Caleb opened a cabinet. “Wood glue, if there’s any here that’s still good.”

Phoenix hobbled from table to table, looking for any hint of blue in all the grey dust. Viney threw open giant curtains, flooding the workshop with light. “Whoa.” She scratched under the chin of her own palisman. “I can’t even imagine this many people carving their own palisman instead of adopting.”

“We used to have quite the program.” Principal Bump hobbled in. “A Clawthorne used to run a workshop, teaching students the basics if they were interested in carving their own palisman.”

A proud grin twitched across Caleb’s face. “Yeah? A Clawthorne?”

Viney’s face lit up. “Principal Bump! You’re back! Did you see your statue?”

A single, proud tear rolled down his face. “I did. I was touched to see the effort my students put into creating it. But what are you all doing in the carving classroom? Belos may be gone, but it’s a little early to start planning the revival of a near-extinct tree species.”

“Palisman repair,” Caleb said, “Do you have any wood shavings, or sawdust?”

Bump shuffled to a wall, pushing a panel and popping out a secret drawer. He removed a small, red box, this one with a bird carved into it. “When it became apparent that the trees were disappearing at a rapid rate, Dell and I would sweep up the shaving and save them after classes. I didn’t know what they could possibly be used for, but it seemed like a crime for even the shavings of such a precious resource to be wasted.” He proffered the box. “I don’t know why you need them, but if they will help you restore your palisman, then they are yours.”

Caleb took the box, opening it slowly, as if opening it too quickly might make it disappear. Blue shavings and blue dust lined the bottom.

“It’s so little,” Hunter whispered. He held a bottle of wood glue so tightly Phoenix thought it might burst in his grip, “There’s barely anything.”

“It’s enough,” Caleb replied. He rescued the wood glue from Hunter’s grasp, squeezing some into a small bowl and mixing in shavings and sawdust until it turned a grainy blue. He filled in the cracks with the paste, and handed Flapjack back to Hunter. “Here. Wait for the glue to dry before you try to use the staff.”

“Will it work?”

“I can’t say for sure. But it’s the best I can do. Talk to him. Dormant palisman can hear you—help him remember who he is.”

Phoenix swung out of the room, hobbling down what seemed like infinite stairs on his way out. Mole sat in a patch of vegetables outside, but when he saw Phoenix, he abandoned his weeding to chase after.

“I don’t know where Jason is. I’m going to look for him. Want to come?”

Mole nodded, slowing his pace to keep step with Phoenix. The crutches clacked and echoed on the empty streets of Bonesborough, but the sounds faded as the cobblestones turned to dirt paths. Mole darted to the side in the forest, running to check further away from Phoenix in the more difficult terrain but always coming back to him.

Phoenix’s ears twitched, picking up a slight rustle, and he clumsily whirled to face it, nearly falling over. “Who’s there?” he called, “Jason? That you?”

Mole loped back to his side, squinting suspiciously at the red underbrush.

Venari stumbled out, cradling one arm to their chest and limping. A gash ran up the side of their leg, bleeding sluggishly, and their eyes stared right through Phoenix, wild and angry.

Mole jumped forward to take their uninjured arm, wrapping one arm around their back and making gentle shushing noises. Phoenix hopped forward towards them, horror creeping over him.

“Venari—”

They slumped against Mole, heavy breathing turning into a weary sigh. Mole half-dragged them up the path, and Phoenix dropped his crutches to help. He limped and dragged his casted foot behind him, but between the two of them, they managed to get the semi-conscious Venari back to Hexside. Cherry met them at the door, scooping Venari up and carrying him inside. Meleager, Horus, and Hamlet all tripped over his heels like a pack of dogs, following him to the healing homeroom. Mole darted off, and moments later, Caleb came running down the hallway, disappearing into the healing room after everyone. Phoenix followed, earning a dirty look from Viney who stomped off and returned moments later with another set of crutches that she passive-aggressively shoved into his chest.

Meleager, Horus, and Hamlet crowded around the student healer working with Venari, watching him like a hawk.

“What happened?” Horus demanded, “Who did this?”

Phoenix could see the answer on Venari’s face before they even opened their mouth, and his heart sank down to his stomach.

“Belos,” Venari spat, “Or—Petro? Belos is puppeteering him again.” His eyes slid around the room, finally locking on Caleb. “He has everyone—A.T., Silver, Jason, Ghost—and Mom.”

Caleb sagged like a ton of boulders had been dropped on him, gripping the back of a chair for support. A scream of rage tore through the air, and Mole buried his face in his arm, letting out another, more muffled scream. Before Phoenix could move to comfort him, he ran out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

A.T., Silver, Jason, Ghost… besides Hunter, the youngest of the family. Phoenix’s stomach churned. He’d targeted them deliberately. He must have taken Jason and Ghost from the archive house before the Collector could free them—had it been Petro on his own, after he’d left Phoenix, or had Belos taken them both back there? Either way, he should have stopped Petro there. He should have yanked him out of the air, or thrown a rock at his head, or something. He never should have let him get away. Of course. Hunter had said it; Grimwalkers could survive in the rain. Belos must have survived by possessing Petro again after Luz had assumed he was dead.

“How’d you escape?” Caleb whispered, “How did you get away?”

Phoenix knew the answer. And he could see that Caleb did, too, but wasn’t letting himself think it.

“I didn’t,” Venari grated out, “He let me go. He wanted me to bring you a message.” Phoenix could see the rage bubbling in their eyes, helpless fury at the role he’d been forced to play. “He said to meet him back at the house tomorrow morning. You especially, and all of us as well, to make sure we’re not up to any tricks. And he said if we don’t…”

Caleb let out a shuddering breath. “I know, Venari, don’t say it—”

“If we don’t, he’ll kill them one by one until we're there.”

#me: why is this chapter taking so long to write even tho I'm writing a lot every day?#the chapter: [sixteen pages and close to nine thousand words]#toh #the owl house #gilded family au #hunter wittebane #caleb wittebane #darius deamonne #the collector #emperor belos #golden guard oc #toh fanfiction #my writing #ask to tag

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sergeantsporks · 7 months

Text

Gilded Family

Rating: Teen and Up, Gen

Ch 32/?: Deep Down

Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4, Ch 5, Ch 6 , Ch 7, Ch 8, Ch 9, Ch 10, Ch 11, Ch 12, Ch 13, Ch 14, Ch 15, Ch 16, Ch 17, Ch 18, Ch 19, Ch 20, Ch 21, Ch 22, Ch 23, Ch 24, Ch 25, Ch 26, Ch 27, Ch 28, Ch 29, Ch 30, Ch 31

In which none of the previous golden guards or wittebro died, actually, they're all fine and living happily together as one big dysfunctional family

Ao3

“Okay.” Caleb paced back and forth in front of the assembled grimwalkers, most holding light glyphs to combat the creeping night. “We’re using a buddy system. No one goes out there alone. Watch each other’s backs—he’s dangerous.”

“I’ve got a grid,” Sam announced, “I’ve divided the feasible travelable area around the house into search sectors. Kill on sight.”

“No,” Caleb corrected, shooting Sam a look, “We are not killing on sight. Auric?”

“I made some sleeping smoke bombs,” Auric piped up, holding a basket, “Try to knock him out with those if you can.”

“Don’t talk to him,” Cherry warned, “Don’t let him talk you into a corner, and don’t let him get the chance to fight you if you can. Knock him out, bring him back. Do it quick. Everyone needs to return home before the Collector’s spies start their patrol in our area, because this much movement will attract their attention.”

Alex raised their hand. “Why are we bothering dragging him back? He was a lot of trouble to keep around. If he’s run off, shouldn’t we let him stay gone? It’s not like he can get past the barrier without a concealment stone.”

“Threat level,” Meleager told them shortly, “He’s a dangerous predator in the area—not having eyes on him is worse than being inconvenienced. We already know he’s got it out for Phoenix—even if we don’t find him, he’ll come back. And he’ll kill one of our own. We need to find him before he returns on his own with a plan and possibly allies.”

“So, smoke bombs,” Caleb affirmed, “Groups of two, at least, three if you think you won’t get in each other’s way. Most of you are going to search with Sam’s grid pattern, but Horus, Venari, Meleager, and Hamlet—you four are free to form either groups of two or one group of four and try to track him or set traps. Dagger, pick your partner, and then you’re also free to track as you can whichever way you think he’s gone.”

“I call Phoenix,” Dagger said immediately.

Phoenix blinked in surprise. He’d never gotten the impression Dagger was particularly attached to him or impressed with his fighting ability—why the sudden interest?

“Don’t take any risks you don’t have to,” Caleb warned, “Everyone, most important, stay safe. If you have to choose between catching Petro or the safety of yourself and your partner, choose safety. Auric and Evelyn will be on standby. I’ll try to keep tabs on all of you with the crystal ball, so if you do get hurt, stay in once place so that I can send them to get you. Remember, back before the Collector’s spies return on their patrol route. Good luck.”

Caleb held a hand up when Phoenix approached. “Phoenix,” he said quietly, “You’ve already had a long day, and we both know Petro wants you dead most of all. If you want to sit this one out…”

“No. Meleager is right. I have to know where he is. I’ll be more stressed knowing he’s somewhere out there.” Phoenix grabbed a few sleeping smoke bombs from Auric’s basket and followed Dagger into the woods.

“I’m surprised you picked me to be your partner. Petro will be targeting me; it’s a liability to have me around.”

Dagger shrugged. “Sure. But if I pair up with someone else, it’s anyone’s guess who he’ll attack first. If I’m with you, I know he’ll go after you first in an ambush or sneak attack, so standing next to you is actually the safest option.”

That sounded more like Dagger. “Ah.”

Dagger’s eyes darted over the forest in quick, analytic movements. “Locke said he ran to the left, which means…” He wandered around the outside of the fence, wafting a light glyph over to examine the posts. “Yep. His armor scraped the fence on his way out. He seems like a ‘runs in a straight line directly to where he wants to go’ kind of fellow. Question is… where… would he…” Dagger moved through the trees, nudging brush aside and checking all of the trees. “Mm. Okay. This way.”

Phoenix squinted. “I can’t see anything—and wouldn’t he cover his tracks?” Even in a hurry, Petro wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave an obvious trail.

“Yeah. He did. But that leaves its own mark and trail—you just have to know how to look. Which you obviously don’t. Come on. And stay quiet. I’d rather sneak up on him than the reverse.”

Phoenix kept on Dagger’s heels, his feet finding the spaces without leaves or sticks as naturally as if he’d never left the coven. The forest was too silent, too still. Phoenix wondered if the Collector’s spies had turned even the bugs that were usually around into puppets.

Dagger muttered something to himself, then pointed. “There.”

Phoenix squinted. Just barely, he could make out a patch of darkness built into the forest—a cave. No, a burrow? Some kind of passage that dug down and out, well camouflaged by brush and a fallen tree. “Are you sure?”

“That’s where the trail goes.”

Phoenix shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense—he’d be cornered in there. Unless there’s a back door-?”

“He might have just been looking for a temporary hiding space,” Dagger suggested, “He’d be trapped, but he’d also only have one entrance to watch out for. If he’s confident that he can handle anything as long as it doesn’t surprise him—which he seems like the type of guy to believe—then he might have picked it because there’s only one entrance. Or, yeah. Maybe there’s a back door.” Dagger wafted the light in. “After you.”

“Should we just toss in the smoke bombs and go in after they’re done putting him to sleep?”

“Don’t know how deep it is. Or if any turns or dips would complicate it. We don’t even know if he’s still in there. Just go. Or are you squeamish about tight spaces as well as heights?”

“Worst kept secret in the house,” Phoenix grumbled, but he pushed ahead. Even in the low light, he could see fairly well ahead, and when he glanced back at Dagger, the other grimwaker’s eyes gleamed, reflecting the light of the glyph. The walls started to become less dirt and more stone as they went along—whatever puppeted creature had dug this tunnel had gone deep. Ahead, Phoenix saw another gleam—this one the shimmer of gold.

The mask—or his armor.

Phoenix closed his hand over the light glyph, dousing it to a dull pink glow from his fist. He blinked, waiting for his eyes to adjust, then continued forward, slowing his breathing until he could barely hear it himself.

A fire flared up, and Petro swung a fist at Phoenix. He was difficult to look at in the sudden light, his armor and the mask Phoenix had left with him catching the rays and reflecting them like a beacon in the darkness.

Phoenix skipped backwards, reaching for the smoke bomb, but Petro was reaching for something, too, a glass bottle sloshing with golden liquid. Phoenix’s eyes widened.

“DAGGER, GET DOWN,” he yowled. He lunged forward, trying to tackle Petro and grab the bottle before he could use it, but Petro threw it to the ground as hard as he could just seconds before he could make it.

The bottle exploded, and the burrow above them rumbled. Phoenix flew backwards, propelled by the blast, and instinctively, he reached out, looking for any handhold. His hand cracked into stone, and he pulled forward as the walls caved in around him. His free hand came up, and claws of cursed mud broke stone into pebbles before it could crush him.

Still, the world heaved and twisted, and when it finally stopped moving, a thin layer of dirt and rocks covered him. Phoenix pushed himself up, coughing and spitting out dirt. The way behind him had collapsed, leaving a heap of stone rubble titan only knew how deep.

“Dagger?” he croaked, then cleared his throat, swallowing. “Dagger!” he called, brushing himself off, “Can you hear me?”

A faint whine of distress came from somewhere in the rubble. “I’m stuck,” Dagger’s voice came, muffled from the rock, and wobbly with worry. “I’m stuck, I’m stuck, I’m—”

“Dagger—listen, Dagger, take a deep breath—”

“Phoenix, I can’t move!”

Phoenix put his hands on the rubble—his fingers were still stuck as claws, and they rippled uneasily, but they weren’t burning yet, surprisingly. Maybe eating a proper breakfast really had helped. “Listen—deep breaths, if you can. What’s trapped? Where are you pinned?”

“Um.” A loud, shaky, hysterical laugh. “Um. My leg is—I can’t see it—I can’t see anything—” The rubble started to glow slightly. “Got a glyph. Uh. My—head and shoulders aren’t pinned, they’re out in the tunnel and—and I think I’ll be able to clear away what’s on my chest, but waist down—Phoenix, I’m trapped. I can’t feel my—my legs, I can’t—”

“Okay. Okay, deep breaths, Dagger, deep breaths. Let me see if I can…” Phoenix pulled some of the stones away, and the cavern shifted again, rumbling. “…not do that.”

Phoenix heard a groan, and he whirled around. Petro extracted himself from a pile of rubble, cradling one arm to his chest. Part of the mask had shattered, embedding shards of gold above his right eye, sending blood trickling down. He dragged himself to the wall, breathing heavily.

“Petro’s awake,” Phoenix said quietly.

“Smoke bomb.”

Phoenix shook his head. “Too close. It’ll get us, too, and I don’t know who will wake up first. Dagger—I’m going to keep on through the tunnel. See if there is a back door.”

“What?!”

“I’ll come back with help if there’s another way out,” Phoenix promised, “Or I’ll come back this way and we’ll figure something else out.”

“Don’t leave,” Dagger begged, “I’m sorry I used you as a shield, I’m sorry, don’t leave me alone, don’t—”

“Dagger—Dagger.” Phoenix felt sick at the panic in the other grimwalker’s voice (and the apology that must mean he was truly frantic), but he kept talking anyway. “If I stay, we’re going to be stuck here until we starve—or run out of oxygen. I don’t know a way to move those rocks yet, and—”

The glint of glass caught Phoenix’s eye, and he lunged forward, hooking another explosion potion out of Petro’s hand with his foot and gently popping it into the air. He caught the bottle neatly and tucked it in his pocket. “Stop that. How many of those did you take from Sam’s lab, anyway?”

Petro didn’t answer, just glared at him. Phoenix shook his head, returning to the pile of rocks. “I’ll come back, or I’ll send someone who can handle this better—hey, Dagger, you’re not going to stay trapped. I’m leaving, but I’m not abandoning you. Okay?”

He heard a sharp inhale. “Okay. Is Petro still out there?”

Phoenix glanced over. His predecessor still stared daggers at him, but in a somewhat woozy way. “Yeah.”

“Keep your eye on him.”

“Will do.”

Phoenix marched over to Petro. His arm was definitely broken—his forearm bore a bump that hinted at a clean, full break. And whatever had hit him hard enough to break his mask must have given him a head wound nastier than just the cuts from the shards of gold.

As he approached, Petro swung at Phoenix with his good arm. “Stay back!”

Phoenix leaned back to avoid the blow, ducking in closer. He reached for Petro’s mask, dodging another blow. “Sto—quit trying to hit me, I’m trying to help you.”

“Liar.”

Phoenix caught Petro’s good wrist in one hand and removed the mask with the other. The entire right side of his face was mottled green and purple from bruises, but the shards in his skin seemed to be stopping most of the bleeding, with only a little blood oozing out around them.

The fist of Petro’s broken arm started to clench, as if Petro was going to take a swing with it, but when he tried to lift it, he hissed in pain.

“Just…” Phoenix tossed the mask to the side. Some good reminder gift it had been. “Okay. If you give me your belt, I think we can make a decent sling for your arm.”

Petro eyed him. “What’s your game?”

“I just want to get out of here, and I don’t trust you not to stab me in the back or kill Dagger if I leave you alone. Belt.”

“Then just kill me,” Petro said roughly, “Say it happened in the collapse.”

Phoenix sighed. “I’m not killing you.”

“Why not? I’m a liability. Not just to your safety, but your whole family’s well-being. The smartest thing to do would be to eliminate the threat.” Petro snorted. “But then, I guess you’re too soft and pathetic to do it, huh?”

Phoenix had to admit, strangling him was starting to look pretty tempting.

“I don’t kill people,” he said tersely, “Not since I stopped listening to Belos.”

“You won’t even kill to protect the people you care about? I guess you don’t actually like them all that much. Or maybe you just hate yourself. You know that I will try to kill you again, right?”

This conversation wasn’t going anywhere productive any time soon. “Yeah, I know.” Phoenix opened and closed his hand. “Belt. Last chance or you walk out of this cave with nothing stabilizing that arm.”

Petro scrambled to his feet, wincing. “I don’t want your help.”

Phoenix eyed him up and down. “And you think I’m the pathetic one.”

“Because you are. You don’t have the stomach to do what you need to do.

Phoenix started down the burrow, keeping an eye on Petro as he followed. “You know, at first I was scared of you. Scared that you’d hurt me, or tear apart my family. Then I was angry about what you’d done. And now…”

“Oh, do tell.”

Phoenix shook his head. “Now, I think I just pity you.”

“There’s nothing to pity,” Petro snarled, “I’m better than you. I’m not a turncoat and a traitor.”

“For what?! What? Look at you! You’re injured, you’re alone, you’re obsessed with killing me to the point where it’s just sad, and for what? The approval of a dead man who never cared about you anyway?”

“You don’t get it. You don’t know what it was like between the two of us. You don’t know what he did for me!”

Phoenix threw his hands up in the air. “Then explain!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the burrow, “You’re right, I don’t get it! Explain what he possibly could have done for you to be so blindly devoted, even after everything he did!”

Petro stayed silent for long enough that Phoenix was almost certain he was sulking again, but then, “It was my caretaker.”

“What?”

“The lullaby. When you invaded my memories. The person you heard was my caretaker.”

“Your caretaker?”

“You got put in an orphanage. I got dumped with one of Belos’ civilian followers. A supporter, but not part of his army. She was just supposed to make sure I survived. Keep me fed, clothed, housed, everything I needed to live. She wasn’t supposed to care about me, or be kind, just… keep me alive until Belos came for me.” Petro shrugged. “She cared anyway. If there was ever a time where she did what she was ordered and kept herself distant, I don’t remember it.”

“What happened to her?” Phoenix was horribly certain he already knew the answer, but the question came anyway.

“She was murdered,” Petro said roughly, “A group of wild witches found out she supported Belos and came after her. She hid me, so I escaped their notice, but she wasn’t so lucky. And I was out on the streets.”

Phoenix hissed in. “Hey… are you sure it wasn’t—”

“It wasn’t Belos,” Petro snapped, “I read the diary, little bird, and it wasn’t planned. He was furious that he lost track of me after that; I was three years too early. Whatever you think now, whatever you believe about Belos and his enemies, the wild witches weren’t perfect little saintly martyrs. They hit back. I’m sure most of the other kids at your little orphanage could attest.”

“Okay, so you have some kind of reason to hate wild witches,” Phoenix admitted, “But Belos-!”

“I was a powerless kid trying to survive on my own. You think you had it bad in your little orphanage? Try fighting with rats to survive. Belos’ supporters, wild witches—it didn’t matter. None of them helped, or even gave me a second glance. Until he showed up.”

“And offered you power,” Phoenix finished, “A life where people didn’t look down on you. Magic, the ability to fight, everything you never had.”

Petro snorted. “He offered me magic, yeah. But he gave me something far more important; the chance for revenge. My first mission? To find the witches that killed her and eliminate them. And I did. I never would have been able to do it without him. I would have died on the streets, and her murderers would have gone free.”

Petro brushed past Phoenix, forging on ahead on his own. “I’ve tried the soft little family life you people keep telling me I should want, and it was destroyed in the blink of an eye. I owe him for giving me the tools to avenge it, and to keep living without it. So don’t tell me to just turn on him. He gave me everything.”

“Don’t you think you’ve more than repaid that debt?” Phoenix asked softly, “He’s dead. It’s over. You don’t have to define your life by what he wants, and you don’t have to keep trying to kill me out of some—some misguided attempt to win his favor back. Your caretaker—I think she’d want you to be happy.”

“Don’t tell me what she would have wanted. It’s not over. It can’t be over.” Petro’s good hand curled into a fist. “He was the only one who understood me, and he’s the only one who ever gave a second thought about me after she died. You and your family just want me to change—he was the only one who liked me the way I am. Even if he’s gone, I’m not going to abandon his memory. He cared about me; maybe he chose you then, but given the chance again, I know he’d choose me.”

That was probably true. Still, it struck a hollow chord in Phoenix. Belos had started him out on a path of revenge from the very beginning—no wonder he felt like he had no other options.

Petro stepped into moonlight, and Phoenix’s eyes widened. A way out?

But when he joined Petro, he wanted to slam his head into the wall in frustration. The burrow ended at a pit, too deep for Phoenix to reach the edge.

“Where now, o fearless leader?” Petro snarked, “Are you going to become a full bird and fly out?”

“I—this is your fault!” Phoenix sputtered, “You’re the one who collapsed the cavern in on us and blocked the exit!”

“Well, I was planning on it killing you!”

“And how were you going to get out? Huh?”

Petro didn’t respond to that, but something about the silence felt melancholy, rather than angry or skulking.

“…Petro? Did you have a plan to get out?”

“Like I said,” Petro said roughly, “The one person who cared about me is dead. Killing you is pretty much the only thing I’ve got left.”

Despite the threat of it, Phoenix felt a spark of pity and a twinge of horror. “Oh.” He twisted his hair around between his fingers. “You have got to find a better hobby. I’m sure we can think of something.”

Petro snorted. “You wish. Doesn’t matter. We’ll both die in this pit. And your little friend back there will die thinking you abandoned him.”

No.

I won’t abandon anyone else.

Phoenix examined the walls of the pit. “…If you gave me a boost, I think I could get out. If I stood on your shoulders, maybe?”

“And give you the chance to run off and leave me here? No. You can give me a boost.”

“Absolutely not,” Phoenix said immediately, “You will definitely leave me to die. I promise I’ll get you out, or send someone after you.”

“Yeah? And why should I believe you?”

“Because between the two of us, you’re the only one who has a history of trying to murder the other.”

“Exactly why you would want to leave me to die.”

“We already established that I’m not going to kill you!”

“Letting me die and killing me aren’t the same thing. I’m pretty sure even your delicate sensibilities would be able to ‘forget’ me here.” Petro pointed to his arm. “I don’t know how you’re expecting me to give you a boost, anyway. I’m not exactly working at my full potential, here. If I were…”

“I’d be dead, yes, yes, I get it. I’m still not letting you run off without me.”

“Well I’m not letting you run off without me.” Petro gave him a smug look. “And I know you’re going to boost me up, because of the two of us, you’re more willing to trust, and we both know that I’m not. So if you want to get out of here, you’re going to have to trust me.”

“I don’t.” Phoenix eyed the top of the pit again. He wasn’t entirely wrong—Phoenix knew Petro would never bend. “…Okay, I’ll boost you up. But I’m holding onto your ankle, so you better be strong enough to haul both of us out.”

“What?!”

“I’m compromising. If you don’t like it, you can let me stand on your shoulders and just trust that I’m not as murderous as you.” Phoenix crossed his arms. “And if you try to kick me, I will dig claws into your ankle so you can’t run off.”

Not that he actually thought he could make the curse work for him enough to do that, but Petro didn’t have to know that.

“Fine. Fine! I’ll take your compromise, little bird. But if we both fall back down because you’re clinging to my ankle, I might forget my arm’s broken and strangle you.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s on the agenda anyway.” Phoenix made a cradle with his hands. “Let’s go.”

Petro stepped into his hands, then up on his shoulders. Phoenix wobbled to his feet, clutching Petro’s ankles tightly. His predecessor reached for the top of the pit, but before he could touch it, Phoenix heard a sound that made his blood run cold.

Drip

Deep inside Phoenix, a fear sparked, shuddering up from his fingertips. Something more than a normal panic, something different, like every cell in his body wanted to flee. A deep, primal terror that started in his arms and worked its way through him. Something slithered—no, dragged itself around in the darkness outside, something heavy and dripping wet. And even though Phoenix had only ever heard the sound across stone hallways rather than leaves and dirt, he recognized it immediately. He stumbled back away from the edge of the pit, Petro tumbling from his shoulders and down to the ground with a yelp and a hiss of pain.

“No,” Phoenix whispered, backing towards the tunnel, “No, that’s impossible, that’s—”

Petro’s eyes lit up with an eerie, feverish glow. “Yes,” he breathed, “It is! HEY!” he shouted, “Hey, over here!”

“No!” Phoenix hissed. He retreated fully into the tunnel and out of sight as a horribly familiar face peered over the edge of the pit. His arms shifted and roiled, as if terrified of their original self—or maybe trying to return to it and leave Phoenix.

Belos was falling apart. Phoenix could see bone through shifting mud, and the emperor dragged himself along the ground on his belly, rather than walking.

But he was alive.

How was he alive?! The Collector had turned him into a grease spot! He’d fallen completely apart—how was he here? And, Phoenix realized with mounting horror, how had he not seen him when they’d gone to rescue Ghost? Where had he been hiding all this time?

Petro tilted his face up. “Wow. I told you that you needed me—didn’t think you’d fall apart quite so literally, though. You look awful, old man.”

“Yes, because you seem to be in wonderful shape yourself, golden guard,” Belos snapped back.

“Better than you left me.”

Belos’ expression shifted, his eyes darting to the side, then back to Petro. Phoenix shuddered. He recognized that look—he’d never been able to see it before, but now, looking from the outside, he could tell. That was the face Belos made right before he said something that would twist your insides around, something that would make you want to help him no matter what he’d done.

“But yes, I suppose you were right,” Belos said in that horrible, kind, oozing voice he could turn on at a moment’s notice, “I need you, Hunter. Now more than ever. You were the exact guard I needed—the exact guard I wanted. Had I known that sooner, we could have avoided all of this… unpleasantness.” Belos extended a hand down into the pit. “What do you say we rebuild our empire… together. As it should be. Just… you and I.”

No, Phoenix wanted to scream, No, it’s a trap. Don’t trust him, don’t go back. But all he could do was watch in silent horror as Petro’s face split into a wide grin.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

Petro grasped Belos’ hand, and Belos seemed to… flow down his arm, sinking into cuts and scrapes. Phoenix put a hand to his mouth, holding his breath as he watched. Petro’s broken arm snapped back into place, and his cuts scabbed over with green mud. Petro twitched, his hands turning to claws that ripped through his gloves, then back to his regular hands. He shuddered one more time, then went still, his back straightening into a regal, commanding posture. Petro did a slow turn, and Phoenix pressed his back against the tunnel wall to avoid his gaze, now glowing an eerie blue.

“Ah,” he said in a voice that was somehow Petro’s and Belos’, like two instruments playing over each other, “That’s better. Now… let’s see if we can’t get up to that floating monstrosity. I think it’s about time we paid our old friend the Collector a visit.”

Petro’s—Petro? Belos? Betro? Pelos?–arms lengthened, roping to the top of the pit and hauling him—them?–out. Phoenix ran back out into the pit, barely able to see the two disappear into the dark trees. “No!”

He couldn’t let Belos get to the Collector—and he couldn’t let him… Phoenix shuddered. What had happened to Petro? Was he even still in there? Or had Belos killed him? Was he going to do that to the Collector? Or King? Phoenix felt sick at the thought, his stomach writhing like a bag of snakes.

“Deep breaths,” he murmured out loud, “Deep—wait… no.”

If he did nothing, the Collector would get hurt. King would get hurt, Darius would get hurt. And what if Belos could see Petro’s memories, the way that Phoenix could see Belos’? That would lead him straight to the family.

Phoenix’s arms shifted uneasily, the tips of his fingers turning to claws. Instead of banishing his spiraling thoughts, Phoenix let them continue, running the same track over and over in his mind.

They’re going to get hurt

All of them are going to die.

His arms bubbled, making the complete turn and staying mud instead of flickering back and forth while his chest heaved in short pants of air.

Phoenix ran at the wall, jumping and sinking his claws into the side of the pit. His hands cracked into stone, and he hauled himself up, digging his claws in a foot higher.

Again.

Phoenix slowly hauled himself out of the pit, panting. Early morning light started to filter through the trees, staining everything a dark red.

Phoenix didn’t need to track Petro/Belos. He knew which way they’d gone—right to the head. He leapt over logs and ducked through silent trees as if he’d lived in the woods his whole life, his heart pounding in his throat.

Find them

Stop them

He heard the sound of one of Collector’s stars buzzing through the air, and without thinking, he reached out, his arm elongating and his claws wrapping around the star’s point. He whipped his arm around, and the star went flying, slamming into the trees with a splintering crunch.

The attack barely slowed him down at all, and he raced out of the forest, skidding down a steep hill. More stars whirred towards him, their red eyes blinking menacingly. They surrounded Phoenix, and he twisted to dodge their beams.

I can’t get caught. Not here.

Phoenix lashed out, slamming one into the ground with a single strike. Another, he seized, swinging it through the air like an oversized shuriken and slamming it point first into the other stars. One by one, they dropped beneath his onslaught, until he was left standing in a circle of weakly sputtering stars. The cursed mud he’d left inched back towards him, crawling off the stars. Phoenix’s head spun for a second, and his legs wobbled, but he shook himself. He had to keep going. He had to…

“Hey, Phoenix!” A girl’s voice called from the top of the hill, “Do you remember me? Probably not, but I’ve got someone here who you will recognize!”

Oddly enough, Phoenix almost did recognize her voice. He slowly turned around, trying to remember where he’d heard it before, squinting at the top of the hill. At the crest stood a brown-haired girl that he vaguely recognized as a Hexside student Hunter had pointed out to him. And next to her…

Phoenix squinted. That wasn’t possible. It had to be some other blonde, medium sized…

But no, even from down here, Phoenix could recognize that nose, and the haircut. Somehow, some way, he’d found a way back. Tears sprang into Phoenix’s eyes, and his throat closed up, only letting out a strangled whisper.

“Jason?”

#toh #the owl house #gilded family au #toh fanfiction #my writing #golden guard oc #broken bone

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