(S2) Witte-Pain

844 33 43
                                    

Hunter looked around at the glassy-looking hall, running his hands over the stonelike walls. "Where..."

He spotted an opening in the wall and peaked out of it—seeing the whole of the Isles below. The torso, the leg, even the Knee in the distance was spread out in front of him, with only the arms out of sight.

Which could've only meant one thing.

"WE'RE IN THE HEAD OF THE TITAN!" he screeched, whipping his head back to Lilith and Philip.

"We're what?" Lilith exclaimed. "But this is sacred ground!"

"I suppose that's why nobody wanted to accompany me," Philip said, limping forward. "But every legend tells me that The Collector lies there. Behind that door."

He pointed upward to a silvery door, covered in an intricate pattern. Huge metal bolts fanned out to the side, except for one—likely keeping it shut.

"I just can't figure out the mechanism to open it," Philip explained, furrowing his brow. "If I weren't so frail—"

He let out a grunt of pain, grabbing his leg.

"It's okay, Phil," Hunter said quickly, kneeling down next to him. "We can give you a hand. I'm great with puzzles." He patted him on the shoulder. "You stay here and rest up. Me and Aunt Annabel will take care of this."

Philip gave him a grateful smile. "Thank you for your kindness, Quincy. I'm so sorry for being so curt with you earlier. You just..." His smile faded. "You look like someone I knew once, long ago. Someone quite close to me. You could be his son." He let out a little laugh. "Speaking of which—do you know what he said he'd name his son, if he ever had one?"

Hunter shook his head.

"He said he would name him 'Hunter.'" Philip shook his head, a wistful smile on his face. "Odd name, but he was an odd one himself. Then again, so am I, so I shouldn't judge."

An ache started to form in Hunter's chest. He wanted so badly to tell Philip the truth—that he was his descendent, that he was related to his lost brother, that he'd come back just so he could meet Philip in person—but Lilith was right. Tell him anything regarding that and he'd create a time paradox... so he decided to do the next best thing.

"That's, uh, actually my real name," Hunter admitted, scratching the back of his neck. "'Quincy' is a nickname. I'm, uh, Hunter Ashton the Fifth. Fifth, Quince, Quincy—you get it."

Philip's breath caught. "That's... that's astonishing."

"Yeah, what are the odds?" he mumbled, suddenly feeling very shy.

"Quincy!" Lilith called. "Come see!"

Hunter got up and rushed over, looking up at the odd patterns. As Lilith rested her hand on one, it lit up a bright blue.

"This mechanism is unlike anything I've ever seen before," she said, a grin on her face. "It'll make a remarkable addition to my exhibit." Her grin faded, getting replaced by a worried expression. "It's just..."

"C'mon, we can't stop now!" Hunter encouraged, giving her a little elbow. "We're getting everything we could've hoped for, after all!"

"That's just it. Look." Lilith pointed up at the patterns. "Most of this puzzle has been solved already. And Philip..." She looked back over at him, biting his lip. "The confidence, the compliments—he says everything you want to hear. It feels... uncomfortably familiar."

Hunter followed her gaze, something nagging at his mind. "I mean... I guess some of this does feel a little weird, but it's the Boiling Isles. Everything's a little weird, right?" He gave Lilith a thumbs-up. "Why don't you keep on working on this, and I'll go talk to Philip again?"

Changeling WitchWhere stories live. Discover now