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The human realm was quieter than Hunter expected at night. No yelling creatures, or shuffling winds. After everything, escaping the Day of Unity, watching the draining spell nearly wipe out the Boiling Isles, and barely getting through it, he thought the quiet would help. But it didn’t.
It just made the pain worse.
Sitting on Luz’s couch, Hunter tried to ignore the sharp, fiery ache in his wrist. The sigil was still there, inflamed under his glove, a constant reminder of the searing, golden veins that were trailing upwards to his face during the draining spell, completely surrounding his arm.
Every time he moved his arm, it throbbed. He kept his glove on, his other hand resting on his lap while his bad arm hung at his side. No one needed to know how bad it was. Hunter had dealt with worse before, even stitched himself back together on his own.
He didn’t want to bother anyone with it.
Luz and the others had enough on their minds. They were all dealing with their own stuff, like being stuck in the human realm and not knowing if they’d ever get back home. Amity and Luz were holding onto each other, Gus was still shaky from his breakdown, and Willow had been an anchor for everyone, keeping them together. It wasn’t fair to add his minor problems to the mix.
Pain was only mental. It’s what Belos had always taught him. Sure, the man was violently evil, but some lessons he’d taught ran deep enough to stick. They could still be useful.
Hunter kept his gaze on the floor, even though they had all explained the situation to Luz’s mother earlier, and now they were all quietly talking in the living room, trying to comfort each other, all he could focus on was the burning pain crawling up his arm. He clenched his jaw, trying to stay still.
The sigil wasn’t moving again. It wasn’t. … It definitely felt like it was.
“You okay, Hunter?”
Luz’s voice broke through the haze, and he blinked, looking up at her. She was sitting cross-legged on the other end of the couch, watching him with concern.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” Hunter replied, a little too quickly. “Just… tired.”
Luz tilted her head, not entirely convinced but not pushing either. It made sense, in the situation they had all been placed in. “Yeah, I get it.” She smiled, trying to keep things light.
Hunter forced a small smile back.
The conversation shifted again, Luz and Gus chatting quietly, Gus seemed the most rattled by what had happened out of all of them, but Hunter barely registered their words. He flexed his fingers beneath the glove, wincing when the pain flared up again. He bit his lip, trying to keep from reacting.
A few minutes later, they all decided they should get some rest. While getting up and walking away, Luz accidentally bumped into his arm while she stretched, and while she didn’t notice, Hunter couldn’t hold back the small wince and sharp intake of breath he took.
Willow, who’d been sitting on the floor near the couch, just starting to stand up, looked upwards sharply. “Hunter?”
He glanced down at her, heart racing. That had been happening more often since he’d first played flier derby on her team… “What?”
She narrowed her eyes, studying him a little too closely for comfort as she walked closer to him. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“I told you, I’m fine,” he said, his voice tight. He shifted where he stood, adjusting his glove again, trying to pull it down further, but he knew she wasn’t buying it. Willow was smart. Too smart.
“Alright…” She didn’t say anything else, though, just gave him a look that told him she wasn’t letting this go, as she turned around and walked down the hallway.
Great.
A couple hours later, when everyone else was asleep or in their rooms, Hunter snuck outside. The backyard was quiet, the cool air soothing against his skin. He sat on the wooden porch and pulled off his glove, sucking in a breath as he looked at his wrist.
It was worse than before, red and swollen, the sigil pulsing like it was still reacting to the draining spell. He was still relieved to see that the veins were no longer encasing his arm, growing from the sigil.
Hunter ran his other hand over his face. He couldn’t keep ignoring this forever, but he didn’t know what else to do. He wasn’t about to go to Mrs. Noceda. She seemed nice, sure, but she was still an unfamiliar authority figure, and that alone made him anxious. He was still trying to figure out her unspoken rules. His uncle had hundreds of them, written rules aside.
The door creaked open behind him, and Hunter shoved the glove back on in a panic. It burned as the glove rubbed over his sigil.
“Hunter?”
He didn’t need to turn around to know it was Willow before she even spoke. Her footsteps were soft, but he could feel her presence behind him, steady and patient.
“What are you doing out here?” she asked quietly, coming to sit next to him on the porch.
“I just needed some air,” he muttered, staring down at his lap. He was already bracing himself for her to ask more questions, but instead, Willow just sat there in silence for a moment.
Then, in a calm, quiet voice, she said, “I saw your wrist earlier.”
Hunter’s heart dropped. He stared at her, eyes wide. His voice stuttered slightly, “What?”
“You’ve been holding your arm weird all day,” Willow said, her voice gentle but direct. “And I saw how you reacted when Luz bumped into you. I know something’s wrong.”
“I’m fine,” Hunter insisted, his voice sharp. “It’s nothing.”
But Willow wasn’t buying it. “You’re not fine,” she said softly. “Let me see.”
Hunter shook his head, pulling his arm away instinctively. “No, it’s—”
“Please.”
That one word stopped him in his tracks. Willow’s eyes were soft, but there was determination behind them. She wasn’t going to let this go, and Hunter knew it. And he already had a difficult time saying no to the witch.
He hesitated for a long moment before finally, slowly, tugging the glove upward just enough that his sigil was visible.
Willow’s breath caught when she saw the sigil, her eyes widening. “Oh, Hunter…”
She reached out, her fingers hovering over the inflamed skin, but never making contact. “How long has it been like this?”
“Since the Day of Unity,” Hunter muttered, shame creeping into his voice. “It’s… it’s not getting better.” Hunter then took his glove off entirely. If Willow noticed the scars littering his hand, she didn’t say a word about them. He was eternally grateful to her for that.
Willow frowned, her expression hardening in concern. “Why didn’t you say anything? It has to be hurting you?”
Hunter looked away, biting the inside of his cheek. “You guys have enough going on.”
“Hunter.” Willow’s tone was firm, but there was no anger in it. “We care about you. I care about you. We want to help you.”
He swallowed, feeling a lump rise in his throat. “I don’t need help,” he whispered, even though he knew his resolve wasn’t there.
Willow sighed softly, her voice gentle. “You don’t have to handle everything alone anymore. Let me help.”
Hunter glanced at her, unsure of what to say. He wasn’t used to people offering help without expecting something in return. But Willow’s eyes were warm and steady, and for the first time in a long while, outside at night in a realm that was not his own, he felt like maybe it was okay to let her.
He nodded, and Willow smiled, a small, reassuring smile.
“Okay,” she said softly. “I’ll grab some bandages.”
As she stood up and headed back into the house, Hunter exhaled, his chest tight. He wasn’t used to this. But as he looked down at his wrist, at the aching mark, he realized that maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to go through it entirely alone.
It was a nice thought to entertain, for a moment.
Hunter stayed where he was, sitting on the cool wood of the porch, staring down at his wrist. The pain seemed to throb louder in his mind now that someone else knew about it. It was like the sigil was mocking him, a raw, ugly brand that wouldn’t let him forget how much of a pawn he had been.
He wasn’t real.
The air around him felt heavy, and he had to remind himself to breathe slowly, deeply, so he didn’t lose himself. He needed to help the others get back to the Demon Realm.
The door creaked open again, and Willow returned, carrying a small first-aid kit, he’d noticed it in the cabinet Luz had opened in the bathroom, when they’d spoken earlier. Willow didn’t say anything right away, just quietly moved to sit beside him again. Her presence was steady, grounding in a way Hunter hadn’t expected.
Without a word, she opened the kit and pulled out some wipes. She glanced at him, silently asking for permission to take his hand. Hunter hesitated, but after a beat, he nodded.
Willow carefully peeled off his glove, her calloused hands moving slowly, gently. As her fingers brushed against his skin, Hunter stiffened, the cool air biting at the inflamed sigil. The pain flared up, but he kept still, gripping the edge of the porch under his other hand to keep himself grounded.
“I’m sorry,” Willow said softly. “This might sting a little.”
Hunter nodded again, he’d done this to himself numerous times. “It’s fine.”
She dabbed at the angry red mark with an antiseptic wipe, her touch gentle but firm. Hunter couldn’t help but flinch slightly, the sharp sting drawing a hiss from his throat. It wasn’t the worst pain he’d ever felt, but it was enough to pull him back into his head. He had more control when patching up injuries alone.
Willow worked in silence, and for that, Hunter was grateful. He didn’t want to talk about it. He didn’t want to make this more than it already was. She wasn’t pushing, though, just carefully cleaning around the sigil.
Once she was done, she reached for the bandages. “This should help, at least for now,” she said quietly. “But… Hunter, you can’t just ignore this. If it gets worse, you need to tell someone else. Anyone. Amity would probably know the most.”
Hunter kept his eyes on the bandage she was wrapping around his wrist. The white cloth felt out of place against the unsightly, scarred skin surrounding it. “I don’t want anyone else to know,” he muttered, voice tight.
Willow paused, looking up at him. “Not even Camila? She’d want to help.”
Hunter tensed at the mention of Mrs. Noceda. He didn’t meet Willow’s eyes, keeping his gaze locked on his wrist instead. “It’s not about her.” Which was true… for the most part. She did play a role. “It’s just… I don’t want to make things unnecessarily difficult for everyone.”
Willow frowned, her hands stilling for a moment. “Hunter, you’re not unnecessary.” She spoke as if there was no room for argument. “We’re all here for each other, and want to know if you’re alright.”
“I know,” he muttered, his throat tightening. He didn’t want to talk about it, how being around Mrs. Noceda made him anxious, how the idea of her knowing about this made his skin crawl. Injuries are a weakness. People exploit weaknesses. It wasn’t her fault, she was outwardly kind, far from the kind of authority he was used to. But she was still the authority, still responsible for all of them, and that alone was enough to make him tense up.
But it wasn’t just about his fear. It was about making sure Willow, Gus, Luz and Amity were safe.
“They’ve already got enough to worry about,” Hunter said, voice barely above a whisper. “I can handle this.”
Willow finished securing the bandage, her expression softening as she looked at him. “You don’t have to, Hunter. We’re a team, remember?”
He didn’t respond right away. His chest felt tight, his mind buzzing with the weight of everything he’d been holding in. He wanted to protect them, all of them. They had already been through so much. The last thing he wanted was to add to their worries, to drag them down.
“Look,” Willow said, breaking through his thoughts. “I won’t tell Camila. Not unless you want me to. But, Hunter…” Her voice was gentle but firm, her eyes locking with his. “If this gets any worse, you have to promise me you’ll tell someone, or I will. You can’t keep hiding this if that happens.”
Hunter clenched his jaw, not trusting himself to speak right away. He knew she was right. The pain wasn’t going to just go away. But admitting that, it felt like too much.
“I promise,” he whispered, though the words felt like they were pulled out of him.
Willow smiled, the tension easing in her posture. “Good.”
Neither of them were sure Hunter was telling the truth, and would stick to his promise, or not. Only time would tell.
They sat there in silence for a while after that, the night settling around them like a blanket. The only sounds were the rustling of leaves and the distant hum of people or animals beyond the backyard. It was peaceful in a way that felt strange, almost unfamiliar. But Hunter didn’t mind it. In fact, it was… nice.
How could so much chaos be happening in their home, while life went on without so much as a whisper here?
His wrist still throbbed under the bandage, but it was slightly more bearable. And somehow, the tightness in his chest had eased a little too, like the bandage wasn’t just for his wrist but for the parts of his mind he kept hidden away.
“Thanks, Captain.” Hunter said quietly, breaking the silence.
Willow gave him a small smile, one that made the weight on his shoulders feel just a little lighter. “Anytime.”