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2020-11-28
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2024-03-07
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Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance

Summary:

We all know the story. The Witches held a nigh unbreakable sway over the world, abusing their magical powers with reckless abandon until the Grim Reaper led a war upon them with humanity, breaking their hold and defeating their evil... but, perhaps, the tale is not so clear cut as the history books say. This is the story of a Death Scythe's daughters, and the people they love.

Notes:

So. First time I've ever actually posted here.

I'm fairly new to this site; the Jarl of the North, normally a Fanfiction.net writer. I've been considering getting into Archive of Our Own as a writer and since this is a new story of mine (I've been writing for quite a long time now), I figured this would be a good chance to check it out.

I'm considering bringing other stories of mine here as well, so I'm sort of testing the waters.

Before I forget; this story was inspired both by my craving for more Owl House, but also by Evilsnotbag both on this site and on deviantart, and by Issabolical on Deviantart.

Specifically, I was inspired by Evilsnotbag's Lunar Eclipse Owl House AU (found here: https://www.archiveofourown.org/series/1765585), and by Issabolical's piece of crossover fanart for Owl House and Soul Eater (found here: https://www.deviantart.com/issabolical/art/SOUL-EATER-X-The-Owl-House-856387469).

Please go and check them out. Seriously, their artwork and writing is phenomenal.

With all that out of the way, let's deal with the disclaimer.

I do not own Owl House or Soul Eater.

But by God, I love them both.

Chapter 1: Death Scythe's Daughters

Notes:

(See the end of the chapter for notes.)

Chapter Text

Azura leapt back and landed in a deep crouch, eyes narrowed, sky blue hair and white robes swept back as she stared up at the great serpent before her; she had heard stories of his might, but they paled to capture the true, colossal strength of the Great Serpent, Gildersnake.

As massive as any Dragon, Gildersnake’s coils stretched for miles beneath the entirety of the Fireplume Mountains, his fangs longer than any spear, crimson eyes flashing against his soot-coated scales, dyed blacker than even the night sky devoid of stars.

FOOLISH CHILD,” the Serpent hissed, a simple shift of his weight enough to cause the rivers of lava far below to shift and rise in a tidal wave, “I COULD SWALLOW YOU WHOLE!

Azura took a deep breath through her nose, rising to her feet with her grip tightening on her staff. She pointed an accusing finger at the gigantic creature, “Do not underestimate me, Gildersnake! For I am the Good Witch Azura, Warrior of Peace!...”

She waited but a moment longer. Her ultimate technique was finally ready.

“… NOW EAT THIS, SUCKA!!!” she raised her Celestial Staff, slinging it up and over her shoulder as she dropped to one knee, the crystal aimed directly at the Great Serpent as it abruptly tripled in size, the weapon glowing with incredible destructive power gathered over the course of centuries in its resting place – and every last second of it, every last ounce, aimed directly at the soot-blackened snake,

It struck with such tremendous force that Gildersnake’s scales gave way in an instant; it bored straight through flesh and bone, and into the vulnerable organ beneath.

The destruction, from there, went unseen, but from how the Great Serpent thrashed and writhed in its immense death throes, causing the mountains themselves to shake, Azura knew that it was more than enough.

NO! MY ONE WEAKNESS!” Gildersnake cried, “ DYING!!!

He fell into the lava below, quickly sinking beneath the surface of the glowing orange ocean.

Azura allowed herself a small smile; she hadn’t been certain when she entered the Fireplume Mountains to confront the Great Serpent, but ultimately, she had prevailed.

Now, peace would finally return to the land…

“… and that’s the end!” Luz Noceda quipped cheerfully, lowering her Azura doll and the still very much alive snake, which she had brought as props for her assignment.

Her Mother, and Principal Hal, stared at her in a long moment of uncomfortable silence.

“… the end of what?” Mom asked, tone one of genuine confusion and concern.

“My book report!”

Even though the snake had latched its fangs into her Good Witch Azura doll, Luz kept her brown eyes strictly on the adults in front of her; in her experience, adults didn’t like it when she paid attention to anything other than them during a “serious conversation.”

Nonetheless, she beamed; despite the fact that she had been deprived of ninety percent of her props, including her paper mache castle, mountains and caverns, complete with tomato sauce for the lava, Luz fully believed it when she said “I think I knocked it out of the park!”

Principal Hal let out a tired sigh, pointing to the door, “Your book report is the reason why you’re here.”

The ‘again’ went unsaid, and a spike of disappointed frustration shot through Luz’s stomach.

It had all been so clear in her head; all she had to do was verbally present her book report in front of her class. That was easy, no big deal! It wasn’t as if Luz had stage fright or anything like that; she’d auditioned to be Juliet in the school play!... even if she hadn’t gotten the part… the sausage link intestines had seemed funny at the time… seriously, Romeo and Juliet was a farcical comedy about dumb teenagers, not a tragic love story about star crossed lovers… why was Mrs. Nameno so upset?...

Luz had gotten everything she needed. She’d memorized her script. She’d gathered her props. Anything she didn’t have a substitute for, she made from scratch. She even made sure to reread the parts of the Good Witch Azura that she didn’t like, just to make sure she wouldn’t skip them.

The only things that were missing were her backup snakes.

She’d looked for them everywhere; in her bag, in her desk, even asking for the chance to slip out to her locker just to make absolutely sure she hadn’t left them in there, even though she knew she hadn’t.

Eventually, though, her turn came up, and she had to step up to the front of the class without the safety of having a stunt snake for the action scenes, or a backup snake in case her primary snake got ill or stage fright.

But that was okay. They couldn't have gone far. She’d just find them after class. What was the worst that could happen?

Then Mr. Maclain, her English teacher, took one look at the snake in her hand, and the fireworks in her backpack, and sent her straight to the Principal’s office without even letting her present.

She had been sat down outside the office, listening to Principal Hal’s muffled voice through the door on the phone, knowing that Mami would be called in from work at the hospital.

Again.

That she would be lectured.

Again.

That she would be told that she needed to reign herself in.

Again.

Luz looked out the window built into the door; almost immediately, two kids ran past, each screaming as the snakes that had latched onto their heads held on with every ounce of might they could muster with their little jaws.

“Oh,” she kept her tone light, trying to play it off as she looked back at the Principal, “That’s where the backup snakes were...”

“And what were you going to do with this?” her mother lifted the rather hefty bundle of fireworks, larger than a particularly well-fed corgi.

“That was for the act three closer…” Luz said, feeling herself deflate as her eyes fell to the floor.

Mija,” Mami began, setting the fireworks down, “I love your creativity, but it’s gotten out of hand. Do you remember why you were in the principal’s office the last three times?”

How could Luz forget? It seemed like everything she did got her in trouble, in some way or another; she’d been ridiculed for the aforementioned “Sausage Guts” incident by Mrs. Nameno for “mocking the Bard’s greatest tragedy of star crossed love” (even though it was clearly a comedy about stupid teens doing stupid things).

Luz’s anatomically correct griffon had seen no end of grief, earning her lectures for stitching together taxidermied animals and filling them with spiders to replicate a creature that “didn’t exist naturally” (despite Dad providing her with plenty of evidence to the contrary).

And then there was the cheerleading team tryouts, where Luz hadn’t even done anything – all she’d done was turn her eyelids inside out for a few seconds and everyone started screaming like she’d committed murder. Actually, ALL those incidents had everyone screaming like she’d committed murder.

And, moreover, caused everyone in school to keep their distance from her.

“We all love that you love to express yourself,” Mom began, “but if you can’t learn to separate fantasy from reality, you may need to spend the summer here.”

She held up a pamphlet, and Luz felt a heavy stone of dread fall into her stomach as she read the cover.

Camp Reality Check.

Think INSIDE the box!

Luz had to keep herself from swallowing; she forced a bright smile, “Don’t worry, Mom! I won’t let you down!” she leapt out of the chair to her feet, pumping her fist, “From now on, NO MORE WEIRDNESS!”

She only realized her grip on the snake was too loose when it leapt from her fingers, jaws opened wide, towards Principal Hal. He screamed as the snake latched onto his nose, causing him to fall backwards out of his chair to the floor.

Luz’s eyes went wide with horror as she looked to her mother, “… that doesn’t count, right?”

It took only one glance at her mother’s disappointed expression to know the answer to that question.

… it was days like this where Luz was truly jealous of Maka.


“Forty two, forty two, five six four, whenever you want to knock on Death’s door,” Maka Albarn’s voice was despondent as she stared into her reflection in the wall mirror of her shared apartment.

It had been nearly an hour since they’d gotten back. It was well after midnight; Maka’s grey hair had been let down, and she stood in her nightgown, green eyes narrow and her forehead pressing into the glass of the mirror.

Soul stood off to the side, having done away with his jacket and headband, hands stuffed in his pockets and red eyes half lidded; despite his slouched posture, Maka could feel the frustration rolling off him in waves.

Not that she could blame him. She was feeling the exact same way.

They had been so close. They had ninety-nine Kishin Egg Souls. They were one step away from turning Soul into a Death Scythe. They had defeated the Witch Blair, and were on the threshold of success. They would have been the youngest Meister and Weapon pair to ever create a Death Scythe, younger even than Maka’s own mother.

And it was all for nothing.

Because it turned out Blair wasn’t even a Witch.

She was a cat. A cat with magical powers, mind you, but a cat nonetheless.

Which meant that all the effort they’d made over the past year was completely wasted.

“… you sure you wanna do this tonight?” Soul asked, tone oddly calm despite his quiet anger, “You can put it off until tomorrow. Do this with a cool head.”

Maka let out a quiet snicker, “You and I both know I don’t really do “cool” like you do, Soul.”

“You take my point,” he smiled, showing his sharp teeth, “Fact is, neither of us are in a very good headspace right now. We report to Lord Death now, we’re probably gonna get lectured for failing. Are you really okay to deal with that right now, after the night you’ve had?”

She hummed, leaning forwards against the side table, “I’ve been wondering that since we started heading back, Soul. And frankly… I’m not sure I’m getting much sleep tonight anyways. I just want this over with.”

“… alright then. Do your thing.”

“... forty two, forty two,” Maka began, writing the numbers into the mirror, “Five six four, whenever you want to knock on Death’s door.”

The mirror rang out, going dark, shimmering like ripples in the water. After a moment, it cleared, and a visage of an inky black silhouette stood, jagged and only humanoid in the vaguest possible sense, stood before them, a bone white mask with three “teeth” and holes to represent eyes and a nose. Behind him, a beautiful blue sky arced overhead, pockmarked with clouds that slowly shifted at random with no discernable pattern… and an endless desert stretched out behind him, marked with countless thin, jagged black crosses, an infinite number of nameless grave-markers, but for whom, neither Meister nor Weapon could guess.

“Hello, Lord Death,” Maka tried to hide the misery in her voice beneath her usual chipper tone, “Scythe Meister Maka Albarn and Demon Weapon Soul Eater, reporting in.”

Hello, hello!” Death’s voice echoed back, high pitched and cheery as ever as he bounced back and forth, “Good to see you both safe and sound, Maka, Soul!

“That’s one way to put it,” Soul sighed, stepping closer to the mirror, until he was standing right beside his partner.

“… unfortunately, sir,” Maka began, “We… we failed to recover an actual Witch’s Soul. Instead… we wound up targeting… a magical cat.”

A moment of silence passed before anyone spoke further.

I know,” Death’s tone was not scolding, or mocking. If anything, his tone was one of… understanding?

Maka bowed, low as she could, arms ramrod straight at her sides, “As the Meister, this is my responsibility. I should have been able to recognize our target wasn’t a Witch. I-”

Now, now,” Death chided, raising a large, boxy hand in an appeasing gesture, “… slow down, Maka. I don’t believe that you or Soul are responsible for this.

Maka blinked, raising her head.

“We're not?” Soul asked, cocking an eyebrow.

Of course not,” Death shook his “head,” letting his hand fall back into the inky blackness of his form, “If anything, the responsibility falls more on my shoulders for giving you permission to attempt the hunt in the first place, without properly verifying that there was an actual Witch in the area.

Maka had fully straightened her back now, eyes wide. There wasn’t going to be a lecture? They weren’t in trouble for this?

They weren’t going to be punished?

Even as I watched you fight, I could tell there was something distinctly off about your target. It isn’t uncommon for Witches to not take young Meisters and Weapons like yourselves seriously, but even taking that into account, she lacked the ruthlessness most Witches have. Against a true Witch, they likely would have killed you outright in the first encounter,” Death explained, “Your target essentially played with you without any true malice. She never intended to kill or even hurt either of you. Moreover, she could have corrected you at any point and told you she was not, in fact, a Witch, and saved everyone a good deal of hassle.

“… but she didn’t,” Maka squeaked, the gears in her head turning.

“… so you’re telling us that she didn’t tell us she wasn’t a Witch, and humoured our attempts to kill her despite being strong enough to blow us away at any point… because she wanted a playdate,” Soul managed, tone low, exasperated, and defeated.

That’s exactly what I am saying, Soul.

The Demon Weapon let out a low groan, bringing a hand to his forehead, “I put two and two together already… but hearing it confirmed like that somehow only makes it all worse.”

Don’t beat yourselves up too badly over this!” Death’s voice became jovial once more, “You both did admirably against an opponent that outclassed you quite considerably! You’ve proven that you are among the most capable pairs in your year. Possibly even among older students, as well! The Academy is proud to have you both!

“… so… if we aren’t in trouble…” Maka began, “Then what happens now? Do we still lose all the Souls we collected?”

Another pause, before Death let out a sigh of his own.

The Witch’s Soul is incredibly important to the process of turning a Weapon into a Death Scythe, Maka,” His tone was lower now, more deliberate, “And unfortunately, magical or not, a cat’s Soul does not supply the same sort of “oomph” that a Weapon needs to make that jump.

“Can’t we just remove it from the batch?” the Weapon asked, “Try again later?”

As it stands, no. The fact that Weapons eat the Kishin Egg Souls they recover means that those Souls all affect each other. That cat Soul you ate has effectively contaminated the whole bunch you’ve collected,” the Reaper bowed, his voice filled with regret, “I am sorry, to the both of you… but the fact of the matter is, the Souls you have collected are no longer capable of creating a Death Scythe.

“So we’ll have to start again from scratch,” Maka moaned, bringing her hands to her face, “I can’t believe I screwed this up so badly…”

“Hey,” Soul reached out, gently gripping Maka’s shoulder, “That wasn’t just on you. We both messed this up, so don’t go blaming yourself.”

As I’ve said,” Death interjected, “a good deal of the responsibility rests on me. At the very least, I could have double-checked my list while I was watching you fight. Were you older students, I might have expected you to be more perceptive regarding the true nature of your opponent, but young as you are, it would have been unfair to expect you to be able to tell the true nature of a Soul at a glance.

“But we’ll still be starting over,” Maka stated, rubbing her eyes.

Well…” the Grim Reaper tilted his head, “I was going to propose some sort of compensation. You both have put in an incredible effort over the past year; it would be a shame for it to all go to waste over a screw-up that wasn’t even yours.

“… so you’re going to offer us Souls collected by others? Is that it?” Soul crossed his arms, eyes narrowing slightly.

Recently, Dark Arm Meister Black Star and Demon Weapon Tsubaki collected the Kishin Egg Souls of an entire mob family out in New York. Al Capone and his cronies, ninety-nine in total,” Death mused, “I offered to let them keep all those Souls, but they refused, on account of them not having assassinated the mob themselves. So we have ninety-nine Kishin Egg Souls with no one to claim them.

A long moment of silence passed between the three.

As the one who gave you permission to attempt to hunt a Witch, and directed you to a faulty target in the first place, I think it only right that I offer these Souls to you,” the Reaper’s tone suggested a smile behind that silly mask, “Even if you refuse, I will make sure your efforts are recognized.

Maka and Soul looked at each other, still silent; though neither said a word, an entire conversation seemed to pass between them as they stared into each others’ eyes, a myriad of subtle expressions shooting across their faces in a matter of seconds.

Confusion. Curiosity.

Pride. Shame.

Finally, Soul let out a breath, breaking his gaze and closing his eyes as he leaned back against the wall.

“… can we have a day or two to think about it, Lord Death?” Maka asked, “I think Soul and I need to talk before we can decide on this. And it’s been a long night; I don’t think either of us really want to talk right now.”

Of course, of course!” Death sing-songed, “I’ll have you get back to me soon. Just keep in mind this is a one time offer! If you refuse, they’re gone for good!

“Yeah, of course. Thank you, Lord Death. Have a good night.”

With that, the mirror went dark.

“… I’m going to bed,” Soul sighed, scratching the back of his head, “I’m exhausted. It’s a lot less cool to stay up this late than I thought it would be…”

“We’ve had a long night,” Maka rocked back on her heels, “We’ll talk about Lord Death’s offer in the morning.”

“Yeah,” Soul turned, and padded into the hallway, “Night, Maka.”

“Goodnight, Soul.”

His bedroom door creaked open, and gently closed behind him. Left alone, Maka turned to look into the mirror once more, her reflection staring back.

“… well, I can officially say I’ve screwed up harder than Luz now…”


“WAIT, MAKAAAAAAA!”

Death let out a tired breath as Spirit Albarn came rushing through the gates of guillotines, screaming at the top of his lungs. The Death Scythe rushed past the Grim Reaper, and slammed his face into the mirror, “MAKA, IT’S NOT YOUR FAULT SHE WASN’T A WITCH! YOU CAN STILL MAKE A DEATH SCYTHE! PAPA’LL FIX IT! PAPA WILL-“

A single, well placed Reaper Chop was enough to leave Spirit nearly silent, weakly croaking as he slid down the surface of the mirror to the floor.

“The call has already ended, Spirit,” Death lectured, blowing on his smoking hand as if it were a revolver, “And I very much doubt that Scythe Meister Maka is in the mood to chat with you.”

“… aaaaaahahahoooooowwwww…” Spirit groaned, slowly pushing himself up off the floor. Unsteadily, he got to his feet, staring into the mirror, “… I just wanted to tell her everything would be alright…”

“I’ve already reassured Maka and her partner that they have an option available,” Death said, “Even if they don’t take the Souls collected by Black Star and Tsubaki, their grades will not fall as a result of this incident. If anything, collecting a new set of Kishin Egg Souls will count as extra credit.”

“I know.”

Spirit’s voice was oddly firm as he turned to look at the Reaper; Death and Death Scythe held each others’ gaze for a long moment, the former inscrutable, the latter unusually serious. If anything, one would say he even looked downright grim.

“… I know,” he repeated, sighing, his gaze falling to the floor as he stuffed his fingers in his pockets. He closed his eyes, his red bangs falling over his face, “I just… I want to be a good father. I have a responsibility to be there for my daughters, regardless of whether they’re sailing forwards with flying colours or if they’re on the down and out. I know you asked me to let you explain it, but…”

“… with all due respect, Spirit, I do think you could be doing a significantly better job on that front,” Death tilted his head, tone nonchalant, “I mean, don’t you think Maka’s attitude towards you should tell you something?”

“… please don’t rub it in, sir,” Spirit whined, clutching his handmade Maka doll to his chest.

“I’m not trying to be cruel. Don’t forget that I’m a father as well,” Death reminded, “I’ve sought your input many times in helping raise my own son, and you’ve been an invaluable resource in regards to helping maintain my connection with him. I’d go so far as to say you’re practically his Godfather.

“But I think it’s time for you to take one of the most helpful pieces of advice you have ever given me to heart yourself.”

“And that is?”

“Recognize that your daughter has set a boundary.”

Spirit felt his fists clench; quickly, he pocketed the Maka doll, trying to ensure he wouldn’t treat it like a stress toy even by accident.

When he did not give an answer, Death continued, “As a direct result of your own recent actions, Maka has decided she wants to maintain a sizeable distance from you. I suspect the only reason she speaks to you at all is because you are a Death Scythe, and thus within the same professional body as the career she is pursuing.

“I understand that this is painful for you, Spirit; I can only imagine how I would feel if Kid were to do the same to me for any reason. But if you honestly want to repair, or at least not cause any further damage to your relationship with your daughter, then I would suggest respecting Maka’s desires. Chasing after her, being overbearing in the way you have, is only going to drive her further away.”

The Death Scythe bit his lip, still staring listlessly at the ground. Slowly, he crossed his arms, “It’s so hard to stay away, though… and it seems like just yesterday we were still reading together in the living room…”

“I have been around for a long time, Spirit. I have seen a good deal over the years, and I can tell you this: Nothing worth cultivating – or fixing – can ever be done in a day,” for the first time, Death extended not a harsh chop, but a gentle hand, lightly clapping his red headed Weapon across the shoulders, “I can’t guarantee that Maka will come around. And even if she does, things are never going to be the same between you. You’ve destroyed your relationship with her. But the chances of you actually being able to repair that relationship will be higher if you don’t continue pushing your luck with her.”

“… yeah,” Spirit’s voice was a whisper, barely audible above his own breath.

“… speaking of daughters, how is Luz?” Death ventured, trying to move on to a more cheerful topic for his Weapon, “Is she still calling you regularly?”

At this, Spirit looked up, a slow, small smile crossing his features as he took out a second handmade doll – this one bearing tanned skin, brown eyes, and dark short hair, “She is, actually. A few weeks back, she actually asked me for help regarding a science project.”

“Oh?”

“She was supposed to build an anatomical model of an animal. But she didn’t want to make one based on an everyday creature; she wanted to make a griffon.”

“A griffon!” Death mused, his tone light, “Those are a rare sight, these days.”

“I know. Getting source material for her was tricky; I really had to go digging through the library to help,” Spirit gently stroked the doll’s dark hair, “I managed to get her everything she needed though.”

“I imagine the spider breath must have been tricky to pull off.”

“Believe it or not? She actually managed to get it to work.”

“Really?” an actual laugh from the Reaper this time, “She sounds like quite a clever girl.”

“She is. She really is,” Spirit sighed, “Unfortunately, her teacher didn’t seem to think so. She got in trouble for the way she did her assignment.”

“… oh. Well, that’s unfortunate.”

“Apparently griffons don’t constitute as ‘real animals’ these days,” the Weapon snorted, “I can understand that the successful spider breath with actual spiders was maybe going a little far, but really? Griffons, not real? They’re endangered, not fictional.

“Well, you do have to remember that most schools aren’t quite as unusual as the DWMA. They probably don’t teach about things like griffons there,” Death nodded sagely, “But even so, I would believe that an anatomically correct griffon would deserve at least an A minus. One with functioning spider breath, an A or A plus.”

Right?

Abruptly, a cheerful tune rang out, singing out the lyrics from an old cartoon Death didn’t recognize, but Spirit knew all too well; he dug into his pocket, and took out his phone.

Across the screen was a photo of Luz, mouth wide open in a squeal of delight upon seeing what Spirit had wrapped for her birthday.
He always loved seeing that look on her face. Every time he managed to get enough vacation time to visit, he always did his best to bring that expression back.

There was one thing that worried him this time, though.

“… Lord Death, can I take this?” he asked, tone solemn.

“Of course, Spirit,” Death nodded, “Don’t keep her waiting.”

Spirit nodded, and then started down the guillotine gates, bringing the phone up to his ear.

Death returned his attention to the mirror; immediately, an image appeared in its surface, and he began to re-watch Maka and Soul’s battle against the magical cat.

“It’s strange,” he mused, “I could have sworn there was an actual Witch out there…”


Luz?

“… hey, Dad,” Luz sighed, staring listlessly up at the ceiling. The dim nightlight in the corner of the room served as the only source of light in the room, casting a faint, but warm glow throughout the room. She’d slid under the covers, arms outstretched, her phone propped up against her ear with a pillow.

As usual, her alarm clock remained upturned, as the bright green light a nuisance that kept her awake even on the best of nights.

Tonight wasn’t exactly a good night.

What’s up, kiddo? You’re not usually up this late,” he started, “It’s well past one in the morning here. For you it’s gotta be… almost four.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she confessed, “And… well, I really wanted to talk.”

Well, I’m listening,” the Death Scythe assured, “Is something wrong?

She closed her eyes, the memories of the day flooding back; the silent trip in the car after being sent home early. Barely being able to pay attention to the words on the pages of the Good Witch Azura. Trying anything and everything to get the punishment for her book report out of her head… and failing. It loomed over her like a giant on the horizon, every second drawing her closer to it, not so much a car on a highway as a runaway train, with no other track to jump to in hopes of escape.

“… I got in trouble again.”

… oh,” the concern in Dad’s voice was palpable, “What happened?

“I went too far with my book report,” she grumbled, rolling onto her side to stare at the black screen of her phone, “My backup snakes got loose… I got in trouble for bringing live animals and fireworks into school.”

… gee. Well, I’m sorry to hear it,” Dad sighed, his voice calm, soothing – not scolding. Never scolding. When was the last time he’d even raised his voice with her? “… but it’s not like the punishment can be that bad, right? You got a little overenthusiastic – that’s normal. It’s not like you hurt anyone.

Luz felt her face scrunch as frustration and sadness welled up in her stomach in a boiling pit of axiety. Her hands clenched the bedsheets, and she could feel her nails even through the fabric.

Luz? You still there?

“Kids got bitten,” she admitted, “The snakes weren’t poisonous, but… well, they were a lot less happy to be in school than I thought. And when I lost track of them…”

… oh.

“Yeah. Oh,” she repeated.

… so, what happened?” she could tell from Dad’s tone he was trying not to immediately assume the worst.

“… I’m getting sent to a summer camp once the school year ends in a couple weeks. Camp Reality Check,” she pushed herself up, sitting back against the wall. Why couldn't’ she just sit still? “I’ll still get all my grades and everything, but… I have to go to a Camp that’s supposed to teach me to reign myself in.”

… well, that’s…” he trailed off, clearly unsure what to say. What could he say, really, to make her feel better? Tell her this was better than being suspended or expelled? That it was for her own good?

Unseen by his daughter, Spirit shook his head. No. No, he couldn’t tell her that. She was already feeling miserable enough. She’d most definitely already heard that, too many times already.

… I’m sorry, Luz. That… that’s rough.

She gave a light, affirmative ‘hm’ of agreement, letting her head fall back against the wall.

… is there anything I can do for you? Tonight, tomorrow?” he asked, “I should be able to visit soon. Maybe… we can meet up before you have to go?

Luz bit her lip, pulling her legs up to her chest. Should she ask?... she knew what the answer was probably going to be. But at the very least, it couldn’t hurt to make sure… right?...

Luz?” he asked again, “You alright?... you want to talk in the morning?

“… no, I’m fine. Just…”

Just?

“… Papi… do you think you could get me into DWMA?”

She heard his breath hitch, the sudden inhale making her heart plummet; for a long few moments, the only evidence to Luz that Dad hadn’t hung up was the fact that she could still hear his breaths.

“… I don’t want to go to this summer camp,” she managed, her voice low as she struggled to keep it from warbling; despite her efforts, she felt, more than heard it crack, “I don’t want to have a reality check. I feel like fitting in means I’m going to have to give up everything I love doing. I’m… I’m scared. I don’t want to.

… I know, Luz,” the Death Scythe assured, “I know.

“DWMA has summer classes, doesn’t it?” she asked, “I can start with those. I’ll stay out of the way, I won’t get in trouble, I promise. Just… please…”

Luz,” Papi’s voice grew stern, but remained gentle, “… you know you wouldn’t be in my way. And if you somehow got into bigger trouble than Black Star or Soul, I would be very, very surprised. You’re enthusiastic, not a troublemaker. You understand that, don’t you?

“… yeah,” she sighs, a small weight lifting from her stomach; a tiny relief, “I understand that.”

I’d happily give you room and board if you ever came here. I would love to have you around; you’d have to play a bit of catch up, but I know you. It might take a couple of months, but I know you’d work hard in order to get yourself up to speed,” the pride in his tone was almost enough to completely turn Luz’s mood around; she had sat up again, holding her phone against her ear, the small hints of a smile on her face… but as he trailed off, she felt it falter.

… but, you know that isn’t my decision,” Dad reminded her, his own tone sullen, “Your mother has full custody over you; whether or not you can come here is ultimately her call. And… well, I think you know what she’d say to sending you to another state. Much less DWMA.

Luz’s eyes fell closed and her jaw set as she took in a long, slow breath, letting her head snap back into the wall with an audible thud as relief turned to resignation. She didn’t bother to stifle the whine that escaped her, instead opting to curl in on herself again.

She knew what Mami’s answer would be.

“... it can’t be that dangerous, can it?... Maka’s younger than me by a year, and she’s attending.”

The difference there being that Maka has been learning to use her Soul Wavelength for quite a while now,” he pointed out, “Unfortunately, you’ve never had the chance to learn how to do that.

“I can learn,” she insisted, “You said yourself I could catch up.”

And you could. I’m not disputing that, Luz, not for an instant. You’re a very capable young woman. But you have to understand – DWMA isn’t the place you go to if you’re hoping for a normal life. It’s a training ground… and I can’t say I blame your mother for not wanting to send you here. Being a Weapon or Meister isn’t the safest career path.

“… I know. But at least I’d fit in without having to stop being… me.”

A long, heavy silence hung between them.

… tell you what, Luz,” he began, his tone optimistic, “I’ll talk to your mother about this in the morning, okay?

Her eyes shot open, here heart skipping a beat, “You will!?”

I will.

It was all Luz could do to keep herself from squealing as a mix of joy and sweet relief washed over her. She slapped a hand over her mouth, feeling her smile reach so far up her cheeks that it physically ached.

Don’t get your hopes up,” Dad warned, voice stern once more, “I can’t promise that she’s going to say yes. There’s a good chance that she won’t, but… hey, it doesn’t hurt to try, right?

At this, Luz sobered somewhat, though her smile remained firmly in place this time. She nodded, “Right… I really hope she does, though. I really wanna see Death City. And the DWMA. Oh, and Maka!”

She’s missed you, you know,” there was a slight hint of mischief in his voice, “She won’t admit it, but I think Maka wants to see her big sister.

Luz snorted, giggling, “Weren’t you the one telling me not to get my hopes up just now, Dad?”

Right, right,” he chuckled, “Sorry. My bad.

“Apology accepted.”

I’m glad. Now, I think you should get some sleep. It’s four in the morning over there, and I don’t wanna get in trouble with your mother for keeping you up so late.

“Yeah,” she bobbed her head, “... hey, Papi?

He didn’t even miss a beat, “Yes, Mi Cielito?”

“… thanks for picking up. And… for listening.”

I’m your father, Luz. That’s my job.

“Even so. Thank you.”

… anytime. Te amo, Corazoncito.”

Te amo, Papi. Night.”

Goodnight.

With that, the line went dead.

She pulled the phone down from her ear, a melancholy sigh escaping her as she stared up at the laughing moon high above, “Wish I could be as sure of what’s coming as you, Ms. Moon…”

Finally, she reached for her nightlight, switching it off, and curled up beneath the covers, slowly falling into slumber.


The black cat slowly slunk through the shadows, cheerily humming to herself as she adjusted her large, black hat over her purple hair. Her golden eyes gleamed as she reached the top of a dune, sweeping across the desert.

Death City. It really was a sight to behold, if only because of how strange it was; it looked more like a castle than any modern day city. There weren’t any skyscrapers to speak of, and what buildings poked over the towering cobblestone walls didn’t bring to mind any sort of bustling metropolis. With all the rickety roofs, crooked windows, and conjoined buildings, it gave an impression closer to that of an old town left by the wayside, growing ever more crooked with age – the perfect home for all sorts of classic horrors.

The highest building of all, though, was that of the Death Weapon Meister Academy, its jet black walls rendering it almost invisible against the night sky; the only reason it could be seen at all was because of the many giant candles that extended from it, casting light all across the town and acting as beacons that could be seen for miles, illuminating the three pronged mask of the Grim Reaper that had become so well known.

She smiled.

This city would be her new home, from now on.

“… you know, I still can’t believe that you’re actually willing to go in there.”

The voice was equal parts wry and cheerful despite its contralto, a voice perfectly suited to a classical Witch’s cackle; the cat turned, and came face to face with a pale woman in a dark red dress, her long grey hair lightly tousled by the cold desert gales. Her golden eyes flashed with mischief, her single golden fang enriching an already toothy grin as she turned to size the cat up, “I might not be a conventional Witch, but even I know better than to go traipsing through Death’s hometown.”

The cat giggled, bringing a hand to her mouth, causing her purple curls to flounce; her short black dress and long sleeves flapped gently in the wind, as if in agreement, “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I’m not a Witch. I’m just a cat. Death’s got no reason to have me hunted down.”

“Aren’t you the lucky one,” the Witch remarked dryly.

“I really am.”

“You’re free to believe that when you can actually win a round of Hexas Hold ‘Em, Blair.”

“I can so win Hexas Hold ‘Em!” she pouted, “You just cheat, Eda!”

A snorting laugh, “Me? Cheat? I would never.

“Right,” Blair sniffed.

A quiet moment passed, filled only by the wind.

“… so. What were doing in my neck of the woods, anyways?” Blair crossed her arms, genuinely curious, “It’s not like you to leave the Boiling Isles yourself.”

“I sent Owlbert out to do the usual collection,” Eda gently stroked the wooden owl atop her staff, “He got caught up in a little trouble chasing a particular piece of junk, so I had to come fetch him.”

“I see,” the cat nodded, pursing her lips, “And here I was ready to lecture you about how that little stunt of yours cost me one of my Souls.”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Eda’s smile didn’t fade as she met Blair’s gaze, “I figured you’d be able to handle a couple of brats that weak, even if they didn’t believe you were a cat. I’m surprised you played with them for so long, though. You usually lose interest a lot more quickly than that.”

“It was my first time seeing a real Demon Weapon!” Blair squealed with obvious delight, “That little scythey boy was so cute! And his Meister was really just fun to mess with! They were so fun, I couldn’t help myself!”

“And is that why you’ve decided you’re living there, now?” the Witch pointed to the city, “In the Grim Reaper’s house, middle of nowhere, Nevada? Because that’s where your new favourite playmates live?”

“You got it!”

“Heh. And people call me crazy,” Eda shook her head in mock dismay, then shrugged, “But hey, whatever floats your boat. I won’t snitch on ya to the Emperor’s Coven or anything. Just be careful not to snitch the Isles to anyone, alright?”

“Eda, I don’t even know where the closest portal to the Witch Realm even is,” Blair mewled, “And last time I checked, you’re the only one with a portal directly to and from the Isles themselves.”

“Then don’t sell me out,” Eda’s grin widened, “There are enough people who want to take me in without adding Death’s cronies to the list.”

“Don’t they already want you, though? I’ve heard that the Owl Lady is a pretty high profile target for the DWMA,” Blair noted, smugly.

“Correction, I don’t need more of Death’s cronies added to the list,” Eda grumbled, shooting the cat a dirty look, “I might be able to run circles around most of the Weapons and Meisters that they churn out today, but avoiding fights in the first place is the best way to stay safe. And I’d rather not get a Death Scythe sent after me, even if I do like my chances in a fight with one.”

“Fair point.”

“… speaking of the Boiling Isles, though,” Eda sighed, spinning her staff. The owl perched on its top spread its wings, its eyes glowing gold, and when Eda let go, it hovered in the air, totally suspended by its own power. The red-clad Witch sat down, letting it carry her a few feet up into the air, “I really need to be heading back. It’s probably already past dawn there and I’d rather not screw up my sleep schedule any more than it already is.”

“Alright,” Blair smiled up at her, “Stay safe out there, okay?”

“Who do you think you’re talking to, you dumb cat?” Eda smirked.

“Someone who’s done me a huge favour!” Blair shot back.

Eda let out a harsh, snorting laugh, then took off into the sky, soon becoming nothing more than a dwindling silhouette against the grinning moon.

Blair watched for a long while, waiting until the dark speck that was the Witch had completely faded into the dark backdrop of the night, before turning back to Death City. She snapped her fingers, a blast of smoke surrounding her, and where a beautiful young woman once stood, was now just a black cat with a comically oversized hat.

“Time to head home,” she mused, conjuring a jack-o-lantern; it floated in midair, grinning face illuminated by orange candles, and when she hopped atop it, it began to float off towards the city, “I think I’m gonna like living with Maka and Soul…”

Notes:

Translation for Luz's and Spirit's Spanish:

"Mi cielito" and "Corazoncito" are both terms of endearment. "Me cielita" also exists, but is apparently more of a pet name.

"Te amo" means "Love you," and can be interchanged with "Te quiero!"

They're applicable to both genders according to my translator. Everyone give a big round of applause to maho_kat on Archive of Our Own, who is being extremely gracious in offering me her help!

There will be changes to both how Soul Eater and Owl House progress in this story. One of the big changes is going to be the ages of Maka's parents (specifically Spirit), and how magic works in the Boiling Isles to make the series compatible.

But don't worry; I think I have a strong handle on this.

Thank you for giving this story a read. Please be sure to leave your thoughts on this below; every comment helps hone my work into something better.

I hope you all enjoyed the first instalment of Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance!

Chapter 2: Taking and Making Calls

Notes:

Chapter 2! I told you these would be posted quickly. Though after chapter 3 it might take a little time.

I do not own Soul Eater or Owl House.

But part of me kinda wishes I did.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The hiss and sizzle of bacon was a pleasant thing to wake up to.

It breached through the haze of sleep, gradually rousing Soul from his slumber. The smell alone was enough to get his mouth to water, tempting him, practically daring him to go and eat and skip his normal morning routine.

“Haven’t even brushed my teeth yet,” he grumbled, slowly stretching, working out the kinks in his arms. He smiled, “Geez, Maka… not a cool way to start the morning. At least come wake me up first…”

He pushed himself up – or tried to, at least. There was an unusual weight in the center of his chest, as if something had curled up atop his ribs and was now refusing to move, remaining stubbornly in place despite the efforts of his still sleep-addled body.

Annoyed, Soul finally opened his eyes, glaring down at the small object that refused to let him do his single morning sit-up.

He blinked. Once. Twice.

A small cat was curled in a ball on his sternum, breathing gently with a contented smile on its small face. Its fur was a deep purple, so deep it was practically black; its tail curled up in a spiral, so long that if stretched out, it could easily have reached two feet and still have several inches to spare. A strange collar and pendant hung around its neck, but what truly caught Soul’s attention was the hat.

The enormous, crooked Witch’s hat.

Suddenly, memories of that night came flooding back; the house shaped like a pumpkin; the drudgery of four long nights of effort; the sting of three consecutive defeats.

But most of all, Soul remembered the utter disgust he’d felt with himself for turning on Maka, even if it was to get the upper hand, and the taste of the glowing purple Soul as he’d chewed and swallowed, power welling through him in an overwhelming surge of strength… only for it to all disappear in an instant, leaving him feeling genuinely ill for the rest of the night even if he’d done his best not to show it.

Soul felt the colour drain from his already pale face as he slowly connected the dots.

This was the cat they’d mistaken for a Witch. This was Blair.

Blair was in his room.

Blair had followed them home.

Before he could call for Maka, the cat stirred; she pushed herself up, first stretching up, and then out with a long squeak of a yawn. Her bright yellow eyes gradually drifted open as she licked her lips, and she met Soul’s gaze.

He was certain in that moment that he was dead.

He knew that there was no way he could win without Maka – and even with her, their chances would be dubious at best. They’d only won because he’d successfully tricked Blair… and Soul knew how vengeful cats could be.

He could only guess she was here to pay them back for her missing Soul.

For a long moment, neither spoke. The terrified Weapon merely stared at the bemused cat, waiting for the killing blow to come…

“… morning, Soul,” Blair yawned again, then slowly curled up and laid back down, eyes fluttering shut, “Jus’ lay there a few more minutes, ‘kay? You make a nice pillow…”

Soul swallowed, thoroughly confused. Was he still asleep? Was this some nightmare where Blair’s bizarre idea of revenge upon her killers took the form of just living in their apartment and making a nuisance of herself?

Slowly, he ran his tongue along his jagged teeth…

“… well, I’m not asleep…” he winced at the scraping sensation across his tongue, the mild pain enough to totally dispel any hope he might have had of abruptly waking up.

“‘course not, silly…” Blair mumbled, “Settle down... I wanna nap a little more…”

… he was officially at a loss. He had no idea what to say or do.

Cautiously, he brought his arms beneath himself, and slowly tried to push himself up…

“Nyoooooo,” the cat whined, digging in slightly with her claws.

Soul immediately stopped, laying back down; on the one hand, he was now more than a little thankful he had worn a shirt to bed. Those claws felt sharp.

On the other, he liked this shirt, and felt no desire to see it get all snagged up.

Eventually, Blair’s claws retracted, and Soul felt himself let out a sigh of relief.

“… okay,” he whispered, reaching up to his chest, “Let’s try this, then…”

He slid his hands under the relatively small cat, her dark fur soft as silk to the touch, and slowly tried to lift her off.

Once more, she responded with her claws, this time digging in harder to keep him from lifting her, “Nyooooooooooooooo…”

Soul quickly set her back down, cursing as the tiny little razor blades the cat called claws sat on the surface of his skin, over a dozen and a half little needles that would only need an errant twitch to break through. When they pulled back once more, he took a deep breath, gritting his teeth.

“Blair, if you don’t let me get up, I’m going to call Maka in here,” he threatened, hoping he wouldn’t have to follow through.

She opened one eye, still smiling that smug little smile, “Will you?”

“I will.”

“Will you, really?”

“Blair,” he urged through his teeth.

“Hmmmmmmmmmm,” she drew the sound out, slowly, letting her eye angle upwards in mock thought.

Then, a cloud of smoke abruptly erupted from her form, and Soul found himself winded as the weight on his chest went from roughly seven pounds to well over a hundred.

Blair chuckled as the smoke cleared, her humanoid form now clad in the same short black dress she had worn before, cutting off just above the thigh, the curled toes of her long black boots matching the curls of her hair; she sank her razor sharp, perfectly manicured nails, even in this form more like claws than anything else, into the fabric of the mattress. She grinned at the visible panic on the Weapon’s face, settling back down once more, “Promises, promises, Soul.”

“… God damn, you do not fight fair,” he grumbled, “Not cool.”

“Let’s just say I learned from the best, and leave it at that.”

Soul let out a sigh of defeat, slumping back down against his pillow and staring up at the ceiling.

It seemed there was only one way out of this.

He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath to steel himself…

“Maka,” he called, raising his voice, “Can you come in here for a minute? I need a hand dealing with our guest.”

At this, Blair raised her head, eyes blinking open in mild surprise. After a moment, footsteps began to draw closer to the door, the apartment’s only other occupant on the approach.

The door opened, and Maka stepped into the room, her hair already up in her usual pigtails, her brows furrowed as her eyes swept the room, “What guest-”

Her eyes landed on the bed.

“… Blair followed us home,” Soul stated, hoping that would explain everything.

“Oh, wow, you actually called her,” Blair’s eyes shot from Maka to Soul, smiling, though she pointedly did not move from her spot atop the Weapon, “Well played.”

Please, get her off,” he begged.

Maka stood there for a long moment, silent, before turning around, and walking back out of the room.

“… wow, that’s cold,” Blair whistled, giving Soul an empathetic look, “Didn’t think she’d just ditch you like that.”

“Whoever said anything about ditching him?” Maka shot back, and the sound of something heavy rolling across the hardwood joined her footsteps. When she entered once more, she pulled along with her a large, heavy…

Vacuum cleaner.

The cat’s eyes widened with sudden terror, her grip on the bed tightening, “Oh, that’s not fair!

“Get off my partner, or I start vacuuming the bed,” the Meister threatened, “With you still on it.”

“You’re bluffing!” Blair whined.

Maka turned on the vacuum. Its loud howl filled the room, the light on the front turning on-

And Blair’s human form disappeared in a puff of smoke, the small black cat rushing past Maka and out into the rest of the apartment.

“… thanks,” Soul sighed, letting his head fall back onto the pillow.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Maka leaned down, turning off the vacuum, “We still gotta figure out what she wants, and find a way to get her to leave.”

“I know,” he grumbled, bringing a hand to his forehead with a groan, “… how’d you know the vacuum was gonna work?”

“I used to have a cat. It was always terrified of the vacuum cleaner,” she shrugged. Then, she smiled, “Anyways, breakfast is ready. You wanna come get some bacon and eggs?”

“Absolutely,” Soul grinned, finally pushing off the covers and following Maka into the kitchen, still clad in his pajamas.


Luz nibbled half-heartedly on her slice of toast, bouncing restlessly on the balls of her feet. She paced across the floor, hoping to let her body expel the restless energy that sat in her stomach like a small, bound animal; it didn’t do anything to alleviate her anxious anticipation, but it did at least give her a physical outlet. It felt good, the back and forth, the way her bare feet dug into the floorboards and propelled her forwards, leaving a slight, but pleasant sting on her soles, the kind of sting that comes from pivoting in place or from jumping really high with no socks on – it felt almost like a dance.

She’d managed to get in some sleep after talking to Papi. She hadn’t woken up until nearly ten in the morning, and she had still felt exhausted; as usual, Mom was gone by this time of day, and was likely already at the hospital.

In the meantime, she was stuck at home.

No friends to go see. No places to go.

Just… stuck. Waiting for an update she at once coveted and dreaded.

She took another bite of toast, resisting the urge to check her phone again. She’d already checked at least three times since getting up, once before showering, once after, and once while she’d made her toast; no messages from Dad. No word from Mom.

Luz knew better than to get her hopes up, but the anticipation was killing her; it was already a struggle not to try to think about what life at the DWMA would be like. Her hands itched with the urge to grab her crayons and some paper. She wanted to draw; herself, her future room and partner, it didn’t matter.

“Would I be a Meister?” she wondered aloud, “What kind of Weapon partner would I have? I’d love to have a scythe, kinda like Dad…”

She smiled, raising both hands as if she were wielding the large, heavy black blade of the Death Scythe… then frowned, “… but then maybe I’d just be copying Maka… I don’t wanna come off as just aping off my little sister. Maybe a sword? An axe?”

She brought a hand to her chin, her brow creasing further as she started tapping her foot. Then her eyes lit up, “Or a staff! I’d love to have a staff for a partner!”

The image of herself conjuring the strength of her Soul Wavelength through a staff of white, tipped with a massive sapphire shot through her mind, striking down an evildoer with a simple twirl of her partner. She couldn’t suppress the rising squeal of excitement that was burgeoning in her stomach, making her bounce up and down, “That would be so cool!

Then she stopped, eyes widening in realization.

“But wait… what if I’m a Weapon?”

She looked down at her free hand, thoughtful, clenching her fingers into a fist, then opening them again, “If I’m a Weapon, that’ll make finding a good Meister really important. But before that, I gotta figure out what kind of Weapon I am!”

Luz started pacing again, quickly finishing her toast, “Unlike Soul Wavelengths, Weapon traits are hereditary – I remember that much from what Dad told me. So if I am a Weapon, then that means I’d probably, almost definitely be a scythe!”

She held her arms out directly in front of her, taking care to move away from the table, making the best concentration face she could manage. She clenched her jaw, tightened every muscle in her body, grunting in exertion as she tried to force her body to transform. She could hear her blood vessels going into overtime, feel her lungs begging for air as she struggled…

Finally, a wave of dizziness forced her to give up. She stumbled back, sucking in as deep a breath as she could as she leaned back against the table, her vision swimming.

Dios mio,” she groaned, sitting herself down in the chair before she could fall over, rubbing at her head as she waited for the room to stop spinning, “Okay… either I’m not a Weapon, or I have no idea what I’m doing. Or both.”

Luz shook her head, her vision and headache gradually returning to normal. She frowned, crossing her arms, “This… might be harder than I thought. I don’t know how this Weapon or Soul Wavelength stuff works… I need a crash course, and fast.”

She pulled out her phone, going through her contact list, short as it was.

The most obvious person to call would be Papi. He would happily explain all this to her, but she suspected it wouldn’t be something he could compress into a five minute phone call and still make it easy to understand. There were schools with six years or more dedicated to the subjects – that was part of why DWMA existed. To help kids better understand and use their powers, and guide them towards utilizing those powers for the right reasons.

Besides, it was still in the morning; he was probably still busy, and he promised that he’d call Mami.

“Best leave him to it for now,” Luz continued through the list.

The next name she stopped at made her heart skip a beat, then sink.

Lil’ Sis Maka.

Her lips curled downwards as her eyebrows curled up, a pang of hurt ringing through her like a small, broken bell. Maka had never been the most prudent person when it came to responding to Luz’s texts and emails – it always took a day or two in the case of emails. Luz had always assumed that was because Maka liked to be thoughtful in her responses, and didn’t just jump into things the way she did.

But just over a month ago, the responses stopped entirely. She hadn’t heard so much as a word from Maka; just an abrupt silence that left Luz wondering if she had once again done something wrong, something to alienate her sister.

She bit her lip, bouncing one knee once more as the anxiousness returned. Should she do it? Should she try one more time to talk to Maka?

“… eh, what’s the worst that could happen?” she asked, smiling, as she tapped on the name.


Blair pouted as she leaned forwards on the table, once again in human form, watching Soul and Maka split the dishes between them. Soul kept glancing at her every few seconds with a wary eye, as if expecting her to turn hostile at any moment; Maka, on the other hand, was very pointedly ignoring her, refusing to so much as give the cat a second glance and keeping her attention squarely on soapy water.

“… you two are grumpy,” she grumbled, chin on her arms.

“You broke into our house – after trouncing us several times over the course of the past week – and now you’re refusing to leave,” Soul huffed, placing another plate back in the cupboard, “I don’t understand why you think we’d be happy to see you.”

The cat let out a whimper, sinking further into her arms.

“Why are you even here, anyways?” Maka finally asked, her words sharp and scathing as daggers, “We killed you and took one of your Souls. Are you just here to annoy us as payback?”

“No,” Blair’s voice was somewhat muffled from under her arms.

Maka’s grip on the knife in her hands tightened, clearly contemplating the pros and cons of taking yet another cat Soul as she continued her cross examination, “Are you here to take Soul? As I recall, our last fight was a pretty solid ‘no.’”

“No,” Blair sat up slightly, raising an eyebrow as she looked from Meister, to Weapon, to Meister again.

“… what’s with that look?” Soul inquired cautiously, eyes narrowing.

“… are you two an item?”

The plate made a solid THUNK in the bottom of the sink as it slipped from Maka’s hands; she cursed, digging around in the soapy water before yanking it back out.

“We are NOT,” Maka snapped, scrubbing furiously.

“Really?” Blair’s smile shifted, becoming knowing, almost smug, “You’re pretty touchy when it comes to him, you know that? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you two were actually a couple.”

“Blair,” Maka finally turned to glare at the cat, and Soul was sure that if looks could kill, Blair would be dead, nine Souls or no, “What do you want?

Blair shifted in her seat, pushing back and folding her hands on the table with her best business smile, “I want to live with you two!”

A pin drop could have been heard in the dead silence that passed; for a moment, Maka’s rage had entirely subsided, and Soul’s caution had disappeared, both replaced with shock. Just as quickly, however, both returned, eyeing the magical cat with wary stares, eyes narrowed and brows furrowed.

“… you… want to live with us,” Soul repeated.

“I just said that, yes,” Blair confirmed.

“… why?” Maka set her cloth down, crossing her arms, “Don’t you already have a place to live? It’s a lot nicer than this apartment.”

“Well… yeeeeaaaaaah,” Blair’s eyes wandered the room; the apartment was small, but cozy, white walls decorated with the occasional portrait or poster, with small, inexpensive furniture. A half wall separated the kitchen from the dining table, but let Blair see and hear Maka and Soul with no issue, “I will say that my old place was much roomier and had way nicer stuff.”

“So, again,” Soul repeated, “Why do you want to live here?

“Oh, it’s got nothing to do with the place. I’m good with here or there in terms of actual location,” Blair bridged her fingers, resting her chin across her hands, “I just want to live with you two. Specifically.”

Again, the Weapon and Meister were left speechless. They looked to each other, silently questioning the cat’s sanity before looking back at her.

“… why!?” Maka demanded, her voice growing increasingly incredulous, eyes widening in something between disbelief and panic.

“Because I’m boooooooorrrrrreeeeed,” Blair dragged the word out as long as she could, trying to emphasize her situation, “It’s boring living all by myself. I don’t have anybody to talk to and the only things I have to play with are what I can enchant with my Magic, but that might as well be me playing by myself with dolls!”

“So find somebody else to play with!” Maka cried, “We’re students at the DWMA! We don’t have time to be playing with some stray cat!”

“And yet, you have time to loaf around this apartment feeling sorry for yourselves,” Blair teased.

“That’s different! And moreover, YOUR fault!”

“How is it my fault? You’re the ones that thought I was a Witch.”

“You could have told us you weren’t!”

“Would you have believed me, Maka?”

“I-”

Maka stopped; she knew that on some level, Blair had a point there. She had no idea what a true Witch’s Soul looked like, and had just assumed Blair was the real deal…

“Alright, that’s enough,” Soul interjected, placing a placating hand on his partner’s shoulder. He then turned his gaze on the cat, lips pursed, “Blair, in case you haven’t noticed this place is kind of cramped as it is. We can’t afford anything bigger than this, and your place isn’t in Death City. Maka and I need to be here in order to continue our classes.”

“Fair point, fair point,” Blair conceded, nodding, but still smiling.

“We only get about five hundred dollars between the two of us every month for groceries and rent. Our budget’s tight,” Maka added, finally smiling as she gained a concrete reason to not let the cat live with her, “We don’t exactly have the money for a third mouth to feed, even if we did have room.”

“I can get a job,” Blair stated without missing a beat.

Soul raised an eyebrow.

“You? Work?” Maka scoffed, crossing her arms, “Didn’t think you were the type.”

Blair’s smile split into a grin, “Oh, Maka… you think I had that pumpkin house you broke into for free?”

At this, Maka’s smile faltered, “… I thought you just… I dunno… Magic?”

“Really? You think I just Magicked the building into place? All the plumbing for the hot water for my baths? All the glass from the window Soul smashed up?” the cat teased, letting out an actual laugh this time, “I’m good at Magic, Maka, but I’m not that good.”

Maka’s smile continued to fail, showing more and more dread as the magical animal continued to make her points.

“Plus,” Blair added, disappearing in another poof of smoke; in her place sat the small black cat once more, raising a paw, “You’re forgetting that I’m a cat. I don’t actually eat that much compared to you two, so my contributions to the food bill would actually be a lot smaller than you’re implying, and I don’t take up that much space. You wouldn’t need to move to a bigger apartment to accommodate me since I basically sleep where I want to anyways.”

Once again, silence fell between the three; Maka’s smile had been completely replaced with an expression of utter dread. Soul seemed uncertain, lips still pursed, but he seemed to be in thought.

“… so what you’re saying,” Soul started, “is that you are capable of making enough money to actually own a decent sized house and pay all the bills for it. And, moreover, that your actual living expenses are significantly smaller than either of ours’.”

“Bing-go,” Blair singsonged, “Five points to the little scythey boy!”

“Please don’t call me that,” he shuddered, looking away.

“If it helps, I can probably get my property sold sooner rather than later. We’ll have a good bit of money to sit on for a while, if you really want me to contribute to the household,” Blair set her paw down, “So, what do you say? Not a bad offer, right?”

“… it seems too good to be true,” Maka stated, still not at all excited about the prospect of living with a magical cat – a magical cat that was stronger than her.

“Maka makes a good point,” Soul noted, “So far, this seems a lot like a honey trap.”

“A good instinct,” Blair nodded, her tone approving, “But I promise, there are no strings attached. All I want is to live with you two, and I’ll contribute everything I can to living here.”

The Weapon and Meister glanced at each other, both unsure.

“… you do owe me,” Blair’s voice filled with sudden, mock sorrow, “Poor Blair is down from nine Souls to eight. What ever will she do now?”

“… we’ll talk about this later, okay?” Maka finally sighed, defeated, “Soul and I already have some important things to talk about, Blair. You make a good case, but we’ll discuss the living arrangements later.”

Blair beamed, knowing that her chances of winning just became that much greater, “Fine by me!”

The cat hopped off the table, padding off down the hall, “I’m gonna go take a bath. Let me know when you two are ready to start talking numbers.”

With that, she disappeared from view.

“… never thought I’d see a cat that likes baths,” Soul sighed.

“Me either.”

They each turned back to the sink, resuming the dishes.

“… so. That important stuff you said you wanted to discuss,” Soul started, “You talking about those Kishin Egg Souls Lord Death offered us?”

“Yeah,” Maka confirmed, draining the sink so she could run fresh hot water, “I wanted to know what your thoughts on it were.”

“Well… on the one hand, it sucks that we have to start over. Ninety nine Souls and a whole year, down the drain,” Soul huffed, placing another dish into the cupboard, “On the other… I dunno. It just… doesn’t feel right, you know?”

“Like we didn’t earn it,” Maka agreed, “Like we just piggy backed off of someone else. Someone who wasn’t even part of the Academy, from the sound of it.”

“Yeah,” Soul bobbed his head, “That’s it exactly.”

“… I’m glad.”

“Hm?”

Maka glanced at him, a small smile on her face, “… I was thinking the same thing, to be perfectly honest. I know it seems like a stupid move, but… I don’t wanna make a Death Scythe like that. I want to do it the right way.”

Soul paused, then let out a low chuckle, baring his teeth in a grin, “You and me both.”

“… I thought that conversation was going to take a lot longer,” Maka confessed, “I thought it would take at least an hour to settle on what we were gonna do.”

“Funny how a little honesty can wrap things up like that,” Soul put another cup away, “… is that the last of the dishes?”

“Yeah. All that’s left is-“

The sound of a phone ringing abruptly cut Maka off, making her jump as it buzzed in her shirt pocket. After a moment, she let out a sigh of relief – it wasn’t the ringtone she’d assigned to her Dad.

She fished her phone out, and glanced at the screen.

Then she stared at the screen, her heart sinking once more.

The name “Noceda” blared across the screen like a death sentence.

Luz was trying to get a hold of her again.

“… this important?” Soul asked.

“… I…”

Maka didn’t know how to answer. She couldn’t take her eyes off of her phone screen.

“… I’ll deal with the rest,” Soul decided, turning his attention back to the sink, “You do what you need to do.”

“… thanks, Soul.”

Maka turned, and sped back to her room, faster than she wanted to admit, closing the door behind her. The phone continued to ring in her hand as she walked over to her bed, and sat down, staring at the name.

When Maka was six, Papa – back when she was still willing to call him that – had given her Luz’s contact information, her email and phone number, and vice versa, so that they could talk. They were penpals, making up for the fact that they weren’t able to grow up together by telling each other anything and everything.

Or at least, that had been the idea.

Maka had always found her half sister difficult to talk to; even on the phone, Luz was more than capable of overwhelming Maka with how quickly she spoke, and her complete lack of volume control or filter for anything and everything that crossed her mind. So many things went through Luz’s head in a given moment that it was hard for Maka to keep up with her – she could be jumping from one thought to the next with barely any sense of connecting thread one moment, then hyper-focused on one particular topic the next, and even on the phone her presence was a dominating one, leaving Maka feeling like a candle in the wind.

It wasn’t so much that Maka disliked talking with Luz so much as she simply found it exhausting.

Thankfully, Luz had understood when Maka explained it to her, even apologizing for overwhelming her like that; their correspondence went from phone calls to emails and the occasional text. Luz’s emails had even become something for Maka to look forwards to, as it was so much easier to follow her thought patterns when they were written out than when Luz was babbling nonstop in mixed English and Spanish; she’d even made Maka laugh so hard she bruised a rib once.

But there was one thing Maka had never been able to get out of her head – a nagging thought that had only grown stronger as she got older, causing her to put off opening Luz’s emails and checking her text thread for longer and longer periods of time.

And then Mama filed for a divorce with her father.

That was over a month ago.

Maka had not opened a single one of Luz’s emails since. Nor had she checked the text thread.

She’d even changed the name marking her half sister’s contact from “Luz” to “Noceda.”

And now, here she was. Sitting on her bed, debating whether to wait for Luz to give up, or to decline the call.

Guilt stabbed through Maka’s stomach like an iron stake.

She knew it wasn’t fair. She knew she should just answer.

But… how was she just supposed to let go?... Mama hadn’t let go…

Eventually, the ringing stopped. The call went to voice mail.

Maka sighed, and flopped back, laying down on the bed.

… and the phone began to ring again.

She picked it up.

She stared at the screen.

Noceda.

“… she’s not going to give up, is she?”

Maka knew the answer to that question already.

If there was one thing she shared with her older sister, it was that neither of them knew when to quit.

Slowly, she closed her eyes, placed a finger on the bottom of the screen…

… and held it to her ear.


Hello?

Luz’s eyes immediately snapped open at the voice. She leaped out of her chair, unable to suppress her joy, “Maka!”

… hey, Luz,” Maka’s tired voice rang in her ear.

“It’s been so long since I last heard from you!” she started to pace, a broad smile crossing her face, “I was starting to think you weren’t gonna pick up at all! ¿Cómo estas? ¿Bien?

… Luz,” Maka sighed, “You’ve gone into Spanish mode again.

“… oh,” she let out a sheepish chuckle, rubbing the back of her head, “Sorry…”

It’s okay. No big deal.

“… seriously, though, are you okay?” Luz frowned, finally noticing how off Maka sounded, “You sound exhausted. Have you really had that rough of a morning?”

… it’s been… kind of a rough week,” Maka admitted.

“You wanna talk about it?” Luz leaned against the wall, staring up at the clock, “I can listen. I’m not going anywhere.”

Not really, honestly. I mostly want to know why you’re calling.

“Weeeeeeeeellllll-”

Please don’t stretch your words out like that,” Maka groaned, “You sound like that dumb stray cat…

Luz gasped, “You found a talking cat!?”

A Magic talking cat, yes,” Maka confirmed.

“Send me pictures!?”

Maybe once she’s out of the bath.

“A talking Magical cat that likes baths!?” Luz squealed, hopping from one foot to the other, “I am so jealous right now, Maka!”

Trust me, it’s not nearly as fun as it sounds.

I’ll be the judge of that, thank you,” Luz smirked.

You can judge after she screws up your Witch hunt.

“Wait, is that what happened?” Luz stopped midstep, the gears in her head turning, “Last I heard from you, you said you made it up to around eighty Souls. Did you make it up to ninety nine?”

… yeah… unfortunately, though, we wound up botching the Witch’s Soul. We mistook a magical cat for a Witch and now we have to start over.

Luz winced, “Ouch… yowza, that’s rough. Sorry, Maka…”

‘s not your fault. Besides, it’s not like the last year was a total waste; Soul and I are both stronger for it, and this’ll count towards our grades.

“Well, that’s good at least,” Luz smiled, leaning back once more, “I hope I get to meet you and Soul in person soon.”

This time, Maka didn’t answer, and silence fell between them for a long moment.

… so. How come you’re calling, Luz? Is something wrong?

“Well, I missed you. You haven’t been emailing me back lately,” Luz put an arm across her stomach, anxiety blossoming inside and making her smile slip, “I was worried…”

... I’m sorry,” Maka began, “It’s just… there’s been a lot going on, lately, with school, and Mama getting divorced from Dad…

“… oh,” Luz felt her heart plummet, “I… I’m sorry… I-”

Don’t,” Maka interrupted, “It’s…

Another pause, Maka clearly struggling with her words, unsure of what to say…

… it’s not a big deal. Dad had this coming for a long time.

Luz couldn’t stop herself from flinching. She’d known Maka was angry at Papi, that was one thing… but it was another thing entirely to hear the venom in her little sister’s words.

“… so,” she started, hoping to steer the conversation to a happier topic, “I, uh… I was actually gonna ask you something, Maka.”

Hm?

“… can you teach me how to use my Soul Wavelength?”

She could practically see Maka’s confused blink; Luz heard the ruffle of fabric as she moved, pushing herself up.

... Soul Wavelength?... I mean, I could, but… why, Luz?

“… okay, Dad told me not to get my hopes up, but basically I got in a lot of trouble at my school here for using snakes and fireworks in my book report, and getting sent to the principal’s office four times this year, and I’m being sent to CampRealityCheckforthesummer,unlessPapicanconvinceMamitoletmecometoDWMA,andifI’mgonnadotha’Ireallyneedt’knowhowt’usemySoulWavelength,” Luz felt her words starting to bleed together from how fast she was speaking, desperation seeping into her tone.

… did you just say you used snakes and fireworks in your book report?

“Makaaaaaaa!” Luz whined, “I really need help here! I don’t wanna go to that summer camp!”

Okay, okay, Luz,” Maka’s tone shifted, becoming more even, authoritative, “Settle down for a minute, alright?

“… okay,” Luz shifted from foot to foot, trying to ease her anxiety.

… listen to me carefully. A Soul Wavelength isn’t something that you learn how to use in one day. It takes a long time and a lot of practice just to be able to sense it. Even if we were to start right now, you probably wouldn’t be ready for summer classes at the Academy.

“Yeah, but I’d be that much further ahead than I am now,” Luz insisted.

You’re not even sure if you’ll be allowed yet. What if we get started, and your Mama decides you can’t come?

Luz bit her lip, her head dropping, “… I…”

… I’m not trying to hurt your feelings, Luz. I’m just asking you to think about this,” Maka assured, “You know as well as I do how much it sucks when you get your hopes up, only for things to not go the way you want them to.

“… yeah. I know… that doesn’t make it any easier, though…”

I get it. Trust me. I get it. But that’s why I’m saying this; it’s better to know what’s going to happen than it is to act based on an unlikely hope.

Luz closed her eyes with a breath, letting her head roll back against the wall. It wasn’t as if she didn’t understand what Maka was trying to say. Life was easier when you tempered your expectations.

“If you’re always expecting disappointment, you’ll never be disappointed,” she muttered, “Kind of a sucky way to live if you ask me…”

I hear that,” Maka sighed.

“… can you still teach me?” Luz asked, “Just… the very basics. The very very very basics. Even if I get sent to summer camp, it’ll at least give me something to practice.”

Maka paused, then inhaled, before releasing the breath slowly through the mouth; Luz could practically see her closed eyes and focused expression, the very picture of a determined teacher.

… alright. I can teach you a little bit about your Soul Wavelength.

“YAY!” Luz whooped, jumping from her spot on the wall with her fists raised, “Thank you, Makaaaa!”

Not right now!” Maka interrupted, voice stern, “Right now, I have stuff I need to do. But I’ll see what I can do about calling you on the weekends – if, and only if, you’re willing to listen to me.

“I can listen,” Luz agreed heartily, “I can listen soooooo good, you’ll never meet a better listener!”

I’m sure,” Maka remarked dryly, “And you have to understand, you won’t get it immediately. If you do, I will be very, very surprised.

“And more than a little jealous?” Luz teased, grinning.

Ha ha. We’ll see how long that lasts.

“Hey, I might be able to do it! We won’t know until we try!”

Heh… yeah. I guess that’s true.

There was muffled shouting from the other end of the line, and Luz heard Maka shout something back; after a moment, Maka returned.

Sorry. Looks like Soul needs me for something. Gotta go for now.

“Alright!” Luz gave a salute, despite knowing Maka couldn’t see her, “When should I expect the first lesson?”

Sunday, about six in the evening. That’s usually when I’m done my homework unless there’s a big project involved.

“Okay!” Luz nodded, “Talk to you then!”

Bye, Luz.

“Love you, Maka!”

The line went silent, and Luz looked to the clock. It was almost noon.

“… and now, we wait.”


Camila Noceda didn’t so much sit down in the chair as much as she did sink into it, grateful to finally be off her feet for a moment. The room was, mercifully, silent, the beds empty, the monitors dark, the machines not making so much as a single blip.

Technically, she wasn't supposed to use rooms like this for her break, but she’d needed to get away from all the noise; this morning had been, to say the very least, rough. Today had already seen the aftermath of a particularly severe pile up.

There hadn’t been any fatalities – at least, not yet, as far as she knew. Of the six that had been rushed to the hospital, only two of them had been in critical condition, and had since been stabilized. It seemed as if everyone was going to pull through, but Camila knew better than to make such assumptions so soon after even a relatively minor crash.

She knew what this kind of work more often than not entailed, but even so, riding in that ambulance, uncertain as to what she would see when the vehicle stopped… lifting limp, bleeding bodies onto stretchers and pulling them in, doing whatever was needed to keep them stable… holding their hands as the ambulance pulled away…

Even after that, when the treatments began, was a constant flood of nerve-wracking anxiety. There had been children in that collision… and that always made it so much worse.

She couldn’t even begin to imagine if it were Luz coming in on one of those stretchers.

She took off her glasses, rubbing her eyes; she was on her lunch break, now, but at any moment she could be called back in to assist if something went wrong.

She’d become a doctor because she’d wanted to help others… but sometimes, the stress that entailed became almost too much to bear.

“… I should eat while I have the chance,” she murmured, reaching for her bag.

A loud noise blared out, and Camila’s heart leapt into her throat; she staggered up, eyes wide and sweeping the room, expecting to see doctors and nurses rushing in with a new patient-

… only to realize it wasn’t an alarm.

It was a ring tone.

A familiar ring tone.

She felt her heart sink, and she dug into her pocket, pulling out her phone; she stared at the name written across the screen, at the familiar red hair and the kind teal eyes with a sorrowful nostalgia.

Spirit Albarn.

She briefly considered not answering – she’d requested a long time ago that he not contact her outside of specific occasions, and even then, the only topic of discussion would be their daughter.

But Spirit hadn’t broken his promise yet; outside of some very important conversations, he never called her about anything other than Luz.

After a long moment of deliberation, Camila finally answered.

“Hello?”

Hey, Camila. Are you free at the moment?” the Death Scythe’s familiar voice was cheerful… but she recognized the strained tone.

She let out a sigh, sitting down again, “I am on my lunch break. Is there something wrong?”

Well, that depends largely on how you define ‘wrong,’” he started, “I don’t think anything is wrong, but I am a little concerned.

“Is this about Luz?” she asked, opting to cut out the banter entirely.

… it is.

The doctor took a breath through her nose. Of course Luz had called Spirit; he always seemed to be the one Luz went to, always the one she called when she felt she wasn’t being heard.

“I was going to call you to give you an update later today,” Camila started, “But going off your tone, I take it you already know.”

She brought live snakes and fireworks to school. Kids and the principal got bitten, right?

“No one was seriously injured, but yes. That is the long and short of it,” she confirmed.

And she’s being sent to… Camp Reality Check for the summer?” she could hear the disapproval in his tone, despite the effort he took to keep his voice even.

“… yes,” Camila’s answer was quiet, but firm, “She needs to be able to separate reality from fantasy, Spirit. She can’t keep acting out like this.”

… okay. I’ll admit, this time, she went over the line. But don’t you think this is a bit of an overreaction, Camila?” he queried.

“This is the fourth time she’s been sent to the principal’s office this year.”

And the other three times, she didn’t do anything wrong,” Spirit argued, “The Sausage Incident was, at worst, five minutes of clean-up. The anatomy assignment was done as requested. And the time with the cheerleading squad, she didn’t even do anything. Each time she was sent in because her teachers and peers declared her a maverick. This is the first time the trip to the principal’s office was actually deserved, and I doubt Luz is going to do something like this again.

“It’s not my decision, Spirit,” despite her best efforts, Camila felt her frustration bleed into her tone “The school board has mandated that she has to go if she is to continue going to this school. Otherwise, she’ll be expelled, and you know how hard it is to find a school that will take in a child that’s been kicked out for bad behaviour, that’s actually safe.”

… well, there is one school off the top of my head,” Spirit’s tone was light, cheerful even.

“No.”

The word shot out of her mouth before Camila had even fully processed the implications of the Death Scythe’s words, decisive and final.

Camila-

“Spirit. We have talked about this,” her voice was calm controlled, and cold, “I am not sending Luz to Death Weapon Meister Academy.”

On the other end of the line, she heard the redheaded man take a long breath; she could practically see him rubbing his brow with his fingers, eyes closed and lips drawn into a thin line.

… she called me at four in the morning, Camila.

At this, she stopped, blinking, “… I’m sorry?”

Luz is scared out of her mind. She feels like she’s going to be forced to change who she is on a fundamental level to please the people around her. People who don’t appreciate her creativity or enthusiasm,” Spirit’s voice was somewhere between placating and pleading, a tone Camila had found herself using on more than one occasion, “She called me last night because she couldn’t sleep, she was so worried about this summer camp you’re sending her to. I can count the amount of times I’ve heard her that despondent on one hand and still have fingers left over.

It breaks my heart, listening to her like that and not being able to do anything about it, Camila. Especially when she…

He trailed off.

“… when she…?” Camila asked, afraid of the answer.

“… Luz asked me if I could sign her up for classes at DWMA. She wants to be here. She thinks she can fit in, and… honestly, I think she’d be a perfect fit,” a hopeful smile came back into the Death Scythe’s words, “There’s plenty of kids as weird or weirder than she is, and the students and teachers alike would love her enthusiasm.

Camila closed her eyes, offering no answer.

… if the issue is money, I’ll pay for it. I’ll pay for all of it,” Spirit assured, “God knows I’ve got more money than I know what to do with these days, being a Death Scythe. I’ll pay for both of you to come to Death City; Hell, I’ll even ask Lord Death to take a look at your resumé. The school needs a good doctor, and you’d fit the bill perfectly.

Still, she said nothing. His words rattled around in her skull, tossed about like the sea in a storm, and she struggled to find its eye of calm so she could sort them all out…

… what do you say, Camila?” he urged, “Would you come back to Death City? For Luz’s sake?

She inhaled, long and deep. When Camila finally opened her eyes, she reached into her bag, and pulled out her wallet, flipping it open, staring at the picture of her daughter framed in the leather.

“Oh, Mija…” she whispered, running her thumb across the young girl’s hair, the brilliant smile one she wished she saw more often.

She didn’t know what was the best option.

But she did know one thing.

“… Spirit,” she spoke slowly, deliberately, choosing her words with care, “I am not trying to disparage what you are trying to do. I know you care about Luz every bit as much as I do, and that you’re trying to do your best to be a good father to her. That’s more than I can say for any other man, any other person I have ever met.

“But we both know that the issue isn’t, and never has been money. Especially not with you supporting us the way you have been since becoming a Death Scythe.”

… I know,” he sighed.

“I left Death City behind for a reason. Even putting Luz aside for a moment, I have put too many Weapons and Meisters back together,” she felt her voice quiver with emotion as memories flooded back – memories of men and women coming home grievously injured, of kids coming in on stretchers from Witch hunts gone awry, “I have had to tell too many people that they were no longer capable of fighting. I have had to mark too many Weapons and Meisters as Killed or Missing In Action. And I have seen too many children with shadows in their eyes, not realizing for an instant that they have been traumatized by what the DWMA has had them doing from as young as eleven years old.”

Silence reigned between them for a long moment. It felt less as though they were entire states apart and more like they were in the same room, staring each other down over what they believed was best for their child.

“… I will not have it. Not for Luz,” she declared, her words bearing a finality as powerful as any Witch’s spell, “I do not dispute the importance of Death’s work. But I do dispute using children as soldiers to hunt Kishin Egg Souls, and especially Witches.”

… so. Camp Reality Check it is, then?

“I don’t want to send Luz there, Spirit. Believe me, I don’t,” she felt herself wilt, but kept her voice firm, “It puts me in just as much pain to see her so miserable… but if that’s what’s going to keep her safe, then yes. I genuinely think that’s what’s best for her, at the moment.”

… what’s best, huh?” Now Spirit sounded sullen.

“It won’t be so bad,” she assured, “It’ll only be for three months. The worst that will happen is three months of boredom. She may even make some actual friends there.”

… yeah.

A pause.

… so. Are you going to tell Luz? Or do you want me to call her?

“Let me,” she insisted, “It’s my decision where she goes. It might be harder for her to hear it from me than from you… but, it’s not fair to expect you to handle it every time she’s feeling lost or unheard.”

… okay.

“Spirit?”

Yes?

“… thank you for lending Luz an ear. And for trying to make her feel better, and find a place for her to fit in,” her smile was melancholy, “You really are a good father to her.”

… thanks, Camila. Is it alright if I make time to visit before she has to leave for Camp?

“Of course,” she nodded, “As long as you are good to her, I will never bar you from seeing your daughter.”

Alright. I’ll leave you to it, then.

“Goodbye, Spirit.”

With that, she hung up, and stood, slinging her bag back over her shoulder, smile fading.

Her break wasn’t over, but she had long since lost her appetite.

She stepped back out of the room, and proceeded to return to work.

Notes:

Translations for Luz's and Camila's Spanish:

"¿Cómo estas? ¿Bien?"

"How are you? Are you good?"

---

"Mija" is a common term of endearment for children and is literally the compacted form of "Mi hija," which literally translates to "My daughter."

---

These translations come courtesy of maho_kat on Archive of Our Own, who is going well out of her way to help me with the Spanish in this story!

Thanks for giving this a read, and please be sure to leave your thoughts and comments! I hope you enjoyed the second chapter of Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance!

Chapter 3: Discussions and Decisions

Notes:

Third chapter. This one is gonna be the last I'm posting today as chapter 4 is not yet finished.

I do not own Soul Eater or Owl House.

If I did, we'd have a Brotherhood adaption of the former.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

A Sound Soul dwells within a Sound Mind, and a Sound Body.

Maka’s tone was that of an instructor as Luz did everything she could to focus. Her eyes were closed as she sat on the bed, hands in her lap, her phone set to speakerphone; her lips were pulled into a thin line and her brow furrowed in concentration as she struggled to get a feel for Maka’s lesson.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Long and slow, each motion deep and deliberate.

Just keep repeating the mantra in your mind. In my experience, finding your Soul Wavelength for the first time entails shutting just about everything around you out, ” Maka stated, her voice almost clinically professional, “ Clear your mind of all distraction. Clear your body of all impulse. Pay close attention to your innermost depths, and eventually, you should find a sort of rhythm. A pulse you’ve never heard, but have always known.

“That doesn’t make any sense, Maka,” Luz grumbled, opening one eye.

That’s because you’re thinking about it too much, ” a hint of mild amusement worked its way into Maka’s words.

“How am I supposed to not think? You’re giving me like five sets of instructions at once that all say to do the opposite thing of the last one,” Luz pushed herself up on her arms, shifting to face the phone where it sat on her nightstand, “First you tell me to just repeat the mantra, then you tell me to clear my mind? How do I do those things at the same time?”

You’re just going about this wrong, Luz,” Maka noted, “The mantra, paired with the breath, is what you’re supposed to focus on. It’s a tool to help you keep your mind clear.

“So, I’m not supposed to pay attention to my innermost depths?” Luz asked, growing more hopelessly confused by the second.

Well, at least you’re proving that you’re listening.

Luz groaned, flopping onto her back and throwing out her arms and legs, “And to top it off, my arms and legs are sore… I can’t sit like that for more than a minute or I start bouncing something in place. I just can’t sit still ...”

You’d get along well with Black Star, then. He can’t sit still either.

“Then how did he find his Soul Wavelength?”

I dunno. He’s never really talked about it, but I do know he can’t actually sense the Souls around him to save his life. He’s good at using his Soul Wavelength directly, but beyond that…

“Maybe that’s my problem?” Luz wondered, “I’m just bad at sensing stuff?”

No. Black Star is at the very least aware of his own Soul Wavelength. If he weren’t, he wouldn’t be able to use it at all.

A whimper escaped the elder sister’s throat, her eyes fluttering shut. Frustration and discouragement flared in her stomach, the lack of progress and success in her efforts almost physically painful.

... Luz,” Maka began, “I’m not surprised you’re having this much trouble. This isn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world to do.

“Yeah, but I’m usually good at picking up on this stuff,” Luz huffed, clenching her fists, “I’m not the best at course work, I’ll admit that much, but… I feel like I should’ve at least learned something by now. I feel like I’m just spinning my wheels.”

I felt the same way when Mama first started teaching me how to use my Soul Wavelength,” Maka recalled, “I struggled for a long time to find anything – it took me close to four months to find even a hint of my Soul.

“Four months!?” Luz sat up, staring at her phone in shock.

Four months,” she confirmed.

“But you’re so good at everything you try, Maka! How did it take you four months just to get started!?”

Well, part of it was that I was eight…

“… okay, yeah,” Luz flopped back down, deflated, “Yeah, that’s… that’s fair.”

… and the other part is that it’s just… not easy to do. It’s hard to explain, but there is a reason cultivating Soul Wavelengths isn’t something that’s taught outside of the Academy. It’s extraordinarily difficult, and requires a lot of discipline just to get in touch with it for the first time.

“Should’ve figured,” Luz murmured, once again staring listlessly at the ceiling, “So much for getting this on the first try…”

I did warn you,” Maka said.

Please don’t say ‘I told you so.’”

It’s tempting, I’ll admit. But I won’t. I’m not that mean.

A moment of silence passed between them both.

At the very least, you’re showing the determination that you need,” Maka noted again, “You said you’ve been doing this on your own, too?

“Yeah,” Luz nodded.

Then at some point, you should be able to find it. The important thing is that you keep trying; that’s the most important aspect of mastering your Soul.

Another nod, Luz pushing herself back into a sitting position, crossing her legs; she smiled, slightly, “… thanks, Maka. That does actually make me feel a little better.”

I needed to hear the same thing when I started. It’s only been a week since you started; just give it time. You’ll get there.

Luz hummed, folding her hands in her lap as she rocked back and forth. She thought for a moment, debating whether or not to ask, before throwing caution to the wind.

“… hey, Maka?”

Yeah?

“… Dad’s coming to visit soon. Before I get sent to Camp.”

She paused, waiting for Maka’s response; she was greeted only with another silence, and an awkwardness that planted itself deep in her stomach.

“… I… I was just wondering,” Luz began, “… were you gonna come?”

She paused again, and again, Maka offered no answer.

“I won’t bother you too much,” she spoke quickly, “I-I can be quiet and let you read… we can read together! I love to read! You love to read! We both love to read!”

Still, nothing; Luz could hear her voice growing more desperate as she continued, “I… I could even show you my favourite book! Remember? The Good Witch Azura? The fifth book finally came out this year! ¡Papi me lo compró para Navidad!

¿Que te parace? ¿Sólo tú y yo por una tarde? ¿Leyendo nuestros libros favoritos la una a la otra-?

Luz?

Maka’s voice brought Luz to a grinding halt; there was an edge in her sister’s voice now, an edge Luz couldn't quite place, “… you’ve gone full Spanish again. I can’t understand a word you’re saying.

Luz swallowed, finally realizing she’d bee babbling. She lowered her head, apologetic, trying not to let Maka’s words discourage her, “I… I’m sorry… I just… Dad’s coming, and I thought… you might come too...”

‘… Dad said you missed me,’ she thought, but didn’t speak it aloud.

… I’m sorry, Luz,” Maka finally sighed, “But… well, with things as they are, Soul and I have a lot of catching up to do. It took us a long time to get all ninety nine of those Souls, and now, we have to start over; combined with summer classes at the Academy, and… I just… don’t have the time.

“… that makes sense,” despite her best efforts to keep her voice understanding, Luz felt herself crumble inside, another wave of sadness and loneliness overtaking her, “Sorry, I… I shouldn’t have asked… I just… wanted to see you, is all...”

Don’t apologize. Things just… didn’t turn out. That’s nobody’s fault.

“Could’ve fooled me,” Luz curled up, wrapping her arms around her knees, her eyes unfocused as she stared into places she had never been, futures that wouldn’t be. Dinners with Maka and Soul, reading with Papi in the Academy library or even in his living room… adventures with a partner whose name and face she wanted so badly to learn…

All quashed.

Snuffed out like embers.

... oh, no,” Maka let out a muffled curse, “Sorry, Luz, I gotta go. It’s my night to cook dinner and I’m already behind.

“It’s okay,” Luz managed dully, raising a hand to give a half-hearted wave, “Bye Maka. Te am- … Love you.”

… bye.

The phone clicked, then went silent as Maka hung up.

Luz tilted, then fell sideways onto the bed, still curled into the foetal position. She reached, groping for her phone, and stared sullenly at the date on the screen.

It was already more than a week into June.

The pile of homework that sat on her desk was no smaller than it had been that morning; she’d been too preoccupied with trying to find her Wavelength to spare it a second thought.

Slowly, she stood, staring at the pile of worksheets and reviews. Mami would be expecting these to be ready to take in for tomorrow morning on her way to work…

On the one hand, Luz couldn’t wait for the school year to be over.

On the other, she knew what waited once her finals were all done.

She sat down heavily in her chair, taking out the first worksheet, and putting in her earbuds, hoping the noise would drown out the loneliness.

“… at least Papi is coming soon…”


Maka set the phone down with a huff, folding her hands in her lap. She felt genuinely nauseous, her stomach seeming to squirm, and she knew it wasn’t because of anything she’d eaten.

She’d already known that Dad was going to visit Luz; he’d called Maka a few days earlier to let her know, even offered to let her come along, see her sister again.

Of course, she’d declined; in that moment, all she could feel was relief, and she’d actually smiled at the thought of being free from his doting and nagging for a few days. It would give her some peace of mind as she and Soul worked together to catch back up with their classmates.

Moments after, however, the guilt began to slowly seep in, and initially, she hadn’t been sure why. She had nothing but resentment for Dad, these days, going behind Mama’s back with all those women.

If she could do it without getting arrested for arson, she’d burn Chupacabra’s to the ground. Not with anyone inside it – she wasn’t that angry – but she’d shed no tears if the bar were to suddenly be wiped off the face of the earth by the lightning strikes of an angry God.

So, why…?

… then Luz had asked in the middle of their lesson if she was coming.

Her previous relief was washed away in a shock that ran from her core through her entire body, her eyes widening and mouth going slack; she’d nearly dropped her phone, and was grateful that she had been sitting down.

She had refused to visit Luz out of petty spite for Dad – and hadn’t she even given it a second thought until her half-sister, so eager to see her, so desperate for someone to relate to other than her own Mama, asked if she was coming.

What once was a creeping sense of anxious guilt had suddenly slammed into Maka like Black Star had taken a baseball bat to her stomach. And continued to swell as Luz excitedly, and desperately, tried to make the offer more enticing.

She had reacted on instinct when Luz slipped into Spanish, speaking harsher than she’d intended… and with how contrite her half-sister sounded afterwards, Maka knew she may as well have just kicked a puppy.

Of course, Maka gave Luz her excuse, and it wasn’t a lie; she and Soul needed to take every chance they could to catch up, to collect a new batch of Kishin Egg Souls. She couldn’t leave Soul hanging for a week – he wouldn’t be able to do any missions on his own. He wasn’t exactly the cleanest guy, either, and Maka dreaded the prospect of leaving, and coming back to see the state their apartment would be left in without her to help keep it tidy.

But somehow, telling Luz the truth about needing to catch up only made her feel worse. Deep down, Maka knew that was all it was. An excuse.

And to top it all off, she hadn’t even been able to bring herself to return Luz’s final words as she hastened to hang up.

She couldn’t say “I love you, too.”

“… am I really that spiteful?” she asked, staring down at her lap.

She received no response.

Her hands clenched into fists, and she pressed them into her eyes, leaning back until she staring up at the ceiling.

“… what do I do now?”

She glanced at her phone. Should she call Dad? Ask him to take her along?

Once again, her stomach twisted, but now it writhed with something else – the familiar, bitter resentment. The image of his stupid, lying, cheating face flashed in her mind, making her brow furrow and her fists clench tighter. She heard his loud, obnoxious voice, calling her name every time she called the Death Room; she remembered her phone rang for over an hour every day for a week after Mama had finally found out about it all. Maka had been on the verge of asking Mama to change her phone number when he’d finally stopped.

But even that resentment couldn’t wipe the guilt.

If anything, it clashed, her anger warring against her better nature; as badly as she wanted to avoid having anything to do with her father, the guilt made her want to at least do something for Luz.

Surely, Maka could tolerate a week with her father for the sake of her sister, couldn’t she?

“… what would Mama do?”

Of course, she knew what Mama would do.

Mama never backed down from her decisions. Not ever. She was like a bear, resolute and headstrong, even scary at times.

But there was always something reassuring about that unyielding stubbornness. Mama never seemed scared of anything, not even of going off on her own or separating from Papa. She always stood her ground, and never let anything phase her.

She was everything Maka wanted to be.

Maka took a breath, closing her eyes, slowly letting her lungs fill before letting out a long, slow exhale.

“Maka?”

She jumped as Soul’s voice rang out from the other side of the door.

“You alright?” he asked, giving a knock, “You’ve been in there for a while.”

“I’m fine,” she answered, rising to her feet, “Just… lost in thought.”

“Yeah, sounds like you,” he mused, a grin evident in his tone, “Think you can shake those thoughts of yours? I think we should give Lord Death our decision before we start dinner.”

“Yeah. Coming,” she strode over to the door, pulling it open; Soul slouched against the wall in his usual red jeans and yellow jacket, headband lopsided and eyes half lidded in his familiar lazy smile.

“… so. We’re agreed?”

“We are,” she nodded, “We’re not taking the Souls.”

Soul bobbed his head, “Alright.”

Maka smiled, then started down the hall towards the mirror.

“… can I just ask you a question real quick, Maka?”

She stopped, turning, blinking in confusion, “What is it, Soul?”

“… who’s Luz?”

Maka did her best to not react, but she couldn't stop herself from turning away; it was too much like a flinch, a reflex she couldn’t stop, clutching her arms.

“… I’ve just noticed you’ve been on your phone a lot lately,” Soul padded close, eyes narrowed somewhat as he tried to get a better look at partner – but Maka didn’t meet his gaze.

Regardless, he continued, “In the time I’ve been living with you, I’ve seen you talk to someone on your phone like, five or six times total. And never for over twenty minutes like you were today. I just want to make sure you’re doing okay.”

Maka bit her lip, “… Luz is…”

Her head swam with answers. Sister? Half-sister? Friend?... why was that question so difficult to answer?...

“… she’s…” Maka sighed, “… she’s hard to talk about, Soul. She’s… in a bit of a quandary for me.”

“… okay. Is there a reason for that?”

‘Oh, is there ever,’ Maka thought, but she brushed it aside, “Luz hasn’t done anything wrong... I just…”

She trailed off. She didn’t know if this was something she should even be talking about with Soul; she’d never once mentioned Luz to him before, and it was clear he’d only heard her say the name in passing.

She knew he was just concerned for his Meister and partner, but even so…

Soul gave a slow nod, closing his eyes, “… been there, Maka. Been there. It’s such an uncool feeling.”

“… she asked for my help about a week ago,” Maka finally settled, “She wanted me to teach her how to use her Soul Wavelength, and I said I would. That’s why I’ve been on the phone so much.”

He opened one eye, lips parting in a smile, “… heh. Already aspiring to be a teacher, eh?”

“… something like that, yeah,” Maka smiled.

Soul chuckled. He stretched, folding his hands behind his head, “Gotta say. That suits you, Maka. You make it look cool.”

“… you really think so?”

“Of course you do. You’re not exactly the coolest girl around, but what you make look cool? You make look really damn cool.”

She closed her eyes, her heart growing lighter, softer; a little bit of the guilt lifted, a physical weight being pulled up and off her shoulders.

… I’m sorry, Luz, ’ she thought, ‘ But I gotta stand my ground with Dad. I’ll find another way to make it up to you.

She strode down the hall, raising her hand to trace the familiar number into the mirror.

I promise.


“You be sure to enjoy yourself, Spirit. I don’t want a single thought about work to enter your mind while you’re out there,” Death ordered, trying to make his tone sound stern.

The Death Scythe chuckled, rubbing the back of his head, “Well, I’ll try, but I can’t make any promises in that regard. Luz is bound to ask me about the Academy at some point.”

“I suppose that’s fair enough. You’ve made all the arrangements?”

“Almost all of them,” he nodded, “I’m deliberately putting off getting my plane ticket back home.”

“Oh?” the Reaper tilted his head, “Whatever for?”

“It’s a habit I’ve made to remind myself what I’m there for,” Spirit explained, “I bring a limited amount of cash and limit my credit cards. If I splurge too much, I can’t afford my way back home – meaning I have to spend that money on what’s important.”

“Imposing self control on yourself,” Death hummed, “I’m genuinely impressed, Spirit.”

“Hey, if I couldn’t do that much for Luz, what kind of father would I be?”

“I wouldn’t ask Maka that if I were you,” Death warned, “Especially if she doesn’t know about that little detail.”

Spirit’s jaw clenched, but not out of indignance.

How could he be frustrated with anyone but himself, knowing that the Grim Reaper was right?

He stuffed his hands into his pockets, looking down, “It’s… harder here, Lord Death. Here, I have free access to basically everything I want at a moment’s notice. Working on a limited budget and living in a hotel room – that makes it easier to keep myself under control.”

“You could always put a spending cap on yourself,” the headmaster reminded, “Credit card limits are not exclusive to long trips, and I’m sure you could arrange something with your bank as to where most of the money you make goes.”

“Most of the money I make already goes into savings accounts,” Spirit pointed out, “One for each of my daughters, and the one I’ve been using to support Camilia and Luz. I’d spend more on supporting Maka if I could, but during the divorce proceedings, Makoto refused to let me have any sort of custody or even pay for child support. I can’t even pay for her schoolbooks, legally speaking.”

“And yet, you still have enough to spend five nights out of seven at Chupacabra’s,” Death countered, chiding, “Including the night Maka and Soul fought that cat for their first Witch’s soul. You only barely made it back to watch the last five minutes of that battle.”

That promptly shut the Death Scythe up; once again, he broke his gaze from the headmaster’s, Spirit silently cursing himself as shame washed through him from another hole in the floodgate.

After a moment, Death spoke again, his tone apologetic “… I’m sorry, Spirit. It wasn’t my intent to ruin your mood right before you go to visit your daughter.”

“No. Don’t apologize,” he sighed, “You’re right. You’re… completely right.”

Before either of them could speak further, the mirror went dark; its surface rippled with rings of light from each corner, a sound similar to that of a ringtone blaring out with a rhythmic chime.

“… you should go,” Death urged, turning away, “We can continue this discussion at a later date. As of now, you are officially off the clock.”

“… thank you, Lord Death.”

With that, Spirit turned, and started down the path beneath the guillotine gates.

Death listened to his redoubled pace for a long few moments before letting out a heavy sigh, “I really wish there was more I could do for him, beyond lecture him about being a better parent.”

He turned to the mirror, placing a hand on its surface, and silencing the ringing. The dark surface quickly cleared, lighting up, and showing two of the most promising students that the Grim Reaper had ever seen in all his long years.

Hello, Lord Death? Are you there?” Maka Albarn called, her usual smile in place.

“Hello, hello!” he called, “Scythe Meister Maka and Demon Weapon Soul Eater! It’s good to finally hear from you both!”

Soul’s half-lidded gaze swept back and forth over the mirror, his brow creasing into a frown beneath his headband, “… weird. Where’s the old creep? Usually he’s giving me all sorts of Hell by now.

“Spirit is currently off duty, Soul,” Death declared, “He’ll be taking about two week’s worth of vacation starting today.”

Soul blinked, “Two weeks without the idiot screaming in our faces?” the white-haired teen paused, then let out a laugh, “That’s gotta be the coolest thing I’ve heard today!

He turned to his partner, grinning, “Two weeks without your old man, Maka. If that’s not good news, I don’t know what is.

Y-Yeah,” Maka stammered, trying to force a smile, “It’s… great news. Just… just great.

Soul’s laughter immediately faded, levity replaced with concern; Maka had crossed her arms over her stomach, and her expression was one of anxiety, knowing that she had failed to hide her unease.

Before Soul could voice his questions, however, Death interrupted, “So, what is it that you’ve you called about? Have you finally come to a decision regarding the Kishin Souls?”

We have, actually,” Maka answered, clearly grateful for the shift in topic. She straightened, her smile becoming more genuine, “Lord Death, we have decided to decline the ninety nine Kishin Egg Souls collected by Black Star and Tsubaki.

“… oh,” Death managed, more than a little surprised by the verdict. He glanced between the Weapon and Meister, gauging their posture; Soul, though clearly still concerned about Maka’s earlier apprehension, had settled into a relaxed posture, only giving his Meister the occasional glance. Maka, meanwhile, stood straight, hands folded behind her back, eyes clear and brows creased with a knowing determination.

The Reaper could sense absolutely no disagreement between the pair.

“… and you’re quite certain about this?” he asked, “I know it’s bad form to encourage benefitting off work that isn’t your own, but I was quite serious about my offer – and what I said about the Souls you have already collected. If you refuse these ninety-nine Souls, you will have to start over.”

Lord Death,” it was Soul that spoke this time, stepping forwards, “We’ve already talked about this between us. We know what saying no here means. But honestly, we can’t take those Souls.

Soul is right, sir,” Maka confirmed, “We worked hard to get up to ninety-nine Souls. It does suck that we’ll have to start over, but… honestly, it doesn’t feel right to take Souls someone else collected.

We don’t want to benefit off of someone else’s hard work; we want to make Soul into a Death Scythe, the right way.

If Death could, he would have blinked. Slowly, surprise gave way to pride as he stared at the pair before him. So young, and they’d already developed such sterling integrity and character that they were willing to completely start over, despite the fact that they had lost all those Souls at no fault of their own…

These two had moral cores and dedication that most adults would envy.

“… well, if you’re both quite sure,” he finally conceded, a smile more than evident in his tone, “Then the both of you are back down to zero Kishin Egg Souls; it won’t reflect on your grades, but that doesn't mean you’re not starting from scratch. You’ll have to work hard to catch back up!”

We will, sir!” Maka agreed, pumping her fist.

Who do you think we are, Lord Death?” Soul grinned, “We’re the coolest Weapon and Meister pair at the Academy. This is just a bump in the road for us. We’ll be back up to ninety-nine Souls in no time.

“I look forwards to it, then,” Death nodded, “Is there anything else you wish to discuss?”

No sir,” Maka shook her head.

Think that’s about it, yeah,” Soul agreed.

“Then I bid you both goodnight!”

Goodnight, Lord Death!

Adios.

With that, the mirror went dark, and then reverted to its regular reflection. Death stared into his own mask for a long while, replaying the memories of his conversations – with Spirit, with Maka and Soul…

And his thoughts turned to that of a boy with golden eyes, pale skin, and three stripes in his hair.

“… hm,” he mused, “Maybe I should look into taking a few days off to spend with my own son…”


… Por favor, que alguien me mate...” Luz groaned, letting her forehead smack into the desk; the pile of unfinished assignments had slowly dwindled over the course of the afternoon. It was now well into the evening, and despite the fact that she was finally in the last stretch of worksheets, the tanned teen had long since stopped caring about the actual quality of the work she put into them.

She just wanted this nightmare to be over.

“I swear, they’ve given me more homework than everyone else,” she bemoaned, letting her head roll to the side so she could peer out the window at the moon, “Seriously, how many more assignments can they add? It’s June. Shouldn’t they be winding down for the year?”

She pulled out her phone, looking at the time with dull, tired eyes.

It was almost eight.

She’d been at this for over four hours.

“… I’m taking a break,” she decided, pushing up and out of her seat, “I’m tired, and hungry…”

Hands in her pockets, Luz slowly descended the stairs, the wood creaking beneath her feet at every step. Mom still wasn’t home – she’d texted earlier to let her know she wouldn’t be back until it was late – so she still had the house all to herself.

She didn’t like it, if she were to be perfectly honest. It was at once a lonely and frightening thing, knowing there was no one around. It was one thing to be the only one who was awake; there was at least still someone else, even if you had to wake them.

It was quite another to be well and truly alone - and Luz often found herself scared by every little noise, her mind immediately blowing them up into much larger things than they actually were. Branches hitting the windows became people trying to break in; the sounds of an old house settling became a monster from one too many late night creepypastas making the floorboards creak as it came to take her.

Luz knew that, realistically, it wasn’t any of those things. It was her mind getting the better of her, some sick trick played on her by herself.

It was one of the only times she actively disliked her overactive imagination.

She entered the kitchen, pulling open the fridge and perusing the selection of leftovers, “… nuggies… burger… broccoli ‘n cauliflower…”

Gradually, Luz amassed a small assortment of food, dumping it all in a pan with oil; once she was satisfied with her selection, she poured herself a glass as she waited for it all to heat up, not in the mood for a frigid meal.

“Stupid lactose intolerance,” she muttered, taking a sip of the lactose free milk, “I’d happily trade any Weapon trait for the ability to actually eat ice cream right about now…”

Soon enough, the sizzle and scent of the food reached her, a small smile breaking out on her face. It already smelled good… maybe she’d feel better once she had something warm in her stomach.

Her ears twitched as the lock on the front door clicked, sliding out of place; the door swung open, and familiar, tired footsteps quickly followed, a relieved sigh reaching her ears.

Luz turned, and there stood Mom, shrugging off her coat, hanging it and her bag on the hooks on the wall. When their eyes met, she gave a shaky smile.

Hola, Mija.

Hola, Mami,” Luz gave her food another stir, her nerves now soothed by her mother’s presence. She let her smile stretch a little wider, glad that she was no longer alone.

Mom slipped off her shoes, and didn’t so much sit down at the table as much as she collapsed into her chair, taking off her glasses and rubbing her brow.

“… Mom? Are you okay?” Luz felt her smile slip, “You look exhausted.”

“… ‘s been a long day, Luz,” her mother’s heavier accent was laden with lethargy.

“Was it the crash a week ago?”

“No. No, it wasn’t,” she shook her head, “Most of them have already recovered. Two of them had broken bones and need to stay in the hospital a little longer, but they should be out by the end of the week.”

“Then… what happened?”

A deep breath, her mother closing her eyes and clenching her jaw in unmistakable frustration, “There are… issues with the hospital’s funding.”

“… oh,” Luz felt her heart drop, returning her attention to the stovetop.

A slow exhale through her nose, “It’s possible we… may have to cut some staff. And we’re already short on staff as it is,”

“… lo siento, Mami, ” Luz apologized, “That… that’s…”

Mom raised a placating hand, managing a smile, “It’s alright, Luz. We’ll figure things out, one way or another.”

“… alright,” Luz sighed, finally dumping her food onto her plate, “… do you want any?”

“Thank you, Mija, but I ate on the way home,” her mother declined, “Don’t worry about me.”

“If you’re sure.”

Luz sat down across from her Mami, taking the first few bites. It wasn’t as good reheated – but then, most things weren’t. It would still be enough to get her through the rest of the night, though.

“… and what about you? Have you finished all your homework?”

“Almost,” Luz spoke around a mouth full of chicken nugget before swallowing, hard, “I swear the pile keeps getting bigger every time I look at it though. I really do have to wonder if they’re even grading any of these.”

“It’s just practice for your finals,” Mom assured, “It will be over soon.”

“And then I get to go to summer camp,” she grumbled, stabbing her vegetables with a fork.

“It won’t be so bad, Mija. I promise.”

Luz sighed, settling back in her chair and staring wistfully down at her plate, poking the chunk of burger with her fork.

“… I know you don’t want to go, Luz,” the doctor reached across the table to stroke her daughter’s hand, “But please believe me when I say that this is for the best.”

“I either get sent to a mind numbing camp meant to curb my creativity, or I get to live in a city and go to a school where I better fit in and where I get to see Dad more than twice a year,” she grumbled, “I don’t really see how option A is the better choice.”

A long moment of quiet lingered between the two of them.

“… I’m sorry,” Luz set her fork down and closed her eyes, rubbing them with her clenched hands, “I just… I’ve had kind of a bad day, too. I don’t mean…”

“… No,” her mother crossed her arms, empathetic, “You do mean it. And I understand why. This… must seem like an extremely harsh punishment, to you.”

“But you’re still doing it,” Luz took another bite of chicken nugget, sullen.

“… I am,” the doctor did her best to keep her tone resolute.

“… can I… can I ask why?” Luz began, raising her gaze to meet her mother’s, brown eyes wide and brows upturned, “I just… I don’t get it. Death City sounds like everything I’ve ever dreamed of. A place where I can actually fit in, where being weird isn’t treated like some kind of plague. Dad lives there, Maka lives there, and the DWMA itself sounds incredible. I could make actual friends there. I could even help people.

“And you,” she gestured, “You could find work there easily. Dad’s told me how much the school needs doctors. It sounds perfect.

Luz paused, and breathed, trying not to get herself too excited; slowly she looked down, “But… instead, we’re here. You don’t… want to go. You’re choosing to keep me in a school that sent me to the principal’s office for flipping my eyelids inside out for ten seconds. You’re choosing Camp Reality Check over Death City – and I don’t understand why.

Her mother took a deep breath of her own, closing her eyes; for a long moment, neither of them spoke, Luz waiting for her Mami to break the silence.

When Mom finally opened her eyes, Luz was surprised to see tears brimming at their edges.

“Luz,” she started, voice soft, “It’s not that I want this for you. It’s not that I want to send you to that summer camp, or keep you in a school that refuses to understand you. It’s that… Death City, and the DWMA, are not the perfect solution that you seem to believe they are.”

Luz’s brow furrowed slightly, “What do you mean?”

Mija, I want you to think about this for a moment. The DWMA is not short of staff in any regard. Why do you think the school would be in constant need of more doctors?”

Her forehead creased further, her expression morphing into one of thought, “… I don’t know. I just… assumed no one took the job.”

“… the DWMA is where Weapons and Meisters go to train,” Mom stated, “I’m sure your father has told you about the missions that they go on.”

Luz nodded, “He’s told me all about a lot of Maka’s missions. They collect Kishin Egg Souls to prevent the creation of another Kishin.”

“They are sent to fight murderers, and worse,” her mother confirmed, “Now come back to the original question. Why do you think the DWMA constantly needs more doctors?”

Slowly, the connection formed in Luz’s mind; her eyes widened, “… kids don’t get hurt that often, do they?”

“I don’t know how often it happens, now. But I know it still happens,” she folded her hands on the table, doing her best to maintain her gaze with her daughter, “Children younger than you are sent out to fight monsters, Mija. And they don’t always come back okay. Sometimes… they don’t come back at all.”

Luz bit her lip, her eyes once again falling to stare at her plate as a cold chill ran down her spine. All of a sudden she couldn't get the image of Maka out of her head, lying lifeless on the pavement, staring up at the sky with unfocused eyes as blood pooled around her…

She shook her head, trying to clear it, and returned her gaze to her mother, “… but… they’re helping to save the world, aren’t they? Weapons and Meisters travel the world, fighting killers and protecting people. Isn’t that worth something?”

“… I can’t justify it, Luz,” her mother shook her head, “I tried for years to justify it to myself, and I just can’t. Nothing is worth asking children to lay down their lives like that.”

Silence reigned over the dining room for a long few minutes. Luz had stopped trying to eat completely, trying to wrap her head around what she had just been told.

“… Dad always said that students were trained to deal with monsters before they were sent out,” she mumbled, “To make sure they could handle things like that.”

“They are,” Mom acknowledged, “But you can’t account for every monster. Some are worse than others. The day a student gets hurt, they are hurt severely.”

Luz fell silent once more.

“If the DWMA were just an academy that taught people how to be Meisters, and Weapons how to use their powers, I would not have such an umbrage with sending you there,” she continued, “But it isn’t just an academy. It’s an army. And I won’t send you to fight in that war.

“Do you understand, Mija? Why I don’t want to send you to the DWMA?”

“… I don’t know,” Luz admitted, “I… I don’t know. It’s… I knew about the monsters and the possibility of getting hurt, but… everything you’ve told me is…”

“… the complete opposite of what your father told you?”

Luz nodded.

“… Spirit still believes that the DWMA, for all its flaws, is ultimately a force of good in our world,” Mami explained, “Whether or not he’s right… I don’t know. Maybe I’m not seeing things as clearly as I believe I am… I doubt you’re getting a full picture from either one of us.”

“… maybe not,” Luz pushed her chair back, slowly rising to her feet, “But… even so… I…”

“… you’ve had a long day,” her mother’s voice turned soothing, a bittersweet smile on her face, “And a longer night. I think… it might be best if we leave the conversation there for now.”

“… okay,” Luz picked up her plate.

“You’re not going to finish?”

“I’m not hungry anymore, Mom.”

“… I’m sorry.”

This time, Luz didn’t answer, merely returning to the kitchen and putting what was left of her food away.

“… your father will be on his way tomorrow. Would you like to come with me to see him at the airport?”

Luz turned once more, a faint smile on her face, “… I’d like that.”

“Alright,” Mom bobbed her head, then checked her phone, “… almost nine. It feels closer to eleven.”

“I know,” Luz rolled her shoulders.

“… I think we should head to bed,” Mami stood, and then strode over, pulling Luz into a hug and gently kissing her on the forehead, “Buenas noches, Mija. Te amo.

Te amo, Mami,” Luz returned, responding with a hug of her own, “ Buenas noches.

With that, her mother turned, and started up the stairs to her room.

After washing what few dishes she had made, Luz followed suit, flopping down on her bed and not bothering to give her homework a second glance.

She just put in her earbuds, set her playlist to random and stared at the moon as the conversations from her day – with both Maka and her mother – played in her head on loop.

Notes:

Translations for Luz's and Camila's Spanish:

"¡Papi me lo compró para Navidad!"

"Dad got it for me for Christmas!"

---

¿Que te parace? ¿Sólo tú y yo por una tarde? ¿Leyendo nuestros libros favoritos la una a la otra-?

"What do you think? Just you and me for an afternoon? Reading our favourite books to each other-?"

---

"Por favor, que alguien me mate..."

"Somebody, please, kill me..."

---

"Hola."

"Hello." (just covering all my bases here, some of these aren't as obvious as you might think)

---

"... lo siento, Mami."

"I'm sorry, Mom." Although this is interchangable with "Perdón."

---

"Beunas noches."

"Goodnight."

---

"Te amo."

"I love you."

---

All this translation work is being done by one maho_kat on Archive of Our Own! Please be sure to give her your thanks, everyone!

Starting to see why I added the Slow Burn tag? Don't worry, things will hopefully start picking up soon, but even then I think this story will have a somewhat slow pace.

Please leave your thoughts below! I hope you enjoyed the third chapter of Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance!

Chapter 4: Parent-Teacher Lectures

Notes:

I don't own Soul Eater or Owl House.

But if I did, I would know what happens next in Owl House.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

He stood alone in the void.

There was no light. No shadow. No discernible shape or line for his eyes to follow, beyond that of his hands, his sleeves, his hair, his pants and shoes. He felt the ground beneath his feet, solid, but when he searched for it, he couldn’t see it.

There was nothing. Just endless white.

He blinked.

Spirit.

He turned, spinning to face the voice.

For a moment, he mistook her to be Maka. But Maka wasn’t that tall; the woman’s shoulders were slim, her figure slight, her glasses enriching the emerald green eyes that stared at him with the same cold, marked disapproval, and somehow it was worse than when she yelled at him. Her pale skin matched her blond hair, so pale it was practically grey, tied back in a single tail that ran down her back. Her black skirt and blazer could have easily been mistaken for clothes of mourning, but he knew that wasn’t why she wore them.

This woman was never one to mourn anything.

“Makoto?” he asked, “Makoto, is that you?”

He started towards her, quickly closing the distance between them-

Only for her to shove her hand into his chest, fingers splayed.

He felt her Wavelength pulse through her palm and into his sternum, making his ribs vibrate and sing with pain he only distantly noticed. He was flung backwards, the void spinning as he tumbled back across the ground, every scrape and crash leaving him with more aches that felt far more dull than they should have.

No,” she declared.

He pushed himself up, unsteadily, slowly rising to his feet. He stared at her, “… I’m gonna go ahead and assume I deserved that.”

She didn’t respond. Instead, a second shape crept out from behind her, much smaller – clad in a pink cross between a dress and overalls, she clung to her mother’s skirt, her green eyes a little more pale, the blond of her hair a little more pronounced. The girl stared at him with wide eyes, head tilted.

“Maka?” his eyes widened, and once again he approached.

No,” Makoto declared again, more force behind the word, enough to make the space around her tremble. He felt it beneath his feet, making him stumble.

“Makoto,” he spoke, his tone warning, “You are not keeping me from my daughter.”

… Choose.

He blinked, confused, “Choose?”

His former Meister slowly raised a hand, pointing; once again, he turned.

… and there stood another woman, her brown hair tied up in a bun at the back of her head, her skin a deep tan beneath the pristine white of the doctor’s coat she wore. Her frame was large, with broad shoulders and hips that hinted at surprising strength. Her eyes were warm, warm like the melted chocolate they resembled, but she wore no smile – though she lacked the judgement Makoto carried. If anything, she seemed more tired than judgemental.

Beside her stood another little girl, a bit bigger than Maka, swaddled in a purple sweater, with short, almost boyish dark hair and wide brown eyes that sought to learn everything about anything they fixed on.

Camila and Luz.

He stared for a long moment, then slowly turned to look back at Makoto, “… no.”

Choose, Spirit,” she repeated, You can’t have both families.

“I am not going to choose between my daughters, Makoto!”

For a long while, nothing moved. Not a sound was made.

… then you will have neither.

The declaration was followed by a dark shadow appearing behind both women; his eyes shot back and forth as the shadows grew, shapeless and seemingly infinitely deep.

“Maka!” he shouted, reaching out, but it was too late; Makoto had already taken the girl, and retreated back into the dark behind her, disappearing from view entirely.

Gritting his teeth, he spun, sprinting towards his other daughter, “Luz! Luz, come here!”

Neither Camila, nor Luz seemed to hear him. They stood, staring, seemingly oblivious to the dark that threatened to swallow them whole.

No matter how hard he pushed himself, he couldn't get any closer.

They too were taken, disappearing into the dark.

Nonetheless, he didn’t stop; or at least, he did not stop willingly. He continued trying to sprint forwards even as what traction he had beneath his feet simply ceased to exist, leaving him scrabbling for purchase in midair in fruitless pursuit of his daughters.

The white gradually disappeared from view entirely, leaving him alone in the pitch black as the darkness tugged at him from either side.

“Come back!” he shouted, though even his voice seemed to be swallowed up by the shadows, leaving him screaming in silence, “Please, come back!”

Even if he could be heard, he received no answer; instead, the pull grew greater, stronger, yanking him ramrod straight and keeping him bound. He struggled with all his might, but to no avail; he was kept in place only by the opposing forces, each trying to drag him into its shadowy pit.

Two separate forces, grabbing hold and refusing to let go.

It was like he was being pulled in two…


 “Sir?”

Spirit’s eyes shot open, gasping for breath as he jolted back into the waking world. His eyes shot back and forth as he gripped the arm rests of his seat, ready to unleash his scythe blades at a moment’s notice.

“Sir, are you okay?”

The woman’s voice made him snap his head up to face her; a woman in a uniform stood over him, mildly concerned.

Slowly, he regained his bearings, his eyes sweeping his surroundings; people were lined up in small rows of seats up and down a small corridor, all facing the same direction and murmuring among themselves in muted voices. His ears seemed to press inwards with an uncomfortable pressure, leaving him with a resounding headache.

One look out the window was all he needed to confirm.

This was why Spirit hated falling asleep on airplanes.

“I’m fine, miss, thank you,” he assured the attendant, “Though if you could get me some water…?”

She shook her head, “I’m sorry, sir, but we’re going to be landing very soon. I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait.”

He nodded, “Alright. Thank you…”

As she walked away, the Death Scythe slumped back in his seat, letting his lips curl in discomfort; every part of him seemed to ache from sitting in this uncomfortable chair for so long. He couldn’t even remember how long the flight was supposed to be, but whatever the case it was enough to leave him yearning for the chance to stand and stretch his legs, to get the kinks out of his spine and shoulder and get an ibuprofen for his headache…

“… just a few more minutes, Spirit,” he coached himself, actively resisting the urge to reach for his bag, “You’re almost on the ground. You can last a few more minutes. You’re a Death Scythe, for cryin’ out loud.”

He let his eyes angle back out the window, staring at out across the city. He’d left Death City to catch his plane a whole other city over at two in the morning, taking off at roughly three thirty; it had only been a three, maybe four hour flight, but going off the time difference between each State, it was probably almost eight already.

At least he’d been able to get a row all to himself; a small blessing, but a blessing nonetheless.

He felt the plane jerk, then gradually descend, the engines picking up in volume; gradually, the city grew closer, the buildings more distinct. Camila was probably already at the airport, which in itself was over an hour-long drive from town...

“… heh. All I can think about is the time until I can see Luz,” he mused, leaning on his armrest with his chin in his hand, “I’m like a little kid waiting for his birthday.”

Eventually, the plane touched down, slowly pulling in towards the airport; when the intercom finally announced that the passengers could begin filing out, Spirit let out a sigh of relief, pushing himself up and stretching himself out as best he could before grabbing his backpack, taking a painkiller for his headache, and slowly making his way through the line.

Even with the air conditioning on full blast, he could feel the hot June sun beating down on him through the airport windows; while his job frequently saw him up at all hours of the night, oftentimes, he found himself prowling Death City in the middle of the day as well, trapped in the sweltering heat, the cobblestone making up nearly every surface turning the city into some horrifying combination of frying pan and convection oven.

In his youth, he’d had no idea how anyone could manage to make it through the hot Nevada days in a full suit and tie, much less without complaint. As a fully-grown man, however, he had his answer.

That answer was by suffering.

Silently.

All the time.

That was the main reason he’d taken the opportunity to instead wear simpler clothing for this trip; he had brought his suit in case something came up, of course… but he doubted that anything would.

Honestly, even if it was just for a couple weeks, it was good to wear jeans and a t-shirt again.

After grabbing his suitcase from the baggage claim, Spirit finally stepped through the sliding doors that marked the end of security and into the ground floor; a large crowd of onlookers had gathered as people scattered to and fro, some off on their own, others quickly pairing up with people who had obviously been waiting for them, for some reason or another. Drivers met with clients, family members reunited, and the noise left Spirit’s ears ringing.

But he paid none of it any attention. Instead, his blue eyes scanned the crowd, searching…

Eventually, his eyes met hers.

Camila gave him a slight smile, her hair done up as it usually was. Slowly, she raised a hand in a small wave, acknowledging she had seen him; he returned the smile, and raised his arm in a wave of his own, taking a step forwards-

PAPI!

Only to be nearly winded as he was tackled with enough force to make a linebacker proud, a pair of thin arms wrapping around his chest with a crushing force they should not have been capable of. He wheezed, stumbling back slightly, only barely catching the elated shriek of joy that rose above the low hum of the crowd.

Despite that, however, he grinned, staring down at the small figure that had barrelled into him like a miniature train. Luz was still wearing that white and purple kitty cat hoodie, short sleeved and thin enough to be worn even in the summer; when he’d first gotten it for her three years earlier, she’d refused to take it off during practically his entire stay, and according to Camila, she still wore it nearly every day.

And yet, despite that, it was still in nearly perfect condition – he couldn’t see a single stain or fray in its fabric. Given how inexpensive it had been, Luz must have taken remarkably good care of it. It still matched her complexion and her short, almost tomboyish hair perfectly.

“Hey there, Mija,” Spirit managed between gasps for breath, returning the embrace, “You’re getting bigger and stronger every time I see you. You’re not gonna be able to keep doing that for much longer.”

“And why not?” she asked, glancing up with a sly look on her face.

“Because next time you just might knock me over,” he explained, closing his eyes and pursing his lips as he did his absolute best to imitate the matter-of-fact tone Maka always used when she was lecturing someone.

The only response he got from his daughter was another laugh before she finally let go, “Sorry! I’m just so glad to finally see you again!”

He chuckled, gently ruffling her hair as he stared into her eyes, eyes that held the world within them; they shone in the light, bearing energy and enthusiasm he could only dream of keeping up with. Her brilliant smile made his heart swell with joy and pride alike, glad to know that even at fourteen, she was still as gleeful and exuberant as ever.

“I’m glad to see you too, Luz.”

With that, Spirit took his daughter’s hand, and let her guide him through the crowd, where Camila stood waiting for them.

In that moment, he felt it. Something he hadn’t felt in months.

True, genuine joy.


“You’re both always out so early,” Blair whined, leaning across the table with her lips downturned in a pout, clad in only a pink bathrobe, even her hat haphazardly thrown to the side and leaving her ears free to tilt to the sides in an image of pure misery, “I haven’t even gotten to sleep yet and you’re already on your way out. What happened to bacon and eggs in the morning?”

Maka ground her teeth, resisting the urge to grab the oversized hat off the counter and yank it down over the cat-woman’s eyes. She did her best to keep herself focused on the finishing touches of her essay, cursing her laptop as the letters in the document appeared a solid five seconds after she tapped them into the keyboard.

Soul, however, just gave a tired sigh, looking up from his phone, a piece of toast hanging from his teeth, “Don’t have the time, Blair. Slept in a little too late.”

“You call this sleeping in?” the cat-woman stared at him, appalled.

“You kidding? Usually Maka’s waking me up at five thirty to get ready for class,” he looked back down, continuing to scroll through his phone.

“Ugh. No,” she shook her head, horrified, looking over to the Meister, “Even six in the morning is way too early for anyone to be up and about. Why would you punish your little Scythey by making him get up this early?... why would you punish yourself by getting up this early?”

“It’s not a punishment, it’s something all students have to do,” Maka growled, still not looking up from her essay as she once again saved the document, not trusting her laptop to not immediately crash, “Soul and I have to be up and awake by six at the latest, and out the door by six thirty in order to make it to class on time. Class always starts at seven o’clock, sharp, and if you’re late or absent without an excuse, it’s a big mark against your grades.”

“Bluuuugh,” Blair stuck her tongue out, screwing her eyes shut, “That sounds absolutely miserable, Maka.”

“That’s because it is,” Soul grumbled around the last of his toast.

Maka rolled her eyes, running through the essay one last time; satisfied with her results, she swapped to her email, and sent it off, pulling her laptop shut without responding to the Weapon’s jab.

“Look at it this way,” she began, “The early start means that school gets out that much earlier for us DWMA students. Usually we’re out just a little bit after two unless extracurricular stuff keeps us in school – though I’m sure you’ve noticed that, given that you’ve insisted on hanging around for the past week.”

“I still haven’t heard a no~…” Blair sang, smiling.

“Keep at it. You’re certainly making a good case for our refusal,” Maka huffed, setting her laptop aside.

“Hmmm…” Blair hummed, golden eyes fluttering closed as she leaned further forwards on the table.

“Soul, you got all your assignments done, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, they’re done,” He pushed himself up, stretching.

“The essay and the worksheets?” Maka asked, starting towards the door.

“Yes, Maka, they’re done,” Soul huffed, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he followed her, “You asked me that last night.”

“I’m just trying to make sure.”

“You worry too much.”

“No, our grades reflect on both of us; I’m not gonna get a bad grade because you spend your night watching bad anime instead of doing your homework.”

“Have a good day, you two!” Blair called.

They stopped, turning to face her, surprised etched into both of their expressions.

“… I’m sorry?” Maka queried, confused.

“I said ‘have a good day, you two,’” Blair repeated, tone bright despite her clear exhaustion. She opened one golden eye, giving a light wave, “Isn’t that what you say when your friends head off?”

The pair looked at one another, then to the cat; it was obvious that they hadn’t expected her to make such a remark, as though they’d thought her too selfish to say it.

Eventually, though, Maka crossed her arms, looking away, “Yeah, sure.”

“We’ll keep it cool,” Soul turned away, “Don’t mess the place up while we’re out.”

“Don’ worry about that,” the cat yawned, “I’m gonna take a bath, then I’m going straight to bed. I’m tiiired.”

“You do that,” Maka stated dryly, refraining from saying something more scathing, “See you, Blair.”

“See you.”

With that, she heard the door open, and close.

Stretching, Blair got to her feet, and padded down the hall towards the bathroom.

“Well, it’s been a week,” she noted aloud, “Haven’t been kicked out yet.”

She pushed open the door, and hung her bathrobe on the hooks, turning to the bathtub. As she twisted the knob, the steam that rose from the heated water already pleasant in her nose; she breathed deep, stepping into the gently rising pool, and pouring in a generous helping of her favourite bubble bath soap before sinking in, sighing contentedly.

“… maybe I should start looking to sell once I wake up,” she mused, letting her eyes fall closed once again, “That… or start my job hunt… I wonder if there’s anywhere that needs a cute bartender…”


“Mmmm! ¡Muy buena!

Spirit smiled around his mouthful of burger, watching as Luz eagerly swapped between her own burger and fries with incredible voraciousness, taking a bite of one, then the other, sometimes without even swallowing first.

“Practicing for an eating contest, are you?” he teased.

“Hmm, yhm nmhmh nmmh!” she paused, swallowed, then wiped her mouth, grinning, “Hey, you never know! If I can get a free book or game or something out of it? I might actually be able to pull out a win!”

He laughed, “Be glad your mother isn’t here to hear you say that. I don’t think she’d be happy to hear about that little plan of yours.”

Luz’s eyes flickered, but did not dim, “She’s not happy with most of my plans. What’s one more?”

Despite her chipper tone, Spirit could still detect the small note of sullenness in his daughter’s voice.

After she had picked Spirit up and dropped him off to pick up his rental car, Camila had once again been called back in to work; she had been expecting it, at the very least, and had planned to leave Luz with him regardless.

The day was theirs’ to spend together.

The first thing Spirit had done after finally getting his rental was take Luz for an early lunch.

He was surprised Maxine’s Bar and Grill was open this early, but hey – he was hardly complaining. Pretty much all their food was solid, even if Luz was really only in the mood for burgers.

“Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah?”

Luz took another fry, her tone curious, “I admit I can’t remember if I’ve asked you this before or not…”

“Hey, if you have a question, ask away,” he gestured, “Doesn’t matter if you’ve asked it before.”

“Okay,” She ate the fry, setting what was left of her burger down for a moment to take a sip of her cola, “Then… what do Souls taste like?”

Spirit raised an eyebrow, “What, Kishin Egg Souls?”

“Yeah,” Luz set the glass down, “That’s part of your job, right? Collecting Kishin Eggs?”

“Not so much, these days,” he admitted with a chuckle, rubbing the back of his head, “That’s mostly left to Academy students, Luz. I haven’t gone on an actual collection or Witch hunt in a long time.”

“Riiiiight,” Luz’s eyes shone with sudden realization, “You’re a teacher!”

“And Lord Death’s personal Weapon,” he noted, extending his finger and, with a flash of light, transforming it into a curved, sharp blade, small enough that it wouldn’t be noticed by the other patrons. He stabbed another fry, “I can’t usually be separated from him for long the way I am now, Luz.”

“What, are your Souls linked somehow?” she asked, “Is that what makes you a Death Scythe?”

He laughed, “No, no, it’s not quite like that. That’s not how Soul Resonance works. I’m just the main Death Scythe on deck; if something goes wrong, I’m the Grim Reaper’s Weapon and the DWMA’s last line of defence.”

“Oooooh, so you’re the BFG,” Luz nodded, grinning.

“Someone’s been playing DOOM behind her Mom’s back.”

Spirit couldn’t stifle a snicker at the faint ‘Ack!’ that escaped his daughter’s throat, followed by the guilty smile, her hands rising with her shoulders in a shrug, “Uuuuh… theology research?”

“Luz, the only religions I’m aware of that include the worship of guns are ones I don’t think are really worth researching,” he stated, thoroughly amused.

“… please don’t tell Mami.

“Don’t tell your mother what?”

“That-“ Luz stopped short… then smiled again, “Oh, you’re tricky.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he smiled wryly, “But back on topic. Yes, I’m basically the DWMA’s BFG. The strongest Weapon the Academy has on hand.”

“So cooool,” Luz drawled, and Spirit felt his heart swell with equal parts joy and pride; no matter how many times it was confirmed to him, the reminder that one of his daughters still loved and admired him was always another point in his book.

“I do have to note, I’m honestly more of a display piece than anything else,” he stated, letting the blade transform back into his finger “I spend most of my time hanging out with Lord Death in the Death Room than I do even teaching, really. It might be more apt to say I’m less the DWMA’s BFG and more the DWMA’s fire extinguisher.”

“Well, that’s still really important,” Luz said, tone reassuring, “It’s true nobody really thinks about the fire extinguisher, but there’s a reason it’s there. It’s a reassurance and a tool in case a fire breaks out. Nobody wants a fire to happen, but it’s good to be prepared for one, right?”

“Hey, I never said I was complaining,” Spirit raised his hands, “Means I get to focus on what’s important in my life!”

“Yeah?” Luz tilted her head, “What’s that?”

“You and Maka,” he grinned, closing his eyes as he leaned back in the booth, “There’s nothing in this world that I love more than my daughters.”

“… yeah,” her smile grew soft, her eyes falling to her plate, “Me and Maka…”

“… are you okay, Luz?”

“I’m okay,” she nodded, “I’m okay. Just… kinda wanted Maka to come too, you know?”

‘Really wanted her to, you mean,’ Spirit thought, though he kept it to himself; he knew exactly how Luz felt. Instead, he gave her a gentle smile, “… I know, kiddo. I know.”

“… she said she couldn’t come because she and Soul had to catch up… she’s a really good student, huh?”

“One of the best I’ve ever seen. Very dedicated to everything she does. Though I will say,” he raised a finger, pointing at her, “You’re far more prone to thinking outside the box. You’re just as good a student – just in different ways.”

“You think so?” the girl seemed genuinely perplexed by the statement.

“Of course!” the Death Scythe exclaimed, “Take a look at yourself right now – you’re asking me all sorts of questions. You’re eager to learn. It’s just a matter of finding what it is you’re interested in and pursuing it.

Without burning yourself out,” he quickly added, taking the final bite of his burger, “That’s a good way to take something you love and turn it into something you hate.”

Luz’s eyes were at once wide open and totally unfocused, seeming to stare into the open air as her jaw worked silently, opening and closing, but no sound emerging. A thousand thoughts seemed to be rushing through her mind, thoughts Spirit could only guess at, but he could tell one thing for certain with a single glance at her expression.

This was the first time Luz had ever been told she was a good student. That her curiosity and creativity were something actually desirable.

Slowly, another smile worked its way across his daughter’s face, different from her usual boundless enthusiasm. This was… quieter, somehow. Understanding that brought not excitement, but a feeling of true profundity.

“… ¿Papi?

“Yes, Luz?”

Gracias.

“… de nada, Corazoncito.

Luz settled back in her seat, closing her eyes with a serenity Spirit has only rarely seen from his daughter; even if just for a minute, it seemed that all the weight on her shoulders had been lifted.

For the moment, all her worries had been dispelled.

‘Score one for Spirit Albarn,’ the Death Scythe thought, a soft smile of his own forming, ‘Take that, Luz’s Misery.’

“… we got pretty off topic, huh?”

He blinked; when he finally realized Luz had spoken, he sheepishly rubbed the back of his head again, “Yeah… I guess we did.”

“… so. Can I keep asking questions?”

“You just did. But you may.”

“Alright then. Kishin Egg Souls?” she asked again, settling back forwards and picking up her burger again, “How do they taste? And Soul Resonance – if you don’t have to be in Death City twenty-four seven, three sixty five, then how does that work? And what’s the difference between a Meister’s and Weapon’s abilities? Can’t Weapons use their Soul Wavelength in all the same ways a Meister can? And why can’t Meisters eat Souls?”

“Well…” he began, arcing his neck back and staring thoughtfully at the ceiling, “Let’s answer these one at a time. It’s been a while since I’ve had one, but… Kishin Egg Souls are actually kinda tasteless? Not in a bad way, mind you, it’s… kind of like eating ice in a way? You know how ice by itself doesn't really have a taste?”

“Yeah,” she nodded, “I still chew on ice to make up for the fact that I can’t eat ice cream.”

“Your dentist must hate you, then. But yeah, Kishin Egg Souls have more texture than anything else. Each one is different in some subtle way, but they’re usually pleasantly chewy – you can really work your jaws on them, but it’s not like chewing on gum or gristle,” he subconsciously cracked his jaw – he’d forgotten how he’d always looked forwards to eating Kishin Eggs, “It’s difficult to explain, since actually describing it makes it sound disgusting, but it’s one of those things you have to experience to get.”

“Like the joys of eating really spicy food?” Luz ventured.

“Yeah, exactly like that.”

“Okay. And my other questions?”

“Well, if we’re gonna talk about Soul Resonance, then first we have to talk about Soul Wavelength…”


“The Soul Wavelength is, in the most basic terms possible, the heartbeat of the Soul. Its Frequency and Amplitude is different for every person and creature, and is determined by a number of factors,” Professor Von Nonameheim droned, his voice dry, mechanical, and stuffy in a way that British documentary narrators could only dream of imitating.

On the wall, two separate projectors displayed a long sprawl of notes so dense and clinical that it hurt the eyes to even look at them, and beside them a basic Y graph displaying a number of arcing lines rising and dipping back and forth over a straight line in the center; every time the line dipped down across the line, it was marked with a harsh black dot, with the word “FREQUENCY” written at the top of the graph.

“To clear up the confusion early, the power and strength of a Soul Wavelength is not determined by its Frequency. Rather, the Frequency of a Soul Wavelength determines the compatibility between Souls, and in turn is determined primarily by personality; a more active, excitable and outgoing personality will produce a higher Soul Wavelength Frequency, whereas a less active, reclusive and introverted personality will produce a lower Soul Wavelength Frequency. That being said, the Soul can exert a certain amount of control over its Soul Wavelength Frequency, allowing one to be at least somewhat flexible in regards to their compatibility.

“The other determining factors for Soul Wavelength Frequency are mental, emotional, and physical status; under great mental or emotional duress, the Soul Wavelength’s Frequency will become unstable. Its rhythm will be rendered uneven, which in turn will interfere with Soul Resonance, which we will cover later in this lecture. Likewise, the ability to actually use the Soul Wavelength is as much a physical ability as any other activity; much like how if one maintains a sprint for too long, they will not be able to continue running, the same holds for the channelling of the Soul Wavelength. The Soul can, in fact, become exhausted.”

He pushed his glasses up his nose, clicking the slide so the notes continued on, “On its own, the Soul Wavelength of a given individual can be channelled by its user in a wide variety of ways. It can be used to empower the body far beyond its conventional limits, including strength, durability, perception speed and both mental and physical alacrity, but it can also be used to directly channel a pulse from one’s Soul directly into an object through physical contact, thus greatly empowering physical blows, just as a couple of examples. It can even be used to perceive other Souls by enhancing the senses. But most notably, it can be used to perform the technique known as Soul Resonance.”

The entire class was holding back a collective groan as the professor continued to drone on. The only person who seemed to be paying any amount of attention was Maka, who was in the process of taking down entirely new notes for reference; beside her, Soul was leaning back in his seat, staring up at the ceiling, hoping the stucco would give him something more interesting to contemplate than the stuffy voice of the substitute teacher.

“I can’t believe we’re stuck in the remedial class,” Soul groaned, pushing himself so far back in his seat his head was clonking against the wall, “We already know this garbage, Maka.”

“It’ll only be for a few days,” she assured, only barely listening to Von Nonameheim for the sake of confirmation, “Just hang tight, we’ll be out of here before you know it.”

“This is so uncool,” he pulled his headband down over his eyes, “Blair was right, this was not worth getting up at six for…”

Maka found herself suppressing the urge to crack Soul upside the head, but by the same token, she had to admit he was right; so far, she was finding that all of her old notes applied perfectly well to the review that was occurring and was mostly jotting down new ones for the sake of reinforcing her memory than for the purposes of reference…

… as well as just giving herself something to do; this man was so dry she was convinced that he would turn the ocean into a desert if thrown off of a seaside dock.

If anything, that was the main purpose of these new notes; to keep the professor’s barely interested lecturing from driving her to the same bored tears that were currently being shed by her Weapon.

“The act known as Soul Resonance is the interaction between two or more Souls, typically that of a Weapon and Meister,” Von Nonameheim continued, once again changing the slides; a similar graph to the one before now appeared, but rather than marking the Frequency, it was now measuring the actual length of each peak and trough of the curved line as it passed back and forth over the center, with the word “AMPLITUDE” acting as the label.

“When two Souls engage in Soul Resonance, they combine their Soul Wavelengths into one, greatly increasing their Soul Wavelength Amplitude; unlike Soul Wavelength Frequency, Soul Wavelength Amplitude is determined by the strength of the Soul, and in turn is a measure of how greatly one can use it to affect themselves or the world around them.”

“Here’s a drinking game for you, Maka,” Soul whispered, “Take a shot every time he says “Soul Wavelength.””

“That’s his job, Soul,” she muttered dryly, writing out the notes.

‘Soul Wavelength Frequency –Determines Soul Compatibility.

‘Soul Wavelength Amplitude – Determined by Soul Strength.

‘Soul Resonance – Compatible Souls Interact to Increase Soul Strength.’

‘I just summed up in twenty one words what took this professor well over three hundred to explain,’ Maka ground her teeth, then let out a calming breath.

“… besides,” she quipped, “That would destroy your liver in the first ten minutes.”

At this, Soul jerked up slightly, tilting his head up towards her and slightly lifting his headband; he managed to catch the slight smile on her lips, though she did not turn her head to look at him.

He chuckled ruefully, “Oh, God, this must be bad if you’re starting to snark about someone other than me or your idiot dad. We gotta get you out of here.”

“We can’t skip, Soul,” she stated, “We’re not exactly in a position where either of us can be playing hooky. We need every single A we can get.”

“I’ll happily take a zero if it means escaping this torture,” he let his headband snap back into place, sitting up and digging through his desk, “Didn’t that hack fanfic writer from the Renaissance include something like this in his description of Hell?”

“No, Dante’s Inferno does not include a lecture like this.”

“It should. At least being set on fire is somewhat entertaining.”

This time, Maka did not offer a response. She simply kept writing, despite being fairly certain that the teacher’s current tangent was one that could easily be missed.

“Specifically regarding Weapons and Meisters, the interaction of their Souls greatly empowers the capabilities of both parties. Even during a Basic Resonance, wherein the Souls are only passively interacting with one another by virtue of the Weapon and Meister being in physical contact, the Meister finds their physical capabilities and control greatly bolstered just by wielding their Weapon, becoming capable of feats and techniques they would not otherwise be capable of performing even without consciously using their Soul Wavelength. Likewise, the Weapon is bolstered by being wielded by a Meister – blades become capable of slicing through stone and steel, bullets can bore through armour plating with relative ease, and fire can melt down even the most heat resistant ceramics with minimal difficulty.”

‘Basic Resonance – Physical Contact with Compatible Weapon/Meister,’ Maka wrote, ‘Passively Boosts Physical Capabilities of Both Parties.’

“… Maka.”

“What is it, Soul?”

Abruptly, Soul shoved the heavy textbook in front of her, opened to the introductory pages of the course; he pointed to the page.

“He’s quoting from the textbook. Almost word for word.”

She blinked, following the passage as she listened to the professor; after a moment, she blanched.

“Oh my God,” she bemoaned, her eyes wide and mouth agape in abject horror, not so much setting her pen down as she did drop it, “He is.

“… this has got to be the single most uninspired teacher I have ever seen,” Soul grumbled, taking the textbook back and laying his head down on it like a pillow.

Maka buried her face in her hands, “This guy has no idea what he’s doing…”

‘This is karma,’ she decided, ‘I should have just gone to see Luz.’

“Can’t believe I’m actually wishing for Professor Sid back,” Soul mumbled, “He might’ve been strict, but at least he could make a lesson interesting.”

Slowly, Maka pulled her hands away, a note of melancholy entering her words, “… that’s right. That’s who this guy is subbing for, isn’t he?”

Soul gave a slight bob of his head, “Yeah. Did you hear what happened?”

“I heard he was found dead after school on Friday,” she began, “But nothing specific.”

“Apparently someone jammed a model of the Statue of Liberty through his forehead. Put the base right through his skull,” Soul mused, “Perfectly circle shaped hole, or at least that’s what I’ve heard.”

Maka opened her mouth to respond, only for the classroom door to abruptly swing open, cutting her off; the woman that stepped in made her heart plummet and the room go silent.

Mira Naigus. The former Weapon partner of the late Sid Barret.

Her blue eyes were frigid, piercing as she surveyed the room, her deep brown hair tied back and her dark skin free of its usual bandages, giving the world a rare look at her face; lips pulled thin and brows furrowed, the usually unflappable woman was tense, almost angry, a far cry from the calm and composed air she usually projected.

When her eyes finally landed on Maka and Soul, she stopped, and the Meister felt her blood run cold.

“Scythe Meister Maka Albarn, and Demon Weapon Soul Eater,” she called, voice tightly controlled, if slightly stilted.

Immediately, Maka stood, hands at her sides, Soul wordlessly picking himself up in turn.

“Yes, Miss Naigus?”

“Lord Death has requested your presence,” Naigus announced, “You are to report to the Death Room immediately.”

“I-Immediately?” Maka asked.

“Yes. You are excused from all classes until further notice,” the Knife Weapon gestured to the hallway, “Now, go.”

“… I’m not complaining,” Soul started towards the door, hands in his pockets, “Come on, Maka.”

Grabbing her notes, Maka silently followed, sparing Naigus a glance as she passed; the sheer menace pouring off of the woman was overwhelming. She’d known it couldn’t have been easy for anyone to lose a partner, but Maka had expected Naigus to be in mourning.

This… anger…

“… so what do you think Lord Death wants?”

Maka jolted as Soul’s voice pulled her away from her train of thought; she shook her head, bringing her hand to her chin, “I dunno. I thought we were keeping up a good pace in our remedial lessons. We just need a mission that we’re ready for to actually come up and we can start collecting Souls again.”

“Hm…”

“… it’s strange to me, now that I stop to think about it.”

“What, Lord Death calling us?”

“Well, yeah, but I was actually talking about Sid,” Maka bit at her lip, mind starting to race, “Think, Soul. Professor Sid was a Three Star Meister; even a Two Star Meister is significantly stronger than a One Star Meister, and the same system applies to Weapons. Since Miss Naigus is still here and unharmed, we can guess that Sid didn’t have her with him when he was attacked.”

“Yeah?”

“But even so, a Three Star Meister shouldn’t have been beaten so… soundly as what you described. They’re masters of combat, able to handle nearly any situation with or without a Weapon partner,” she pointed out, picking up her pace to walk beside Soul rather than behind him, “If Sid really was murdered – if he was killed by someone who’s able to beat a Three Star Meister like that – don’t you think it would make sense to pull everyone out of school and look for the killer? One Star Meisters and Weapons wouldn’t be able to handle an opponent that strong…”

“… now that you mention it, that’s a good point,” Soul’s jaw set as he started up the stairs, beginning the ascent to the higher levels of the Academy, “Pulling everyone out to let the teachers handle things seems like it would be the smarter play… and yet here we all are treating it like it’s just another day at the office…”

“… Soul?... I’m worried.”

“… let’s just see what Lord Death wants, Maka. Maybe he can clear things up for us.”

A nod from the Meister, and the two continued making their way up to the Death Room.

Notes:

Translations for Luz's and Spirit's Spanish:

"¡Muy buena!"

"So good!"

Note that"¡Súper buena!" is also an acceptable variant!

---

"Gracias."

"Thank you."

---

"... de nada, Corazoncito."

"... you're welcome, sweetheart."

Apparently, Corazoncito actually translates literally to "little heart," but the sentiment is closer to sweetheart.

Once again, massive thanks to maho_kat on Archive of Our Own for all her help in translating the Spanish!

I'm gonna need a little more time before I can get to the Boiling Isles. In the meantime, I think you Soul Eater fans know what's coming next.

Thanks for giving this a read, everyone, and thank you so much for your patience and understanding with me. Let me know what you think! I hope you all enjoyed the fourth chapter of Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance!

Chapter 5: Remedial Lessons

Notes:

I don't own Soul Eater or Owl House.

Those belongs to Gilgamesh, King of Heroes... oh, shit, wait, wrong seriesOHFUCK-

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The door swung open with no resistance under Maka’s hand; something that surprised Soul, despite the fact that he knew very well that they had been summoned to the Death Room.

Normally, the Death Room’s black, red and white trimmed door was one that was barred to students; anyone caught lingering in front of it without good reason was usually subject to some sort of detention. There were exceptions, of course – there always were to this sort of thing – but under normal circumstances, the only ones allowed into the Death Room were Death Scythes, and the Grim Reaper himself. Even faculty were only allowed entry if they were specifically summoned by Lord Death, or if they had some sort of grievance to voice.

Or at least, that was the gist of the rules that he could be bothered to remember.

“You ready, Maka?”

“It’s just a chat with Lord Death,” she assured, though he guessed it was more for herself than for him, “Nothing more than that.”

“Then let’s go.”

With that, they stepped through the threshold.

It was always jarring, entering the Death Room; being the highest room in the DWMA, in the tallest spire the Academy had to offer, one would think it would be a fairly small room, albeit one filled with all sorts of oddities collected by the Grim Reaper over his many centuries of life.

But this could not be further from the truth.

The Death Room, in truth, was gargantuan.

Twisted clouds floated lazily across the clear sky overhead, the blue so vibrant that it actually stung the eyes; the earth beneath their feet was much the same, the sand so bright it almost looked more like snow. The gigantic red Torii gates that stood over the stone paths each upheld a gigantic guillotine blade, each razor sharp and glinting the light despite no sun being present. In the distance, innumerable crosses stuck up from the earth like thin dead trees or black lightning strikes that rose from the ground, their purpose unknown.

It even perfectly replicated the unbearable heat of the Nevada deserts surrounding Death City.

The only things that marked that this was indeed a room than a vast open plane were the distant windows.

“… I can never figure it out,” Soul mused.

“Hm?”

“What exactly this is,” he raised his hands, folding them behind his head, “It’s way too big to fit into the DWMA, so that door has to be some kind of portal.”

“Well, it’s the Death Room,” Maka kept her eyes fixed on the clouds overhead, frowning, “That implies that this isn’t an infinite space, or at least that it’s got some sort of walls and ceiling. Plus, it’s got windows. Maybe it’s some kind of pocket dimension?”

“Either way, it makes you wonder how he managed it. No way is science far enough along to pull something like this off.”

Maka raised an eyebrow, “What, you think Lord Death is secretly a spellcaster?”

“Well, he’s a Reaper, isn’t he?” Soul glanced at her, “I’d say that being an embodiment of Death, he’s exempt from the laws of physics in more than a couple ways. I mean, the guy literally lives inside a mirror, and uses anything with a reflective surface as his personal cell phone.”

“Hm…” Maka folded her hands behind her back, lips pursed in thought as they proceeded through the Torii gates, “… maybe it’s a physical representation of his Soul?”

“Maybe,” Soul shrugged, “Doubt we’ll get a straight answer if we ask, though.”

Maka sighed, defeated, “You’re probably right. He really does like to play up that mysterious old headmaster angle, huh?”

“Hey, he likes to keep some stuff private. I’m not exactly shouting all my secrets from the rooftops, why should he?”

“Fair point.”

For a long few moments, neither spoke.

“ASSASSIN’S RULE NUMBER ONE! DISSOLVE IN THE DARKNESS AND ERASE YOUR BREATH! WAIT FOR AN OPENING TO ATTACK YOUR TARGET!”

They stopped, turning and staring up at the guillotine gate behind them; Maka let out a groan, “I do not need this today…”

Perched atop the crimson wood, a boy with wild blue hair glared down with a vicious grin, his arms outstretched, clasping a kusarigama in each hand, connected together by a chain; his white pants, black top and dark shoes edged with studded metal.

They didn’t need to see the star shaped tattoo on his shoulder to know who it was.

“Don’t bother, Black Star,” the nonchalance in Maka’s voice immediately disarmed any sort of imposing air the boy had hoped to cultivate.

Black Star let out a choked gasp, his grin jarring itself into a grimace, as if genuinely shocked he’d been spotted.

“You may as well just come down,” Soul smirked, “You’ve already given yourself away. Again.”

Black Star did not answer, his brow twitching as he audibly struggled to come up with some sort of response. The scythe in his right had began to glow, then transform, a head of long black hair tied back save for the bangs that framed her pale face and hung over her forehead. She gave a demure smile, “Well, they spotted us pretty easily… as usual…”

“Well, it can’t be helped!” he suddenly declared, grinning broadly, “It’s impossible to hide when you’re as big a star as I am!”

He jumped, releasing his Weapon as she transformed; as the pair landed, Tsubaki gave Maka and Soul an apologetic smile, her eyes as dark a blue as the sea. Her long beige dress was held in place by the same studded metal belts that Black Star had, wrapped around her waist, and a black scarf was tied in place around her neck.

It always caught Soul off guard, just how tall Tsubaki actually was – he didn’t think of himself as particularly short for his age, but the Dark Arm Weapon towered over all three of them. If one didn’t count his hair, Black Star only came up to her chin.

“Oh well,” Black Star continued, his grin never fading, “I think that’s a disadvantage I can handle!”

“Idiot,” Soul’s own smile broadened as he stepped forwards, extending a hand, “You’re just not cut out for this whole assassin gig.”

Black Star responded in kind, the two clasping hands, “Hey! ‘S not my fault the whole world can see my greatness from miles away! People need to update their definition of assassin!”

“Is that why you study the Assassin’s Rules so closely, only to flub them so hard?” Maka asked, eyes half lidded as she crossed her arms.

Black Star’s eyes narrowed, releasing Soul’s hand, “That’s the only way my opponents stand a chance, Maka. It’s only fair I give them a chance to run.”

“And that’s why you still haven’t collected a single Soul.”

“I’m sorry,” Black Star cupped his ear, angling it towards the Scythe Meister, “Who was it that reached ninety nine Souls, only to screw it up and have to start over?”

“Soul and I started over deliberately, Black Star,” she huffed.

“Oh, really?”

Maka felt a smug smile spread across her face as she opened her mouth to speak-

But before a word could leave her mouth, Soul stepped between them, hands in his pockets, but stance and expression stern.

“That’s enough, you two,” he warned, “Seriously, we don’t need a verbal spar right now.”

Black Star snorted, but stepped back, eyes closed with a smirk on his face, “Eh, you’re right. No need to waste my effort on someone as small as Maka. That’s just not a match worth my time.”

“Keep talking,” she retorted, “At the rate things are going, we’ll hit ninety nine Souls again before you even get one.

“You two need the head start,” the Dark Arm Meister declared, “Tsubaki and I’ll get all our Souls in one mission, you’ll see!”

“I’d say at this point it’s less a head start and more a victory lap,” Maka mused.

“What did I just say?” Soul asked, his tone growing irritated as he glowered at the two Meisters.

“… alright, fine,” Maka looked away, lips drawn in a thin line, “I’ll drop it.”

“Heh. Good to know you can see when you’re outmatched,” Black Star bared his teeth in another grin, “Come on, Tsubaki!”

“R-Right,” she stammered, giving another apologetic bow before following Black Star further into the Death Room.

Soul let out a long, slow breath as he watched their backs before returning his attention to his partner; Maka’s hands were clenched, her jaw tightening, clearly struggling to not unload another round of snark at the other Meister.

After a moment, he reached out, his hand clapping down on her shoulder; she jumped, snapping out of her frustrated haze, staring at Soul with her deep green eyes.

“Come on,” the Scythe smiled, “You know he’s not worth it.”

“… I know,” she sighed, “He’s just… so infuriating.

“You win basically every time this happens,” Soul noted, “You have a bigger verbal dictionary, and you’re usually right.

“And he never cops to it,” Maka uncrossed and recrossed her arms, biting at her lip, “I feel so bad for Tsubaki…”

“Hey, he’s not that bad,” he finally pulled his hand away, “He’s self centered, sure, but do you honestly think Tsubaki would stick around if he were actually that terrible of a partner?”

“That’s a hard question to answer, honestly.”

“Trust me, if Black Star were really that awful, she’d have ditched a long time ago,” Soul said. Then he gave a lazy grin, “Besides, you’re just mad he got the last word again.”

“Ugh,” Maka shook her head, “He just doesn’t give… getting the last word with him is impossible.”

“So why try when it isn’t worth it?” he asked, “Every time you rise to his bait, he wins.”

“It’s easier to think that than it is to actually act on it,” she grumbled.

“Let him have the petty victory. You’re the one who usually wins in the end,” With that, Soul started forwards, posture hunched and hands in his pockets once more, “Come on, let’s go.”

“… right,” Maka agreed, a small smile crossing her own features as she fell into step beside her Weapon.


The bookstore was largely silent as Luz perused the shelves of fantasy and manga, looking for something to catch her interest. A new series, a game manual, a game artbook – anything at all, really, would do.

But she couldn’t seem to get anything at all to hold her interest for more than a minute; she found her mind wandering almost constantly, even more than she usually did, and she just couldn’t bring herself to focus on anything other than her own internal fantasies.

Those, and her Soul Wavelength.

She’d jotted down the basic overview of Soul Wavelength and its basic concepts – Frequency, Amplitude, and Resonance. She had a rough understanding each of them – or at least, Luz thought she did – but she knew that she couldn’t get a thorough grip of them from just an hour spent chatting with Papi.

There were nuances to Soul Wavelength that he must have skipped in order to make it easier to grasp. And while she was grateful for the simplification, Luz wanted to know how it all worked. When they’d come to the Index after finishing their lunch, Luz had done what she never thought she would ever do, and made an immediate beeline for the textbooks.

There were entire schools surrounding the use of Soul Wavelengths; there had to be something regarding it available to the public.

And yet, to her incredible confusion and more than slightly mild disappointment, Luz had found nothing.

“You’d think,” she muttered under her breath, barely paying attention to the titles as she perused the shelves, “I’d be able to find at least one textbook by typing it into the computer…”

“Sorry, Luz,” Dad leaned back against a nearby shelf, “But it’s just not that simple. All of those textbooks are actually restricted to official DWMA campuses; you can’t get ahold of them if you aren’t in the actual system.”

¿En serio? ” she whined, turning her brown eyes upon him.

Si, en serio .”

“... please tell me there’s at least a good reason for it,” she all but begged.

He shrugged, “The Soul Wavelength is a fairly dangerous thing to just hand out to the general public. Knowing how to use it basically gives you some form of super powers, and just like how not everyone is responsible enough to own and use weapons, not everyone is responsible enough to have access to and use their Soul Wavelength – which is part of why the DWMA exists in the first place.”

“To teach people not just how to use the Soul Wavelength, but the responsibilities entailed in knowing how to use it?” she guessed.

“Bingo. It’s just like learning how to use any sort of weapon or martial art, Luz; there’s a lot of responsibilities that you have to take into account. If you don’t, you run the very real risk of getting people hurt,” he gave her a smile, “Plus, a lot of these things sink in a lot better when you actually have a teacher on hand to show you how it works and explain in detail. You could certainly learn from the textbooks, but they probably wouldn’t be able to give you quite the same understanding of both how it all works, and the ramifications involved as an actual mentor, you know?”

“Yeah,” Luz sighed, once again turning to the bookshelves, “That makes sense… I just… really wanna learn.”

Papi’s hand gently clapped down on her shoulder, “I know, kiddo. I know.”

She managed a smile, before returning to perusing the books.

Eventually, her eyes snapped to one particular book.

The Good Witch Azura.

Luz felt her heart lift a little more upon seeing the familiar bronzed skin and sky blue hair of the white robed Witch; the first novel was also one of the first books that she’d ever truly read through cover-to-cover that wasn’t strictly a picture book. Ever since, Luz had kept close track of the series, and they had always wound up being either a Christmas or birthday present every time the new one came out. Dad had even pre-ordered the fifth book for her for Christmas last year, and when she’d finally gotten it a few months later, she hadn’t been able to even think of anything else, reading it every chance she got – even going so far as to hide it beneath her desk when she should have been doing classwork.

“… you really do love that series, huh?”

“Yeah,” Luz agreed heartily, “I do.

“The author sure was brave, making her main character a Witch,” Dad stated, pulling the book out and staring at the cover, “Ooooh, special edition hardcover.”

Luz snickered, “I’ll wait until the whole series is out, thanks.”

He raised an eyebrow with a smirk, “Gonna extort me for the full boxed set?”

She crossed her arms, matching his smirk with one of her own, “You and I both know I don’t have to do any such thing.”

“Heh. Touché,” he slid the book back into its place on the shelf.

Slowly, her expression grew more thoughtful as she stared at the title; her smile faded, and she felt a question she had always been yearning to ask well up in her stomach before she could stop it, "… hey, Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“… you really think there’s no such thing as a Good Witch?”

The Death Scythe let out a low hum, lips pursed and eyes narrowed in thought, “You really are asking all the hard questions today, aren’t you?”

“Well…” she shrugged helplessly, “Call me an optimist. But I can’t help but wonder if Witches just… have a bad rap, you know?”

“Not exactly a popular opinion.”

“… I know,” she conceded, “Mom tried to get me not to use the first novel for my book report because of that; Witches don’t exactly have a good reputation… but even so…”

“You don’t want to think of anyone as inherently evil,” Papi stated, more than guessed.

“… yeah. That’s it exactly.”

He silently bobbed his head, once again leaning back against the bookshelf, obviously still pondering his answer.

“… we weren’t really taught much about Witches in school beyond ‘they exist,’” Luz ventured, “I’m assuming there’s a reason for that, too? Like with Soul Wavelength?”

“There is,” Dad confirmed, his expression growing a tad more serious, “The world is still feeling the shockwaves from the impact Witches had and still have on it, Luz. On the one hand, it would make sense to tell people in depth about what Witches really are… but on the other, telling people about a threat they can neither see nor really do anything to fight…”

“… you really think people are that afraid? Don’t you think people would be braver than that?” she asked.

“Well, you know the line, Luz. What did K tell J?”

“‘A person is smart,’” she rehearsed the quote as if she’d seen the movie yesterday, “‘People are stupid, panicky animals, and you know it.’”

Papi nodded, “And that’s exactly why Lord Death has decided to just let the subject be. It’s one thing to try and prepare people for something they can deal with – but Witches aren’t like natural disasters that can be overcome or pandemics that can be avoided or treated. They’re not something that can be dealt with by a normal person, just like those who have begun to transform into Kishin. The fear might get to people’s heads, and… well, I don’t wanna point fingers, but there’s a reason why everyone knows about what went down in Salem.”

She felt her brow crease, pursing her lips, scepticism dripping from her tone, “That still doesn’t seem like a very good solution. Especially since Salem’s Witch Trials were actually started and perpetuated by ignorance and superstition.”

“There are a lot of problems in the world that don’t have good solutions, Luz,” a smile crept back across his face, “Which is why the world needs people like you. We need people who keep looking for better solutions than the ones we have.”

It was like he always knew exactly what she needed to hear; a grin was crossing her face before even she realized it. She quickly put her patented Serious Face back on, though she couldn’t quite put the smile away entirely, “Thank you. But even so, don’t you think the deaths brought about by those trials could have been prevented if the people involved actually knew what to look for?”

The Death Scythe shook his head, ruefully, “I’m not convinced it would have stopped them. All the methods that allow one to actually find a Witch are tied to being able to use Soul Wavelength, and even then, most of them were only invented relatively recently – as in, within the last one or two centuries. Plus, not everyone was so eager to trust Lord Death back then; people were, and still are, afraid of the Grim Reaper, and honestly I’m not sure I blame them. So, they wanted to take matters into their own hands, even if there was no real way for them to do so.”

“… well, that sucks,” Luz crossed her arms, biting her lip.

“There is no real sure-fire way to find a Witch, Luz. No two Witches are the same, in terms of personality or magical ability. They’ve come up with all sorts of ways to hide and fight,” he turned his gaze to the ceiling, hands in his pockets, “As for your first question – is there such thing as a Good Witch?...”

He trailed off, leaving Luz to stew in the suspense.

“… I’ll be honest. I don’t actually know.”

She blinked, “… you don’t?”

“My first impulse is actually to say ‘no,’” he admitted, “But, I do have to acknowledge that as a Weapon and a Death Scythe for the DWMA, that impulse stems from a fairly strong bias; most of the Witches that the DWMA handles are ones that pose an actual threat to the world – Witches with a grudge against regular humans or against the DWMA itself, and act on it.

“All that being said, Lord Death has opted to leave certain Witches alone before… but in those cases they were either too weak or too young to really cause anyone any actual harm,” he shrugged once again, “It’s very difficult to find a Witch that isn’t actively making a nuisance of themselves. If there is a ‘Good’ Witch… it’s probably someone who’s settled down and shut themselves away from the world. Putting aside whatever grievances they had for something… more important, I guess.”


Abruptly, the pale, golden-eyed woman sneezed, causing her rickety stand to rattle. She pushed her silver hair out of her eyes, grumbling under her breath as she started the long, slow process of resetting all her knickknacks and junk.

“Dammit, I hate it when that happens… probably one of my exes…”


“Hmm…” Luz hummed, stuffing her hands in her pockets, “… it all sounds like it’s way more complicated than it has to be.”

“It probably is,” he conceded, still smiling, “But hey. Maybe you’ll be the one to actually find a Good Witch.”

Again, she found herself returning his smile with another grin. She opened her mouth, eager to continue-

Then a simple ringtone blared out.

Papi blinked, then dug in his pocket, pulling out his phone; his expression soured, and he hit the decline call button, and turned his gaze to Luz once more, “So, you find anything-”

As soon as he tried to ask, the phone went off again.

And again he declined the call.

“Did you find anything else, kiddo-?”

When the ringing went off again, Luz shifted closer, craning her neck to get a look at the name on the screen.

Sid Barret.

“Dammit, Sid,” Dad growled, this time jabbing the phone with his finger as he ended the call. He turned to Luz, “Sorry Luz. He knows he shouldn’t be calling me right now-”

Again, the phone rang.

She could practically hear the glass cracking as her father gave her a painstaking smile, “… Luz. Can I take this?”

She shrugged, “‘S no biggie. Another teacher?”

“Yeah. Sid knows I’m on vacation right now, so there’s really no reason he should be calling me.”

“Must be important then,” she gestured, “You can hang up after five minutes. I can find another book in that time.”

He nodded gratefully, then finally hit answer as Luz turned back to the shelves.

“Not a good time, Sid,” he said, tone low and warning; despite herself Luz couldn’t help but listen closely, straining her ears to catch the voice on the other end of the line.

She couldn’t quite make out the words, but the voice itself was deep and rough, but somehow pleasantly warm – strong, but gentle. Luz had to resist the urge to turn on her heel so she could listen more closely, instead fixing her eyes on the book directly in front of her.

“Just ‘Spirit,’ Sid,” he sighed, bringing a hand to his forehead and closing his eyes, “I’m off duty.”

He paused, listening for another moment as the voice responded.

“Kind of man you are, you mean?” Dad smirked lightly; Luz turned back to him, eyes wide and curiosity piqued.

“And what’s that supposed to mean, exactly?” he asked, tone suspicious.

Abruptly, Dad’s eyes snapped open, his expression one of horror and shock as he stared straight ahead, completely forgetting the world around him, “Stein did WHAT!?

The entire bookstore fell silent; Luz stuck her head out of the aisle, glancing about, and everyone in the store now seemed to be focused on the fantasy aisle, staring openly at her in a mix of bewilderment and concern. She gave a slight wave, chuckling weakly, “Sorry…”

She ducked back into the aisle, waving a hand in front of her father’s face and bringing a finger to her lips. He stared at her, bewildered, and slowly nodded, bringing a hand to his temple.

“… so you asked him to do that?” after a moment, he took a deep breath through his nose, exhaling through his mouth, “Okay. May I ask why?

He listened a little longer than before, the explanation evidently lengthy, then snorted, “You realize Naigus is going to kill you both, right? And this time she’ll make sure you stay dead?”

...

“Yeah, I know you’re partners, but trust me, been there, done that – there is nothing worse than having an angry partner, Sid, Weapon or Meister."

...

“… alright. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Does Lord Death know about this?... he sanctioned it?... you really do care about being honest, don’t you?"

...

“… yeah, yeah, I get it. Doesn’t mean I approve."

...

“Look, I’m with my daughter right now. Can this wait until I’m back at my hotel?... oh, you’re done?... okay. Take care of yourself, then, Sid,” he smirked, “At least long enough that I can see Naigus kick your ass when I get back... yeah, alright. Will do. See ya.”

With that, he ended the call, “Professor Sid says hi, Luz. I think you’d like each other; he’s a bit strict, but I don’t have any doubt you’d make him proud to be a teacher.”

She beamed… then tilted her head, curiosity once again getting the better of her, “¿Papi?

“Yes, Luz?”

“Who’s Stein?”

At this, the Death Scythe went rigid, the colour slowly draining from his face as he stared at his daughter. He opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again…

Then collapsed on his knees, raising his hands to the sides of his head, babbling incoherently under his breath.

Cautiously, Luz stepped away, poking her head out of the aisle once more, waving at the first staff member she saw.

“Um… can I get some help?” she called, pointing back at the figure of her father on the floor, who was now curled in the foetal position, “I think I broke my Dad…”


“Well, he knows,” the man grunted, blank eyes narrowing as he pocketed his phone.

“Hm.”

It was the only response he got from the figure typing at the computer, the dark rendering the screen absolutely blinding; the silhouette of the figure in the chair was a ghastly one, leaving the man to shudder, even if the relative cold of the room was no longer something that bothered him.

“… didn’t you have anything you wanted to say to him? It’s been a while since you two have been in the same room together.”

“No,” the voice was toneless, distracted, “I’ll have plenty of time to say everything I want to him soon enough. He is my keeper, after all. Once I’m back, Spirit will be spending less time at Lord Death’s side and more time keeping me in check.”

“That’s the other thing I was wondering about,” the man grumbled, “Didn’t you want to tell him you’re coming back?”

“Nah.”

Slowly, the figure stood, stretching out his limbs; his joints clicked one by one, from his elbows, wrists, and even fingers, to the vertebrae in his neck, everything popping back into place with a loud crack.

He turned, the light of the screen catching his glasses and illuminating the stitches that wove across his face as he gave a lazy, mildly amused smile, “I wanna see the look on his face when he sees me again.”

The man shook his head, appalled, “You really are a sadistic man, you know that?”

“Believe me, I’m well aware,” the figure took out a lighter, lighting a cigarette, “You know your jobs over the next two weeks?”

“I do.”

“Then get to it. The students should be getting their extra lessons any minute now, and I’m eager to get to work.”

“Alright. With any luck, I’ll be seeing you soon, Professor Stein.”

“They don’t need luck. They need to show what they’re capable of.”

“Too true.”

With that, Sid Barret turned, and pushed through the door, his lips pulled back, baring his teeth in a permanent snarl.


A simple platform of cobblestone some odd hundred feet across raised the gilded mirror away from the sand; it stood over twelve feet tall, easily towering over both the Meisters and the Weapons, gilded with golden trim. A candlestick was attached to both the top and either side of the mirror, and though each bore a lit candle, the candles didn’t seem to melt or burn down even in the slightest, no matter how long one stood staring at the flickering flame.

The surface of the mirror itself was absolutely flawless, bearing no marks or even a sign that it was a mirror at all; were it not for the mirror’s frame, one could walk towards it and find themselves wondering if the reflection within was really just that, or if they were staring at a true doppelgänger.

“… so,” Soul started, glancing at Black Star, “Were you summoned by Lord Death too?”

“So what if we were?” the Meister rebuffed, folding his hands behind his head.

“Just curious,” Soul shrugged, “We got pulled out of class for this.”

“You too?” Tsubaki asked.

“Yeah. Not that I’m complaining, but… well, hard not to wonder why, is all.”

“Well, we won’t find out why until we call him.”

Soul watched as Maka stepped forwards, finger raised to touch the mirror; with speed that never ceased to astound, she traced out the numbers, “Forty two, forty two, five six four, whenever you want to knock on Death’s door.”

As it always did, the mirror darkened, the ringtone blaring out with an echo that reverberated throughout the Death Room.

“Hello? Lord Death?” Maka called, “Are you there?”

The dark gave way to the familiar, jagged figure of the Grim Reaper, his mask glancing back and forth across the students.

Hello, hello!” he acknowledged, “Thanks for coming! What’s up?

“Scythe Meister Maka, and Demon Weapon Soul Eater reporting in,” Maka stood at full attention, expression serious as possible.

“Yeah, and Dark Arm Meister Black Star, too,” Black Star put his hands on his hips.

“And Tsubaki Nakatsukasa, Magic Dark Arm Weapon,” Tsubaki followed in turn.

“So, what’s up?” Soul finally asked, “What did you want with us?”

Well, let’s start one pair at a time,” Death began, turning his gaze upon the Dark Arm Meister, “This actually has more to do with you two, Black Star, Tsubaki.

“Is there something wrong, sir?” Tsubaki asked, eyes widening slightly.

Well, unfortunately, as a matter of fact there is,” he confirmed, “I have a little assignment for you to take on.

“Assignment?” Black Star raised an eyebrow.

Death raised a hand, the eyes of his mask narrowing, “Some extra lessons.

“E-Extra lessons!?” Tsubaki exclaimed, eyes going wide, “The ones meant for failing students!?”

Correct, Tsubaki,” Death nodded, “I trust that you are all aware of the purpose of the DWMA?

“Well, yeah,” Black Star’s eyes narrowed, “Our job is to gather Kishin Egg Souls. We protect the world by collecting the corrupted Souls of evil humans, and feeding them to our Weapons, in order to create a Death Scythe.”

Absolutely correct, Black Star. But do you know how many Souls you have actually managed to collect since your enrolment?” the Grim Reaper raised his hands, fingers and thumbs curled together to form perfect circles, “Exactly zero.

This time, neither Black Star nor Tsubaki answered; the Weapon cast her eyes to the ground, hands clasped behind her back and lips drawn tight, eyes wide. Black Star, however, erupted into raucous laughter, eyes squeezed shut and mouth wide open-

Only for it to be immediately silenced as Death’s hand escaped the mirror, larger than a patio stone and every bit as hard, cracking the Dark Arm Meister directly in the forehead; Black Star fell to the floor, collapsed in a heap and silent as the grave, eyes spinning in their sockets.

It isn’t something to laugh about, Chuckles,” the headmaster chided, his hand still smoking from the force of the impact.

“Okay, but then why are we here, Lord Death?” Maka asked.

“Yeah,” Soul concurred, “Didn’t you say that starting from scratch wasn’t gonna reflect on our grades?”

I did say that, and I meant it,” the Reaper confirmed, glancing at the Scythe and Meister pair, “Hence why I said that this concerns Black Star and Tsubaki more than you two. For you, Soul and Maka, this assignment is optional, though I think it would be perfect to get you two back on track and test how far you’ve come.

The pair glanced at each other, once again silently questioning each other.

“… I think at the very least, we can hear you out,” Maka declared, smiling.

“So what’cha got for us?” Soul inquired.

Splendid!” Death clapped his hands, waiting for Black Star to pull himself together and get back to his feet before continuing, “Now, Im sure that by now you have all heard about what happened to Professor Sid Barret?

Soul blinked, startled, “He was murdered last Friday, wasn’t he?”

I’m afraid it’s a little more complex than that, Soul. You see, Sid was murdered… but it seems he was also brought back to life.

“… I’m sorry?” Maka asked, perplexed.

After Sid’s murder, the Academy sealed off the room he was murdered in from the students and took his body into our hospital wing for an autopsy,” the Reaper explained, “The strange thing was that there was very little sign of a struggle despite the fact that he was clearly attacked from the front, the statuette embedded in his skull.

But soon afterwards, the body disappeared. Sid’s office and home were both thoroughly ransacked. And a number of reports have come in from DWMA students that detail some rather alarming sightings over the past few days. Sightings detailing a figure that bears more than a passing resemblance to Sid, following or even outright attacking them. If these sightings are accurate, then it would appear that whoever killed Sid was not content to let him rest in peace – if I had to wager a guess, Sid Barret has been revived as a zombie.

“… who would do something like that?” Tsubaki asked, eyes wide in abject horror.

That, I do not know, Tsubaki,” Death confessed, “It is at the very least evident that whoever did this knows what they are doing. There are not many people who can get into the DWMA undetected, or so effortlessly defeat a Three Star Meister like Sid – much less both.”

“So what does this have to do with any of us?” Maka asked, “And moreover, why is school still in session if someone that dangerous is running around? Shouldn’t everyone be staying home until this guy is caught?”

Not necessarily, Maka,” Death shook his head, “Though your concerns are valid and your instincts sharp, asking everyone to stay home is not necessarily the safest available option in this scenario, for a number of reasons; whoever did this made sure they stayed out of sight and avoided causing a large commotion. A large number of students moving to and fro through the campus will likely discourage the killer from making any overt moves, at least during the day. Moreover, it will be easier to keep track of the students if their attendance is marked in class each day – if they were to remain at home, regular checks would be necessary, and the Academy would not be able to react as readily if students were to go missing.

“… he makes a solid point,” Soul whistled, “You got a better handle on things than I gave you credit for, old man.”

My first priority is always the safety of my students, Soul Eater,” Death reminded, “If it weren’t, I wouldn’t be much of a headmaster at all, now would I?

The Scythe spared a glance for his Meister, watching as her shoulders fell slightly, her features slowly relaxing; he smirked, letting his head tilt and his headband cover his eyes.

“But what about Sid?” Tsubaki pressed, “You can’t honestly expect us to take on a Three Star Meister and win! Even without Naigus!”

Under normal circumstances, no,” the Reaper held his hands up, displaying the image of a wavering blue Soul, “But these are not normal circumstances. If our assumption is correct and Sid has been revived as a zombie, his Soul should still be weak from having died once already. If we wait too long, he will regain his full strength, and it will be much more difficult to put him down... but if you can find him before that happens, I am confident that you will be able to defeat him. From there, you should be able to find whoever killed him, and why.

“Sounds easy enough!” Black Star shouted, “You can count on me, sir! So we just gotta eliminate these guys?”

Not quite. Your mission is find Sid, defeat him, and through him track down his killer; from there, Three Star Weapons and Meisters will work to apprehend them.

“Pff. Lame,” he closed his eyes, crossing his arms, “I bet I could take on this creep no problem! I don’t need help from anybody!”

On that matter, I’m afraid we will have to agree to disagree, Black Star.

Even Black Star had to blink at the grave tone in the Reaper’s voice; he looked from the Meister, to the Dark Arm, the mask hiding any emotion that might have crossed the headmaster’s face.

There is a reason that, for Maka and Soul, this extra lesson is optional. For you two, Black Star and Tsubaki, this extra lesson is mandatory. And I’m sure you both already know why.

“… sir?” Tsubaki’s voice wavered, “You mean…”

The both of you are incredibly skilled as DWMA students go, especially considering your age. However, the fact that neither of you have successfully collected a single Kishin Egg Soul despite being enrolled as students for over a year has me very concerned.

“Really? That’s it?” Black Star cackled, “That’s what this is about? If I really wanted to, I could collect all those Souls at once! I could make Tsubaki a Death Scythe in a day if I wanted to!”

But that’s just the problem, now, isn’t it?” Death asked, “It certainly seems like you don’t want to.

The blue haired boy’s eyes narrowed, his smile wavering, “What was that?”

Black Star, no one disputes that you are one of the strongest Meisters in your year at the Academy. Possibly in the Academy in general. But you refuse to use your strength or skill seriously,” the chiding tone of Death’s voice allowed for no arguments, “Instead, you spend all your time on missions showboating and grandstanding. For all your bluster about being a great assassin and warrior, you have let your quarry escape every single time you have gone out on collection over the past year, forcing other Weapon and Meister pairs to pick up your slack. This, frankly, is unacceptable behaviour for a Meister of your calibre.

At this point, Black Star’s smile had completely faded, replaced by an expression of grim determination. His fists clenched, jaw tightening, “So that’s it? I’m being punished for being too big a man for any of the missions you give me?”

I would hardly call your behaviour that of a ‘big man.’ Especially considering the fact that your teachers are all at the end of their ropes with you.

“Hey! It’s not my fault they’re too scared of how big I am compared to them!” Black Star jabbed his thumb into his chest, grinning, “I wouldn’t want to live in my own shadow either-”

And that,” Death interrupted, “is exactly what I am talking about. You excel in every physical test, but every field operation you are sent on ends in failure, and you refuse to learn from it. You don’t seem to realize that in refusing to change your strategy or even your behaviour, you also refuse to make any sort of forward progress. A certain amount of pride can be healthy, Black Star, but you are letting your ego control your every action; how do you expect to make Tsubaki into a Death Scythe when you can’t even complete the collection of a single Kishin Egg Soul?

Black Star snorted, giving the headmaster a thumbs up, “With incredible flair and innate greatness!”

With all the speed of a bullwhip, the Reaper Chop once again came crashing down on Black Star’s forehead; he stumbled back in a daze, clutching his head with a pained groan before falling to the ground, staring up at the ceiling with his eyes spinning in their sockets.

“Whoa, slow down there, old man,” Soul crouched over Black Star’s fallen body squinting at the Meister’s pupils, “Black Star doesn’t have a lot of brain cells to work with as it is. I don’t think hitting him over the head is gonna help him learn humility.”

I suppose you have a point there,” slowly, the great brick the Reaper called a hand retracted, “But even I’m getting frustrated with his antics; I’ve seen a lot of students come and go, but only a select few were ever as proud as Black Star.

“… none of them… were ever… as big… as me,” Black Star managed, once again raising his hand, thumb pointed towards the sky.

“Dude, he’s gonna crack your skull open at this rate,” Soul deadpanned, gripping him by the shoulders and carefully hauling the Dark Arm Meister to his feet, “Just keep your mouth shut until we’re out of here, will ya?”

“No… promises,” Black Star slurred, eyes following unseen images, “Especially… with all the other… Black Stars… cheering me on…”

“You really are hopeless,” Maka sighed, bringing a hand to her forehead.

“… um… sir, if I may,” Tsubaki raised a hand, getting the Reaper’s attention, “I know Black Star is… unorthodox as Meisters go, but he’s always been an excellent partner to me. I know that if we were to really try, we could really do some big things as Meister and Weapon.”

She turned to her partner, giving him a gentle smile, even as he gradually returned to reality, “Please. Don’t be so harsh on him. He really is the best partner I could have asked for.”

… unfortunately, Tsubaki, this is where I must level some criticism at you, as well,” Death spoke, almost mournfully, as if he didn’t want to begin this next lecture.

“… what do you mean?” she asked, tone apprehensive.

You are an excellent student, Tsubaki. You excel in every physical test, much like Black Star does, and your tests and written classwork are impeccable,” he cast a significant glance to Black Star as the boy slowly came back down to earth, “But Black Star is not the only limiting factor in regards to your shared performance in the field. I appreciate the amount of patience you have had with him – I doubt there are any other Weapons in the Academy who could realistically work with Black Star – but there should be a limit to the patience you are willing to offer him.

“I’m… not sure I understand,” she admitted.

You are quick to defend him in regards to his performance and behaviour, despite the impact he has had on your own performance. You are content to let him lead in every mission, opting to merely advise him rather than attempt to help make decisions. Oftentimes you are content to let your opinion go unheard for the purpose of keeping your partner happy.

He turned to the other Weapon and Meister pair, “Take a look at Maka and Soul. They are not perfect partners by any means – no teens ever are,” he quickly added, seeing Soul frown deeply and Maka bristle with indignant rage, “But Maka’s bookish, studious nature and Soul’s laid back attitude bring each other into balance. They have the capacity to act independently of each other when the situation calls for it, but by and large, they make their decisions together. They are honest with each other, and neither one attempts to, or allows the other to dominate their relationship.

By comparison, you allow Black Star to do as he pleases, regardless of the situation at hand. Rather than acting as a healthily restraining influence on him, you have been enabling his ego, allowing it to run rampant despite the damage it is doing to the both of you. Put simply, Tsubaki, Maka and Soul are partners; by comparison, your relationship with Black Star is more akin to that of an advisor and a King. You constantly offer him advice, but you act as if the decision ultimately falls to him, and your voice holds no real weight. I think you know as well as I do that isn’t how a partner is supposed to behave.

“… I…” Tsubaki shifted from foot to foot, hands wringing behind her back as she squirmed in place; her eyes were wide and downcast, her jaw working anxiously as she bit at her lip, struggling to find the words…

All the while, Maka and Soul looked on, equally solemn.

“… hey, Death.”

Once again, all eyes were on Black Star. His fists clenched and unclenched restlessly, as if seeking some weapon. His eyes had shifted in colour, from a deep sea green to a sky blue, brows furrowed and jaw set.

“… throw all the shade you want at me. I’m a big man. I can take it,” he hissed, “But don’t you dare say Tsubaki isn’t good enough to be my partner. She’s my co-star, damn it; she’s the one I’m gonna make into a Death Scythe.”

The two stared each other down, as if waiting for the other to flinch; as usual, Death’s mask remained impassive, betraying no emotion, while the rest of the room stared in shock at Black Star and his cold, almost quiet anger. A furious Black Star was certainly no surprise… but a Black Star that exhibited that anger with anything other than furious shouting and collateral damage?

It was uncanny. Frightening, even. Maka had taken a step back, aghast at the boy she had previously been trading jabs with; Soul studied him closely, uncertain, but ready to step in if needed.

The only person who dared to step towards him was Tsubaki herself.

Wordlessly, she placed a hand on his shoulder, a gentle smile on her lips as he glanced up at her; a second passed, with only a flicker of change on their faces signalling the silent exchange.

Slowly, Black Star’s body relaxed, a low breath escaping his lungs. His eyes fell closed, and when they opened once more, they had returned to their normal dark green.

Have you calmed down now, Black Star?” the headmaster inquired.

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled, “It’s not worth getting angry over an insult. I’m bigger than that.”

Good. Because I unfortunately have one last piece of bad news,” Death raised a hand once more, turning his attention to both the Meister and the Magic Dark Arm, “Black Star, Tsubaki. If you fail this lesson, you are both going to be removed from the Weapon and Meister program. This is your last chance to prove that you can perform well both as partners, and as a Weapon and Meister in general. Do you understand?

Finally, Black Star’s smile returned, “What, is that supposed to scare us? If you want to scare a guy as big as me, you’re gonna have to try a Hell of a lot harder than that, Grim Reaper.”

“Black Star and I are ready for this, Lord Death,” Tsubaki assured, tone and expression both resolute, “I promise, we won’t fail this time. We won’t waste this last chance.”

… I’m glad to see you both so confident,” the Reaper stated sincerely, “Just don’t let it get to your heads.

And you, Maka, Soul? Do you accept this mission as well?

“Of course,” Maka nodded.

“You really need to ask?” Soul chuckled.

Very well. Then I will outline your parameters,” the Reaper held up two fingers, “We estimate that Sid will have returned to full strength in two weeks’ time; thus, you have two weeks to complete your assignment. You are excused from all regular classes for the duration – I want you to focus all of your efforts on defeating Sid and tracking down his killer. I recommend you begin your search in Death City itself, as I very much doubt that either of them will have gone far.

“Duly noted,” Soul acknowledged.

The Reaper bobbed his head back and forth, swaying slightly, “I wish you all the best of luck.

“Keep your luck,” Black Star scoffed, “If you’re gonna wish anyone luck, give it to Maka.”

“We’ll see who needs luck,” Maka muttered, then straightened, “Is that all, Lord Death?”

Yes, that about sums it up. I bid you all goodbye.

With that, the mirror went dark, and returned to its normal reflection.

“Welp, I guess we better get started,” Soul sighed, “Least it’s better than listening to our substitute.”

“We’ll start by looking into some of those reports Lord Death mentioned,” Maka started, taking out her notebook and flipping to a blank page, jotting down the basis of a plan, “With any luck, we might be able to see if any of the sightings took place in specific parts of the city; if they overlap at all, we just might have a good place to start looking.”

“It certainly sounds like a good idea,” Tsubaki agreed, “Maybe we should also check the hospital wing and Sid’s house? Who knows, maybe Sid left something behind.”

“Not likely, but I guess it can’t hurt,” Maka pursed her lips, “Anything that can help us track him down would help a lot.”

Black Star said nothing, merely turning on his heel and starting towards the guillotine gates, “Come on, Tsubaki. Standing around planning isn’t gonna get us anywhere; we gotta get a move on.”

“Right! Coming!”

“Don’t act out on your own!” Maka shouted after them, “Our chances of pulling this off improve immensely as long as we work together.”

“Then don’t fall behind and don’t get in my way,” Black Star shot back, never once looking back as he continued on.

Maka let out a growl, but quickly stifled it, instead pocketing her notes once again, “I’m already wondering if we’ve bitten off more than we can chew…”

“Hey, we can’t exactly let them get expelled, now can we?” Soul asked with a slight smile, once more stuffing his hands in his pockets.

“No,” she confessed, “but that doesn’t mean I’m looking forwards to being saddled with Black Star’s ego for the next two weeks.”

“Then let’s get this wrapped up.”

“… right.”

With that, the two started down the gates.

“… this means Luz’s lessons will need to be put off… damn it…”

To his credit, Soul’s ear’s only gently twitched as he heard Maka’s faint whisper.

Notes:

The translation for Luz's and Spirit's Spanish:

¿En serio?

"Seriously?"

---

Si, en serio.

"Yep, seriously."

Another thank you to maho_kat on Archive of Our Own, for all her help with the translations!

Man, this wait for the Boiling Isles just keeps getting longer and longer, huh?... well, I hope Luz spending time with Spirit makes up for it. I'm really loving their dynamic, personally.

Thanks for giving this a read, everyone, and thank you so much for your patience and understanding with me. Let me know what you think! I hope you all enjoyed the fifth chapter of Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance!

Chapter 6: Late Night Studies

Notes:

I don't own Soul Eater or Owl House.

If I did, I would be trying to fund an official Brotherhood style remake of Soul Eater.

Nor do I own the song Resonance. Credit for this translation of Resonance's lyrics goes to Give Heart Records/NateWantstoBattle.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

¿Papi? Are you sure you’re okay?”

Spirit let out a low breath, giving Luz a smile as he folded his hands in his lap, leaning back in the comfortable chair. They sat across from each other in the living room, the window behind the Death Scythe allowing what little remained of the sunset to stream into the room with a rich orange glow, illuminating the small bookshelf beside the fireplace behind his daughter.

After he’d finally managed to compose himself enough to stand again in the book store, the trip to take Luz home had been an unusually quiet affair; she hadn’t turned on the radio or put on any music. She just kept giving him the same concerned look, over and over again – and really, he wasn’t in any position to blame her for it.

He had, after all, had a complete nervous breakdown in the middle of a bookstore.

“I’m fine, Luz,” he assured, “Really. I just… had some nasty flashbacks is all.”

“From a name?” she asked, concern still lacing her words.

“That name isn’t a particularly pleasant one for him, Mija.

Luz craned her neck as Camila entered the room, carrying a trio of mugs; each of the hot cocoas was topped with a mix of foam and spice. The aroma, somewhere between sweet and bitter with the rich shadow of dark chocolate, more than enough to soothe their frayed nerves, Spirit feeling a smile stretch across his face as Luz’s eyes lit up with delight.

The doctor gently set each mug down on the coffee table before walking away, and carrying over a wooden chair from the dining table nearby.

“I can take that,” Spirit rose to his feet.

“No,” Camila stated firmly, setting the chair down so that she was facing both of them, “You’re the guest, Spirit. There’s no reason for you to not have a nice chair while you’re here.”

“What about me?” Luz squirmed, trying to put her leg rest back down into the chair so she could stand, “I live here. I can take the kitchen chair. I can’t really sit still anyways.”

Camila gave a wry smile as she sat down, crossing her legs before picking up her own mug of cocoa, taking a sip, “From where I’m sitting, you seem pretty comfortable right where you are, Luz. Just stay where you are.”

With that, Luz settled down, finally managing to put down her leg rest so she could reach her mug, “If you’re sure.”

In turn, the Death Scythe sat back down, gratefully taking a sip from his cup; sweet and bitter warmth nearly burnt his lips and tongue, but the sensation was so soothing he couldn’t help but take another. He let out a contented sigh, settling back and closing his eyes as a comfortable numbness overtook him.

“It sounds like you two had quite a day,” Camila began, “Did you enjoy yourselves?”

“I did!” Luz piped up.

“We spent an embarrassing amount of time trying to get my rental,” Spirit confessed with a chuckle, “But yeah. I’d say today’s been a good day on the whole.”

Bien,” Camila nodded, “I’m glad to hear it.”

“I’m surprised you’re home this early, Mom,” Luz wiped her mouth, getting rid of the foam moustache that had wrapped around her upper lip, “Did your shift end early?”

“Yes. Today actually went fairly smoothly, for once,” she nodded, “But can you say the same about your homework, Luz?”

At this, Luz bit her lip, tapping her fingers together, the very picture of the word contrite, “… uuuuuh…”

“You were supposed to have it all done so I could drop it off today,” Camila reminded, chiding, “I know we went to pick up Spirit, but that doesn’t mean your homework and studies suddenly disappear.”

Their daughter slumped, deflated, “… Lo sé…

“Hey, there can’t be that much left, can there?” Spirit asked, “It is the end of the school year, and I trust you’ve been working hard to get it done?”

Luz raised her head, “… well, there’s a couple of assignments left…”

“Do you think you could get them done by the end of the night?”

She glanced at the clock, frowning, “… well, if I were to start now, then… maybe?”

“Why don’t you see how far you can get?” he suggested, “Work on it for an hour or so, then take a break. I’ll still be here when you’re done.”

“Well…” she shifted in her chair, obviously debating to herself, if the frown on her face was any indication. She pursed her lips, obviously not actually wanting to go do her homework…

“Your father will be here for the full two weeks, Luz,” Camila reminded, “The more you get done now, the more time you will be able to spend with him when you aren’t studying.”

“… hard to argue with that logic,” she finally sighed, pushing herself up.

“Just let me know if you need any help, okay?” he smiled, “I can probably help you with just about anything you’re having trouble on.”

Luz gave a smile, “I will, Papi. Thank you.”

With that, she picked up her mug, and left the room, walking slowly up the steps to her room as to not spill any of the hot cocoa.

Once again, Spirit’s eyes closed as his smile slipped from his face, brow creasing as his mouth drew itself into a thin line.

“… you’re good at hiding your distress,” Camila noted, “I’m not sure if that’s a good thing.”

“Right now it is,” he decided, bringing his hands up to rub his eyes, “It’s bad enough Luz saw me collapse in the middle of the bookstore babbling nonsense. I don’t need her seeing me like this, too.”

“I think I have a good idea of what happened, but I’d just like to confirm,” the doctor stated, once again sipping from her cup, “What exactly was it that caused such an overt reaction from you, Spirit?”

Another deep breath as he grit his teeth, trying to keep his heart rate from once again skyrocketing. Slowly he opened his eyes, staring down into the foam of his mug, trying to focus on the warmth flowing into him through his hands.

“… Stein,” he finally admitted, “Luz asked me about Stein.”

It was Camila’s turn to let out a deep sigh of her own, carefully setting her mug down on the coffee table, “I thought so. I can hardly blame you for having that kind of reaction, given your history with him; I only knew him through my training as a nurse, and I found him absolutely dreadful.”

“… you don’t know the half of it,” Spirit muttered, taking a large swallow of the cocoa, paying no heed as it seared his mouth.

“How did she even learn his name?” Camila asked, “I certainly never mentioned him to her.”

“She overheard me talking to Sid on the phone. Sid needed to tell me something, and… well, he came up,” Spirit shrugged, helpless, “‘s really not anyone’s fault. I just… forgot, I guess. I should’ve seen her asking about a name she’d never heard before; you know how curious she is.”

“She should also know not to pry into people’s lives,” Camila stated.

“Come on, Camila, Luz didn’t do anything wrong,” he gestured up the stairs to where their daughter had wandered, “It’s not like she knew asking about him would cause that. It’s only natural to ask about what you don’t know, and… honestly, I thought I was further along in being able to handle those memories a little better.”

“… trauma is rarely so deftly handled, Spirit,” she gave him a sad smile, though her tone remained firm, “Even for a Death Scythe, there are some things that do not heal easily.”

“… yeah. I know,” he agreed.

A moment of silence passed between them.

“… it’s not that I hate Stein, Camila – I really don’t,” he set the mug down, folding his hands in his lap once more, “I spent the better part of six years as his partner. We shared an apartment; we lived together, ate together, Hell, we even shared a room for two years before we could afford a place big enough to have more than one bedroom. In all that time, he… well, he definitely gave me some funny looks, but there was a reason I was chosen to reign him in. He was almost never overtly aggressive with me the way he was with others.”

“And yet, that doesn’t change what he did to you,” she pointed out, “He experimented on you in your sleep. You still have every incision mark he made over the course of those six years before you switched partners.”

“The only reason I even know about those is because of Makoto,” Spirit rubbed at his temples, “She pointed them out to me soon after we got together. It was the main reason she got me away from him in the first place… she never did like that I was stuck looking after a lunatic.”

She crossed her arms, “Well, I can’t say I disagree with her assessment.”

“Someone had to do it-”

“I don’t want to hear it.”

Spirit heard more than felt his mouth snap shut, his teeth making an audible click as his jaw swiftly closed; the severity of her words, along with her expression were more than enough of an argument, though she continued regardless.

“I don’t care how great a Meister Stein was or is, Spirit. I agree that he at least deserved to have someone reach out to him as a friend – however, I don’t believe that there was any need for you to put your physical safety on the line just to keep him in check. Even at Death’s behest as a child.”

The Death Scythe managed to meet her gaze, gauging her; somehow, the glasses only added to the intensity of her eyes, and for a moment, he was taken back to those nights fifteen years ago. It had been that exact intensity that had drawn him to her, even after he’d gotten out of that hospital bed.

He managed a bittersweet smile, pushing past the beckoning nostalgia, knowing it would only lead to regret, “Never gonna be able to change your mind, am I?”

“Not on them, no.”

“I still think you’re a little harsh on my boss,” the redhead confessed, picking up the mug again, “Lord Death's doing his best with what he’s got.”

“He asks too much of people who are too young. You and Maka among them.”

“I wouldn’t have let Maka enrol in the DWMA if I weren’t sure it was the best course of action for her,” he raised a finger, his smile becoming more genuine, “She’s a tough kid. And bookish as she is, I just don’t think she’d be content as a strict academic. She’d be too constrained.”

The doctor frowned, “She would be safer if you hadn’t let her.”

“But she wouldn’t be happy.”

A poignant silence held between the two of them; Spirit let his eyes fall once more into his mug, idly swirling the cocoa before taking another large swallow, not wanting to let it cool.

“… so you would rather let your daughter risk life and limb than see her upset?” the doctor asked.

He finished the contents of his mug, setting it down as he spoke, “Legal custody aside, Camila… Maka has enough reasons to hate me. I destroyed my relationship with her, and I…”

He trailed off, struggling to find the words.

She did not speak; she sat, eyes fixed upon him, wordlessly waiting for him to finish.

“… I already have a tendency to be… overbearing with her,” he finally continued, “If I were to pull her from the program… I genuinely think she’d despise me. And I’m not sure that I could handle that.”

“… so you let her be a soldier?” she queried pointedly.

He felt his smile widen a little more, “I let her be a hero.”

Once again, that uneasy silence, broken only by the ticking of the antique clock on the wall.

“… I think… the main reason that Lord Death runs the DWMA the way he does… is because it’s easier to teach kids the abilities and responsibilities of their Soul Wavelength than it is to teach adults,” he let his mind flow, words coming to him unbidden, “It’s not impossible to teach adults, mind you, but… it’s hard to learn. And Soul Wavelength is not something you want to be teaching to just anyone.”

“… I know,” Camila conceded, staring into the foam of her own mug, “You don’t have to have a Kishin Egg for a Soul to be evil… and even immature good, in its own way…”

“… can be every bit as dangerous as genuine evil,” he nodded, “Adults usually need to unlearn and relearn so much just to start down the path of being a Weapon or Meister. Like I said, it’s not impossible. Oftentimes, it’s worth it. But it’s easier to train Weapons and Meisters who are both strong, and have a thorough understanding of why they have that strength and what they should use it for, if they start when they’re kids.”

“… but the DWMA doesn’t just have them learning, does it?”

Once again, steel had entered Camila’s voice, hard and uncompromising.

“… no,” he acknowledged, “You’re right about that, Camila. We do send them out on collection.”

“And you already know my thoughts about that,” she stated, more to herself than to him, tone somewhat muted as she raised the mug, and took another sip.

This time, he didn't answer.

“... I don’t want Luz to get hurt, Spirit. I know how happy the DWMA might make her,” she raised her head, pushing her glasses back up the bridge of her nose, “But… no amount of happiness is worth the possibility of losing her. In my line of work, I see families fall apart because of a risk taken all too often. I will not make that gamble with our daughter.”

“… I know, Camila,” he intoned, breathing deep as he once again looked to the stairs.

“I know.”


Luz settled into her chair, trying to focus on what was left of her schoolwork.

All the essays were finished, albeit in boring, black and white text, despite her greatest temptation to used coloured paper and add glitter and artwork to better demonstrate her point; all her questionnaires were filled out, and she’d double checked her answers… and avoided doodling in the margins. Even her science labs were done, even if she’d had to improvise some of them with whatever she could find in the kitchen.

All that was left were her math worksheets.

She understood addition and subtraction. Luz could even do a certain amount of multiplication and division in her head.

But this?

With all the brackets and decimals and funny looking checkmarks?

“… I may as well be trying to read Ancient Greek,” she murmured, staring at the first question with absolutely no idea of where to start.

Luz didn't feel like getting out her textbook – with how thick and dry it was, she would be lost in the desert of fractions and XYZ equations, spinning her wheels and going figuratively nowhere. And if she got on the internet to look up the formulas, she knew she would swiftly get distracted, and forget all about the math until it was time for Dad to go home.

And yet, for the life of her, she couldn’t remember what the first step was.

“… maybe I should ask Dad to walk me through this…”

She paused, thinking over her options once again.

“… I’ll just take a break,” she decided, pushing the worksheets aside and flipping up the screen of her laptop, “I could use some cute cat videos right about now.”

The screen came to life as she tapped her keyboard, quickly typing in her password – she always meant to switch it from 600D-W1TC#-LUZUR4 to something more complicated, but never managed to get around to it – and pulling up the browser. She smiled, ready to let her fingers take her where they may…

Then she frowned.

She looked back at her door, which remained firmly closed; if she strained her ears, she could hear Mami and Papi, still talking, though their voices were too far away for her to make out any noise.

“… looking him up couldn’t do any harm, could it?” she asked aloud, turning once again to her computer.

No answer.

Apprehension rose in her chest like a snake sinking its fangs into her heart as she typed in the name.

“Stein,” she repeated, trying to guess at its spelling based on its sound.

As soon as she hit enter, she felt her face scrunch in disgust, appalled as she stared at a Wikipedia article for German beer mugs.

“Stupid internet,” the Latina muttered, clearing the search bar, “This is why we can’t have nice things…”

With a sigh, Luz leaned back in her chair, steepling her hands and pursing her lips, staring up at the ceiling.

“Okay… so we know this ‘Stein’ guy is someone Papi knows…” she spoke, “Maybe he was with the DWMA?...”

This new hypothesis in mind, she leaned forwards in her chair, once again letting her fingers tap across the keyboard, “Stein Death Weapon Meister Academy.”

This time, her results were more promising.

“… Doctor Franken Stein,” Luz read aloud, staring at the image the internet presented to her.

The first word that came to mind for the girl was ‘dishevelled.’ With a messy head of hair, for a moment Luz thought she was staring at a monochrome image; it was only when she saw the pale grey-green of his eyes behind his glasses that she realized his hair and skin were grey, his pallor outright deathly. He held a cigarette between his teeth, lips upturned in a slight smile she assumed was supposed to be friendly, but only came off as thoroughly unnerving. Everything about him, his stance, the position of his shoulders beneath his haphazardly stitched lab coat and sweater, even his half lidded eyes seemed to scream of a subtle aggression, as if he wanted to reach out from his photo and hurt whoever dared to meet his gaze.

Luz’s blood ran cold as her eyes fixed on the gigantic screw that embedded itself all the way through his skull, its head sticking out of his left side, the tip emerging from his right; she followed the ghastly scar that ran from his forehead down between his eyes, and then veered to the left across his cheek, thin lines of barely visible black thread running across it at regular intervals, leaving the tanned teen to wonder what it was all for. It seemed as if it were all intended to somehow hold him together, his head split open and then put back together with whatever was on hand…

“… okay. You’re creepy,” she managed a friendly smile, as if hoping to placate the figure in the photo, “But maybe you’re not actually so bad.”

She clicked on the article and slowly scrolled down the page, “Thirty eight years old… skipped a grade… graduated from the DWMA at seventeen… got his first PhD and research doctorate by nineteen, wow…

She bit her lip as she continued down, squinting, “Not much about his life beyond that, though, not even his scientific career… pretty bare bones.

“Maybe that’s deliberate?... the DWMA seems to really like keeping its secrets…” Luz backed out of the article, clicking on the photo and studying it closely, despite her misgivings; normally, she was all for creepy, having spent many a late night staying up reading scary stories, both by flashlight and on her phone beneath the covers.

Compared to some of the things she had read and seen, Stein – if this really was the Stein Dad had mentioned – was more than a little understated… and yet, somehow, his mere photo managed to instil something greater than anything her hunts for nightmare fuel had ever managed to procure.

Something deep. Something raw.

“… I’m probably just freaked out,” Luz tried to assure herself with a weak chuckle, “I haven’t even met him yet. It’s not good to judge off a picture… even if Dad’s reaction was…”

She trailed off, struggling to find the words…

Then her phone went off.

Two become one, Our souls have been connected-!”

She jumped with a yelp, her chair tipping back and dumping her out onto the floor; her eyes spun as her head ached, and she was only distantly aware of her parents’ calls.

¿Mija? ¿Estas bien?

S-Sí, Mami,” she groaned, gripping the back of her head and pushing herself up into a sitting position, “Just… fell out of my chair… ow…”

“You sure you’re okay, Luz?” Dad asked.

“I’m fine!” she gave a thumbs up, despite the fact that she was still the only one in the room, “I’m fine. Just… gotta get up.”

The lyrics rang in her ears as she got to her feet, carefully resetting her chair; she settled into the rhythm, letting her fingers drum to the quick paced beat, despite having missed some of the words.

“Locking eyes, becoming intertwined,

“You’ll be sharing your fate with mine!

“Side by side, we’ll battle through the night,

“And soon enough we’ll find our way!”

Dios mio,” Luz sighed contentedly over the music, picking up her phone, “I love Resonance.”

As much as she wanted to listen to the rest of the song, she knew who was calling; she could listen later.

Without even looking at the screen, she answered, and held her phone to her ear.


Hey Maka!

“Hey Luz,” Maka huffed, the chill night air causing her breath to steam, “Am I interrupting something?”

She walked alongside her Weapon, Soul easily matching her stride as they crept across the cobblestone. It was always like this in Death City – the desert air was always unbearably hot during the day, but frigid during the night, sometimes to the point of frost forming on the rooftops. Even around the longest days of the year, Maka needed her longcoat just to keep herself from shivering in the cold of the short nights.

Just a little bit of math homework. Stupid algebra…

“Everything in the brackets first,” Maka stated automatically, not even thinking.

… sorry?

“For algebra,” she explained with a slight smile, “You got a pen?”

I have my computer.

“Then let’s turn this into a couple easy steps; you might want to write this down.

Okay.

“Step one: Break it down into smaller equations. Every equation inside the brackets comes first. Step two: If there are multiple mathematic symbols, multiplication and division come before addition and subtraction. Step three: Once you solve all the equations in the brackets, complete the rest of the equation. Once again, multiplication and division come before addition and subtraction.”

For a long moment, Luz said nothing; the only sound on the line was that of the clicks of a keyboard, and then for a moment, nothing.

“Luz? You still there?”

Sorry, was trying out an equation… you are way too good at this kind of thing, Maka,” Luz remarked, “I’d never have remembered that on my own.

“It really looks more intimidating than it actually is,” Maka chuckled, “It’s really more about breaking it down into more basic steps than anything else. It’s not that the math is that hard, it’s that there’s a lot of it.”

No kidding. Wish my teachers explained it better though…” there was a wistful sigh, before a little bit of pep returned to Luz’s voice, “Oh, well. Least I know what I’m doing now, kinda.

Maka risked a glance at Soul; aside from his footsteps, he was silent, hands in his pockets as he meandered forwards, shoulders hunched in his usual slouch. His eyes were hidden beneath his brow, but his lips were curled in an expression the Meister couldn’t quite place.

She felt her own lips twist and pull, trying to avoid betraying her nervousness. Maka hadn’t wanted to call Luz while Soul was in earshot, but they needed to spend as much time as possible searching for Sid – which meant getting this out of the way as soon as she could…

So what’s up, Maka?” Luz asked, curious, snapping Maka out of her reverie, “You’re not usually the one calling me.

The Meister shook her head, taking a breath to steady herself, “… I just wanted to let you know that something’s come up. We’ll have to put off your lessons for at least a week – maybe even two.”

… oh.

Maka felt her jaw clench, screwing her eyes shut to keep herself from doubling over at the familiar stab of guilt; one word– no, not even a word, a single vocalization was enough for her to feel Luz’s sudden emotional plummet, all the cheer in her voice suddenly replaced with a sobering solemnness.

She said nothing, waiting for her half sister to fully process her words…

… is it… another mission?” Luz’s tone was hopeful, but it failed to disguise the undercurrent of disappointment and sadness, “Are you starting to collect Souls again?

“Not yet, no,” she tugged at her glove with her teeth, trying to get it tight as she could, “… one of the teachers at the DWMA was murdered a few days ago.”

... oh…

It was odd how the same basic sound could convey such different emotions – before, it was a distinct sound of sorrow. But now, Luz’s voice carried something entirely different – a sudden, shocked clarity, tinged with no small amount of abject horror.

“Soul and I have been paired up with another Weapon and Meister pair for this mission,” Maka explained, keeping her tone brisk, “This isn’t like most missions where we can afford some level of free time and leniency – this isn’t the typical Kishin Egg Collection. We’ve been given two weeks to track down the killer, and we need to dedicate all the time we have to finding them-”

Maka, aren’t the teachers at the DWMA all really strong? Like Papi?” there was more than a little bit of concern in Luz’s voice.

“… Dad is stronger than all of the other teachers, Luz,” she huffed, stifling the urge to add scathing sarcasm, “But they’re all very strong, yes.”

… then why are they sending you after someone that killed one of them?

“We won’t be dealing with the killer ourselves – not if everything goes according to plan,” Maka assured, “We’ll just be trying to track the killer down. After we’ve found them, Three Star Weapons and Meisters will take it from there.”

… okay.

Luz didn’t sound as though her worries were put to rest; if anything, she sounded entirely unconvinced of Maka’s safety, her voice tiny, even frightened.

The Meister’s stomach twisted, once again churning with conflicting emotions. On the one hand, she didn’t want Luz to worry… but on the other, it was somehow comforting, knowing how much Luz genuinely cared for her.

“I’ll be okay, Luz. I’m not going to be doing anything dangerous – it’s just investigation, nothing more than that. We’re not going to be fighting anyone we’re not able to handle.”

It took a moment for Luz to respond this time, clearly struggling to keep herself from pursuing the issue further. Instead, she took a deep breath, “... can I ask who it is that… died?

“… Professor Sid,” Maka sighed, a wave of melancholy washing over her as she once again closed her eyes. The deep-skinned tattooed man had been a strict instructor, but a kind, honest man who did his best to help his students thrive – it was hard to imagine why anyone would want to kill him.

... Sid? As in… Sid Barret?

Maka’s eyes snapped back open at Luz’s confused tone, a chill running through her, “… yeah…?”

... you said he was murdered several days ago, right?” the elder sibling asked.

“His body was found on Friday,” Maka confirmed, “Luz, how do you know Sid?”

… that doesn’t make any sense, Maka. He called Dad earlier today.

The chill turned to a cold shock, making her stagger and nearly trip over the cobbles; she stared straight forwards, eyes unfocused, incredulous, “… he called Dad?

Yeah. I didn’t hear most of what he was saying, but it sounded important. Dad said something about someone named Naigus getting angry and making sure he would “stay dead this time.”

“… Lord Death said he was turned into a zombie,” Maka murmured.

Wait, he’s a zombie?” her half sister queried.

“Luz,” Maka brought herself back into focus, brow creasing as her mind raced, “Did you manage to catch anything else from Sid’s conversation with Dad?”

‘Naigus’ anger when she came to fetch us,’ the Scythe wielder thought, ‘“Stay dead this time.” Sending students after Sid instead of actual DWMA faculty… what am I missing here?’

… not all that much, to be honest,” Luz confessed, “But there was one other name that came up. Has Dad ever told you about a guy named ‘Stein’?

Maka’s lips twisted into a grimace as she closed her eyes, rubbing at her temple, “… the name sounds somewhat familiar, but I don’t think I ever heard it from Dad specifically.”

He freaked out when I asked him about it. Like, he really lost it – not yelling but… he kinda curled up on the floor in a ball and babbled to himself.

“That’s not exactly hard to do, if you know how,” she grumbled, mind drifting back to every time Dad made a fool of himself trying to ‘fix’ their relationship over the past month alone, a searing spike of spite embedding itself in her stomach.

Maka, this is serious,” Luz hissed, for the first time actually sounding angry, “He was scared out of his mind by a name. I have never seen him like that; I know you’re mad at him, but even you have to admit that’s not normal considering what he’s probably seen as a Death Scythe.

Maka grit her teeth, then forced herself to take a deep breath; whatever the Meister’s feelings towards their father, no matter how badly she wanted to write him off as a good-for-nothing, Luz was right about one thing at the very least.

“… okay, you make a good point,” she acquiesced, “That’s not normal…”

None of this is…” Luz’s voice was low, and Maka could practically see the way her brow creased as she thought, “Okay, let’s take this from the top. What happened, exactly? And what do you have to do?

“Professor Sid Barret was murdered on Friday,” Maka let her tone become clinical as she recalled the sequence of events and the reports she’d since read over, “When DWMA staff performed an autopsy, they found Sid was killed seemingly without any struggle, with a statuette embedded in his forehead, completely destroying his frontal lobe. Shortly afterwards, his body went missing, and a figure with a very strong resemblance to Sid has since been seen stalking or even attacking DWMA students.”

Hence the belief that he’s been turned into a zombie,” Luz concluded.

“Right. Soul and I have been asked to work with Dark Arm Meister Black Star and Magic Dark Arm Weapon Tsubaki Nakatsukasa in order to track down and defeat Sid before he regains his strength,” Maka finished, “Lord Death referred to all this as an ‘extra lesson,’ if that means anything.”

Bit of an odd way to refer to a murder investigation,” Luz hummed, “Meanwhile, on my end, Sid called Papi in order to tell him something important. They mentioned someone named Naigus – don’t know who that is-

“Sid’s Weapon partner,” Maka confirmed, “He was a Knife Meister.”

Oh, okay. So, they mentioned Sid’s partner, they mentioned Death, and they mentioned this Stein guy,” Luz continued, “Dad said Naigus was gonna be angry at Sid for whatever this ‘something’ was. We know Stein had something to do with it – and Dad asked if Death knew about it. Sid said Death sanctioned it, if I’m remembering right.

Sanctioned it?” Maka felt her nose wrinkle; she already didn’t like where this was going.

Apparently.

Maka brought a hand to her forehead, the fabric’s warmth pleasant against her skin in the cold as the gears in her mind continued to turn. Up until a moment ago, everything Lord Death had told her had added up. But with the addition of what Luz had overheard, everything had been thrown completely off; no longer did the Scythe wielder have any certainties or solid conclusions to work with.

The only way any of it made any sense when put together with everything she’d been told so far was if…

Are you sure you’re okay, Maka?” the question once again brought her back to earth, “You seem really out of it.

“Yes, Luz, just trying to work things out,” the Meister raised her head, staring up at the moon, “Look, I’ll call you back later, okay? I need to figure this out.”

… okay, Maka. Te amo - love you. Keep me posted, alright?

“I will. Goodnight, Luz.”

She slipped off a glove, and ended the call, lips pulled taught across her face.

“… so. Certainly sounds like there’s more to this than we thought,” Soul said, breaking his silence.

“Leave it to Luz to accidentally overhear teacher conversations,” Maka pocketed her phone, crossing her arms.

“Nosy, I take it?”

“Like you wouldn’t believe. She means well, but Luz just doesn’t know when to leave well enough alone.”

“Where have I heard of someone like that before?”

Maka grit her teeth at the smugness in Soul’s tone, “Stuff it, Soul.”

“Hey, just saying, if I didn’t know any better-”

She reached into her coat, and pulled out her hardcover notebook, cracking him upside the head with the edge – not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to cut him off. His ensuing chuckle, however did nothing to ease her worsening temper as she flipped it open.

“Knock it off,” she snapped, cutting him off before he could continue, “We’ve got to meet up with Tsubaki and Black Star before it gets any later. We looked over all the Sid sightings, right?”

“You and Tsubaki did, yeah. Black Star didn't want to do any reading and you stuck me with babysitting,” Soul sobered, rolling his shoulders, “Arm wrestling with that guy freakin’ hurts… anyways, you said you narrowed it down to a particular spot?”

“More a general area,” Maka clarified, “Though we at least have a place to start looking. The Hook Cemetery.”

“A cemetery? Really?” he scoffed, “Bit cliché, don’t you think?”

“Hey, you want to complain, you take it up with Sid when we find him,” she huffed, snapping her notebook shut.

“I’ll be sure to do that,” he stated wryly, “Though you gotta admit – Luz made some good points. Suddenly I’m not so sure it’s as cut and dry as Lord Death wants us to believe.”

“That can wait, Soul,” Maka redoubled her pace, pulling ahead of her Weapon, unable to quite keep the edge out of her voice, “Collection of data now, scrutiny of data later.”

“… someone’s touchy,” she heard him mutter, though she did not respond.

Maka, ultimately, just wanted this night over with.


It was a strange thing to adapt to – the fact that his organs didn’t work anymore.

He still had his sense of sight, taste, smell, hearing and touch, but it was no longer in the conventional sense, as not only had his nervous system shut down, but so too had his brain – his frontal lobe had been completely destroyed, effectively rendering the organ entirely useless. He could follow things visually, and he had directional hearing, but his eyes and ears weren’t really what conveyed the information to him.

No, what he was relying on was the perception of his Soul, returned to his corpse.

All at once, he felt more perceptive of the world than he ever had while he was alive. His vision wasn’t bound to his eyes, his hearing wasn’t bound to his ears – the beams of light that reflected off every surface in all their different colours, the vibrations of sound that bounced off every object and radiated through the atmosphere, the smells and tastes that wafted through the air all touched his Soul directly, all so much more vibrant to him than ever before in their direct exposure to his spirit.

But not all the sensations were pleasant.

His sense of touch, most notably, was particularly troublesome at the moment.

Without a vessel to inhabit, there is precious little a Soul can do to interact with the world. The man that had revived him had been gracious enough to prepare his body, applying relaxants to allow him to move his muscles and joints, applying preservatives to keep him in perfect working condition, but despite all this, he felt none of the familiarity that he should have. His body felt alien – his lungs would not fill or empty on their own, forcing him to consciously take breaths when he wanted to speak. His heartbeat was completely absent. His muscles felt heavy and sluggish, and every time he moved, he felt as much as he heard his bones and joints crack with quiet dismay at being forced to bend.

“… good with the bad, I suppose,” he huffed, crossing his arms in the cool dark, “I’m not going to complain – that’s not the kind of man I was.”

He extended his senses, tuning out the physical world – the dirt and roots and stones that surrounded him, the total lack of light, the protest of his body – and sought out his targets. Provided they had already completed their research into his late night prowlings, the four young Souls should arrive at some point before the night was through.

“So you really think he’s skulking around here?”

If he could, he would have blinked in surprise.

Two Souls were already present in the world above him, beyond the dirt and turf, glowing in the darkness. The first was practically electric with latent energy, zipping back and forth and bouncing against the internal confines of his body, a brilliant sky blue laden with spikes, like a newborn star.

“This is where all the sightings seem to have been centered, Black Star,” a placating female voice responded – the second Soul, glowing a warm, muted yellow with a calming aura, almost perfectly still, its only motion being that of its long thin tail, wrapping around itself and constantly morphing from a tail to a chain, tipped with any number of weapons, “Maka and I checked the reports pretty thoroughly. They all seemed to be focused in the general area around the Hook Cemetery, so this seems like the most logical place to look.”

“Well, at least she’s good for something,” Black Star snorted, “Though I bet you could’ve figured it out all by yourself, Tsubaki. You’re a way bigger star than Maka is. We don’t need their help to beat up on a dead man.”

“Maybe not, but I’m sure they’ll at least make our lives easier,” Tsubaki assured, “Don’t forget that Sid was a Three Star Meister. Even if he’s weaker than normal, we shouldn’t take him lightly.”

“Hmph. Maybe they’ll serve as a good distraction, but I’m not holding my breath. Maka’s not good for much of anything that doesn’t involve a book,” Black Star quipped.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” A new voice, young, feminine, and snide, broke into the conversation as the third and fourth Souls finally entered his restricted field of vision, “Maybe you should make sure that the person you’re insulting isn’t in earshot before you take shots behind their back.”

Maka’s Soul was a matte forest green, small, but bright. It didn’t bear Black Star’s excitable energy, but it wasn’t calm the way Tsubaki’s was, either; it bore a quiet determination, resolute with the refusal to allow herself to be pushed around.

“Well, look who decided to show up,” the ninja jeered, “And here I thought I wasn’t gonna be able to tell you that to your face tonight.”

“Shut it,” Maka snapped, “I’m not in the mood and we have a job to do. I’m not willing to waste my time listening to you spit into the wind.”

“Alright. Have it your way,” the blue Soul snickered.

The final Soul’s glow was a brilliant mix of alternating red and white; one overtook the other in a constant flow like an eternally spinning kaleidoscope, mesmerizing, almost calming in its own way, a stark contrast to the annoyed sigh he let out, almost more of a growl, “Please don’t make me play babysitter tonight. I really don’t want to mediate between you two.”

“Then tell Black Star not to pick fights, Soul,” Maka ran a hand along a gravestone, studying its inscription.

“I’m sorry, Maka, but who just said she wasn’t in the mood?” Black Star asked.

As the back and forth gradually began to rise into a squabble, the man beneath the soil mused to himself, turning his attention from one Soul to the other.

Maka Albarn.

Soul Eater.

Tsubaki Nakatsukasa.

Black Star.

Four of the students he had taught while he was alive.

All excellent students in their own ways, but all uniquely frustrating in others.

Now would be the perfect time to spring an attack and catch them off guard – arguing and distracted, it would not be difficult to knock them off kilter, and from there take them down one by one.

But that wasn’t his job right now.

“Too used to thinking like an assassin in the field,” he grumbled to himself, certain his words wouldn’t carry; this far beneath the earth, there was no way they would hear him.

His job in this moment was to observe them; to see how each pair acted as a team in both their investigation of the area, and in their ability to actually function in combat.

The combat aspect of this mission would come later.

For now, he would simply see how they intended to search the area.

“Let’s just get to work,” Maka finally growled, “Soul and I aren’t quite as agile, so for now, we’re going to stick to ground level. Black Star, Tsubaki, do you think you two can keep an eye on things from higher ground?”

“It would allow us to survey the area better,” Tsubaki agreed.

“I was planning on doing that anyways!” Black Star declared, “It’ll be perfect for my dramatic entrance!”

“Whatever. Just get up into the trees and keep an eye out. And whatever you do, don’t act on your own; this is a joint mission, and if you act out, it won’t just be yourself that you’re sabotaging, Black Star.”

“Hey, last time I checked, I was the big star around here, Maka. You stick to your bit part and don’t order me around.”

Before Maka could respond, Black Star addressed his partner, “Tsubaki, Kusarigama Mode.”

“Right!”

With that, the shape of Tsubaki’s Soul changed. It retained its golden brilliance, but the ponytail took on a more definite shape, solidifying into a chain with a pair of small handheld scythes at the ends.

“YAHOOOOOOO!” Black Star shouted as he leaped upwards, his Soul growing more and more distant, rising into the dark above.

Though he could not tell where the boy had gone from beneath the ground, the man knew Black Star had scampered up into the trees.

“Surveying the area from a higher angle during the night is actually a decent strategy,” he mused, “In addition, it keeps me from keeping any real track of him as far down as I am – I can’t sense his Soul anymore. I was having a hard enough of a time doing that with all this stone and dirt muting them, but now he’s totally beyond reach. On the one hand, this restricts my ability to keep an eye on him… but on the other, it’s an entirely tactically sound move.

“Which leaves me to instead watch Soul and Maka…”

“… God,” Maka moaned, “How does Tsubaki put up with him?”

“Well, the big difference is that Black Star actually likes Tsubaki,” Soul noted, “He doesn’t really like you all that much.”

“Yeah, I noticed,” Maka bit out, taking in a seething breath before finally seeming to settle, “… okay. Okay, I’m good.”

“Usual method?” Soul asked.

“Usual method. Let’s go.”

With that, Soul and Maka set off.

The man reached out, and dug, grunting as he wriggled through the dirt and between stones and roots to keep pace with the Weapon and Meister; having gotten accustomed to the Hook Cemetery, Sid knew they were roughly at the west entrance, making their way north, right along the wrought iron gates.

They moved slowly, but with purpose; popping his head up just enough to get an actual glimpse of their physical forms past the dirt, he studied their actions closely. Despite the earlier argument, the two now seemed almost completely at ease; Maka kept her head firmly forwards, only occasionally glancing to the right or the left before resuming her path, clearly on the lookout for anything amiss.

Soul, on the other hand, kept his gaze to the right, looking into the cemetery; to the untrained eye, one might say he seemed distracted, but the man knew better, especially given the unusual focus in the boy’s crimson eyes. His gaze traced the gravestones, the blackened, twisted trees and the hundreds upon hundreds of hooks that hung from their withered branches, rusted beyond all hope of repair.

‘Committing his battlefield to memory,’ the man observed with a grim satisfaction, ‘Allowing his Meister to search for their target while he takes note of not only the nature of their terrain, but all possible escape routes, both for the purpose of cutting off their target and for the sake of making an escape if the battle goes wrong, all of which he can communicate to her in an instant during a Resonance. On top of that, he’s keeping to her right side, so she has immediate access to him with her dominant hand should they spot me or be taken by surprise – a subtle, but important move, and he seems to have it down to a habit. Soul may act like a delinquent, but he’s far more diligent than he lets on.

‘… now if only he showed this kind of dedication for his actual coursework.’

“Pretty big place… should we pick up the pace?”

“We need to be thorough. We need to cover the entire perimeter before searching the rest of the grounds. This isn’t like that stupid Slender game Luz sent me where all the pages are in pre-set locations.”

“Wait, that was her?” Soul gave his partner an amused grin, “I was wondering what that was doing on your laptop.”

Maka scoffed, crossing her arms, “Knock it off. I’m saying that Sid could be anywhere, and we gotta search this place top to bottom if we want to actually find him. Edges first, internals second.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know… does she know you were too scared to go into the woods for a week after that?”

“Shut it.”

“Alright, alright…”

They continued for a long few minutes in silence.

“… you gonna use that new technique?” Soul queried.

“What new technique?” Maka asked suspiciously.

“You know, the eye thing,” the Scythe reached up, tapping the side of his right eye, “Didn’t you say you were practicing to see Souls?”

The man went stock still, surprise running through him like an electrical jolt.

“… it’s not perfect, yet,” Maka admitted with a sigh, “I really gotta focus to actually pull it off, and I’m still having a hard time finding all the nuances of different Souls. They largely still look the same to me.”

He stared openly at Maka now, keeping himself as still as he could, lest his shock give him away; they were talking about a technique even Three Star Weapons and Meisters had difficulty performing. He had mastered it himself out of necessity, but it had still taken him a great many hours of practice to learn to perceive Souls. It wasn’t something One Star Weapons and Meisters, much less ones that were only on the cusp of beginning their second year of official training, should have been able to perform.

And yet Maka was talking as if she had not only done it once already, but had actively been practicing it…

“Well, only other people here are Black Star and Tsubaki,” Soul pointed out, “Chances are nobody else is gonna be out here. This isn’t exactly a pleasant time to visit the dearly departed.”

“And yet, in a way, that’s exactly what we’re doing,” Maka noted wryly, smiling slightly.

“Heh. In a way,” Soul chuckled, “But come on. At the very least it’s worth the practice.”

“… alright, fine, you win,” Maka finally conceded, coming to a complete halt. She breathed, deep through her nose, and then exhaled slowly through the mouth, the tension in her shoulders gradually disappearing…

And when she turned to survey the graveyard, her eyes were completely unfocused, as though she were staring into some empty void only she could perceive, the faint ripple of her Wavelength changing almost imperceptibly – a clear sign she was perceiving the world around her not with her eyes, but with her Soul.

‘… amazing,’ he thought, ‘That she can perform this technique even imperfectly is astounding… you really are an incredible Meister, Maka Albarn.’

“See anything, Maka?” Soul asked.

“Not yet…” she murmured, letting her gaze sweep the graveyard-

And then her head snapped to the side, her eyes fixing right on his position.

Before he could force his sluggish body to act, Maka was moving. She gripped Soul’s arm, and he did not hesitate to react in turn. Immediately, his body disappeared in a flash of white light, replaced with a plain steel staff with a curved crescent blade of red and black at the end.

Maka leaped forwards in a forward flip before driving her Weapon down with every ounce of force she could muster, the Scythe in her hands gleaming in the moonlight as it arced down, seeking to draw blood.

Knowing he couldn’t dodge in time, he instead went for the next best thing.

He gripped the gravestone to his right, and pulled it out of position, causing it to topple over right into the blade’s path; Soul’s blade easily bit into the stone, but stopped just short of his head, leaving him with just enough time to extract himself from the earth, gravestone in hand.

‘That was a little too close for comfort,’ he grit his permanently bared teeth, ‘If I’d still been alive, I could have easily dodged that attack, even parried it with my bare hands. This body just isn’t responding like it used to – and my Soul is still recovering, on top of it.’

“Sid Barret!” Maka shouted, sinking into her stance with both hands on her Weapon, “You have died and been unnaturally raised from the grave! Your Soul is mine!”

Sid only glanced at the name on the tombstone before returning his attention to the young Meister and Weapon, ‘Apologies, Mr. Graham. I’ll pay to have your tombstone repaired personally once this is over.’

He pulled his lips back in a vicious grin, hefting the cross shaped stone up onto his shoulder, “You’re going to have to try much harder than that, Miss Albarn. If that’s all you’ve got to offer, then you won’t even be taking a finger from me, much less my Soul.

“Besides, you two didn’t even give me the time to wish you a good evening; it seems I’ll have to teach you some manners.”

“I don’t think you have much room to be lecturing us about manners,” Soul’s distorted voice echoed out from the Scythe, “Especially with all the skulking around you’ve been doing, Sid.”

“Maybe not,” he conceded, “But I’ve always been an enthusiastic educator; that’s the kind of man I was. And would you look at the time…”

As if on cue, the nearby church bell began to ring. Once… twice… six times total.

Sid let his grin widen, sinking into his own stance, legs wide, knees bent, his dead, blue skin catching an eerie sheen in the golden moonlight, “Class is now officially in session.”

 

Notes:

Spanish translations for this chapter:

"Lo sé..."

"I know..."

---

"¿Mija? ¿Estas bien?

"Sweetie? Are you okay?"

---

Not a whole lot of Spanish to translate this chapter. But as always, please thank maho_kat on Archive of Our Own for her help in translating!

Finally, getting into some action! Feels good to know an actual fight scene is in the near future.

Just don't expect it to go as smoothly as it did in canon. Even off kilter like this, Sid's a tough cookie.

Sorry it took so long to get this chapter out. I was making very merry across Christmas and New Years and it's hard to keep up with writing with family obligations and all.

Thank you all for reading and for your patience and understanding with me. Let me know what you think! I hope you all enjoyed the sixth chapter of Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance!

Chapter 7: Clashes and Conclusions

Notes:

I do not own Owl House or Soul Eater.

If I did, this might actually get animated.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Soul could feel Maka’s heartbeat through her palms. Even through the fabric of her gloves, made to reduce the development of blisters on her hands as she fought, the Meister’s pulse was always more than apparent to the Weapon; it was a constant, a familiar beat to try and match. Most nights, it was steady, the routine of Kishin Egg collection lulling Maka into an almost Zen state of calm – not the boredom brought by monotony, but the certain tranquility that could only result from hours upon hours of practice.

Now, however, her heartbeat was resounding at an entirely different pace.

Within the black void in which his human form floated, reflected only faintly in the blade of his Scythe, Soul couldn’t help but frown. He knew Maka was high strung by her very nature; it wasn’t something she could help. She was always looking for something to do, always seeking something to keep her mind and hands occupied. It was never to the point where she disregarded the benefits of rest, but the very idea of being idle was something she absolutely abhorred. She genuinely loathed the idea of just sitting down and doing nothing for any stretch of time. In essence, it was almost impossible for the Scythe Meister to be truly at ease.

But even taking that into account, her heart rate had reached a height Soul had only rarely felt.

The final night of their fight with Blair.

The collections they’d conducted after she figured out her Dad had been cheating.

There was no doubt about it.

Something had truly upset Maka.

“I hope you two have been studying,” Sid began. He looked like a sick parody of the man that had lectured Soul on the importance of coursework and punctuality time and time again; his skin had gone from a deep tan to a dark blue, as if his entire body had been afflicted with frostbite. His clothes were filthy with mud, dirt and dead leaves, a simple tank top and jeans as if he’d just grabbed whatever was on hand and had been wearing them for three days straight, his hair similarly greasy with oil and muck.

His eyes were milky, clouded over so thoroughly that his iris and pupils were indistinguishable from the whites, his mouth stuck in a permanent snarl that bared every single one of his teeth, which slated against each other, almost audibly grinding every time he tensed his jaw and only barely parting as he spoke.

But the worst part of it all was the gaping hole in the middle of his forehead. Perfectly round like a black moon, Soul had no doubt that if he were to shine a flashlight into that dark circle, he would see the crushed brain matter that remained within Sid’s skull.

He hefted the tombstone, the upturn of his strained lips and his almost mischievous tone implying a sinister smile, “Because I won’t be going easy on you just because you were students of mine. I’ve always judged based on merit; that’s the kind of man I was.”

“Can’t say I find your “test” all that creative, Sid. Though then again, you did have a good chunk of your brain smashed into pulp,” Maka’s grip tightened as she carefully gauged the undead professor; their attempt to end the fight before it began had failed, his reaction too swift for either of them properly counter, and now a head on confrontation was inevitable, “In a way, it’s impressive that you’re even coherent, much less able to “teach.””

“Being dead alleviates many of the issues that come with living, Miss Albarn,” Sid explained with an almost casual air, “The frailties and flaws of the human body, for one thing. In fact, why don’t I give you a DEMONSTRATION!?”

He hadn’t even taken a proper stance. Sid simply lunged with a newfound, animalistic vigour, throwing himself forwards and upwards off the closest tombstone; he rose into the air, five feet, ten feet, nearly fifteen before he reached the apex of his arc, gripping the base of his tombstone and driving it down, descending towards Maka and Soul like a rocket.

Maka’s reaction was practiced and precise, shifting to the side right as the cross-shaped stone would have cracked open her skull; it struck the earth, sending a tremor up her legs and sending dirt and dust flying into the air, but she remained undeterred.

Instead, she spun, redoubling her grip and swinging Soul with deadly intent, aiming to strike Sid before he could regain his footing or retrieve his weapon from the dirt.

The Zombie, however, proved too agile; his hands gripped the base of the tombstone, and he spun with all the grace of an acrobat, easily dodging beneath the slash that would have removed his head entirely. His leg shot out, aiming to strike the Meister in the side.

This time, she raised Soul to block. Flesh and bone met steel with a resounding clang; Soul let out a breath, feeling the impact resound back and forth through his whole body. He was accustomed to high-force impacts at this point – he endured all sorts of slashes and blunt force trauma in Scythe form before, and even the occasional gunshot – but this was something else entirely.

The force behind the blow was enough to push Maka off her feet; she flipped backwards, easily landing on her feet once more.

A good thing, since Sid was already halfway through his next assault, roaring as he tore the tombstone from the earth in a spray of graveyard soil, forcing her to once again leap back to keep herself from being caught in the makeshift combination of smokescreen and hail of projectiles, each pebble flying forth with enough force to embed themselves in the trees as if they were bullets.

And once again, Sid was upon her, tombstone tucked under one arm as he drove a fist forwards, once again sending an almost painful, jarring crash through Soul as Maka blocked with his steel staff.

All of this occurred over the course of fifteen seconds.

If this was what Sid was like weakened from death, Soul did not want to know what it would have been like to fight the man while he was still alive.

And yet, all the while, Maka’s typical clear focus was still missing; mentally, she was keeping up, but Soul could feel her frustration, how it caused missteps, however slight, that made it hard to counter the zombie’s relentless barrage. Back she danced over the graves, struggling to maintain her footing and counter Sid’s blows.

‘Maka,’ Soul reached out, the voice of his mind and soul quiet, reverberating through his steel and into her palms, where he knew it would reach her.

She didn’t answer, taking a slash at Sid; Soul’s blade cleaved through one of the neighbouring graves, but did not find flesh.

‘Maka, what’s wrong?’

‘Nothing’s wrong,’ her response was not so much sound as it was raw sensation, like a vibration running up his spine; despite her words though, the snap of her tone betrayed her already fraying nerves, ‘I’m just peachy.

‘You certainly don’t sound peachy. Something’s throwing you off,’ he noted.

‘I’m fine, Soul,’ she parried the heavy stone cross, finally managing to get in a strike to Sid’s shoulder, shoving him back; a brief flash of catharsis flooded her before the former teacher countered, delivering a spinning kick that forced the Scythe Meister to once again back off.

‘Come on, Maka, you’re not proving anything by being stubborn. Now is not the time to get angry.’

‘And it’s definitely not the time for you to be distracting me, either!’ she hissed, driving the Scythe down and launching herself up in a perfect vault, up and over the next swing of the tombstone; Maka then flipped, ripping Soul’s blade out of the earth and aiming to put it directly through Sid’s back.

He spun, blocking with his arm, a large cut opening across his forearm; no blood seeped from the wound, the muscles dark, almost desiccated… but even so, they flexed, visibly expanding and contracting through the cut as Sid immediately transferred from defence to offense, from block into grapple.

Sid’s fingers closed around Soul’s handle before Maka could return to solid ground; the Weapon’s eyes widened, and Maka’s whole body went stiff with shock and dread before the zombie spun, swinging the pair around as easily as a pit-bull with a chew toy.

This time, Maka couldn’t catch herself, and Soul saw the same stars as her head cracked off one of the tombstones.

Even so, she held on, refusing to relinquish her grasp on her Weapon even as Sid spun to make another swing; this time, the Scythe Meister managed to get her feet back underneath her, her legs cushioning the blow against the tree. Her footing regained, she called out, ‘Soul!’

‘I’m on it!’ he acknowledged allowing himself to transform once more.

It was always a strange sensation, going from one physical form to the other. In his Soul, he was constantly standing at the edge of a pool of unfathomable depth and dark, ready to plunge himself in; he would dip his fingers into the shadows, and flesh and bone and nails immediately transformed into small blades of hard, sharp steel. If he stuck his entire arm into the pool, the heavy blade of his Scythe form would manifest in full.

And when he fully submerged himself, he found himself floating, weightless, staring up at the light of the surface, where images of the world beyond his Weapon form would play out like a film, the sensations of his physical body distant, filtered to him through a body of iron.

As easily as curling a muscle, Soul pulled himself free from the pool. The world’s vibrance returned to him; from the waist down, he remained in weapon form, Maka still keeping hold of the staff. Sid’s hand was wrapped tightly around his wrist, making him grit his teeth as he felt the zombie’s crushing grip shift the Weapon’s bones in his wrist mid swing… but all the same, he could sense the Zombie’s surprise, the faint shift in his dead facial features and the faltering of his movement just enough for Soul to take advantage of the opening.

He dipped his right arm back into the pool.

“Sorry to cut you off, teach,” he grinned, and slashed, everything past his elbow once more razor sharp steel.

Sid’s fingers uncurled; he pulled his hand back as quickly as he could, once more avoiding Soul’s blade.

But Maka had already regained her footing; she pushed forwards, shoving her Weapon forwards as if he were a spear, encouraging Soul to continue hacking, slashing, thrusting, forcing the zombie further and further back.

Sid grit his teeth, and dove.

The earth parted for him as if he were simply diving into water, the soil swallowing him and leaving no trace he had been there.

“… damn,” Maka growled, leaning on a gravestone, “Nearly had him.”

“He’s not gone,” Soul reminded her, “This isn’t over, not by a long shot. Think you can find him again?”

She shook her head, “The technique takes too long for me to use. If I were to try, it would leave us both open in a big way. I’m surprised he didn’t attack us earlier when I first tried it.”

“So he was following us?”

“Yeah. Seemed like he had been for a while, too.”

“Well, crap,” Soul sighed, settling back into his full Scythe form. He studied Maka, eyes narrowed, “You alright, Maka? You took some pretty good hits there.”

“I’m fine,” she breathed, straightening with a wince, “Bruised, but fine. I can keep going.”

“… if you’re sure,” he acquiesced, “But you’ve been off all night; your movement’s sloppy and your reactions are slower than usual. And I don’t think it’s just because we’re up against our dead teacher.”

Maka’s breath hitched, and he could feel her frustrations flare up again; she tightened her grip, immediately letting her eyes sweep the area once more.

“Look, I’m not asking you to talk about it,” Soul clarified, “Not now, not later. I know you don’t want to talk about it with me, and I’m not gonna make you. I’m just asking you to put it out of your mind for now. You know it isn’t going to help.”

Silence was the only answer he received from Maka. But, slowly, he heard her breaths begin to even out; her heart rate gradually began to slow, the beat becoming more consistent, and her acute infuriation dulled, fire reduced to embers.

Soul felt a smile tug at his lips.

It was a unique comfort, in a way, knowing that for however much she might snark, or however angry she might get with him, she was still willing to take his words to heart.

“… okay,” finally, her grip relaxed, a slow exhale slipping through her pursed lips, “Okay…”

‘… we’re on the back foot here,’ Soul sent the thought through her palms, ‘Any ideas?’

‘Not much, beyond pay attention,’ Maka admitted, her words echoing in Soul’s head, ‘He’s got the advantage, and he knows it; we don’t know where he is, but he definitely knows where we are, provided he hasn’t gone after Black Star and Tsubaki.’

‘You think he’s changed targets?’ he inquired.

‘Not likely. He’s already gotten some good hits on us, like you said. It doesn’t make any sense for him to change targets now; any logical fighter would finish us off first rather than go for the other Weapon and Meister,’ she squinted up into the trees, ‘Especially considering that we weren’t exactly quiet. We probably got Black Star’s and Tsubaki’s attention with that clash; they should be here before too long. Sid’s either going to attack again to finish us off before they get here, or run.’

‘So just stay on guard for now?’

‘It’s our best play,’ once again, Maka sank into her ready stance, the ache in her head gradually beginning to subside, ‘Provided Black Star takes this seriously, he might be able to finish this off without much trouble. We just need to be patient and hope that Sid hasn’t chosen to retreat.’

He nodded, knowing Maka would somehow sense the invisible motion; with that, he settled down, closing his eyes and focusing on the environment around them.

He saw everything that was coming in through Maka’s eyes; no longer were they focused on any one particular thing. Everything, even that which was in her peripheral vision, was now sharply detailed, her vision now able to focus on everything at once without issue.

A sound from beneath the ground. Less than five feet to their right.

There was no need for words; as the zombie burst once more from the ground, Meister and Weapon reacted as one.

The tombstone sailed harmlessly past Maka’s body as she sidestepped and swung, pivoting on the balls of her feet and shifting her hips, her hand sliding down the length of the Scythe; the iron staff caught Sid full in the chest, forcing him to stumble, the combined weight of his failed swing and the strike to his ribs forcing him off balance. The blow failed to break bone, Soul’s blade slipping harmlessly past Sid’s torso…

But that was what the two had wanted.

Soul’s sharp blade was now directly in line with the entirety of the zombie’s back.

Smiling grimly, Maka stepped back, grip on Soul firm; the Scythe’s blade became a sharp, heavy hook, biting into his back further pulling the already out of balance zombie even further off kilter. The tomestone hit the dirt, forgotten; Sid’s arms shot up to defend himself, crossing his face and chest on instinct.

“That won’t help you!” Maka shouted, jumping, twisting in midair, and driving both feet into Sid’s arms in a perfect drop kick, further driving the blade into dead flesh and bone.

Sid grit his teeth, then roared; he threw his arms out, the force of the movement dislodging the Scythe from his back and throwing Weapon and Meister into the air.

Gracefully, Maka flipped, and landed atop another grave, once more at the ready.

“… impressive, you two,” he acknowledged, once more taking up the heavy stone cross, “You were struggling through the first few minutes of the fight, but once you calmed down, your reaction was perfectly timed and impeccably executed. If I hadn’t been so tough while I was alive, that technique would have killed me outright.”

“You really are one tough bastard, Sid,” Soul said, “Dead or not, I’m surprised you’re still standing after that.”

“I wasn’t a Three Star Meister for nothing, Soul,” there was a smile in Sid’s tone again, “And like I said – being dead comes with its own set of benefits. Among them being able to ignore my wounds completely, and keep fighting!”

The zombie’s legs coiled, and he leaped, far, far higher into the air than before; he rose above the trees, arms outstretched over his head with the tombstone in hand, “The demonstration is over – time for you to apply it yourselves!”

As he reached the apex of his arc, he drove it down, diving, straight towards his students – far faster than he should have been able to, “A LIVING END!!!”

Through Maka’s eyes, Soul saw Sid’s Soul Wavelength pulse; it forced the air around him to ripple, brilliant violet light condensing into the heavy stone. An incredible amount of power was being poured into the grave.

Maka leaped, spinning as the zombie struck the ground, the tombstone driven directly where she had once stood; the stone erupted with power, the violet light turning a blinding white before it exploded outwards, a veritable lightning strike complete with deafening, rolling thunder that left both Meister and Weapon with ringing ears.

They were thrown backwards by the impact, Maka only catching herself by slamming Soul’s blade into the earth; even with that, however, she continued to skid backwards, blinded and disoriented from the attack.

‘Maka!’

‘I know!’

She closed her eyes, tugging her partner from the ground as she heard Sid take off again; she raised her arms to defend herself, Soul bracing for imapct-

“YAAAAHOOOOOOOO!”

Metal clashed on stone as Black Star’s voice echoed through the graveyard; slowly, Maka managed to blink the blindness away, and Soul gradually relaxed.

Sid’s tombstone now lay partially embedded in the dirt, the zombie’s hands still wrapped around its base; slowly, he turned his gaze up towards the trees.

Black Star gave a grin as he yanked back on the Kusarigama, catching the small scythes with a casual ease, “It’s about time you showed yourself, Sid. I was starting to get bored.”

“Ah, Black Star,” the teacher’s low voice drawled as he gripped the grave, and yanked it back out of the earth with a grunt, “Actually decided to show up for class alongside your partner, I see. A mild improvement over your usual behaviour, even if you are more than a little late.”

“You’re one to talk, you stupid zombie,” the ninja sneered, “I go to all the trouble of tracking you down, and here I find you playing with small fry. What, were you too afraid to come after the star of the show?”

“I pay close attention to my students, Black Star. That’s the kind of man I was,” Sid raised his head, a hand on his hip, “I thought I may as well get the more difficult evaluations out of the way. After all, it’s not hard to guess what your results are going to be.”

“Recognizing that I’ll pass with flying colours?” the blue haired Meister snickered, “Good to know you know greatness when you see it.”

“No, Black Star… I’m just resigned to the fact that I’ll never get to give you any grade higher than a D.”

With that, both Kusarigama flew from Black Star’s hands, each spinning directly for Sid’s chest, the chain extending far longer than it should have; the zombie deftly parried each blade, the tombstone dancing in his hands with ease that should not have come from such unwieldy stonework.

The small scythes embedded themselves in the gravestones to either side of the animated corpse; the chains pulled taut, and Black Star threw himself forwards, Tsubaki’s chain rapidly shrinking in length and reeling him in.

“What difference do the classes of a rotting corpse make to me!?” he shouted, “What do you have left to teach me, huh!?”

“Respect, for one thing,” Sid simply adjusted his stance, and swung his tombstone like a bat; Black Star’s feet collided with the stone, the impact creating an audible crack like a bullwhip; as the zombie followed through with his swing, Black Star was launched up into the air, his movements graceful, controlled as he once again yanked back on the chains, his sheer momentum enough to keep him from being pulled back down under his own strength.

Soul couldn’t hear it, but he knew that Black Star and Tsubaki had to be communicating, much like how he’d been communicating with Maka; the Kusarigama went taught, before the tombstones encasing them cracked, and came loose from the ground.

“Why should I show you any respect?! I’m the biggest star there’s ever going to be! Three Star Meister or not, you don’t even compare!” he swung both arms, the chains twisting in his grip like puppet strings, “I’m BLACK STAR!!!”

Each gravestone, harder than cinderblocks and far heavier, rocketed towards Sid from either side; he only had an instant to defend himself before they smashed together, shattering and sending a cloud of dust rising into the air, completely obscuring the ground where Sid had stood.

Black Star landed with an uncanny silence, his footfalls not making a single sound; he grinned, “That’ll teach you who’s getting a D tonight, you stupid-”

“Now look what you’ve done.”

Sid’s voice cut off Black Star with neither pain nor awe; as the dust slowly settled, he stood with his hands on his hips, staring down ruefully at the pile of rubble at his feet.

‘He must have used his tombstone as a springboard at the last second,’ Maka murmured mentally.

‘Pretty agile for a guy who should be riddled with rigor mortis,’ Soul agreed.

‘That’s a Three Star Meister for you.’

“You’ve gone and shattered not only Mr. Graham’s tombstone, but also Mr. Young’s and Ms. Verningham’s,” Sid shook his head, disappointment more than evident in his tone, “Don’t you know that when you fight, you need to avoid causing collateral damage? You’re a Meister, for God’s sake, not a street thug.

“And you, Tsubaki! How could you go along with such a recklessly destructive plan? Do you have any idea how expensive it’s going to be for these peoples’ families to have their graves restored?”

“I-I’m sorry!” Tsubaki called, her tone panicked, “I was just so focused on helping Black Star-!”

“You don’t have to apologize to him, Tsubaki,” Black Star scowled, rising to his feet, “He’s just trying to distract you. Who cares about collateral damage in a fight?”

You should,” Sid snapped, “As a fully fledged Weapon and Meister, any and all collateral damage that results from your actions is paid for directly out of your wages. The only reason that you haven’t had to worry about it so far is because you’re both technically still students – and believe me, I have been sorely tempted to ask Lord Death to start cutting your allowance to help pay for some of the damage you’ve caused.”

‘He’s distracted. You got your footing back, Maka?’ Soul queried.

‘Yeah, I’m good to go,’ she nodded, glancing at his blade, eyes meeting his faint reflection, ‘You?’

He grinned, ‘All good here. Let’s cut him in half.’

“And what about you!?” Black Star spat, “You’re the guy who was swinging a tombstone around!”

“Out of necessity, not convenience-”

Before another word could be uttered, Maka took off. Momentum carried Soul like a wave, driving him forwards with his blade gleaming in the moonlight.

He only barely caught Sid’s skin; the zombie had stepped back, his teeth grit as a deep red line opened up across his side.

“Interrupting me mid-lesson?” Sid chided, a note of amusement in his tone as he dodged another swipe of the Scythe, “I knew Soul was something of a delinquent, but I never took you for a disruptive student, Maka.”

You taught me to take every opportunity to end the fight, Sid!” she retorted, pivoting on her heel and swinging Soul back the other way, clicking her teeth as the Scythe’s tip only barely missed her target’s throat, “‘When you must fight, end it with one strike!’ That’s your method!”

“Too true,” he grinned, “But I haven’t taught you everything!”

He stomped forwards, interrupting Maka’s forward assault with a well-placed strike with his palm, catching Soul just below the blade; on impact, his Soul Wavelength pulsed, repelling the Weapon and propelling the Meister back.

‘Dammit!’ Maka raised the Scythe to defend herself, ‘Soul!’

‘I’ll be fine! That’s what I’m here for! Just don’t take any more hits!’

Sid was moving faster now; he closed the distance with a ruthless speed, his hands flying faster than the tombstone ever had.

Ribs.

Solar Plexus.

Nose and mouth.

Throat.

Each strike was carefully aimed for the most vulnerable areas of the center of the body; they didn’t have the same force as the tombstone, but Soul and Maka both knew that they didn’t have to be. One didn’t need a metric ton of muscle mass or a strong Soul Wavelength in order to seriously damage the human body; all they needed was a decently fast punch and some idea of where to land their hits.

Now that he wasn’t hindered using a gravestone, it was clear that this was the entire basis of Sid’s fighting style, Weapon and Meister growing increasingly frantic in their defence just to keep up.

“Any time you want to help, Black Star!” Maka snapped.

“I told you,” Black Star’s voice was a low hiss as he jumped, “Don’t tell me what to do!”

He threw the first of the Kusarigama once more; the chain wrapped around Sid’s left arm as he pulled back to throw another punch, pulling taut and stopping the next strike from following through.

But the ninja didn’t stop there; he kept rushing forwards, Tsubaki’s other blade gleaming with murderous intent, lunging outstretched like a claw…

Seizing her chance, Maka stomped forwards, swinging the Scythe with both hands; she pivoted on her feet, twisting her hips, her shoulders, her whole body, putting every ounce of force behind Soul’s blade that she could muster.

“… disappointing. You aren’t working together at all.”

Soul only had a fraction of a second to process Sid’s words before it all happened at once.

The zombie gripped Tsubaki’s chain, and pulled; Black Star, pulled off balance, was reeled in like a fish on the line, refusing to let go of the Weapon.

At the same time, Sid didn’t so much step as he did simply shift, almost shuffling to the side and out of the path of Maka’s swing; even so, he kept pulling on the chain, swinging Black Star almost as if he were a flail.

It was too fast for either Meister and Weapon pair to halt their respective assaults.

Soul felt his blade catch Black Star across the shoulders.

Tsubaki’s struck Maka in the stomach.

And then their bodies collided, both of them rolling across the dirt in a heap, coming to a stop at the base of a large tree.

“Maka!” Soul shouted.

“Black Star!” Tsubaki screamed.

“I-I’m okay,” Maka managed, her voice weak; Soul could feel the ache of her entire body, the struggle of her lungs to take air back in, the impact having winded her entirely.

Though her Soul Wavelength toughened her body to the point where she could shrug off the impact itself, Soul could still feel the open wound from Tsubaki’s blade. It was long and thin – thankfully, the strike had been glancing, so it wasn’t deep, but that didn’t mean the cut wasn’t painful.

Black Star grit his teeth, pushing himself up, “Ugh… yeah, that one hurt… what the Hell was that, Maka?!”

Me!?” she wheezed, finally managed to sit up, “You’re the one that got swung around like a ragdoll!”

Black Star turned, opening his mouth to shout, but a series of harsh footsteps shut him up before the argument could even begin; Tsubaki’s other blade hit the dirt with a harsh clank as Sid cast off the chain, staring down at the four with marked disapproval.

“You’re not making any effort to communicate with each other as a team,” he lectured, crossing his arms, “You swung from the same direction with too much momentum to stop yourselves. Not only did this give me an avenue of escape, it gave me the perfect opportunity to counter you both. A pincer attack like that is a viable strategy, but only with due consideration for both your target and for your team. A crossfire only works when you’re certain that you won’t hit your teammates.”

Still lecturing us?” Black Star shakily rose to his feet; Tsubaki transformed, her chain and blades disappearing into a long dagger, the ninja unsteadily assuming another low stance.

“Once a teacher, always a teacher, Black Star,” Sid intoned.

Slowly, Maka pulled herself up, a hand on her stomach; she glared at Sid, once again raising Soul as best she could…

Only for Sid to turn away, “Class is over for tonight.”

“… what?” Soul asked.

“There’s no point in continuing the lesson as you are. Riled up and angry at each other, you’ll just keep making the same mistakes,” the zombie began walking away, “Reconsider your strategy and learn to work together. Then we can continue the lesson.”

“… don’t you dare,” Black Star snarled, eyes glowing blue with murder, “Don’t you walk away from me!”

Sid ignored him, moving with a confident stride.

“YOU’RE NOT GOING ANYWHERE!” Black Star lunged, blade in hand-

Only for Sid to dive into the ground – a cloud of dust and an open hole being the only proof he was ever there.

Silence fell over the cemetery.

“… dammit,” Maka managed, finally doubling over from the pain, “He got away…”

Soul pulled himself from the dark pool, returning to human form; he wrapped an arm around Maka’s shoulders, “How’s your cut?”

“… bad,” she confessed, pulling her hand away from her stomach; her glove came away bloody.

“… I’m sorry.”

Soul raised his head; Tsubaki had transformed as well, and was looking over Black Star’s shoulders with marked concern. Eventually, she met Maka’s gaze, expression clearly remorseful.

“I’m sorry,” she repeated, “I at the very least could have tried to stop myself from cutting you…”

Maka gave a weak smile, “… it’s okay… I’m fine…”

“I’m sorry, too,” Soul sighed, taking in Black Star’s back; he could tell just from looking that his cut was far worse, longer, deeper, thin trails of blood seeping down his arms, “This was on all of us. Sid got away, and we all got hurt.”

Black Star scoffed, kneeling over the hole Sid disappeared into, “Saying ‘sorry’ isn’t gonna do much good. Doesn’t change what happened… I’m going after him.”

“… Black Star, we need to regroup,” Maka declared, taking a step, “There’s no way we’re gonna beat Sid without working together-”

“Speak for yourself, Maka.”

Black Star’s tone was harsh as he rolled his shoulders, glancing back at the Scythe Meister; his eyes were narrowed in a glare, fire burning deep within, “You might not be able to beat him on your own, but don’t you lump me in there with you. Tsubaki and I can beat him by ourselves.”

Maka grit her teeth; though the resonance was broken, Soul could still sense her temper as it fouled further, “You can’t brute force this. You’re strong, Black Star, but not nearly as strong as Sid.”

“Sid’s just a rotting corpse,” the blue haired boy affirmed, clenching a fist and looking away, “I’m the guy who’s gonna surpass God. There’s no contest.”

“Are you hearing yourself?” Maka asked, incredulous, “You just got trounced, and you’re still insisting that you can beat him on your own!”

“I’m the strongest that there is!” Black Star snarled, turning to face her, “I’m not gonna give up over one little cut. Unlike you.

The Meisters glared at each other for a long moment.

“… that’s enough. Both of you.”

It was Tsubaki that spoke this time, tone stern as she cast her gaze upon them; it was only when she was certain that she had their full attention that she continued, “We’re hurt, we’re angry, and we’re tired. I hate to admit it, but Sid is right; even if we were to catch him, I don’t think we’d be able to beat him tonight.”

Black Star cocked an eyebrow, “You don’t think so, Tsubaki?”

“Black Star, I don’t doubt that you could power through that wound,” she gave a gentle smile, “I’ve seen you work through worse. But even if you chase after him now, he could literally be anywhere. He might even still be watching us right now. I think you know that if we go after him now, we may as well just be chasing our tails.”

“Besides,” Soul added, hoping his voice would add to Tsubaki’s reason, “Even if he didn’t have all sorts of hiding spots underground, he’s dead. He doesn’t react to pain, if he can even feel it – that in mind, I think it’s safe to assume he doesn’t feel fatigue, either. ‘Run and you’ll die tired’ doesn’t apply to him anymore. If anything, all he has to do is give us the run-around until we’re all exhausted, and then what?”

Black Star closed his eyes, chewing on his lip and clearly searching for a reason to insist on chasing Sid regardless. Eventually, though, when he opened his eyes again, they had returned to their normal deep green.

“… I hate giving up on a chase, but I suppose a good assassin always knows when it’s time to retreat,” he grumbled, folding his hands behind his head.

“That’s right,” Tsubaki agreed, approving.

“… good,” Maka sighed, her voice betraying relief, “Then we can all head back, treat our wounds, and discuss our next steps.”

Again, Black Star snorted, “Don’t get the wrong idea, Maka. You can’t tell me what to do. Tsubaki and I are going back, getting some sleep, and then we’re gonna do a search for all of the little hidey holes Sid might be using.”

“… seems a bit haphazard,” Maka noted, eyes narrowing again, “Don’t you think he’s liable to change location after tonight? Make us re-do our entire search?”

“Better than just doing nothing,” Black Star shrugged. Then he levelled his eyes at her once again, “But let’s get one thing straight. It doesn’t make any difference to me whether or not you tag along. You wanna give up? Fine by me. You wanna stick around?... then you don’t tell me what to do, and you stay out of my way.”

Soul could hear Maka’s teeth grind as Black Star turned away, hands stuffed in his pockets, “Come on, Tsubaki. We’re going home.”

Tsubaki shot one last “I’m sorry” back over her shoulder before moving to walk beside Black Star, the pair disappearing into the mist.

“… I hate him.”

Soul only spared a glance towards Maka, but one look at her pale green eyes was enough to know that the venom in her tone was real.

He didn’t try to placate her. He didn’t try to defend Black Star.

Instead, he gently rubbed her back, “You okay to walk?”

“… I think so,” she took a step, wincing, “… this trip back is gonna suck, isn’t it?”

“… here,” gently, he tugged on her arm, pulling it up and over his shoulder.

She blinked, surprised, but her expression finally softened back into a smile, “… thanks, Soul.”

“Hey, don’t mention it,” he felt the corners of his lips drift gently upwards as he led Maka back to the cemetery gates.

“That’s what partners are for, right?”


Luz couldn’t help but give a broad grin as she finally pencilled in the last of her math; with this, it was all done. The last of her homework, the whole year was finally over with, finals aside.

She glanced at the clock, “Just short of nine… and here I thought this was gonna take all night. I’m gonna have to thank Maka later.”

She perked up as knuckles rapped at her door.

“Luz? You alright?” Papi’s voice rang out, “You’ve been in there for a while.”

“I’m good,” she spun her chair to face the door, folding her hands in her lap, “Come in!”

The knob clicked, and Dad stepped in, another steaming ceramic mug in each hand, lips upturned in his usual easygoing smile as he offered the blue one, “That’s sure taken you a while. Need any help?”

“Just finished, actually!” she chirped, reaching out and gratefully accepting the mug, “Maka was a huge help; reminded me how algebra works.”

“Gave her a call, did you?”

“No, actually. She called me,” Luz took a sip, letting out a contented sigh, “… Mami’s hot chocolate is the best…”

“So’s her coffee,” her father chuckled, idly swirling his own cup.

“Coffee?” Luz cocked an eyebrow, “Don’t you think it’s a little late for that?”

“Remember that I still have to drive tonight, Luz,” he raised a finger, “I gotta get back to my hotel, and I’d rather not fall asleep at the wheel.”

“I still don’t get why Mom won’t just let you stay the night,” she admitted, “We might not have a guest room, but we do have spare blankets and pillows. I’m pretty sure we have a roll up futon somewhere, and even if we don’t, you could at least take the couch.”

“That’s between your mother and I, Luz,” he sighed, finally starting his coffee, “Much as I’d love to stay here, your mother has drawn some lines I don’t want to cross. Especially since she has good reasons for drawing those lines in the first place.”

“… I guess that’s fair enough,” she conceded.

“… still, Maka called you?” it was Dad’s turn to cock an eyebrow, “Aren’t you the one usually calling her?”

“She just wanted to give me an update. From the sound of it, she’s got a tough two weeks ahead.”

“Oh?”

“Remember you told me about Sid?”

“I do,” he smirked, “I still think he’d be a favourite teacher of yours, if you ever met.”

“… about that,” she set her hot chocolate down, idly tapping her fingers as she bit her lip.

“… is something wrong?” he asked.

“… Dad, Maka said that Sid was murdered a few days ago… and that he might have been turned into a zombie?”

At this, Papi winced, his smile morphing into a grimace; he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, “So… you’ve heard about that, huh?”

“… is that what he called you about, earlier?” she ventured.

“It is,” he confirmed, “He didn’t want me to come back to Death City with any nasty surprises.”

“… which, when combined with the fact that the Grim Reaper sanctioned it… basically means this whole murder mystery Maka has been asked to solve is completely staged,” Luz rested her chin in her hands, elbows on her knees.

“… you always were pretty clever, Luz,” a melancholy smile crossed Dad’s face as he leaned back against the wall, “You were always able to figure out who the bad guy was in most mystery novels.”

“I can find all the clues to figure out a mystery, but can’t find the social cues to navigate a conversation to save my life,” she gave a slight chuckle, “Luz Noceda in a nutshell, I guess.”

“I know the feeling,” he mused, “But yes. Sid’s death wasn’t faked, so much as the circumstances around it were faked. He was murdered, yes, but if you were to ask him, Sid would say it was in the service of tutoring his struggling students – something he takes extraordinarily seriously.”

“So seriously, he’d let himself be turned into a zombie?” the perplexion in her tone was a perfect match for her visible confusion.

Papi shrugged, “That’s the kind of man he is, Luz. Or, was, rather. He prided himself in his honesty and in his dedication to being a teacher. When I asked him why, he said he just… didn’t want to lie to his students.”

Luz squinted, mouth slightly open as she struggled to process the insanity behind her father’s words. After a moment, she leaned back in her seat, a hand pressed to her temple, “That… that’s just absurd.

“That’s what I told him,” he raised his hands helplessly, “But I guess his principals are worth more to him than... well, being alive.”

“… I mean… on the one hand, props for dedication, but… on the other… you’d think his life would be worth a little more than that to him.”

“Black Star’s grades must be worse than I thought,” Dad muttered. Then, he smiled again, “Although, then again… the DWMA is full of off the wall people like that. Sid becoming a zombie is definitely one of the stranger things to happen, but he’s hardly the only teacher with such dedication to his students.”

At this, Luz’s smile returned, “Well, it is better than any of the teachers I’ve ever had... does he tutor?”

“Not normally, no,” he noted, “Buuuuuut, maybe I could talk him into it for your sake. He’s never one to turn down a prospective student who really wants to learn.”

She giggled, picking up her hot cocoa once again for a sip.

“… you realize I’m gonna have to ask you not to tell Maka the truth behind Sid’s murder.”

Both eyebrows climbed Luz’s forehead this time, “Why not?”

“Because, as much as I personally disagree with the extremes Sid has gone to, telling her would defeat the purpose of the lessons,” he pointed out, “Given that she’s working with Black Star on this, I’m assuming that the lessons are mostly intended to get Black Star to pull his head out of his butt and actually take things seriously – and to get them used to working together as a team. Usually, Maka and Soul fly solo, but they’re almost finished their first year; before too much longer, they’re going to be expected to start performing joint operations with other Weapon and Meister pairs to take down more dangerous targets, so they’re getting a bit of a head start on their training in that regard.”

At this, she gave a sheepish smile, reaching back with her hand, “… well… might be a little late for that…”

He raised an eyebrow, silently asking for her to elaborate.

“… Maka called me to tell me about her lessons and ask me not to worry... she told me about Sid… I told her Sid called you…” she tapped her fingers together, taking a large swallow of hot chocolate, “And we might’ve… pooled our knowledge and put the clues together?...”

A long moment of silence passed before an exasperated, but thoroughly amused wheeze escaped Papi. He was clearly struggling not to laugh, his face morphing back and forth between stern stone and a broad grin, setting his cup down on her drawers to keep his coffee from spilling, his hand going to his forehead as laughter slowly won out.

It didn’t take long for Luz to join in, breaking down in a fit of giggles, kicking helplessly as her chair spun in place like a turtle on its back.

“A-At the very least,” she managed, “I-I didn’t figure it out u-until after I hung up… hoo… maybe Maka hasn’t put it together yet?”

“I… ha… I don’t know, Luz,” he let out a long, slow, but pleased sigh, “Maka’s a smart cookie. Depending on how she’s been spending her night, she might have figured it out already, too…”

“Is it really that big a deal, though?” Luz asked, “It’s not like Sid did a very good job of hiding his tracks.”

“I guess not,” he acknowledged, “If Maka has figured it out, then no big deal. If she hasn’t, then keep it to yourself.”

“Alright. Will do,” she nodded.

“… so. What were you going to do for the rest of the night?”

“Well, I was gonna check in with you again,” she began, “But, well, here you are.”

“Your Mom wants me out of here by ten, but that still leaves us with about an hour,” he glanced at the stack of paper on her desk, “… howsabout I look through your homework and check it over? Make sure it’s done right?”

She wrinkled her nose, “Is that really how you want to spend your time here?”

“Making sure my daughter gets good grades? Of course,” he smiled, “And then after…”

He stepped over to her computer, hitting the search bar and typing in four letters.

The game popped up, the heavy metal, heavy stone letters and dark orange glare causing Luz’s eyes to shimmer with delight.

Dad grinned, gesturing to the title screen, “Whaddya say about trying to teach an old man some new tricks?”

Luz immediately snatched up her homework, sifting through essays and worksheets to find her worst subjects. After a moment, she looked up at her father once more, “Where do we start?”

“Well, you did just finish all your math… why don’t we start there?”

“Sounds good to me!”


Blair let out a yawn as she unlocked the window, her fingers flicking lazily; the window slid to the side as the screen popped out, letting her slip in with absolutely no difficulty, her floating jack-o lantern disappearing into thin air behind her.

“I spent my whole evening looking for places to work,” she mumbled, “Death City really is old fashioned in its construction… not a whole lot of places for me to use my usual skills, and I don’t really wanna go into accounting again.

“But at least I found that Chupacabra’s place,” she smiled, ears twitching as she removed her hat, spinning it off her finger and onto the couch, “It’s been a while since I worked as a bartender. Though I might need to practice making drinks again...”

She sank into the couch, kicking off her boots; much as she loved them, wearing heels for an extended amount of time, even if she wasn’t really doing much walking around, tended to get pretty uncomfortable.

“I’m hooooome~” she sang, stretching out her toes with a sigh of relief.

No answer.

“… Maka? Soul?”

When she still received no response, she frowned, glancing at the clock; it was well past seven, and the sun had long since descended past the horizon. The relatively small number of lights in Death City allowed the tapestry of stars above to shine and shimmer with their natural brilliance, the grinning moon casting its light over the crooked cobblestone streets.

“… they must be out late,” Blair murmured, pushing herself back to her feet despite the protests of her legs, “Didn’t Maka say that classes usually end by two?...”

She padded gracefully into the kitchen; there was no sign that anyone had been here since she’d left around noon. The frying pan she’d used for her fish was still in the sink, as was her plate…

“… I’m probably just worrying over nothing,” she sighed, turning on the hot water, “At the very least I can get these clean…”

Her ears twitched as the door opened; she couldn’t help but smile as she heard the telltale shuffling of two pairs of feet, the voices of her hosts muffled by the distance.

She pulled her hands out of the hot water, and stuck her head around the corner, “Goooood evening, you two-”

She stopped dead, golden eyes widening as she took in the sight; Maka was sitting on the chest cabinet against the wall, clutching her stomach, blood having seeped into the white of her shirt. Soul had the Tupperware of bandages in his hands, going through the supplies and only barely glancing up at her.

“Hi, Blair,” Maka raised a hand in a wave, wincing.

“Oh, Titan,” Blair hissed, immediately darting over, “Are you okay!? What happened!?”

“Got in a fight with a zombie,” Maka gave a weak smile.

“Maka’s stomach got cut,” Soul stated, his tone almost clinical as he pulled out the bandages.

“Then what are you two doing here?” Blair demanded.

The Meister and Weapon blinked, looking up at her as if she’d caught them off guard; Blair herself was surprised by her tone, by the scolding anger in her voice.

“I mean… shouldn’t you two be at the hospital?” she finally asked, doing her best to settle herself back down.

“… heh. Guess we forgot to tell you,” Soul’s expression softened into a gentle smile, looking back down into the packages of bandaids, “One of the first things we learn as DWMA students is first aid. We need to be able to determine how serious a wound is and treat it immediately.”

“Okay. And?” Blair asked, crossing her arms pointedly.

“I’ve already taken a look at Maka’s cut,” he gestured, “She’s gonna be feeling it for a few days, but it isn’t anywhere near as bad as it looks. The blood that’s seeped into her clothes is making it look like she’s bleeding more than she actually is; right now, we just need to disinfect it and get her some bandages.”

Blair bit her lip, once more looking to Maka; the Meister seemed uncomfortable, wincing every time she moved, but overall appeared relatively unconcerned. If anything, it seemed like her mind was elsewhere, grumbling every now and again under her breath about one thing or the other – her ruined shirt and stained gloves, and something about a black star.

“… may I take a look?”

“Hm?” Maka perked up, eyes suddenly fixed on the cat.

“Your cut,” Blair emphasized, pointing at the bloody shirt, “May I take a look?”

Maka’s eyes narrowed and her lips pursed, but a glance from Soul was all it took to get her to calm. She let out a long suffering sigh, pulling her hand from her stomach, “Fine. Go ahead…”

Cautiously, Blair knelt, parting the shredded fabric to get a look at the wound; the dark red line was long and jagged, almost more of a gouge than an actual cut, like something left by a claw. The blood around it had already dried, flaking off Maka’s skin like old scales; the cat gently ran her finger along its edge, and let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding as she realized just how shallow it was.

“Just a little more than skin deep,” she glanced up at Maka, “I still think you two should have gone straight to the hospital instead of coming back here.”

“We know what we’re doing, Blair,” Maka assured, letting herself rest against the wall, “The cut’s not that bad.”

“But what if it was?” Blair insisted, “Would you still have come straight here?”

“Of course not,” Soul finally pulled a bandage roll from the packaging, rising to his feet, “Have a little more faith in our judgement. We’re young, not stupid.”

She let out a hum, looking back down at Maka’s cut; after a moment, she gently pressed her palm to the surface of the wound.

“Hey, whoa, wait,” Maka’s hand wrapped around Blair’s wrist, “What’re you-”

“Just hold still for a moment,” Blair instructed, tone stern as she closed her eyes, reaching for her Soul Wavelength; she could see her own Souls, all a mix of deep violet and flaming orange, their Wavelengths perfectly unified.

‘Just need the one,’ she thought, focusing on one Soul; the Wavelength pulsed through her palms, turning from a cascading collision of purple and orange to a vibrant green, “Pum-Pumpkin, Pumpkin…”

She opened her eyes; as expected, forest green energy flowed from her hand and into Maka’s skin. Beneath her palm, she could feel the wound slowly knit itself back together, the skin healing over milimeter by milimeter.

When she pulled her hand away a moment later, the cut was gone.

Maka blinked, pulling off her glove and feeling her stomach to be sure; a scar had been left behind, as Blair had expected, but the wound itself had completely disappeared, not a hint of red to be seen.

“… you healed me,” she murmured, meeting Blair’s eyes in a mix of wonder and confusion.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” the cat asked, still stern, “Any injuries to your head?”

“… I took a couple of bumps,” Maka admitted, “But no blood, no dilated pupils.”

“No wooziness? No difficulty with balance or memory?”

“I already checked,” Soul confirmed, “Maka has no signs of a concussion.”

“Okay,” Blair rose to her feet, dusting off her hands before turning to the Scythe, “And what about you?”

He chuckled, raising his arms to display several small splotches of purple, “Couple of bruises, but nothing serious. Should be gone by morning.”

“… if you’re both sure,” she crossed her arms, “But I still think you two should be heading straight to bed. Maka especially; my spell healed the cut, but you still lost some blood. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re feeling lightheaded for the rest of the night.”

“Trust me,” Maka pushed herself up, testing her range of motion; there was still a slight wince when she twisted too far one way or the other, but the Meister was clearly enamoured with how much movement had returned to her, “We’re not doing anything else that’s strenuous tonight. We’re eating and going straight to bed.”

Finally, Blair gave another smile, “I can cook for you, if you want.”

“Oh, come on, Blair,” Soul laughed, “We’re a little beaten up, not invalids. We’re cool enough to look after ourselves.”

“Alright, alright,” she conceded, “But I’m holding you both to that. You only have one Soul each, after all, and I don’t think I can lend you any of mine.”

“Technically, you already have,” Maka snarked.

“Ha ha,” the cat turned, and padded away.

“… well, can’t say I was expecting that,” Soul stated, clearly thinking Blair was out of earshot.

“Me either,” Maka confessed.

“… think it’s enough reason to let her stay?”

“… well, she could save a fortune on bandaids; those are expensive.”

“Heh… is that a yes?”

“Don’t push it.”

Blair’s smile widened as Soul’s chuckle followed her down the hall. She glanced back out into the night sky, her chin in her hand.

“I’ll have to ask them what they were up to in the morning…”

Notes:

No Spanish to translate this time. But all the same, please give your thanks to maho_kat on Archive of Our Own for all her help in translating!

FINALLY, AN ACTUAL FIGHT SCENE.

And more serious Blair, yaaaaay!

Okay, so this is probably the last chapter of strict setup for Luz; next chapter I intend to actually get to Stein at the very least, if not wrap things up with him outright so we can finally get into the Boiling Isles proper.

Or at least that's what I hope. You can never guarantee these things until you've actually written them out, you know?

Thank you all for reading and for your patience and understanding with me. Let me know what you think! I hope you all enjoyed the sixth chapter of Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance!

Chapter 8: First Steps Taken

Notes:

I do not own Soul Eater or Owl House.

If I did, I'd probably have more regular updates... sorry, everyone.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“Thank you for again restoring my body, Doctor Stein,” Sid flexed his arm, testing the sensation of the movement; the muscles and joints themselves still felt sluggish, but the cuts in his arm, side and back had been completely sealed.

Though he hadn’t felt any pain from the wounds, per se, he knew that every hit he took would decrease the physical integrity of his body – among the many downsides of being dead, one of the glaring issues was that he could no longer heal on his own anymore.

The innumerable tiny stitches, however, each imbued with Soul Wavelength, were doing their job remarkably well; designed to bind flesh together and then slowly disappear, Sid could feel the muscles and skin as they gradually fused back into one piece, the cuts fading as if they were healing naturally of their own accord.

“Don’t,” his companion’s tone was completely disinterested, the clicks of the keyboard and the low hum of the furnace below providing the only ambience of the darkened laboratory. He stared into the computer screen – the only source of light in the room, the lights off as they always were whenever Sid frequented the premises – with his eyes in a squint and his cigarette burnt down to a mere nub between his teeth, “I’m not doing this as a favour to you or to be nice. I’m doing this because it’s my job. You shouldn’t thank me for just fulfilling an obligation, Sid.”

“You have an odd view of how gratitude should work,” Sid noted disapprovingly, crossing his arms, “Obligation or not, you are still maintaining my body’s ability to function at peak condition for effectively no charge – you don’t think I should be at least a little thankful?”

“No,” the finality in the doctor’s tone was more than enough for Sid to know he had no intention of elaborating.

“… well. You have your principles, and I have mine,” Sid smiled as best he could, “And my principles include thanking someone when they help me, regardless of the reasoning for it.”

“I’m not going to debate this with you,” he reached up to the top of the screw in his head, turning it; it lightly clicked as it spun in place, once with every millimeter, making it sound less like the rotation of a gear and more like the turn of a ratchet wrench, “What is your impression of the students so far? Are they faring well in the lesson?”

“About as well as I expected, unfortunately,” Sid sighed, “As a pair, Maka and Soul work together remarkably well. It’s no wonder they managed to reach ninety nine Kishin Egg Souls so quickly, even considering they were working off of low level, One Star assignments against targets that had relatively low threat levels. They are easily among the best Weapon and Meister pairs in their year – Maka shines both in the field and as an academic, and despite Soul’s insistence on only doing half of what he’s really capable of on his essays and worksheets, he excels in his actual performance as a Weapon. They are yet to perform a proper Soul Resonance, but they’ve already laid the groundwork for a truly incredible partnership.”

“I’m sensing a ‘but,’” the doctor did not look up from his computer screen.

“I’m getting to that,” the zombie assured, “On the other hand, we have Black Star and Tsubaki, who you’ve already heard about. They’re the reason these lessons were made in the first place. Black Star is one of the most physically capable and hardworking students I have ever seen, but has proven time and time again that he is his own worst enemy. He’s capable of using multiple kinds of weapons and martial art forms, but his sheer refusal to take his missions seriously renders his skills entirely moot, and I can’t say I’ve ever seen a student perform as poorly from an academic standpoint.

“And as for Tsubaki, she’s every bit as capable as her partner physically and has a fairly impressive academic record; she doesn’t perform on tests and essays quite as well as Maka, but her grades aren’t exactly what I would call middling, either. Unfortunately, she’s held back by the exact thing that makes her compatible with Black Star to begin with; she’s far too demure and patient, letting Black Star get his own way at essentially every turn.”

“Hmmm,” he scratched at the back of his head, closing his eyes and leaning back in his chair, causing it to creak.

“… I don’t know how you can work at your computer in the dark like this,” Sid shook his head, “You’re killing your eyes, you know.”

“I just can’t seem to get my head on straight,” he muttered, not seeming to really be listening anymore as he once again adjusted the screw. Then, he snapped up, spinning in place and staring right at the zombie, the glare of the screen illuminating his glasses in the dark, “And as a team, Sid? How do our student pairs perform together?”

“… again, about as well as I’d expected, but not as well as I’d hoped. I was hoping that Tsubaki’s calm nature and Soul’s friendship with Black Star would be enough to get them to work together at least somewhat amicably. Instead, Black Star and Maka are at each others’ throats.”

More clicking as the doctor continued rotating the screw, back and forth, trying to find the perfect spot.

“Black Star refuses to concede any autonomy to Maka, and Maka isn’t willing to bend to Black Star’s selfish demands. They’re at an impasse, and if I hadn’t left when I did, I suspect they would have begun attacking each other,” Sid gestured towards his accomplice, “If you have any ideas, I would love to hear them.”

The clicking finally stopped; the doctor’s hand fell to his mouth, taking out what was left of the cigarette and flicking it into the nearby ashtray with perfect aim, despite not even inclining his head.

Slowly, he sank forwards, head dipping sideways to rest in his palm, grey-green eyes narrowed in the shadows.

“I think,” he began, his words slow, deliberate, “that your solution may be a little more obvious than you realize.”


“How’s your stomach?”

Maka glanced up from her notebook as she and Soul retraced their steps to the Hook Cemetery; the sun was still in the east, slowly making its way over the dunes and casting long shadows across Death City.

Soul was in his usual hunched posture, his eyes half lidded beneath his headband, but even behind that, Maka could sense the concern.

“Fine, actually,” she returned her attention to her notes, “Stings a little when I twist too much left or right, or when I lean too far back, but beyond that, it’s like I was never cut.”

“Cool,” he bobbed his head, letting his gaze fall back down to the cobblestones, “Guess Blair really does know what she’s doing.”

“One upside to having a moocher, I guess,” she muttered.

Soul just chuckled, before sobering, “So… what’s the plan now? Our first and best shot at catching Sid pretty much went up in smoke.”

“Which is why we’re heading back to the Cemetery,” Maka stated, “I might not be able to work that well with Black Star, but I can at least work with Tsubaki to try and track Sid down.”

“Okay, but what if he’s relocated? You saw how he just pops in and out of the ground; he’s not likely to have left much of a trail.”

“Maybe not. But that’s what patience is for. We know he’s been targeting DWMA students even before we got involved, and that he hasn’t bothered waiting to return to full strength; it’s likely that he’ll make another move before long and give us another place to start looking,” she snapped the book shut, tucking it into her longcoat, “Alternatively, if we’re lucky, we won’t have to look for him at all.”

Soul cocked his head, “What, you think he’ll come for us directly?”

“I think it’s more than a little likely, given what I read in the reports. Lots of obvious stalking behaviour before he attacks, and we’ve made ourselves pretty big targets,” Maka brought a hand to her chin, frowning, “… but then…”

“… but then… what?” he asked.

Her jaw tightened as she thought back to her conversation with Luz; the more she thought about it, the less she liked where the situation seemed to be going.

“Maka?”

“… never mind,” she shook her head, “It’s nothing.”

“You sure? You’ve been out of it since yesterday.”

“Soul…”

“Maka,” he stopped, turning to face her, “You know I’m not asking you to talk about it. Have I ever pushed my luck like that?”

She bristled, a strange, defensive outrage welling up in her stomach and urging her to somehow counter.

But all the same Maka knew Soul wasn’t being malicious; if anything, he had every reason to be concerned. And why shouldn’t he be? He was her partner, her Weapon. Every time he transformed, every time she held him in her hands, he knew every emotion that flooded her being.

She might not have told him any of her secrets, but he had grown accustomed to her moods and could guess, roughly, at what caused them; in a way, he knew her better than anyone else did.

Reason won out, and slowly, she closed her eyes, exhaling through her nose, “… no. You’re not exactly what I’d call nosy.”

He nodded, “I get it. There are things I don’t like talking about either, and this strikes me as something personal. I’m not gonna pry.

“But by the same token, you’ve got to get out of this slump. Last night, we got our asses kicked.”

“Hey, I pulled myself together,” she huffed.

After our first exchange with Sid,” he countered, “And even then, I could still feel your frustration throughout the rest of the fight.”

Again, that perplexing outrage, and with it the conflict between superego and id, the stream of angry accusations and insults rising in her throat being held down by the idea of how ridiculous it would be for her to give in… and by the knowledge that Soul, ultimately, was right. No matter how much it stung to admit to herself.

“Sid’s only going to get stronger and more difficult to fight the longer it takes us to find and beat him,” Soul intoned, “If you can’t get your head in the game, we’re just gonna get creamed again.”

“… game, huh?” she muttered.

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to elaborate.

“… just… nevermind,” she shook her head, taking another breath as she tapped the sides of her face, “You’re right. I gotta focus on our mission. Everything else has to come second.”

She redoubled her pace, continuing down the street…

“… Maka?”

Once again, she stopped, turning to look at her partner.

The same concerned look she seemed to be getting more and more of from him had once again overtaken his features – the gentle scepticism of his narrowed eyes, the downturn of the corners of his mouth, even the slight shift in his usual slouch.

“… I’m still not gonna ask,” he assured, “But… you do know you can talk to me, right?”

This time, the question gave her pause; she stood, silent, trying to gauge the emotions swirling behind his crimson eyes, faintly infuriated by how good he was at hiding his thoughts and feelings…

“… of course I do,” she settled, smiling, “You’re my partner, Soul. I can talk to you, and you can talk to me. That’s how it’s supposed to work, isn’t it?”

He studied her for a long moment before smiling in turn, “Whatever you say, Maka.”

She blinked, caught off guard by the accusation before once again bristling with indignant rage, “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

He just chuckled again, starting forwards once more.

Maka let out a frustrated growl before she turned on her heel and moved to keep ahead of him, nose turned up in the air, unwilling to let him win.

After a moment, however, she felt her head dip down, her body growing heavy.

Of course Maka knew she could talk to him. That wasn’t the real question.

The real question, in Maka’s mind at least, was whether or not she should.


“So, what exactly is Maka up against, Papi?

Spirit glanced at his daughter as she leaned against the wall; the music and general yammering of the crowd would have made it difficult to hear anyone else, but Luz’s lung capacity and vocal range had always been, to say the very least, impressive. It was a handy tool in settings like the line-up of a movie theatre, allowing her to make herself heard in all but the loudest of environments.

Unfortunately, being naturally loud came with its fair share of challenges. Even today, Luz still struggled with the concept of volume control, especially when she was excited; when paired with an exceptionally excitable personality that could find joy in nearly anything, the result was someone who could very easily dominate a conversation without meaning to, as well as accidentally earn herself several suspensions from the local library over the years.

A shame, too; from the Death Scythe’s understanding, the librarians genuinely loved Luz, but couldn’t afford to give her any more free passes for being disruptively loud.

“Not all that much, aside from Sid,” the Weapon stated, “He’s a Three Star Meister, and even among them a pretty tough customer. But they shouldn’t be fighting anyone or anything else – Sid won’t even be using his Weapon partner.”

“So, just the teacher turned zombie, then?”

“Yeah, that should be it,” he confirmed, “Unless Stein decides to throw some sort of wrench into the plan…”

At this, Luz winced, biting her lip and breaking her gaze with her arms wrapping around her stomach – the clear picture of a child wrapped in the throes of guilt.

Spirit felt his heart wilt, reaching out to place a hand on her shoulder, “Luz… it’s alright. You didn’t know, right?”

“… right,” she sighed, “But-”

“But nothing,” he urged, “What happened yesterday is nobody’s fault. Honestly, I should’ve just muted Sid’s call and gotten back to him later.”

“… okay.”

It was obvious she wasn’t convinced; a feeling he knew all too well.

He pulled away, debating whether or not he should say anything more before throwing caution to the wind, “… he was my partner.”

At this, Luz’s head snapped up, blinking rapidly as she met his eyes once again, “What?”

“Stein,” he elaborated, “He was my Meister when I first enrolled at the DWMA.”

She blinked again – then slowly, her brow creased, eyes narrowed, “But I thought your partner was Maka’s Mom?”

“Ah, but that’s the tricky part, isn’t it?” he smirked, “I said when I first enrolled at the DWMA. I didn’t say Stein was my partner for my entire time as a student there.”

She let out a playful growl of faux annoyance, “Uuuugh, you’re so tricky!”

“Always expect the unexpected, young grasshoppa,” he chuckled, “But yeah. Stein and I worked together for about two years before I met Makoto, and it would be another four before I changed partners.”

This time, there was a noticeable pause before Luz responded, hesitation thick in her tone, “… and I’m assuming it wasn’t just because you felt like shaking things up.”

“It wasn’t,” despite his best efforts, he wasn’t able to keep all of the tired anxiety out of his voice, “See… working with Stein… wasn’t exactly the safest thing. Normally, when Meisters and Weapons join the Academy, they’re allowed to mingle with each other – figure out who makes a good match with who naturally, letting students filter each other out and partner up of their own accord. Not so with me and Stein; I was specifically asked to be his partner because I was the only one who could reign him in.”

“‘Reign him in…’ as in he liked to party…?” she ventured, contrite hope in her words that this wasn’t going where she thought it was.

“‘Reign him in,’ as in he’d frequently abuse his position as a Meister to do whatever he wanted – and whenever anyone else tried to get him to stop, he’d get violent with them,” the Death Scythe gestured to himself, “I was the only one he seemed to be willing to listen to.”

“… that’s what I was afraid of…” she squeaked.

“Stein was a truly brilliant Meister, Luz. Frighteningly so, in fact – he was frighteningly skilled, frighteningly intelligent, and he had a frightening capacity for violence,” Spirit crossed his arms, recalling the constant back and forth Stein displayed –between a marked disinterest for everything around him and the wide, manic grins whenever something managed to catch his attention, “I don’t know what it was about me specifically that got him to settle down, but I managed to get him to follow the rules at least somewhat. For a long time, I even thought I managed to get through to him on a level no one else had. I thought we were friends.”

“Well… weren’t you?” she asked, “Don’t you have to have a strong personal connection with someone to be able to perform even a Basic Resonance?”

“It turned out Stein had a different definition of ‘friends’ than I did,” the Weapon’s grip on his arms tightened, “Stein has a pathological need to take things apart. He can’t help it. It’s the main thing that drives him, both as a scientist and as a person. Taking things apart to see how they work… and I was no exception.”

“… oh.”

Spirit almost hadn’t heard it, Luz was so quiet… not that she needed to say anything; her silence would have spoken volumes all on its own.

“After I found out about it, Makoto and I made arrangements to transfer my partnership,” he finished, letting his gaze drift up into the rafters overhead, “By then, Stein had mildly better self control, and was a skilled enough fighter that he honestly didn’t need a Weapon in most situations. I didn’t really see him much, after that.”

“… his wiki page said he graduated at seventeen,” Luz murmured.

“A full year earlier than I did, yeah. He went on to take programs at specialized DWMA facilities, and… well, I haven’t seen him in almost twenty years, now,” he sighed, his eyes falling closed.

“… Papi?... are you okay?”

He let one eye open slightly, lips curling upwards, “Why wouldn’t I be okay, Luz?”

Her brows arched gently upwards, her mouth dipping down at the edges as she studied him, almost seeming to stare into his Soul; if he didn’t know better, he’d have said she could see it, peering into him with a startling clarity.

“… you just… you sound sad, talking about him.”

His thoughts came to a halt as he processed Luz’s words; the wistful melancholy hung suspended in his chest alongside a sharp sensation akin to shock, as if this were the first time he was really noticing the emotion, truly processing what it was that thoughts of old partner summoned.

Fear? There was definitely fear, looking back on those days, but not nearly as much as he thought.

Anger? To his surprise, no. If there was any anger, it was a distant, peripheral sensation, tertiary to everything else.

No, what he felt, more than anything else, was disappointment. Bitter, bitter disappointment in the man he thought he had managed to reach, that settled into a strange, heavy remorse.

“… Papi?

Luz’s finger pressed into his cheek, bringing him back to reality; gently, he reached up, and guided her finger away from his face.

“Careful,” he teased, “Try that with another Weapon, and they might bite that finger.”

She smiled, though the concern in her eyes did not abate, “I’ll be sure to keep that in mind.”

“Good. You excited to see a movie?”

“Sure am!” she brightened… only for it to falter, “… just one last question… okay, two more questions.”

“Fire away,” he nodded, though he felt his shoulders tense of their own accord.

“… first off… why are you telling me this?”

He blinked, “Because you asked.”

“But isn’t this super personal?” Luz persisted, “Going off your reaction yesterday, I thought you wouldn’t want to talk about it at all.”

“Well…” he shrugged, “I figure you at least deserve honesty from me, Luz. And I trust you to keep this to yourself; you might not be that good with social cues, but you know that there are some things that you don’t talk about with just anyone.”

“Alright...” she mumbled.

“And your other question?”

“… you’re not just… telling me all this to make me feel better, are you?”

Spirit’s heart leaped into his throat, panic making his mind race even as he forced his features to remain firmly in place, still as stone, “What gave you that idea?”

The half lidded, deadpan stare that the Death Scythe received would have impressed even Maka, Luz’s arms crossing as she leaned to one side, “Dad, I’m not great with social cues, but even I can tell when someone is trying to humour me or make me feel better.”

The racing of his mind rose to an internal scream as he did his best to keep his smile in place, the corners of his mouth slipping ever so slightly, “Well, I guess it’s a good thing I’m not just humouring you then!”

“You sure?” she pressed.

“Absolutely,” he nodded.

“You’re actually fine talking about this and not just trying to get me to not worry?”

“… yes,” he finally said.

‘Buy it, buy it, buy it, buy it,’ he prayed, ‘For the love of God, please buy it!’

She squinted at him, a low hum reverberating through her throat as she cupped her chin, clearly cross examining him; for a long moment, Spirit thought she would accuse him of lying…

… only for a relieved smile to break out across her face.

“I’m glad,” even with the noise of the room around them, Luz’s words still cascaded across him loud and clear, pure and wholehearted, “Gracias, Papi.

The Death Scythe was glad for the thrum of the crowd around them, hiding his sigh of relief as he finally relaxed, “De nada, Corazoncito.

‘Crisis averted,’ he thought, all the tension falling from his shoulders at once as he finally stepped up to the snack counter, ‘Though we really need to do something about those low Insight checks…’


“Took you two long enough to show up.”

Maka let out a harsh snort at the high-pitched sneer on the cobblestone archway above; Black Star grinned down from atop the wrought iron cemetery gate, Tsubaki at his side, “I thought you’d given up.”

“And let Tsubaki fail on your account?” she snapped, “Fat chance, Black Star.”

“So, what’s new?” Soul asked, interrupting before the cycle could begin, “Find any trace of Sid?”

“Nope,” Black Star jumped down, the only sound of exertion upon landing being the slight breath as a heavy thud reverberated through the ground.

Tsubaki’s landing was far more graceful, patting out her dress as she elaborated, “We tried to follow his various tunnels, but most of them have collapsed. Whether this happened right after he made them or sometime during the night, we can’t tell.”

“Well, that figures,” Maka grumbled, crossing her arms, “Guess we really are back to square one if he doesn’t attack us… unless you found any other clues as to where he might’ve gone?”

Black Star turned up his nose, closing his eyes, “Nah. I took a pretty good look around, but it doesn’t look like Sid dropped anything we can use.”

“What about what’s left of the tunnels?” Soul ventured, “If he travelled underground, he wouldn’t have to account for streets and such, he could make a beeline straight for wherever he was going.”

“Not necessarily,” Tsubaki noted, “He’d still have to account for all the underground infrastructure – namely, the sewer systems, electrical lines and water mains. To ignore all that completely, he would have to have dug straight down quite a distance, and what was left of the tunnels didn’t go down that deep before they curved or collapsed.”

“And we don’t have a map of Death City’s underground systems either,” Maka growled, rubbing her brow, “This is why I hate targets that can burrow or fly. Tracking them becomes so much more of a hassle.”

“We’ll make do,” Soul assured, his cocky, calming smile in place as he looked from one person to the next eyes half lidded.

“We’ve still got thirteen days; it’s not like we’re up against something we can’t handle. For now, let’s just keep looking.”


“Oooooh, no! They say he’s got to go! Go Go, Godzilla!”

The Death Scythe grinned as Luz pumped her arms to the beat of the song, even though it had long since ceased playing even in the theatre behind them, “You know, I never thought I’d actually hear that song get covered, much less that it would be done by a full orchestra with choir.”

“But would you have it done any other way?” she asked, her own grin as broad as he’d ever seen it.

“Nope,” he chuckled, “Can’t say I would.”

“Didn’t think so,” she laughed, then sighed, content as she dug into the back for more popcorn, “So… back home for today?”

“I think so, yeah,” Spirit nodded, “You still need to do your studies for today.”

“Alright. And tomorrow?”

“Well, what do you want to do?”

“Come on, Papi,” she turned on her heel, walking backwards to look him in the eye, “¡He elegido los últimos dos dias!

¿Y?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow, “Estoy aquí para pasar tiempo contigo. Ya estoy haciendo lo que quiero solo por estar aqui.

Luz let out a growl of mock annoyance as she spun back around, raking a hand through her hair with a barely restrained smile, “Eres imposible.

Eso intento,” he shrugged.

“… but seriously,” she glanced up, “Is there anything you want to do while you’re here? There’s gotta be something you don’t get to do in Death City other than see me.”

He glanced out the window as they descended the escalator; in the distance, what looked like a train track arced up into the air high above a carnival, the crowds bustling below in a sea of cascading colours. After a moment, the cars rushed up the track with incredible speed…

“… weeeeellll,” he drawled, “It’s been a while since I’ve set foot in an amusement park…”

Luz stared up at him, eyes wide, “Are we gonna win tickets?”

“Oh, Luz,” he smiled, mischief abound in his tone, “We are gonna win all the tickets.”


Soul was quickly finding himself regretting his choice of words.

Sid’s house, of course, was devoid of any evidence anyone had lived there beyond the absolutely ransacked furniture, and even then, there hadn’t been much to ransack; the professor had evidently lived a fairly Spartan lifestyle, his amenities sparse and streamlined.

His number of haunts was equally sparse; he didn’t seem to frequent bars or restaurants at all, and in fact only seemed to rarely leave school grounds. Going off what they had all learned, Sid practically lived in the DWMA, spending more nights in his classroom than he did in the comfort of his home.

The only place he ever really seemed to visit during his free time that wasn’t on school grounds… was Hook Cemetery itself.

And so, once again, they all stood waiting amidst the gravestones.

“Uuuuuuugh, this sucks,” Black Star bemoaned, kicking a rock at one of the nearby trees; it bounced back, rolling to a stop near his feet, prompting him to kick it again in some small imitation of soccer.

“Don’t do stakeouts very often, do you?” Maka asked wryly, her eyes unfocused as her head drifted back and forth on a swivel.

“We’re waiting for a guy who might not even show up,” he growled, “We should be outta here already!”

“Doing what?” Soul sighed, hands stuffed in his coat, “We can’t just wander around randomly or we’ll never find him.”

“Black Star, the chances of Sid coming back at some point are actually fairly high,” Tsubaki noted, “Even if it isn’t tonight, this place seems to hold some significance to him. That, combined with his deliberate targeting of Academy students, means he probably won’t lay low for more than a day or two.”

“Making a big star like me waste my time like this,” he grumbled, kicking the rock so hard it embedded itself in the bark, “Who does he think he is?!”

“… still no luck, Maka?” Soul asked.

“No. I’m not seeing anything,” she kept her gaze moving back and forth, “It doesn’t help that I can’t see very far beneath the ground, either…”

“Well, that’s just great,” Black Star crossed his arms, “You really are useless.”

“I’m not seeing you helping,” Maka snapped, “Oh, wait, that’s right, you can’t. You’re the worst person at sensing Souls here.”

“Hey, if I really wanted to, my sixth sense could beat yours any day of the week!”

“Yeah? So why doesn’t it?”

“Because I feel bad for you, Maka,” he folded his arms behind his head, “It must really suck only being good for sensing things.”

Her grip on her arms tightened, her eyes snapping back into focus, “… you know, I was going to ask how that cut on your back was healing. But you know what? I’m not gonna. You deserved that.”

“It’s healed up perfectly fine anyways,” Black Star sneered, “Not like you could do any real damage-”

“Okay, that’s enough.

Soul stalked between them, breaking their eye contact as his glare swept from one Meister to the other.

“Tsubaki and I have had to play mediator more than enough over the past forty eight hours,” he intoned, an unusual authority adding to the weight behind his words, “I know that you don’t like each other, but we don’t have the time or the energy to keep managing you two or to work through the issue. We have a job to do-”

The sound of dry earth shifting.

Of dead roots snapping.

Maka and Black Star immediately jumped, each leaping for their Weapons; Soul and Tsubaki were already in motion by the time their Meisters reached them, the Scythe plunging himself back into the dark pool in a flash of light, Maka’s hands a comforting warmth on the cold steel of his body.

The tree fell, breaking into blackened splinters as it hit the earth. Sid rose from the ground, fists clenched and milky eyes staring down.

“I hope you’ve revised your strategy, students,” he stated, “Because class has begun, whether you’ve studied or not.”


There was a faint click as Luz straightened out the last of her papers, tapping them on her desk to get them lined up; there was always something satisfying about lining up the corners. It was almost cathartic, in the same way as drawing a perfectly straight line or fitting together a pair of puzzle pieces without bending the cardboard because you got the wrong ones (an experience the Latina was all too familiar with).

A simple satisfaction, yes. But one she enjoyed immensely nonetheless.

“Oooookay,” she set them down, leaning back in her chair, “That should be all of it…”

“We’ve done your math, your English, your social studies…” Papi squinted as he held up the piles of stapled worksheets, “Have we done your sciences?”

“Everything except the dissection labs,” she pouted, “I still can’t believe they wouldn’t let me take the cow’s eyes home when we dropped off the last of my homework…”

“Personally, I’m fine with that,” he grimaced, “But… yeah, it looks like everything that we can do’s been done. All that’s really left is further review,” he glanced at her, lips gently drifting up at the corners, “You feel ready?”

She let out a hum, tapping her fingers together as she leaned back far enough to stare at the ceiling, her chair on the verge of tipping back and dumping her onto the floor, “… I think so? I’m pretty confident I can at least get a B across the board at this point,” she smiled, “You’ve been a huge help, Papi.

“Just doing my job as your Dad – and as a teacher,” he chuckled, taking the stack off her desk and stapling it, adding it to the pile listed ‘Completed Study Material,’ “But now my question is, are you trying your best?”

“Of course I am,” she sat up, pouting slightly, “Why wouldn’t I try my best?”

“A lot of kids don’t see the point in education, Luz,” he straightened, expression stern, “As your father, I know that you try hard at everything you do. That’s just who you are. It’s not in your nature to put in a half-hearted effort.

“But I’ve seen a lot of students come and go… and while a lot of the time it’s the result of lack of support from one source or another, it always hurts to see them stop trying,” he stuffed his hands in his pockets, seeming to stare off into the air right in front of him “It’s easy to lose your enthusiasm when you aren’t doing so well, you know?”

“… yeah,” she acknowledged, “There’s a lot of kids like that in my school…”

A poignant silence fell over them both.

“… so, I’ll ask again,” Dad shook himself out of his reverie, his eyes returning to focus, “And I don’t want you to answer immediately. Give it a little bit of thought before you answer.”

“Okay,” she bobbed her head.

“Are you trying your best, Luz?”

This time, she settled back, arms crossed as her back slid down her chair, lips pursed. Obviously, there were some subjects she liked more than others, and some that she outright didn’t care for – God knew she was struggling just to scrape by in math until a few days ago…

… but by the same token, it wasn’t as if she refused to put in any effort at all – and moreover, she genuinely had to wonder how many of her poorer grades were the result of a lack of effort on her part, or a lack of effort on the part of her teachers in terms of actually helping her learn.

“… I… I think I need to think on that a little more,” she admitted, straightening, “I get what you’re saying, and I’d be lying if I said that my frustrations with certain subjects didn’t cause me to slip a bit… but… I’m not sure how well…”

“How well you were actually taught those subjects?” he guessed.

Si. That,” she nodded.

He snorted, “And people wonder why I think this country could learn a thing or two from New Zealand.”

“Don’t they pay their teachers like doctors there?” Luz queried.

“Yep. Same policies as the DWMA. And it is much harder to become a teacher there, as well. You know the saying?”

“‘Those who can, do. Those who can’t teach,’” Luz quoted, wrinkling her nose in distaste… then she giggled, “‘And those who can’t teach, teach gym.’”

“Smartass,” the Death Scythe chuckled, “Not so in New Zealand; they treat their school system with some actual respect. But we’re getting off track. Do you think that with some better instruction and a little more effort, you could do a bit better?”

“… well, I have been doing my best,” she began, a determined smile on her lips, “But I think you’ve seen what better instruction has been doing for me firsthand.”

He ruffled her hair, “See? I told you you’re a good student; trying your best is all anyone can ask of you.”

She grinned, “Thanks, Dad.”

“Anytime,” he dug into his pocket, pulling out his phone, “… should probably be heading back to my hotel, actually.”

“Alright,” she nodded, standing up to wrap him in another hug, “Buenas noches, Papi.

Buenas noches, Corazoncito,” he returned the embrace, then gently broke away, “I’ll see you in the morning, okay?”

“You got it,” she raised a hand in a two fingered salute.

He flashed her one last smile, then stepped out the door.


Black Star let out a roar as he rushed his teacher, Tsubaki’s ninja sword in hand; they’d been clashing for what felt like hours. In his periphery, he was aware that the sunset had long since ended, that the oranges and pinks and purples had gently faded away into the infinite navy blue without his notice, stars blinking, moon grinning its usual morbid grin.

They must have been fighting for over half an hour now, at the very least.

But the ninja was only distantly aware of this. All that mattered to him was the here, the now, the heartbeat pounding in his ears as he jumped, spun, and swiped, attempting to cut open the back of Sid’s neck with a single clean slice.

It was infuriating how a corpse could move so quickly; Tsubaki’s blade only met the cold night air, the zombie ducking beneath it, spinning, and throwing up a kick that caught Black Star in the stomach.

He grit his teeth as he was propelled up into the air again by the impact, using the momentum to flip backwards and regain some control.

‘Black Star, remember to stay calm,’ Tsubaki’s voice echoed in the back of his mind, ‘Your opening will present itself in time. You just need to be able to identify it when it comes.’

‘I know that!’ he shouted mentally, though there was no scorn in his tone, ‘Kusarigama Mode!’

‘Right!’

Her form changed once again in his hands, the grip of the short sword transforming into a chain; he flung the familiar weight of the first scythe down, the zombie easily sidestepping the attack.

The Dark Arm Meister had expected that; as soon as the blade struck the ground, he pulled on the chain, launching himself down with enough force that his ears rung with the breeze that rushed past-

The flutter of a longcoat shot in from the corner of his vision, the dark red blade gleaming.

Once again, all Sid had to do was sidestep, Tsubaki’s blade clashing with Soul’s.

Black Star grit his teeth as his anger mounted, shouting his frustration into the wind, “Dammit, Maka! I had him!”

“Didn’t look like it to me,” she grunted, not even affording him a second glance as she kept her eyes on the dancing cadaver, resuming her combat stance.

“Then get your eyes checked!” he flipped backwards, pulling both kusarigama back into his hands as he landed on one of the gravestones.

“… your strategy hasn’t changed at all,” Sid sighed, frustration and disappointment heavy in his tone, “You’re still refusing to work together.”

“Didn’t I tell you before, Sid?” the blue haired boy spat, raising Tsubaki once again, “Tsubaki and I don’t need anyone’s help. We’ll take you in all by ourselves!”

Despite the lack of focus in the zombie’s eyes, Black Star could feel the appraising gaze Sid now had levelled at him, his brow creasing however slightly, “You say that, but that certainly isn’t what I’m seeing. If anything, it sounds like an excuse.”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Black Star hissed, anger flaring in his stomach.

“That you’re incapable of working with Maka, Black Star.”

Everything in Black Star’s mind came to an abrupt, grinding halt. Every muscle in his body went rigid, taut like steel cables pulled tight to hold back some impossibly heavy collapse.

“Just like how you’re incapable of stepping up to take any responsibility for your actions. Just like how you’re incapable of completing a basic collection,” the corpse crossed his arms, “It’s like you’re bound and determined to disappoint everyone every step of the way. You’re capable of so much, yet you manage so little.”

Pain shot through his jaw from how tightly his teeth ground together; his lips pulled back in a snarl, fury pulsing through him and clouding his mind in a haze.

‘… Black Star…’ he could barely hear her over his own heartbeat.

“… you don’t know the first thing about me, you walking corpse.

Sid’s expression didn’t change, “Then prove me wrong.”

The shriek of rage that ripped out from his lungs shot out like a gunshot; all at once, the energy in his muscles exploded, as if some blockage had been removed from the machinations of his body. He shot into motion, sprinting forwards, “Tsubaki! Shuriken Mode!”

The twin scythes disappeared, shifting into a far heavier weapon; the five bladed wheel of steel was easily more than half his total height, each straight edge sharp and polished to a razor sheen. He spun her in his hand, the inner wheel perfectly contoured to his fingers, before hurling Tsubaki forwards with all his might.

Sid did not move. He stood still, leaning back against a gravestone, nonchalant…

Then raised his hand, catching the oversized ninja star without so much as a flinch.

Black Star remained unfazed as he closed the distance, “Smoke Bomb Mode!”

“Right!”

With that one word, Tsubaki’s form dispersed; steel turned to smoke, a thick fog that blanketed the graveyard and caught the moon’s light with an ambience that blinded entirely.

But that was perfect.

Black Star didn't need to see in order to make his strikes land.

He lashed out, his fists clenched-

Only for Sid’s fingers to close around his wrist.

Black Star only had time to feel his heart skip a beat as he was pulled into a strike that rattled his entire skull, the zombie’s knuckles colliding with his teeth; stars filled his vision as he stumbled back, only to be pulled forward once again, staggering forwards before his hand was released, and what felt distinctly like an elbow collided with the back of his skull.

“You’re not thinking,” Sid declared, “What good does a smoke bomb do against someone who’s already blind, Black Star?”

This time, Black Star managed to turn in time, eyes squeezed shut as he caught the next attack; Sid had just tried to kick one of his knees out.

“It’s not for you,” he snarled, “This is the only way it’s fair!

He twisted, and he felt, more than anything else, Sid’s body spin in front of him, forced to align with the rest of his leg; Black Star refused to let go, instead stepping forwards, his other leg rising as he delivered a vicious kick to Sid’s side, the ribs displacing under his heel.

His anger melted away in the swell of pride, the satisfaction at finally managing to land a solid hit rising from his stomach, “YAAAAHOOOOOO-!”

Before Black Star could finish his elated cry, Sid’s elbow came crashing down on his kneecap; he slipped, landing roughly on his back, and all of the corpse’s weight came down on him at once, driving the wind from his lungs.

“Black Star!” the fog dissipated.

Despite the pain that wracked his ribs, the blue haired Meister remained determined. He kept his grip on the zombie’s ankle, twisting his whole body to try and knock the cadaver down.

Abruptly, all the weight disappeared; Maka stood over him, Soul’s blade embedded in the earth where Sid had been previously standing. Tsubaki was immediately at his side, slipping her hands under his shoulders and pulling him into a seated position, gradually allowing his vision to settle.

“… took you long enough,” Black Star wheezed, glaring holes into the back of Maka’s skull.

“We could’ve helped you sooner if you hadn’t used that smoke bomb,” the Scythe Meister’s retort was cold and concise, maintaining her gaze on Sid; he’d backed away, once again seeming content to merely watch, “Believe it or not, Black Star, we didn’t want to give you another cut.”

“Screw you,” he pushed himself back up, letting Tsubaki steady him as he rose to his feet. When was the last time he’d taken a kick like that?

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better, I also don’t feel like chipping my blade tonight,” Soul quipped, and Black Star could swear he saw a faint grin in the reflective edge of the Scythe, “I don’t know what you’re eating, but your skeleton’s hard as rocks, dude.”

“… well, at the very least, you’ve stopped arguing,” Sid noted, approval only barely noticeable in his tone, “It’s progress, but you’re still not ready.”

“Gonna run away like you did last night?” Black Star jeered.

“I’ve said what needs to be said; it’s up to you to take steps accordingly,” the zombie straightened, “Class dismissed.”

With that, he disappeared in a cloud of dust, sinking beneath the earth before they could blink.

“… well, at least we know where to find him,” Soul sighed.

“He’s not making any effort to change locations or confuse us,” Maka straightened, letting herself relax, “Either this place really means a lot to him, or he’s messing with us.”

“It could be both,” Tsubaki suggested, “His whole demeanour so far has been very… odd.”

Black Star said nothing; he was only barely aware of the conversation unfolding around him, even as he slowly regained his breath. His footing returned, and he stepped forwards, staring into the hole that Sid had left behind.

The former professor’s words echoed in his ears.

‘You’re incapable of working with Maka, Black Star.’

‘You’re incapable.’

‘You’re incapable.

Once again, the ninja found his teeth grinding against each other, kicking a rock into the tunnel before turning away.

“I’ll show you who’s incapable,” he hissed, stomping back towards the group without a second thought, the remainder of the night fading into a blur.

Notes:

Spanish translation for this chapter:

Turns out, Spanish and English have the same word for zombie. Who knew? That's why I removed caminando muerto; turns out trying to go for walking corpse in Spanish just makes it clunky.

---

"De nada, Corazoncito."

"You're welcome, sweetheart."

---

"¡He elegido los últimos dos dias!"

"I've picked for the last two days!"

---

"¿Y? Estoy aquí para pasar tiempo contigo. Ya estoy haciendo lo que quiero solo por estar aqui."

"And? I'm here to spend time with you. I'm already doing what I want just being here."

---

"Eres imposible."

"You're impossible."

---

"Eso intento."

"I try."

---

"Buenas noches."

"Goodnight."

---

As always, this translation work is done by maho_kat on Archive of Our Own! Please give her your thanks for all her work, everyone!

So sorry for the wait on this one, everyone!

The reason this one took so long is because I didn't want to string everyone along in terms of actually reaching the Boiling Isles, and I kept feeling like what I had written wasn't a good point to end on. So I decided to sit down and blast through until I completed the Stein arc.

What I ended up with was two chapters. This is the first one.

Also, yes, I know King of the Monsters came out in May, not June... but let's be honest. Luz is absolutely a Godzilla fan.

Please be sure to leave your thoughts below! I hope you enjoyed the eighth chapter of Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance!

Chapter 9: Dread Examinations

Notes:

I do not own Soul Eater or Owl House.

If I did, this would be the official material.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Day three.

Spirit leaned over the trash-can, gripping its edges as he did everything in his power to keep himself from violently ejecting his lunch.

‘Come on, Spirit,’ he coached, fighting the rising bile in his throat, ‘That was a perfectly good hot dog and you’ve experienced more spinning fighting and dancing with Makoto. No reason to get sick. No, no reason at all.’

Luz patted his back with a worried, but reassuring smile, the screams and laughter of the park well accompanied by the bright colours and vibrant blue sky.

“Maaaaaybe we should avoid the spinny rides from now on,” she suggested.

Her father’s only response was to groan into the bin.


“What the Hell do you mean, it’s not gonna work?”

Black Star’s voice was doing nothing to assist Maka’s pounding headache; she took a long, slow sip of her tea, caught somewhere between praying for its soothing effects to finally reach the contents of her skull, and chucking her mug, scalding hot contents and all, into the shinobi’s face.

“I mean, you’re not understanding how Sid actually processes sensory information now,” she explained, in as calm a tone as she could manage, “He’s not using his eyes and ears anymore. Even if he weren’t dead, most of his frontal lobe is kaput. Depriving him of his senses isn’t a bad idea, but covering his eyes and plugging his ears isn’t going to do much. That’s why Tsubaki’s smoke bomb mode didn’t really do anything to him last night.”

Black Star grumbled as he sat back in his chair, arms crossed, though for once, he did not fire any sort of comment back. Instead, his brow creased in what Maka could not believe was something he was actually capable of – thought.

“… uuuuugh, you’re right,” he groaned, arching his neck back to stare at the ceiling, “And I had this whole idea ready, too…”

“It wasn’t a bad idea,” Tsubaki piped up in support, smiling from the other side of the table, “We’re just up against an unusual opponent is all. We can’t expect normal methods to work.”

“To be honest, I'm surprised you two are even here,” Soul finally returned to the room, setting a steaming cup in front of the Dark Arm Meister and Weapon before sitting down himself, taking a sip of his coffee, “I didn’t think you’d want to talk strategy.”

“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Black Star snorted, “I’m here because I want to prove Sid wrong. I’m not interested in making nice.”

“… well, it’s better than nothing,” Maka muttered, closing her eyes and taking another sip.

Black Star’s only response was to reach for his cup and bring it up to his nose, sniffing it, “… ginseng?”

“… yeah,” Maka’s eyes narrowed, “How’d you guess?”

“I keep some in stock in case one of us ever gets sick. Works wonders for making you feel better,” with that, he took a long, slow sip, “… not bad. Not perfect, but not the worst tea I’ve ever tasted. Tastes like it’s steeped a little too long though.”

“… never took you for a tea guy,” Maka confessed, “I thought you’d be slamming back energy drinks every chance you got.”

“Ugh, no,” the sheer disgust in Black Star’s tone was palpable, “I’ve got better things to do than drink actual poison.

She blinked, the only tangible response she could come up with being an incredulous “Huh.”

“At any rate, I don’t think we really know enough about Sid’s weaknesses to really formulate a plan,” Tsubaki’s expression grew more serious, “He’s far too strong for us to fight directly, and the fact that his senses have completely changed in nature means that conventional methods aren’t going to work. And unfortunately, I don’t think the time we have left will be enough for us to properly coordinate our fighting styles to fight him.”

“So what do you suggest?” Soul asked.

“I think for now, we should simply continue to observe; keep probing for weaknesses where we can,” she smiled, “Between the four of us, we should be able to find something.


The bag jerked back under the force of the girl’s punch, her knuckles colliding with the dark leather. The machine lurched slightly, the red numbers cycling…

“Come on, come on…” Luz murmured, rubbing her sore fist as the machine calculated the force of her strike…

Only for the number 19 to blare across its screen.

She let out a low whine as the machine refused to spit out any tickets, a mocking, low-quality laugh track echoing in the background over the shouts and squeals around her.

Dad snickered, “Told you that thing was rigged.”

Everything’s rigged,” Luz snapped, pulling her cat hood over her head as if it could somehow help her hide.

“Yeah, that’s how they make their money, usually,” he mused, stepping up to the machine himself with his eyes narrowed, “Buuuuut, just because they’re rigged, doesn’t mean they can’t be won.”

The tanned teen slowly poked her head out of her hood, tentatively curious, “But doesn’t that contradict the definition of ‘rigged’?”

“All they’ve really done is change the objective of the game, Luz,” he explained casually, taking out a coin and slotting it into the machine, “They exploit people by making the games nearly impossible to win. They might not make much money off the individual, but enough people try, and they’ll be swimming in cash.”

“… so, then, how do we win?” she asked, finally letting her hood down.

“Simple,” he covered his eyes, raising a hand to the bag, middle finger curled down and held in place with his thumb, “We do what they do; find an exploit.”

He flicked the bag. The numbers spun.

And the machine started vomiting tickets as the numbers stopped at a full 100.

“… how did you…?” she started, kneeling to gather all the tickets the machine had violently spat out.

“Not me. Stein,” he chuckled, helping her gather the pink papers, “We stole one of these things once, back when we were partners.”

She grinned, her tone and posture mischievous, “That sounds like a story.

“One that can wait until we’ve cleaned this place out,” he returned her toothy smile, “You ready to cheat some cheaters?”

She straightened, all the tickets stuffed into her bag, “Let’s do it!


Getting beaten by Sid was beginning to feel like a routine; a routine Maka was quickly getting sick of.

Even with Black Star cooperating – in the loosest possible definition one could have of cooperation – there was only so much they could do before he either left them too battered and bruised to continue or just up and left.

His fist collided with Soul’s blade, sending her skidding back across the ground before he dove, emerging from the earth just as quickly with a blindingly quick uppercut.

The Scythe Meister maintained her momentum, using it to step back and swing her partner, hoping to catch the zombie in the side.

He shifted forwards almost imperceptibly, his knuckles quickly closing the distance towards her brow.

She took a breath, braced herself-

And ducked, pulling Soul with her so Soul’s blade bit into Sid’s back.

“That maneuver won’t work twice-!”

“YA-HOOOOO!”

Before Sid could finish his sentence, Black Star shot in like a blue tipped bullet; he soared overtop of Maka’s head, his fist colliding with Sid’s chest, Tsubaki’s ninja blade in his other hand.

‘Here it comes, Maka!’ Soul warned, ‘This is gonna sting!’

‘I know,’ she acknowledged, ‘Just make sure you don’t let go!’

“BLACK STAR BIG WAVE!”

The ninja’s Soul Wavelength pulsed through the former professor’s body like a controlled earthquake; even with both the zombie and Soul acting as a buffer, Maka could feel the force of the blow running through her. She could feel her bones shift, her joints jolt painfully in place, every single muscle in her body seeming to abruptly bruise all at once.

The outward projection of Soul Wavelength in one of its most basic forms.

A physical shockwave.

It only lasted a second or two, but it felt far longer; she heard Sid choke, as if in pain, but she was too preoccupied with her own sensations and internal mantra to register it. She heard Black Star’s voice above, but the words were too garbled for her to make out; instead, she pulled harder, trying to pull Sid to the ground.

But once again, it proved fruitless.

Sid struck, sending Maka hurtling backwards across the ground and Black Star through the air. She caught herself mid backwards roll, skidding to a halt on the dry earth.

‘… you okay, Soul?’ she asked.

‘Jesus tap-dancing Christ, that hurts!’ he shouted; on the other end of their link, the Meister could feel her Weapon’s ache, projected into her own bones and muscles through her palms, ‘I’ve got a newfound respect for Tsubaki. How the Hell does she handle getting hit directly with that Soul Wavelength all the time?!’

‘She probably doesn’t take hits that big from him on a regular basis,’ she noted, ‘Even so, she’s tougher than I give her credit for. I don’t think I could handle Black Star’s Soul Wavelength constantly the way she does.’

“… so, you’ve finally started working together,” Sid rumbled, rubbing the back of his head, “Better late than never I suppose, though it’s still rather lopsided. You’re not working to each others’ strengths.”

“Starting to get real tired of the lectures, Sid,” Soul shot as Maka rose to her feet.

“The lectures will stop once you’ve figured out how to beat me,” the zombie raised his fists again, ready to go on the offensive.


Luz felt bad for the guy running the prize stand.

He looked exhausted; his half lidded stare was one that had clearly seen too much of the same thing already, like someone who had ridden a roller coaster so many times that it no longer brought them any sort of joy. His skin was a painful, sunburnt red, peeling in places on his arms and face, his red shirt and hat doing nothing to make the image seem any less painful.

And upon seeing the stacks upon stacks of tickets in their arms?... Luz could have sworn she saw what little light was left in his eyes abruptly shrivel up and die.

“… welcome to the prize counter,” he sighed, his voice dead, “What do you want?”

“Weeeell…” Luz let her eyes wander about the many toys and plushies that lined the walls; all of them were possessed with some veneer of cuteness, but even with as many tickets as they’d won, she’d never be able to take them all. How would she even carry them without dropping some and getting them dirty?

Besides, other people were bound to win tickets at some point.

They deserved plushies for their victories as well.

Finally, her eyes landed on it.

An owl, almost as large as she was, with deep brown feathers that gently faded into an umber underbelly, golden eyes wide as it sat lopsided, giving it an almost quizzical tilt of the head.

It was like sparks flew from her eyes to her stomach, growing into a raging fire of desire.

As she walked away with her arms clamped around her prize like a vice, she heard her father chuckle.

“What’d I tell ya, Luz?” he grinned, “Did we get all the tickets, or did we get aaaaaaaall the tickets?”

“All of them,” she repeated, glancing up with a smile of her own, “Hasta el último.


Pain ran up through Black Star’s spine as his back collided into the grave, the tombstone toppling over in an unceremonious heap on impact. He rolled back without even opening his eyes, feeling the air rush past his forehead as Sid’s heel collided with the ground where his skull once was.

He hurled the first of Tsubaki’s Kusarigama, “SCREW-”


Day four.

They sat across from each other as the sun made its way across the horizon, casting the living room in a warm brilliance that was only enriched by the smell of chocolate and the sound of flipping pages.

Luz had always found the Lord of the Rings a difficult story to read; it lacked the urgency of any story she had read before, with a meandering pace that could only be achieved by writing down every little detail of a journey, from the most important climactic events – her favourite so far being the Ring Wraiths being carried away by the river – to the most inane of possible details, including what exactly the Hobbits had for breakfast upon waking.

And yet, when her father read the tale, she found her impatience wane; his voice carried her from her seat to the campfire the Fellowship had gathered around, as if she were there, hanging off every word spoken.

Granted, it helped that Dad was really good at doing the voices.

She kept her eyes closed with a gentle smile, sipping at her hot chocolate.

Sometimes, this was the perfect way to spend an afternoon.


Night five.

Maka only realized she’d mistimed her swipe when it was too late to stop her momentum.

Sid’s kick slammed Soul’s blade into the wrought iron fence, the razor sharp blade cutting cleanly through each with no resistance.

The heavy iron bars fell, one after the other, forcing the Meister to dive out of the way even as Soul cursed enough for the both of them, “-THIS-”


Day seven.

The girl bit at her lip, scouring the innumerable papers and worksheets on the table.

“Is something wrong, Luz?” Mami set the plate down, concerned.

Estoy bien,” she smiled, though it felt plastered on like poorly done paper maché, “I’m just… nervous. First exam is in two days, and…”

“Hey, you’re gonna do fine,” Papi assured, “You’ve been doing excellently these past few days. You just gotta treat it like any other school day.”

At this, Luz flinched; even before Mom delivered the discreet clap upside the head she could see his expression morph from a calm smile to pure panic.

Immediately, he backpedalled, “Okay, uh, poor choice of words…”

“It’s okay,” she stated, the words rushed, “Really. I get what you’re trying to say…”

“It’s like a band rehearsal!” he quickly amended, “The only difference between rehearsal and a concert is that you have an audience during a concert.”

Again, Luz flinched, drawing a low hiss through her teeth, and Mami’s hand slowly rose to her temple, letting out a slow exhale.

“… I thought you liked band class?” he asked.

“… you never heard about that time I got banned from the band room, did you?”

“… no,” he finally settled, deflating, “No I did not…”

An awkward silence fell over the living room before her mother finally leaned down, placing a hand on their daughter’s shoulder.

“You’re going to do perfectly fine, Luz,” she gave a gentle smile, “I promise. With how well you’ve been doing, you should pass with flying colours.”

Luz managed a smile of her own, “Gracias, Mami.

She could only hope that her parents were right.


Night nine.

Soul could feel the dents in his Scythe form as he was thrown around alongside his Meister, the Wavelength-infused marble of another tombstone chipping his blade upon contact every time Sid swung it.

He was grateful that he didn't need to be sharpened like an actual blade would, stuck in a fire, melted down and reshaped to make sure all the damage was gone; much like his normal body, his blade and staff would gradually repair themselves, healing much like flesh and bone.

But that didn’t mean the experience wasn’t uncomfortable or even excruciatingly painful.

Doubly so as he felt Maka’s knees shred open as she skidded across the ground, prompting her to shriek, “-HORSE-”


Day ten.

Luz let out a deep breath, doing her best to bring herself back to some state of calm.

She could do this. This was what all that time studying had been leading up to.

She just had to settle down, and do the test.

She opened her eyes, picking up her pencil, pointedly not looking up at the clock or the teacher or the students around her as her first final finally began.

Spirit watched through the door window for a moment as Luz’s pencil flew across the page, her head shifting as her eyes swept back and forth between her test and the answer sheet; he’d done all he could, for now. Doing the test was up to her.

He broke away from the door, making his way down to the faculty offices.

It didn’t take him long to find the principal’s office.

Already, he could feel the anger boiling away in his stomach. Already, he was struggling to direct it in a way that was constructive.

But he didn’t let it show. He only took a moment to compose himself before pushed through the door.

“Principal Hal?” he asked, feigning a veneer of professionalism. The heat of his usual black suit went a long way in helping him maintain the façade.

“… yes?” the man stopped typing, and slowly looked up from his computer.

“My name is Spirit Albarn,” he kept his hands in his pockets, not bothering to sit down, “I’m here in regards to your faculty’s treatment of my daughter.”

“… and that would be…?”

“Luz Noceda.”

Ah.

The dismissive irritation in the principal’s voice was only reinforcing Spirit’s growing urge to break his nose, and possibly his glasses.

‘Keep it together, Albarn,’ he reminded himself, ‘You’re better than that.’

The principal let his gaze fall back down to his computer, his tone thoroughly annoyed, “I don’t remember you scheduling an appointment, Mister Albarn.”

“I didn’t,” he acknowledged, “This visit is impromptu.”

“Then I must ask you to leave me be,” the typing resumed, “I’ve already spoken extensively with your wife-”

“Camila and I aren’t married,” he spoke quickly, cutting Hal off.

The older man glared up at the red haired upstart, “… be that as it may, I’ve spoken extensively with her regarding your daughter. Decisions have already been made. I have enough to deal with as it is without adding more disgruntled ranting from parents to the list.”

“Oh, I’m not just here as a parent, Mister Hal,” Spirit felt his lips twist into a grimace that facsimiled a smile, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a card, placing it on the desk.

The half-second glance the principal gave it was quickly followed by a shocked stare as he read the ID. A sick satisfaction rose through Spirit’s stomach as Hal’s face went deathly pale, his eyes slowly rising and his typing grinding to a complete and utter halt.

“I’m here as a teacher,” the Death Scythe continued, picking up his ID and finally taking a seat now that he had the principal’s complete and undivided attention, “And speaking as a teacher, I must say… if the way you treat her is any indication as to how this school’s faculty operates, then I find your treatment of your students to be absolutely deplorable.


They were getting closer.

The cuts they left behind were getting deeper; with every clash there were more and more tears in Sid’s clothing, more gouges in his skin. Every time Maka and Soul were forced back by the zombie, Black Star and Tsubaki were hot on his heels. Every time the ninja and his Magic Dark Arm were pushed to retreat, the Scythe and his Meister were immediately back in the fray.

But it wasn’t enough.

Sid always anticipated what was coming next. He could read their movements as easily as an open book, and didn’t even need to see them with his eyes to react accordingly.

Even the few direct hits they had managed to land hadn’t worked; how can a man who feels no pain and suffers no consequences from his wounds be beaten into submission?

Maka let out a long, slow breath as she watched, waiting, Black Star’s admirable agility being the only thing keeping him ahead of the zombie’s brutally quick and precise strikes. It was only a matter of time before the blue haired boy’s movements failed him, and she would need to step in and give him a chance to catch his breath…

The strike caught him in the ribs.

Maka was on the advance before it had even concluded.

Black Star let out an audible wheeze before he was thrown into the air. Somehow he managed to regain his balance and catch himself on a grave before collapsing to one knee, gasping for breath with a hoarse shout, “-SHI-!”

Black Star!” Sid barked, his tone equal parts scolding and appalled, even as he spun to block Maka’s swing, “Language!

“That’s… really… what you’re worried about?” the Dark Arm Meister managed, pushing himself back to his full height.

The Scythe Meister tuned him out, simply continuing to spin, Soul’s blade a crimson flash in the evening light, her internal mantra overclocked as she struggled to keep up the pace, ‘Keep up the pressure, keep up the pressure, keep up the pressure.’

A rush of air as she barely dodged an incoming fist, the zombie’s knuckles gently grazing her cheek.

A mite of resistance as Soul’s blade nicked his skin once again, opening a sizeable, dark gash.

‘Soul?’

‘Don’t worry, Maka. I’ve got them,’ he promised, ‘Just keep this up until Black Star regains his breath. This is probably our last shot.’

‘I know,’ she blocked an incoming kick, then threw it off, spinning around the zombie and into a slash that she hoped would catch him across the back; instead, he spun in turn, raising a hand to deflect the swipe so that it instead grazed his arm. She clicked her tongue, ‘That’s what has me worried…’

Regardless, she kept going, heedless of her already burning muscles and lungs.

“Tsubaki! Smoke Bomb Mode!”

Black Star’s voice had regained its usual vigour and volume; immediately, the world around them was blanketed in a swirling smokescreen so thick that Maka couldn’t even see her own arms. The only reason she knew where Sid stood was because of the sound of his feet scraping on the dirt.

“Really?” his tone was flat, unimpressed.

‘Soul, now!’ she ordered.

He emerged from the blade of his Scythe without any verbal response, grinning as he took the cigarette lighter to the fuse of the fireworks he’d been keeping in his hood.

“You already tried this trick once, Black Star, what makes you think it’ll work-”

The fireworks hit the ground as soon as Soul returned to Weapon form, and Maka squeezed her eyes shut; but even through her eyelids, she could see the brilliant flash of vermillion as the fireworks went off, every bit as hot as they were blinding, accompanied by a deafening series of cracks and shrieks.

Sid let out a shout of mixed shock and pain, and her heart leaped into her throat. She swung Soul with all her might, catching Sid across the neck, hooking him back towards her and completely destroying his balance.

“Tsubaki! Kusarigama Mode!”

The smoke dissipated along with the light; Maka’s eyes snapped open, watching as time slowed to a crawl. Soul’s blade was pressed against the front of Sid’s throat in a grim facsimile of a guillotine, the zombie struggling to regain his balance in the precious fractions of a second he had before the airborne Black Star landed atop him, driving both feet into his chest and spinning both of Tsubaki’s kusarigama on their chains before hurling them.

Maka immediately released Soul.

Weapon and Meister, as one, shot to either side of the falling zombie as the chain wrapped around him, each catching one of Tsubaki’s small blades by the handle. Together, they pulled, and the chain went tight as Sid finally hit the ground.

The former professor struggled to break free from the chains and get out from under Black Star’s weight, but with his arms bound there was precious little he could do; by the time he tried to flip back and grab the shinobi’s head with his legs, Black Star had already shifted up and out of his reach, grinning as he drove his heel into Sid’s skull with every ounce of force he could muster.

Immediately, his body went slack, limp in the grip of the chains.

And all the while, the fireworks continued to go off like a cacophony of gunshots and angry spirits.

“What was that about being incapable of working with Maka, Sid?” the ninja sneered, crossing his arms, “I’m the biggest star there is! There’s nothing I can’t do!”

“… well, we got him,” Soul huffed, not letting go of the chain or letting it go slack, “Now what?”

“Now,” Tsubaki began, her head and shoulders emerging from Maka’s hand scythe, “We should get into contact with the DWMA and call for extraction. Our part in this mission is complete; the rest should be left to the school faculty like Lord Death said.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Maka saw Black Star bristle – but before he could say anything, a low groan emanated from the bound corpse between them.

“… well. I must admit, I can’t say I was expecting that,” Sid slowly pulled himself up, shaking his head.

“… I’m surprised you’re still conscious,” Maka muttered, redoubling her grip on Tsubaki’s chain.

“I will remind you that I’m dead, Miss Albarn,” he didn’t look up, “Consciousness for me is very different from consciousness for you. It will take more than a heavy blow to the head to render me unconscious.”

“How about two?” Black Star cracked his knuckles.

“Looking for an excuse to keep punching a bound and beaten man, Black Star?” the corpse asked, tone disapproving.

“Considering what you’ve put us through over the past week and a half?” the Dark Arm Meister huffed, “I’d say one kick to the head is letting you off light.”

“As much of a brute as ever, I see,” he stated dryly, before finally raising his head, glancing at all four of them, “But what I want to know is what led you four to attempt such a reckless, hare-brained scheme in the first place.”

“Process of elimination,” Maka stated flatly, “A war of attrition was right out because you would never get tired; actually beating you outright also proved to be impossible with our current strength and skill level.”

“I’d have gotten him eventually,” Black Star postured, puffing up his chest with a smug grin.

“Moreover,” the Scythe Meister continued, pointedly ignoring the ninja, “Taking you down with a stealthy approach would also have been exceptionally difficult, if not outright impossible to do; even without your senses working so much differently from our own now, you were a Knife Meister, Sid. Combined with your burrowing techniques and the hand-to-hand fighting style you use, it’s not hard to work out that you specialize in stealth combat. We’d be trying to beat you at your own game in a scenario where your senses were essentially overclocked, to the point where you could see Black Star with no issue through Tsubaki’s Smoke Bomb Mode.”

“Which left us with one option,” Tsubaki smiled, “Taking advantage of those overclocked senses of yours.”

“So you used a combination of fireworks and a smoke bomb?” Sid raised an eyebrow.

“The fireworks were my idea,” Soul smirked, “We needed something that was both easily concealed and that would disorient you upon being set off.”

“The smoke served to disperse the light in such a way that it would surround you almost completely,” Maka elaborated, “Combined with the bright colours and flashes and the noise the fireworks made, we hoped it would be enough to give us an opening we could exploit.”

“… that was reckless of you,” the zombie sighed, “Reckless and haphazard.”

“It was our best option,” she insisted, “A flashlight wouldn’t have been powerful enough and a floodlight with speakers would have been too obvious. I didn’t want to use fireworks myself, but the plan wouldn’t have worked otherwise.”

“… and work it did.”

Maka blinked; was that… approval in Sid’s voice?

“You surveyed the situation, learned from your previous encounters and mistakes,” he recounted, “And most importantly, you managed to collaborate in a way that, while hardly flawless, allowed you to get the upper hand at a crucial juncture and finish the battle.”

“… but we still haven’t solved everything,” Tsubaki began, a certain steel to her tone, “Have we, professor?”

The zombie offered no response.

“That’s right,” Black Star grinned, “We still don't know who turned you into a zombie, do we?”

“… you’re not going to be getting it out of me that easily,” Sid stated, resolute, “I won’t sell-”

“Was it Doctor Franken Stein?”

The silence that followed over the next few seconds was one of confusion as Soul, Tsubaki and Black Star collectively blinked, staring at her in hopes of an explanation.

But Maka kept her eyes on Sid as he slowly raised his head, aiming his milky white eyes directly at her, his lips curled as far down as they could go in their rigor mortis as he did everything he could to stop himself from showing his astonishment, “… where did you hear that name?”

“Did a little reading in my spare time,” she said offhandedly, and to her credit it wasn’t a lie – though there was infuriatingly little information on the man beyond his career as a Meister, leaving her only with context clues regarding his link to the current situation.

Thankfully, those clues were fairly blatant.

She tightened her grip, “Now answer the question.”

He squirmed uncomfortably in the chains, teeth grinding as he desperately groped for an answer…

“It’s absolutely this Stein guy, isn’t it?” Soul chuckled.

Sid let out a frustrated groan, “I wasn’t a liar when I was alive, and I’m not about to start now. Yes, it was Professor Stein. But you won’t get his location out of me so easily-”

“The Mary Shelly Laboratory on Lavenza Lane,” Maka quickly rehearsed, rising to her feet, “Up on Adam’s Hill, right?”

“… again, how?

“I did some reading,” she repeated, tugging on the chain, “Alright, guys, let’s go report back to Lord Death-”

“No way.”

Everyone’s eyes were on Black Star as he crossed his arms, nostrils flaring.

“… Black Star, our job is finished,” Soul spoke, “We have Sid-”

“But we don’t have this Stein guy,” Black Star insisted, “If we stop here, we’re leaving the job half finished.”

“So, what, you want to go after the guy who killed Sid?” Maka asked, incredulous.

“Maka,” his tone was unusually serious as he levelled his gaze at her, “Think about this. Sid’s acting on his orders, right?”

The ninja glared at the zombie with narrowed eyes, “He’s probably been monitoring everything Sid’s been doing since he was killed. He might even know Sid’s been beaten – for all we know, he might be hearing everything we’re saying right now. We don’t have time to go chat with the Reaper; every second we waste trying to get the faculty on this is a second this guy has to make his escape.”

Maka grit her teeth; she had only just managed to get Black Star to work with her in full, and now that they had Sid their uneasy truce was already falling apart.

This was the last thing she needed right now.

“Black Star, I understand what you’re saying, but the fact is we’re officially out of our depth,” the Scythe Meister reiterated.

“Maka’s right,” Soul agreed, “Whoever this guy is, he beat Sid relatively easily. I don’t need to remind you about the beatings we’ve been taking these past two weeks.”

“What we need to do is call in the cavalry and let Three Star Meisters and Weapons handle this-”

“We don’t have time for that!” Black Star snapped, cutting her off, “What happens if we do all that, and by the time they get to his door he’s already gone? What’ll happen then?”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” Maka insisted, “We’re not in a position where we can win!”

“They’re right, Black Star,” Sid spoke, voice stern, “You aren’t ready for this. If you pick this fight, even with all four of you working together, you will lose. Pick and choose your battles.”

For a long moment, Black Star stood, hands clenching and unclenching, teeth grit and shoulders tense with his frustration. His eyes fell closed, and he breathed, each one deep and controlled.

When they opened, gone was the deep sea green.

They’d been replaced with that stark sky blue.

“… I can at least slow him down,” he turned away.

“Black Star-”

“Go ahead and call the Grim Reaper,” the ninja ordered, crouching deep, “Make sure those Three Stars get their asses in gear.”

With that, he leapt up into the trees.

“Black Star!” Tsubaki called after him, but it was to avail; Black Star was already bounding away, disappearing into the misty night.

Soul cursed, “Well, now what?”

“… we stick to the plan,” Maka declared, rising to her feet, “We report back to Lord Death as quickly as we can…”

Tsubaki seemed to wilt, her expression crestfallen and her head bowed, a whimper escaping her…

“… and then?” Maka yanked on the chain, prompting Sid to get to his feet, “We’re going after Black Star.”


The Death Scythe let out a sigh as he scrubbed at the last of the dishes, his sleeves rolled up as far as he could get them on his arms. The heat and the suds were uncomfortable on his skin, steam rising from the pool of water in a clear indicator that it was much, much too hot for him to just be reaching in with bare hands, but by no means did he let that stop him. He quickly dipped his fingers in, snatching up the knife and hissing as the heat quickly turned his pale skin red…

“… you don’t have to clean up, Spirit,” Camila assured, “There isn’t that much of a mess to clean up.”

“Dinner was a total disaster, Camila,” he rinsed the blade, setting it aside in the rack to dry, “You’d think I’d know that I’m hopeless as a chef by now…”

A gentle chuckle emanated through the kitchen as she gently dried each plate, setting them back in the cupboard, “You’ve at least improved since last year.”

“Last year, I somehow melted a pot,” he recounted dryly, “On a stove that shouldn’t even produce that much heat.”

“It made Luz laugh,” she reminded, “Even if we did end up ordering takeout, that’s enough for me. Besides, this time, your cooking was actually edible.”

“It was completely scorched,” he mumbled.

“The insides were dry, but not terrible.”

“Camila, it was a pot roast. I don’t even know how I scorched it.”

“Simple,” she smiled, “You put it back in the oven to keep warm after removing the lid-”

“And instead of turning it off, I accidentally set it to broil,” he finished groaning, rubbing at his forehead with slated teeth, “I can’t believe I did that…”

More quiet, subdued laughter, though it did bring a smile to his lips despite his frustration.

“I do appreciate you making the effort, Spirit,” the doctor stated, “Between Luz’s studies and how late I’ve been working of late, I don’t think we have much time to cook these days.”

“I can tell from looking,” he agreed, “Not much for leftovers in your fridge anymore.”

“How did Luz do today, in her test?” she ventured, setting her towel down, “I know she seemed confident in her performance today when she came home, but I’d like your thoughts. Did she seem nervous at all?”

“A bit. But she wasn’t panicking at all,” he set the last of the pans back onto the stove to dry, “It was more your standard pre-exam jitters. Just wanting to do well… but if her performance with me is any indication, she’ll have no issues, provided her math final lets her use a formula sheet.”

“Which, by all rights, they should,” she noted, crossing her arms, “I don’t understand how anyone could expect every child in a batch of twenty to thirty to memorize all those theorems.”

“Some people just don’t have any empathy.”

“Too true…” she took a deep breath through her nose, “… but there was something else you wanted to talk about?”

“Just that I spoke with Luz’s Principal today,” he let the water drain from the sink before rolling his sleeves back down.

At this, her expression grew more stern, “Spirit…”

“I didn’t do anything overt,” he promised, “I just… well, I felt like I had to voice my own concerns regarding how they addressed her behaviour. Both as a parent, and as a teacher.”

She sighed, leaning back against the counter, “… you know it isn’t your place to lecture other people on how to do their jobs.”

“Maybe not,” he conceded, “But it’s so hard to just sit by and watch knowing how they treat the kids in their care. It’s Goddamn baffling, Camila; the whole system is screwed.”

“I don’t dispute that,” she said, pushing her glasses back up her face, “But you know that throwing your weight around with one particular principal isn’t going to fix matters. He’s just a symptom of the overall problem.”

“… I know,” he ran his hands down his face, shame welling up in his stomach, “I know… you’re right… as usual.”

“… Luz really did inherit that heart of yours,” the doctor smiled faintly, “You’re both so quick to try to help others. That’s something to be proud of. You just… need to be better about thinking these things through.”

“… yeah,” he breathed, “I always thought that part would get easier as I got older.”

“Wisdom is not something simply gained, Spirit,” Camila reminded, “It is something that is cultivated.”

He grunted, “At the very least, though, that school’s faculty can afford to treat their students with a bit more kindness. Even if the system is broken, basic care for every single one of those kids should be non-negotiable.”

“… that’s a frustration I know all too well,” she nodded, eyes falling as her smile faded, “Is that why you insisted on making dinner tonight?”

“… I felt like I had to make it up to Luz somehow; I couldn’t get her trip to Camp lifted,” he murmured, “He wouldn’t budge, even after seeing my credentials… I managed to give him a good scare, but without the backing of an actual school board, there isn’t much I can do.”

“Another reason you should have been more thoughtful,” she intoned, “You don’t have the same authority here that you do in Death City. Your accomplishments are respected, but not recognized in the same capacity in a standard school system.”

“Yeah… but at the very least, I think I managed to get him thinking,” he stuffed his hands into his pockets, “School systems talk to each other, after all… and in that regard, the DWMA is pretty highly respected.”

“It is, yes,” she conceded, “But by the same token, I doubt that the Grim Reaper would appreciate you stirring up a fuss like this.”

“What, I have more important things to worry about?” he asked.

“Among other things,” she leaned back against the stove, “But mostly, you’re throwing around your authority in a way that could be very easily construed as selfish, or even corrupt. If someone decides to deliberately misconstrue your actions today, it could reflect very, very badly on you.”

Spirit’s spine went ramrod straight, the shock forcing his eyes open. He stared into the open air, working his jaw as the implications of his actions settled in the pit of his stomach, a cold chill washing over his head and shoulders…

“… and anything that reflects badly on you, can reflect badly on the Grim Reaper.”

“… Jesus,” he swore, swaying unsteadily before catching himself on the counter. It was so obvious, now, how he must have looked, swaggering in and casually tossing his certification onto the desk, “How could I have been so stupid?

“Easy now,” she assured, placing a hand on the back of his shoulder, “Càlmate. Principal Hal, for the most part, is a reasonable man. As long as you kept things civil, he isn’t likely to hold this against you. Now, what exactly did you say to him?”

“… nothing too severe,” he straightened, bringing a hand to the back of his head, “I mostly just… scolded him for how he treated Luz, and what it implied for any student that acted out, for any reason. It’s one thing if a student actually shows problematic, dangerous behaviour, but…”

“Did you actually say that to him?”

“Not that exact wording, but… yes,” he clarified, “That’s the long and short of what I talked to him about.”

“You didn’t threaten him or his faculty?” she asked.

“No,” he said, “I didn’t threaten anyone in any way, although I certainly wish I could’ve given Luz’s biology, drama and gym teachers a piece of my mind.”

“And Hal was the only one you spoke to?”

“Yes. He’s the only one I had a chance to speak to.”

She paused for a moment, letting the information settle. After a moment, her lips gently drifted up, expression softening, “Then I don’t think any harm has been done.”

He sighed, a slight weight lifting from his shoulders as he slumped again, rubbing at his temple, “I still can’t believe I let my temper get the better of me like that… Maka’s right. I’m such a spastic idiot…”

“You’re a man of emotion, Spirit,” Camila stated simply, “You have been for as long as I’ve known you, for better, and for worse. On the one hand, it makes you a caring man. On the other, it makes you impulsive, often recklessly so.”

“That’s what I just said,” he muttered, “I’m a spastic idiot.”

“Well, at least your sense of humour is still intact,” she countered wryly.

Silence reigned over the kitchen for a long moment.

“… are you going to see Luz yet tonight?” she inquired.

“Before I leave. I’ll check in and see if she needs any more help with her studies.”

“You’d best get to it then,” she gestured to the clock, “It’s late. You don’t have much time left.”

He smiled, “No rest for the wicked, eh?”

“None whatsoever.”

He chuckled, then made his way up the stairs to speak with his daughter.


You’re sure Black Star went off to Mary Shelly Laboratory?” the Reaper asked with a quizzical tilt.

“He took off in that rough direction,” Maka managed through laboured breaths, clinging to the hand mirror Blair had insisted she take, “He insisted. He wanted to make sure Sid’s killer wouldn't’ have a chance to get away…”

… well, his logic is sound, but he’s making a rather foolhardy decision…” Lord Death mused.

“How quickly can you get those Three Stars down here?” Soul cut in, his own breathing unsteady as they ran.

Thankfully, we’ve had people ready for dispatch for several days now,” Death’s voice implied a smile, “We can get a group down there in about fifteen minutes, twenty on the outside. Can you find Black Star in the meantime?

“We’ll try,” Maka huffed, “With any luck, he’s gotten lost and isn’t anywhere near the lab…”

“What do we do if he’s already engaged?” Soul inquired.

Do your best to support him until help arrives,” the Reaper’s head bobbed, “But don’t rush into a fight you can’t win. If things begin to go poorly, retreat at the first opportunity. I’d rather have to hunt for the perpetrator than lose any students over this. Understood?

“Understood,” the Scythe Meister nodded, “We’ll talk later!”

She snapped the mirror shut, and redoubled her pace-

-only to nearly crash headlong into Tsubaki, who had come to a complete halt.

“… well, looks like we’re here,” Soul coughed.

It was somehow colder up on Adam Hill. It was hardly the highest place in Death City – that particular position went to the DWMA itself – but there was something about this particular crest that seemed to sap the heat from the air itself.

It certainly did Soul’s lungs no favours, still raw from keeping pace with Tsubaki all the way here.

She’d maintained a partial transformation with her hair to keep Sid bound as they sped after Black Star. Even now, the zombie remained chained, his arms kept firmly at his sides; but his weight had hardly seemed to even slow the Magic Dark Arm down. She didn’t even show any signs of fatigue, her breaths perfectly even as her gaze swept back and forth through the fog.

“Black Star!” she called, “Where are you!?”

“Tsubaki,” Maka managed, swallowing to soothe her raw throat, “I don’t think that’s going to help…”

“He’s got to be out here somewhere,” the shinobi girl insisted, head on a swivel, “Black Star!”

“Look,” Soul wheezed, “We weren’t that far behind him. If he hasn’t taken a wrong turn, he should be here. If he has… well, then no harm done.”

“YAAAA-HOOOOOOOOO!”

The shout was accompanied by the sound of iron bending under the force of a heavy blow, twisting and breaking, clattering to the pavement; immediately, the trio rushed towards the source of the commotion.

There stood Black Star, dusting off his hands as he stood over the broken gate, a large, square building looming behind him.

“Black Star!” Tsubaki shouted, relief tangible in her voice as she finally caught up to him, “There you are…”

He glanced back over his shoulder, “Oh, hey. Didn’t think you guys would come.”

“Not because we wanted to,” Maka glared, crossing her arms, “We just don’t want you getting hurt.”

“Yeah, well-”

“Stop,” Soul interrupted, ears perking up.

“Oh, what?” Black Star snorted, “You want some of this too, Soul?”

“No, seriously, shut up,” he hissed, then paused, “… do you guys hear that?”

“… yes,” Tsubaki murmured, “I do.”

The blue haired ninja frowned, turning back towards the building; even through the mist, the stitch-like patterns and arrows were plain to see on its surface, its shape strict, utilitarian, “… sounds sorta like a skateboard…”

Abruptly, the doors flew open; a white and grey shape barrelled out of the shadows and into the misty night, skidding forwards several feet before toppling over and collapsing in a heap with a yelp of pain and surprise.

Slowly, the shape pushed itself up, taking on a more and more defined human shape beneath the stitched up lab coat; a mass of messy grey hair mixed with the equally unearthly pallor of his skin, making Soul briefly wonder if he’d stepped right out of one of those old time silent films.

The faint green of his eyes behind his glasses, however, quickly put that theory to rest – along with the cold, dark steel of the screw that ran through his head.

He was tall, lanky, flexing his fingers absently as he cracked his neck. He knelt down, picking up the office chair and resetting it with a casual nonchalance, reaching up and adjusting the screw by a turn. Then he frowned, turning it back the other way, closing his eyes, “Still doesn’t feel quite right…”

For a long few seconds, he stood, motionless…

“… alright,” he declared, gripping the chair by its back, “Let’s try that again.”

With that, he marched back in, and slammed the door shut.

“… what was all that about?” Maka asked.

“You got me,” Black Star seemed unusually perturbed, “Maybe he’s just bonkers?”

After a few seconds, the same rolling sound emanated from the building again; the door flew open, and once again, the man rocketed out backwards, only to collapse in a heap.

“… well, that clearly isn’t going to work,” he finally settled, once again pushing himself back to his feet, cracking his back and pulling the chair back into place. He settled into it with the back against his chest, leaning forwards with a clinical, appraising stare – an uncomfortable stare made all the more unnerving by the cigarette in his teeth and the stitches that ran down his face.

“… this the guy, Maka?” Soul whispered.

“… yep,” she nodded, “That’s Doctor Stein.”

“… you must be the DWMA students,” he stated more than asked, resting his chin on his arm, “I must say, you’re here much sooner than I expected. I haven’t even had a chance to clean up yet.”

Black Star immediately grinned, “You scared? I bet you are, knowing that now you have nowhere to run!”

“No, not really,” Stein took a long, slow drag of the cigarette, closing his eyes on the exhale, “To be honest, I’m more annoyed than anything else. It took you ten whole days to take down Sid, but you come here minutes after you capture him… it’s a frustrating juxtaposition,” he raised his head slightly, “You didn’t get soft and just told them where I was, did you, Sid?”

“No, Doctor Stein,” Sid declared, remaining seated on the ground, “I can assure you that they figured it out entirely on their own.”

“Hmmm,” the patchwork man’s eyes narrowed, “Well, that’s just perplexing…”

Soul kept his expression neutral, doing everything he could to hide just how unnerved he was. There was something wrong with how Stein’s eyes fixed on each of them; it was like he was staring at something in a petri dish, rather than a group of Weapons and Meisters ready to take him in for questioning.

He seemed totally unperturbed by the difference in numbers or by the difference in armaments. If anything… he was lost entirely in his own thoughts.

“… aaaah,” he smiled slightly, faintly baring his teeth, “That explains it.”

“What explains what?” Maka asked, perplexed.

“I just took a look at your Souls,” he explained, a new note of cheerfulness entering his tone.

“You can see Souls?” Tsubaki asked, eyes widening, “That means… you must be a Meister!”

“‘Must be’ is the wrong phrase,” Stein adjusted his glasses, “Anyone with the ability to control their Soul Wavelength can potentially do it, Weapon or Meister. It’s really nothing too complicated; it just gives me better data to work with regarding each of you.”

He pointed first at the blue haired shinobi, “You must be the failing student. Black Star, was it?”

Failing!?” Black Star choked, “You’re gonna call me that after how I took down a Three Star Meister!?”

“A Three Star Meister who is already dead and isn’t even back to full strength,” Stein intoned, “It took you over a week and a half to beat up a dead man. With help. I’m not particularly impressed.”

A low growl emanated from the ninja’s throat, “Oh, you’re gonna regret that.”

“I doubt it,” the doctor mused, eyes half lidded, “Your Soul is constantly bouncing around inside of you, full of energy with no outlet for it. Its Amplitude is powerful, especially for your age – I can tell just from looking. But it’s also highly unstable, and your high Frequency and attitude make you exceptionally difficult to work with,” he glanced at Tsubaki, “It’s no wonder your partner’s Soul is so subdued. She’s probably the only one who’s willing to put up with you.”

“She’s the only one who can handle being my partner!” Black Star reached up, placing a heavy hand on Tsubaki’s shoulder with a vicious grin.

“I can see that,” Stein stated dryly, before looking to Soul, “You, on the other hand, are fairly in tune with your Meister. Your Soul is calm and self-assured, and yours…”

He trailed off as he stared at Maka, eyes widening a fraction as if in surprise. After a moment, his smile pulled back further, speaking as if he had come to a sudden realization, “… yes, that’s right… you’re Spirit’s daughter.”

Maka stiffened as Stein’s attention fixed completely and utterly upon her, his posture rising from a lazy slouch to a predatory poise; even so, she snorted, “Only by blood, unfortunately. I’m not old enough to officially disown him yet.”

“Harsh,” Stein chuckled, “But I suppose not wholly undeserved. How is he doing, anyways? Last I heard-”

“Why does it matter to you?” Maka snapped, cutting him off, “How do you know him?”

“… heh. Like mother, like daughter,” Stein’s voice grew steadily more amused, eyes narrowing, “You really are like the woman who stole my experiment from me.”

Maka blinked, but before she could respond, Stein continued as if the exchange had never occurred, glancing back and forth between her and Soul, “Your Wavelengths compliment each other, but you haven’t attempted anything beyond a Basic Resonance. As partners, you work well together, but as an actual Weapon and Meister pair, you’re untested. You’ve never attempted and actual Soul Resonance.”

Soul grimaced, a smile forming over his features; the clock had to be winding down. The Three Stars would be here soon If they could keep him talking-

“Blah, blah, blah,” Black Star mocked, slipping into a combat stance, “You sure like to run your mouth, doc. But I didn’t come here to chat; the Three Stars’ll be here any minute now, and I’m here to take you down before they arrive!”

Slowly, Soul turned to face him, mouth agape, suddenly gaining a thorough understanding of Maka’s urge to crack him upside the head, “… really? You’re just gonna up and tell him that!?

“Why not?” Black Star asked, “It’s not gonna matter in a minute here.”

“… yes, I know that,” Stein noted, letting his head angle upwards, “Going off memory… I’d say they’ll be here in about ten minutes.”

Black Star grinned, “This’ll only take five.”

He rushed forwards, leaping, a leg pulled back to strike as he descended upon the seated scientist.

Stein didn’t even stand up. With a simple push of his foot, he spun in his chair, raising an arm in a lazy block, stopping Black Star’s kick on the first pass.

On the second spin, his fist caught Black Star across the jaw, sending him skidding across the ground.

“No,” Stein sighed, turning in his seat with his chin in his palm, “This won’t take five minutes.”

He pushed off the ground; the chair rushed forwards with all the speed of a car on the highway as Black Star leaped to his feet-

-only for Stein’s open palm to collide with his nose, knocking him right back down.

“… accounting for all four of you… this will only take two.”

Maka’s had immediately encircled Soul’s wrist; he delved into the dark, transforming into a Scythe in one fluid motion.

“Tsubaki!” the Scythe Meister ordered, “Stay back!”

“But-!”

“If you let go of Sid, we’ll have to fight both of them!” Soul barked as Maka broke into a sprint, “Stay back and keep your hold on him!”

“Not a bad assessment,” Stein noted, once again spinning lazily in his chair with his arms hanging limply, watching as the black and red blade arced inwards; he simply shifted his weight, causing the chair to roll cleanly out of the scythe’s path. As the Meister let her momentum carry her into another swipe, he shifted again, the chair reacting with far more speed than its creaky, uneven frame and wheels should have allowed for, letting him dodge with scarcely any movement, “But it leaves you divided. And there is a reason-”

The scientist raised his feet in the split second that Maka showed him her back; the kick that followed sent pain shooting through her shoulders before she was sent skidding across the ground. Soul winced as the ache carried through to him through her palms, her stance unsteady as she caught herself just enough to make sure she was at least ready to continue.

Just in time to see the back of Stein’s head collide with Black Star’s nose, once again knocking him to the ground with a particularly violent curse.

“-that the term is called ‘Divide and Conquer,” he adjusted the screw, eyes hidden behind the light reflecting off his glasses.

Maka wasted no time, pushing up from her crouch into another lunging swing.

This time, however, the doctor did not simply dodge. He countered, ducking under the swing and raising his hand in an open palm strike; Maka caught it just in time to adjust her stance, raising Soul to defend herself from the blow.

But the instant Stein’s hand collided with Soul’s staff, a pulse ran through them both, the doctor’s arm twisting and launching them backwards with enough force to send them colliding into the wall.

It was like an electric shock; Soul felt every muscle in both his own body and Maka’s violently convulse, her stance immediately breaking and her fingers coming loose, almost making her drop her partner entirely. She only barely remained standing, a sharp, throbbing agony running through her entire body, muscle, bones and all.

Soul felt no better; even in weapon form, he could taste the blood in his mouth. His head swam, his connection to his partner completely broken after one heavy blow from the scientist.

‘… Maka?’ he slurred, struggling just to get his thoughts in order.

‘Here,’ she confirmed, sounding every bit as discombobulated as he felt, ‘I-I’m here.’

‘What the Hell was that?’ he asked, ‘That was worse than when I tried to fix my toy piano when I was six…’

‘… that must’ve been his Soul Wavelength,’ she managed, gasping for breath, ‘That’s the only thing I can think of that explains what just happened… I feel like I just got hooked up to a car battery…’

The Scythe shuddered, returning his attention to the bedraggled scientist before them, ‘… there’s no way we’re winning this, is there?’

She shook her head, swaying, ‘No. No there’s not. He’s toying with us, and that hurt a lot more than anything Sid threw at us… we’re in over our heads.’

Stein simply sat there, expression neutral as he finally rose to his feet, pushing the chair aside.

“I think it’s about time to begin the experiment in earnest,” he cracked his neck, “Do I have any volunteers?”

“It’s not gonna be much of an experiment!” Black Star shouted; if there was one thing he was to be congratulated on, it was the sheer resilience of his facial structure. Despite bleeding from the nose, the only sign of discomfort the ninja showed was that of pure rage; he closed in on Stein’s back, teeth bared in a vicious snarl, “We already know what the results are going to be!”

“That’s exactly why you don’t interest me,” Stein sighed.

“You should be interested! I’m the strongest one here!

“BLACK STAR BIG WAVE!!!” he drove his knuckles and elbow into Stein’s spine, and this time, Soul could see what exactly what had happened several nights prior against Sid; the shockwave was powerful enough to actually be visible, the air around Black Star and Stein visibly rippling before exploding outwards upon impact, glowing kanji forming all around them.

That should have been the end of it.

After taking a hit that strong, Stein should have collapsed on the ground, dead or unconscious; he wasn’t like Sid. He wasn’t dead. He shouldn’t have been able to shrug off such a powerful direct hit from Black Star’s Soul Wavelength.

But he was.

And he did.

He slowly turned to face Black Star with narrowed eyes and a strangely serene smile.

“… h… how are you-”

“Still standing?” he cut Black Star off, “It’s a simple technique, really. Everyone is capable of adjusting their Soul Wavelength’s Frequency, even if only a little bit; it’s how many Weapons and Meisters are compatible with each other in the first place.”

Black Star took a step back, prompting Stein to step forwards.

“All I did was adjust my Soul Wavelength to match yours,” he grinned, “I’ll admit you probably left a bruise with that hit, but your actual Soul Wavelength is actually rather easy to render harmless, at least for someone who knows how. If I’d really wanted to, I could have easily dodged it, or even bounced your Wavelength right back at you.

“I wonder if you’ll be able to nullify mine, with how selfish your Soul is?”

Stein’s hands flew to the sides of Black Star’s head; to the ninja’s credit, he immediately threw his arms up, trying to block and get a hold of the lunatic’s arms-

-but Stein was too strong, much stronger than his lanky build seemed to suggest. The impact immediately broke through Black Star’s guard, and before the boy could process what had just happened, Stein’s open hands clapped on Black Star’s ears with enough force to produce a crack that rang out like a gunshot. He cried out in rage, gripping the doctor’s wrists…

And then began screaming as Stein’s Soul Wavelength shot through him.

It was a sickly yellow that bordered on green, a vicious electric current that shot between his hands, tiny bolts of lightning boring directly into Black Star’s skull.

It was unreal, hearing Black Star scream in anything other than self-aggrandizing pride or anger.

There was none of that in Black Star’s voice.

There was only pain.

And though it only lasted a few seconds, each one was far, far too long.

It was only when Stein released the ninja that it ceased; the blue haired boy didn’t even sway, eyes unfocused and body limp as he tipped back, and fell with a heavy, sickening crunch, blood seeping from his eyes, nose, and mouth.

“… Black Star…?” Tsubaki’s voice wavered with disbelief, staring eyes-wide at the unmoving form of her partner, hands over her mouth.

She received no answer.

“… B… B… BLACK STAAAAAAAAR!” she howled, her hand flying to the chain that was keeping Sid bound; in a single fluid motion, she ripped it free, the Kusarigama at the end flying to her hands as she lunged at the patchwork doctor.

His smile didn’t waver as he dodged her strikes and slashes, sidestepping every swipe and blow with effort as minimal as his movement. When he finally retaliated, it was swift, and violent, driving his fist into her stomach with enough force to physically lift her off the ground.

But she didn't relent; letting out a shriek, she gripped Stein’s arm, wrapping the chain around his wrist and ducking under his other arm; the chain pulled taut as she rose up behind him, yanking his arm around his body as she leaped, spring-boarding off his shoulders and quickly wrapping the chain around his throat in a make-shift noose, planting her foot against his chest and pulling it as tightly as she could.

Through it all, his small grin never once wavered, eyes locked on her as she drew the other hand-scythe, “Just as spirited as your partner in your own way, I see.”

Tsubaki offered no answer. She only swung, this time aiming to cut through his throat and end the fight.

Before she could, the same yellow-green glow returned. It shot through the chain wrapping around Stein’s body, directly into Tsubaki’s body, the Kusarigama nearly falling from her hand mid-swing as the Wavelength coursed through her body. Even as strong and durable as she was, withstanding the force of Black Star’s Soul every time they went into battle, Stein’s was on a completely different level.

Even so, she maintained her stranglehold, gritting her teeth and moving her blade closer and closer to his exposed neck…

Only to collapse, her chain and blades disappearing all at once as she fell.

“… you’re stronger than you look,” Stein murmured, seeming genuinely impressed before he finally returned his attention to Maka and Soul.

The Scythe felt numb; he just watched the single strongest and most stubborn kid he knew get put down with a frightening casual ease. He just watched the most patient girl he had ever met fly into a feral fury he hadn’t thought her capable of, and meet the same fate as her Meister even in spite of it. All of it, just from exposure to this freak’s Soul Wavelength; any use of direct strikes was just a prelude to that painful, sustained electric shock.

And the worst part was that he couldn’t even tell if they were alive or dead.

He could feel it from his partner, too; an almost physical illness had welled up in Maka’s stomach, a primal fear that made her insides churn with the conflict between her fight and flight instincts. Her hands were trembling, and not from any sort of frustration or pain – this was a pure terror that kept her from so much as screaming.

‘Maka,’ he whispered.

No answer.

‘Maka, we have to run.’

‘… we can’t,’ she managed, ‘Tsubaki was keeping Sid bound… they’ll catch us…’

Right when he believed his heart couldn’t sink any further, it continued to plummet; where Tsubaki had once been standing, Sid had risen to his feet, dusting himself off and flexing his arms, as if to remove an ache from his muscles and bones.

“Well, this certainly took an unfortunate turn,” he grunted, looking to the grey haired doctor, “Shall I apprehend them, Doctor Stein?”

“Only if they try to run. Otherwise, I can handle the rest of this little experiment myself” he flexed his hands, eager, “You really do have beautiful skin, Scythe Meister Maka… I can’t wait to see if I can turn it into sandpaper.”

The trembling grew worse. Maka raised Soul to defend, but made no movements beyond that, eyes wide.

‘… Soul?’

‘… I’m here, Maka,’ he assured, ‘I’m right here.’

‘… what do we do now?’

He didn’t answer – not immediately, at least. The truth was, he didn’t know what to do next himself. After all, what could they do? With a zombie that had taken all four of them and a hefty amount of misdirection to take down, and this deranged, but powerful lunatic in front of them, there would be no getting away if they ran. If they fought, they would lose, possibly even die if they Three Stars didn’t get here in time…

… but if they surrendered…

He shuddered at the look in Stein’s eyes; no, surrender was out of the question. If they surrendered, the chance that they would die went from an almost certainty to an inevitability.

‘… we have to fight,’ he finally answered.

‘But how? He’s too fast to reliably hit and we can’t keep taking hits from that Soul Wavelength; mine isn’t strong enough to cancel it out, and I don’t think yours is either.’

‘Maybe not alone,’ Soul agreed, glancing at his partner.

The trembling stopped; the fear was interrupted by a moment of confusion, and then, slow realization.

‘… are you suggesting… a Soul Resonance?’

‘That’s exactly what I’m suggesting.’

‘… not to burst your bubble, Soul,’ Maka thought, tightening her grip, ‘but we’ve tried that before. It’s never worked.’

‘We don’t have much choice here. It’s do or die, Maka,’ his tone was final, but encouraging, ‘What’s it going to be?’

It was his turn to wait for an answer; her emotions swirled, fear diminishing and rising back and forth against a sudden wave of anger. Her jaw set, and after a long moment, she settled into a state of raw determination, widening her stance and raising Soul once more.

‘If this doesn’t work?’ she warned, ‘I’m kicking your ass all the way to Hell.’

He felt his smile return, ‘I wouldn’t have it any other way.’

“I see you’ve stopped trembling,” the doctor noted, tilting his head, “Does this mean you’re ready to show me what you can do?”

“We’re not just gonna show you what we can do,” Maka hissed, “We’re gonna kill you!

“Doctor Franken Stein!” Soul declared, “Your Soul is ours’!”

Stein sank into a deeper stance of his own, raising his hands with a more somber tone, “Then come and see if you can take it.”

Soul felt the wave flow into him through Maka’s palms; a gentle pulse, a tentative metaphorical hand reaching out to him with gentle fingers.

He took that hand in his own, bouncing the wave back in reciprocation, up through Maka’s hands.

Again, the wave returned, stronger this time, and again he bounced it back to her, growing stronger and more consistent with each repetition until it wasn’t so much a back and forth bounce as it was a synchronized beat. No longer was it just a wave of faint energy, it was swelling, flooding his entire being. It pounded in his head, in his chest, through his limbs, through the steel of his body with rhythmic regularity like an overwhelmingly powerful heartbeat. It was thought, it was emotion, it was intent.

It was power. The sensation of one Soul joining with another, matching Wavelengths to do together what they could not do alone.

He felt his blade transform, a brilliant blue glow forming across its surface before it abruptly expanded into something less substantial, but far more sharp than mere metal ever could be. A crescent of light that flowed like water, a sickle-like blade that was now longer than Maka was tall. Her emotions flooded into him, just as his did into her, their shared fearful determination somehow finding equilibrium.

It was funny, in a way.

How many times had they tried this technique, only to be met with failure to so much as draw it out time and time again? Only to finally reach it now that they were staring their own deaths in the face?

“… well, this is certainly new,” Stein cocked an eyebrow, glancing at the zombie, “Have you been holding out on me, Sid?”

The former professor vehemently shook his head, “No, Doctor. This is completely new to me; I knew they were trying, but I didn’t think they had actually achieved it!”

Maka rushed forwards, letting out a roar in her charge as she swung, “WITCH HUNTER!!!

Stein did not dodge as Soul’s blade descended upon him; instead, he caught it between his hands, gritting his teeth and smile slipping as the edge of the glowing crescent came within mere centimeters of his face, the white-blue glow bright enough to illuminate the grey-green of his eyes. Smoke rose from his skin as the ethereal blade burned into his flesh, though he didn’t let out any hiss or cry of pain. He simply braced himself, pushing back against the downward strike.

Harder,” Maka pressed, her muscles emboldened by the combined Wavelength, stronger than they had ever been before.

Sharper,” Soul demanded, honing the crescent to an edge sharper than any razor, the Wavelength acting as his grindstone.

CUT HIM IN HALF!” they shouted as one-

And abruptly, it the world was gone. Lost.

Lost amidst a flood of emotion and memory.

The boy sat alone, listlessly pressing the keys that he once loved so dearly-

The girl asked her Mama why she’d given her sister away-

He stared dumbfounded at the blade that had replaced his hand-

She asked Papa what ‘half-sister’ meant-

“Not quite as good as your brother-”

“Luz isn’t your Mama’s-”

“Your music is so lifeless these days-”

“He’s out with other women-!?”

“-Evans, don’t walk away from your-!”

“-ease, Makoto, I can explain-!”

“Soul-!”

“Maka-!”

“… please don’t leave…”

He didn’t so much surface as he was gripped by the scruff and pulled out.

The Witch Hunter crescent shattered between Stein’s hands as his Soul Wavelength pulsed, interrupting their Soul Resonance and destroying it entirely, the shards falling to the ground; without the support, disorientated, confused, Soul and Maka lost their footing entirely, collapsing to the ground in a heap.

“… the Hell…?” he managed, returning to human form and gripping his skull.

“… agh, my head…” Maka whimpered, gripping her temples with both hands, curling in on herself.

“… you underwent a Resonance Overload,” Stein flexed his fingers without so much as a wince, despite the more than evident burns on his palms, “It’s a fairly common occurrence in inexperienced Weapon and Meister pairs. You were so desperate to strike me down that you went in too deep, too quickly with your Soul Resonance, causing your Souls to flood each other. I could tell from how you both suddenly went vacant; I had to interrupt it for your own safety.”

Our safety!?” Maka shouted, outraged.

“Yes,” Stein’s response was almost deadpan as he knelt, adjusting his glasses, “Your safety.”

“… can’t have the integrity of your test subjects compromised, can you?” Soul growled.

“No, though the experiment is almost over,” Stein raised a hand, “There’s only one last step for me to take.”

He extended it, reaching for Maka’s head; she flinched, trying to kick away, and Soul pulled himself in front of her, glaring up at the scientist with all the fury he could muster despite his exhaustion.

“You’re not touching my Meister while I’m still alive,” he snarled.

“… alright, fine,” Stein acquiesced, “I’ll start with you.”

Soul squeezed his eyes shut as the heavy hand came to a rest atop his head, waiting for the fingers to compress or the Soul Wavelength to hit him with full force.

Instead, the hand gently pushed his head back and forth, as if trying to ruffle his hair, but not entirely sure how to do so, as if such a gesture of affection were foreign to its owner.

Slowly, the Scythe opened his eyes, and he caught Stein’s beaming smile as the hand pulled back.

“Congratulations,” he declared, “You all pass.”

“… what?” Soul asked.

Stein rose to his feet, pulling out a phone, “… hm. A full two minutes and thirty seconds. You made me take longer on that than I thought.”

“… I don’t know if you didn’t hear me the first time or if you’re just stupid, so let me say that again,” Soul cleared his throat, “What!?

“Your extra lessons from Lord Death,” Stein explained, seeming surprised, as if it were perfectly obvious, “All four of you pass.”

“… I… but… I… we… you killed Black Star!” Maka shrieked, pointing at the body of the blue haired ninja.

“Oh, that?” he gestured; Sid had already propped Black Star up and was gently cleaning the blood off the boy’s face with a cloth, and checking his eyes with a small flashlight.

“His eyes are both reacting as normal, Doctor,” the zombie reported, “This is sure a lot of blood though.”

“Head wounds just tend to bleed a lot,” Stein explained, stepping over to Tsubaki and checking her pulse, “I was careful not to run my Soul Wavelength through his organs or central nervous system. He’ll be fine when he regains consciousness.”

“… he was fighting us with kid’s gloves,” Soul realized, voice weak, “I mean, I knew that, but… I didn’t… I…”

As her partner spiralled into incoherent mumbling, Maka got to her feet, jabbing a finger at the professor, “But what about Sid!? He’s dead! Capital D, small e, small a, small d, period!”

At this, Stein actually let out a laugh, and Sid nervously rubbed the back of his head, “… well… I’ve never been a man to lie, so… I… uh…”

Something inside the Scythe Meister’s head snapped, staring at Sid incredulously, “… are you… seriously telling me… that you… let Stein kill you… all for the sake of these extra lessons?”

“… yes,” he admitted with a helpless shrug.

Slowly, Maka’s face fell into her hands as she groaned, “… Naigus is gonna kill you.”

“You know, Sid, there’s another way of going about this,” Soul grunted, getting to his feet, “It’s called ‘acting.’ You should try it sometime.”

“That’s another form of lying,” Sid crossed his arms, resolute, “I never told a lie when I was alive, and I’m not about to start now. That’s the kind of man I was.”

“Alright, alright, that’s enough,” Stein chuckled, picking up Tsubaki, “We can yell at Sid for his poor life and afterlife choices later. For now, you’re all pretty banged up; let’s get you inside, so I can take a look.”

“But what about the Three Stars that were dispatched?” Maka asked quickly, “What about them?”

“Oh, they were never sent out,” Stein noted offhandedly, “The test was supposed to end when you captured Sid and got my location out of him. When Black Star came after me, we all had to improvise.

“Still, I’d say it was a solid experiment. And besides,” he grinned, “It was sure fun messing with you guys!”

With that, he turned, and walked back into the lab, Sid trailing close behind with Black Star.

“… Maka?” Soul started.

“Yeah, Soul?”

“When we get home, don’t wake me up for the next week. Got it?”

“Don't wake me up for a month.

They sat in silence, the only sound being the wind.

“… well. What do we do now?”

“… we should probably be there for Black Star and Tsubaki when they wake up,” she surmised, crossing her arms, “Someone has to tell them it was just a big… Damn… setup.”

“You gotta admit that they got us pretty good,” he admitted.

“Shut up. Let’s go make sure Stein doesn’t turn Black Star into the world’s ugliest were-pomeranian or something stupid like that.”

“I thought you’d say that would be an improvement.”

“God, no, he’s yappy enough without adding annoying little dog to him.”

The duo slowly made their way out of the night air, and into the lab.


Day fourteen.

"… well," Luz sighed, "This is it."

"… yeah."

They stood together on the sidewalk, Dad's car already running; his suitcase had been packed and thrown in the trunk before he came to visit.

Likewise, all of Luz's finals had been written. The final days of her school year, and her time with Papi, had come and gone.

"… I'm sorry I can't wait for the bus with you, kiddo," he said, eyes downcast, "The only plane I could find with seats for today leaves in a couple hours, and I have to get through security."

"It's okay," she forced a smile across her lips, "You were here as long as you could be. That's what matters."

He returned the look, his expression happy and somber as he reached out; he gripped her shoulder, looking her in the eye, "You're going to be okay. Understand?"

"… yeah," she stated, though she wasn't sure she believed it, "It's just going to be a couple months. I can make it through."

"You know you can call me at any time, for any reason, right?"

"I know."

He squeezed her shoulders, then looked up to Mami, "… goodbye, Camila."

"Drive safely, Spirit," she smiled.

He nodded, then looked down at Luz one last time, "… time for me to go, Luz."

She couldn't stop the well of tears that rose into her eyes, or the hiccup in her chest. She pressed her face into her hands, biting her tongue, trying to keep herself from breaking down.

"… I know," he soothed, "I know."

"… this 'appens every time," Luz managed, her sobs rising and breaking loose despite her best attempts to keep them in, "Every time…"

"You don't want me to leave you behind," he said, simple and true; he opened his arms, offering a final embrace.

It only took her a second to accept it, wrapping her arms around him as tightly as she could, as if he would slip from her grasp and into the wind if she didn't. However, it did nothing to halt her tears, which only spill faster into the wistful summer breeze the harder she squeezed her eyes shut.

"I wanna… I wanna go with you…" her fingers dug into his shirt, helpless to regain control over her sobs, "... quiero ir contigo..."

"Lo sé, Corazoncito," he intoned, gently stroking her hair, "Lo sé."

She tightened her grip; despite the grief, she was thankful to him for not giving her false reassurances, for not telling she could come with him, no matter how badly she wanted to hear it.

Slowly, she let go, stepping away, wiping her eyes and once again forcing a smile, managing to speak despite her wavering voice, "… call me as soon as you hit the ground, okay?"

He nodded, smiling, "I will, Mija."

He turned, and stepped into his car, still waving even as he pulled away. She returned the gesture, waving to him as he drove down the road, and around the corner, until he was out of sight.

Her arm fell, and she wrapped her arms around her stomach, lip still trembling.

Slowly, Mom approached, placing a hand on her shoulder, "… it's going to be okay, Luz."

"… it's a lot harder to believe that with the one person who believes in me so far away," she murmured.

"I believe in you," Mami affirmed.

"… I know," there wasn't enough conviction behind her words.

"… Luz," she began, "I need you to understand something, okay?"

"Yeah?" she raised her head, meeting her mother's eyes.

"The world isn't like the books that you read, regardless of where you are or who you surround yourself with," she cupped Luz's cheeks, "The fantasies that you love are just that. Fantasies. Stories. They hold truths, yes, but even when you strip away the Magic and the Dragons, they aren't fully compatible with real life. The world is a far more complicated place than the pages of a book, and all too often it won't be understanding of your differences and eccentricities."

"So, what?" she asked, "I should just… change myself to suit what other people want from me?"

"At the very least, you have to be willing to adapt so that you won't be left all alone," Mami corrected, "You don't have to change who you are, but you don't have any filter. And that has gotten you hurt before. I don't want to see you keep getting hurt."

"… isn't the saying 'Those who matter, will follow?'" Luz began, "'Those who do not, will not?'"

"A rough paraphrasing," the doctor sighed, "But it's rarely so simple. This is a chance for you to make some friends, Mija. But only if you're willing to try."

Luz reached into her bag, pulling out the book; the Good Witch Azura stared back at her from the cover, and like so many times before, she felt herself wishing she could dive into the pages.

"… please, Luz," Mom pleaded, "For me?"

A long, sad, tired breath finally escaped the teen; she looked back up, lips pulled tight, "… I'll try."

Her mother pulled her into a hug, warm and comforting.

Eventually, though, the phone buzzed; Mom pulled the phone out of her bag, clicking her teeth.

"… I have to get to work," she mumbled.

"Duty calls, I guess," Luz sat down, setting the book on the ground beside the trash bin, chin in her hands.

"Your bus is coming soon," Mami smiled, leaning down to kiss her on the forehead, "Text me when you get there, alright?"

"I will," she acknowledged listlessly, "Té amo, Mami."

"Té amo, Mija."

Luz didn't look up as her mother's footsteps faded into the distance. She simply took a breath, reaching for her book.

Only to find grass beneath her hand instead.

Her heart skipped a beat. Her eyes shot to the ground, where she had literally just put it down.

It was gone.

She was on her feet in an instant, looking all around the garbage can before throwing open the lid. Had Mami thrown it away while she wasn't looking?

No. No, Mom would never do something like that. She might not have liked the Good Witch Azura, but she had never thrown away anything Luz had wanted to keep.

Even so, she began rooting through the contents, paying absolutely no attention to the rank stench, "Where is it? Where is it!?"

A low hoot emanated from the ground.

She looked past the garbage can, and there sat a small owl, a bag in its beak, staring right up at her.

She blinked, and then her eyes shot to the purple cover of her book, pupils shrinking to the size of beads.

The owl then turned, and started hopping with impressive speed towards the treeline.

"Tiny trash thief!" she shrieked, sprinting after it with her bag in hand.

Notes:

Spanish translation for this chapter:

"Hasta el último."

"Every last one."

---

"Estoy bien."

"I'm okay."

---

"... quiero ir contigo."

"I wanna go with you."

---

"Lo sé, Corazoncito. Lo sé."

"I know, sweetheart. I know."

---

"Té amo."

"I love you."

---

As always, the translation work for this story is done by maho_kat on Archive of Our Own! Please be sure to thank her for all of her hard work!

... Okay. This is it.

This is the threshold.

This is the FINAL chapter before we hit Boiling Isles. WE FINALLY DID IT EVERYONE! THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE!

Also, yes, I have changed some of the mechanics of Soul Resonance, I have ever since I brought up Soul Wavelength mechanics and added mental conversations between Maka and Soul, and Black Star and Tsubaki. To be honest, I'm surprised memory bridging/thought transference/emotional sensing was never a thing in regards to Soul Resonance between partners, especially with how Team Resonance introduces something like telepathy between partner sets later in the series. So I decided to add some things, and I hope you like them. I really do.

Oh, and hopefully I'll have Kid, Liz and Patty in the story soon too. There just... hasn't been a good opportunity to really introduce them yet, so I'm hoping that will pop up too. Also more serious Blair.

Please be sure to leave your thoughts below! I hope you enjoyed the ninth chapter of Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance!

Chapter 10: Exchange of Thoughts, Exchange of Worlds

Notes:

I do not own Soul Eater or Owl House.

If I did, I probably wouldn't know every line Eda has in canon off by heart.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The forest only grew thicker as Luz chased the owl through the trees. There was at least something of a path, stomped down dead earth and cleared away trees leading deeper and deeper into the woods. The chocolate-haired girl had no idea how such a tiny bird could pull around a sack as big as she was, much less do so at a speed that forced her to nearly sprint just to match… but lo and behold, it did just that, completely disregarding all the physics she had spent so much time trying to wrap her head around.

But even as the trees grew closer together and the path grew more and more overgrown with underbrush, Luz refused to give up the chase even to give herself a chance to breathe.

She was not losing that book. Even if it weren’t a first edition, it was a present from Papi. She’d had it for over five years now.

She was getting it back if she had to chase that bird into the next state.

Abruptly, the forest around her opened up into a clearing; she skidded to a halt, a chill shooting down her spine as she stared into the doorway of a decrepit house. What was left of the window panes were broken and dusty from years of neglect; the wood of the house was an almost uniform dead grey, bringing forth uncomfortable reminders of a tombstone, half of the boards rotted, the other half splintered and cracked, all of them probably completely unsafe to stand on. Even the roof seemed ready to collapse under its own weight, tiles missing, and several large holes indicating where the structure had failed, either from damage or from the simple march of time, exposing the rafters within.

The owl flew on, completely unfazed, through the open doorway and into the dark beyond.

Luz only hesitated for a second before clapping her hands to the sides of her face with a growl, determination and anger taking over and pushing her forwards, fear overridden completely. She ran across the clearing, leaped over the porch, and into the building without so much as a second glance, heart pounding in her ears so loudly she didn’t even hear the door slam behind her.

“Stop adorably hopping away, you-!” she stopped, blinking, “Huh?…”

Whatever she’d been expecting to see upon stepping into the house, it wasn’t this; she wasn’t in a dark, colourless, musty house that could collapse at any moment.

She was in a deep purple patchwork tent, surrounded knickknacks and oddities of all sorts, stuffed haphazardly into bags, crates and cardboard boxes. Weathered books, random assortments of clothes, mismatched shoes and a broken television were the least bizarre things Luz’s eyes fell upon; strange toys and dolls sat on shelves, poked out from piles and hung from the many ropes and rails that hung overhead, all uniquely disturbing in their own ways, most of them sloppily fitted together with limbs and heads that didn’t match their bodies. Gardening tools leaned against the back of the tent, a fridge stood beside an upturned couch with innumerable gouges in its surface. Plates and utensils sat unsorted in their boxes, and an antique grandfather clock sat silent and motionless right beside a rusty oil drum – and that was to say nothing of all the garbage, toys and paperweights scattered across the cobblestone floor.

Her eyes widened as she saw the doorway she had entered through, standing entirely on its own. A brilliant light shone through the portal, almost blinding, with absolutely no way to tell what lay beyond; the wood was intricately carved, forming a shining golden eye that stared at her with an unblinking intensity, tempting her to touch it to see if it was alive. The edges of the door were carved in flowing patterns akin to wings or petals, though which it was, Luz wasn’t entirely sure.

“… whoa… I thought I had a lot of weird stuff,” she murmured, absolutely mesmerized by the sheer mishmash of items surrounding her. She picked up an unfortunate lizard plushy with a clothes hanger jammed through his baby doll head, one of his arms replaced with a fork; she could have sworn she saw it move a moment ago, reaching for her, “But this?... this is impressive.”

“Finally!” a voice called, “You’re back.”

Luz’s heart nearly leaped into her throat, dropping the doll, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle a screech; she turned towards the flap of the tent, quietly pushing it open.

“Well, let’s see what we got here,” the voice continued, effeminate and flippant; the woman leaned over the table before her, the same owl from before standing over the sack. She was clad in a long, slightly tattered red dress, her silver hair held back by a green tie-on shawl, complete with polka dots…

But her skin was white. Not Caucasian, but almost bleached-bone white, with only a slight tinge giving her any colour to her skin whatsoever in the form of a nearly sickly parchment yellow-grey.

And yet, she was not sickly at all; she moved with a casual ease, raising a wooden staff directly in front of the owl as it flapped up into the air. It landed atop the staff, and she gently patted its head before actually grabbing hold, and twisting the bird in place.

Luz stared, confused as the full rotation was made; feathers bled together into one smooth surface, the talons disappearing into the main body. As the rotation completed, the owl had transformed from flesh and blood and feathers to a wooden carving, wings folded and eyes blank. There were even visible knots in the wood that might have once been feathers, as if the silent bird of prey had never been alive in the first place.

Despite her best efforts, the teen couldn’t hold in her gasp; she’d watched Dad transform his fingers into blades countless times, but this?... this was something else entirely.

The woman began digging through the sack, her long yellow nails in and of themselves looking much like talons as she pulled out the first item, only inspecting it for a second before tossing it with a dismissive “Garbage.”

It landed with a crack that made Luz wince; now that she had a better look at it… was that a phone?... yeah, that was a perfectly good new phone, its screen now shattered from the impact it suffered on the cobblestones.

Her eyes shot back to the woman, who now held something else entirely in her hand – a golden ring with the largest diamond Luz had ever seen. A little tacky, sure, but at least it should fetch a good price for the gemstone alone-

“Garbage,” the woman once again declared, tossing it without a second thought beside the phone, the gemstone popping out of place upon impact and forcing Luz to restrain a disappointed whine. She was tempted to try and reach for it, but forced herself to stay put, not wanting to give herself away.

The next object the stranger pulled out was immediately illuminated with a light from the heavens, a light that put even the sun to shame; an audible heavenly choir filled the air, and Luz was left staring in awe at what she could only assume was the Holy Grail, golden and perfectly polished with an incredible splendour. Was it possible that the tales of the Round Table were somehow true-

“Garbage,” a mild edge of annoyance had entered the woman’s voice now, tossing the golden cup. The light from the heavens faded and the choir stopped as if someone had gone and yanked a record out of its player without even turning it off first, undoubtedly scratching the whole vinyl. The grail hit the ground, immediately denting, its perfect polish splattered with dirt and grime, scratched as it skittered across the cobbles and came to a stop at the corner, sitting there like an abandoned Burger Queen cup without a lid or a straw.

Luz stared at it in abject horror, once again restraining the urge to run and scoop it up, “… well, I guess nobody’s finding it, now…”

Suddenly, the woman gasped, a note of joy rising in her tone as she pulled out the next item, “Now this…!

She unfolded the cheap black glasses, and put them on; after a moment, the large, plastic googly eyes fell, dangling from the poorly-attached slinkies, “… this will make me rich!

Luz felt her head tilt of its own accord, eyes scrunching in confusion. Those could be found in any dollar store in even the most remote of small towns. They were made entirely of plastic and cheap metal and the slinkies didn’t even work properly; how were they in any way, shape or form worth more than a phone, a diamond ring, and the Holy Grail?

She didn’t have any time to ponder the question, however, as the woman had moved on to the next item in the bag; she inspected the Good Witch Azura novel with an appraising eye, “And this…”

‘Please don’t throw it, please don’t throw it, PLEASE DON’T THROW IT,’ the brunette found herself repeating, her hands clenching so tightly her nails dug into her palms through the fabric of the tent flap.

“… eh, it’ll make good kindling.”

Luz only had an instant to process her horror before the woman held the book over the lit candle that the child hadn’t noticed before; the small flame licked eagerly at the bottom of the book, and she didn’t even try to stop herself.

She rushed forwards, snatching the book right out of the silver haired woman’s talon-like fingers, “’SCUSEMESORRYTHAT’SMINETHANKYOU!”

Luz could feel the woman’s eyes on her back as she sprinted back for the still open door, the light almost beckoning her back to familiarity and sanity – but before she could get anywhere near it, it slammed shut of its own accord, the sound of a lock sliding into place sending the youth’s heart plummeting like a stone even before the door folded, like some sort of demonic origami sculpture, floating up and away into the shadows above – her sealed exit now hopelessly out of reach.

The harsh clack of heels on the earth echoed in her ears, prompting her to turn; for the first time, it struck Luz how tall this woman was, looming over her in the shade of the tent, the deep purples somehow turning the silliness of the googly-eyed glasses into something truly uncanny.

Then she reached up, pulling the glasses off, exposing eyes of gold. Not hazel, but actual gold, matching the jewel set in the middle of her chest and the single golden fang – a fang – sticking down from her lip. Her brow creased in a severe frown, somehow making her already sharp, predatory features seem even moreso, chin and nose and cheekbones all sharp like knives.

“You’re not going anywhere,” she growled.

Luz let out a yelp, quickly stuffing the book back into her bag to free up her hands and running to the back of the tent, throwing the fabric up and scrambling underneath. As soon as she was through, she kept running, all thoughts of getting back through the door simply gone. The only thing left in her mind was getting away.

At least, until she noticed the sheer cliff right in front of her.

She skidded to a halt just one step away from the edge, staring down over what would have most certainly been a fatal fall; the ground was thousands of feet below, the rocks she displaced in her desperate attempt to escape taking several seconds to fall out of her sight. She didn’t even hear them hit the ground, but had no doubt that they would have shattered or embedded themselves deep in the earth upon impact.

Slowly, she lifted her gaze, and a strange locale stretched out before her, a place stranger than even the picture Papi’s descriptions of Death City had painted in her mind’s eye. Beneath beige-gold clouds and a purple sky, the sprawling city stretched all the way out to the horizon in a countless number of spires that eventually gave way to an ocean of fuchsia. Moreover, it was hard to tell how many of these spires were constructed and how many were, for lack of a better word, grown; for every house and building that seemed somewhat normal, built from wood and glass and plaster, there was another that had flesh and eyes and teeth. Some even had limbs, a pair of grotesque, spindly arms reaching up from the ground hundreds of feet into the air at the very least, one having houses built into its side and carried between massive claws. Veritable mountains of solid bone stretched up and out of the earth like horns or broken ribs, structures carved into and out of them, and actual oversized femurs were being used to hold up some sort of overpass that stretched out over the city. And above it all, stood what could only be described as a cathedral, its stained glass windows visible even from the cliffside.

And that was to say nothing of the city’s inhabitants.

From what Luz could see, not a single person in this place even resembled a human.

Most of them didn’t even resemble each other; a hooded man with a tail pulled out an ice cream cone for a creature with purple skin whose head was all mouth… only for the ice cream to spit out a tongue, which proceeded to wrap around the purple person and yank him into a maw with teeth made of frozen vanilla and chocolate. In the background, an oversized bird and a woman with only a head and legs walked past, oblivious or perhaps apathetic to the ice cream’s victim, not so much as giving him a second glance. A caterpillar with a man’s face and a bowler hat spat out a bird with lips, and they kissed before going their separate ways.

She swallowed harshly, taking a step back from the edge, watching as an actual Dragon circled overhead – only for one of the limbs to snatch it out of the air, and abruptly descend into the city, disappearing from sight entirely, “… what’s going on?... where am I?...”

Finally, her eyes locked onto something that looked at least somewhat friendly; the tiny humanoid fluttered on butterfly wings, her skin purple, eyes violet and her hair done up in a manner that resembled a rose.

Luz let out a sigh of relief, “… oh… hello, little fairy… you’re not gonna tell me that I’ve just fallen asleep and I’m dreaming a bit more vividly than usual, are you?”

The fairy’s only response was to pull her lips back in a snarl, much, much further back than what should have been possible, exposing teeth that absolutely should not have fit in her mouth as her head tripled in size, screaming, “GIVE ME YOUR SKIN!!!”

The terrified teen shrieked, smacking the fairy out of the air; it unceremoniously fell to the dirt, making an audible gurgling sound as its eyes spun, teeth locked onto a particularly large stone.

“Where am I?...” she mumbled, stumbling back and once again staring out at the town, “Did I die?... I don’t remember getting hit by a truck, so an isekai is out… am I in the Bad Place?...”

A talon-like hand clapped down on Luz’s shoulder, grip strong and unyielding; the silver haired woman stood over her with narrowed eyes, red lips curled down in an expression of distinct disapproval, “You wish.


“Goooooood morning, you two!”

Maka groaned into her hands as Blair’s voice rang in her ears, the cat cheerfully sitting on the counter and waving her paw back and forth, causing the pan on the stove to shift in tandem with her motions. Soul was already sitting at the table, fiddling with his phone, inclining his head towards her in greeting.

“… wasn’t it you who said that getting up at six in the morning was punishment, Blair?” she grumbled, opening the fridge and pulling out the milk.

“Well, yeah,” she smiled, tipping out the pan onto a plate; several pieces of bread fell to the ceramic, all golden brown and paired the scent of freshly cooked eggs filling the room, “But I’m a cat, Maka. I wake up and go to sleep whenever I want.”

“So, again,” the Meister queried, “Why are you up this early?”

“Oh, fine,” Blair sighed, though she maintained her cheer as she returned to her human form, sitting down at the table, “There’s a couple reasons, actually. The first being,” she raised her hands for effect, “I finally got a job lined up!”

Soul perked up slightly, glancing up from his phone, “No kiddin’?”

“No kidding! I actually start tonight!” the magical cat snatched up a piece of French toast, “You can officially stop calling me a moocher, because I’m going to be bringing cash of my own into our little household, on top of all my savings!”

“… well, I guess it’s better than what you’ve been doing,” Maka took a slow sip of milk before reaching for the toast, taking a small piece.

“Hey, why so sullen, Maka?” Blair tilted her head, “I thought you’d be happy to hear I got a job.”

“… it’s not you,” she rubbed the back of her head, closing her eyes, “I’ve just… had a lot on my mind, the past couple days, is all.”

“… is it the whole thing with your teachers?” Blair ventured, “The mission you were given?”

This time, Maka didn’t answer, instead reaching for another piece of French toast, as well as the small bowl of icing sugar.

“… you’ve both been so quiet these past couple days,” Blair continued, glancing back and forth between Weapon and Meister, “Is something wrong?”

“I don’t think so,” Soul shut off his phone, pocketing it before reaching for some of the toast himself, “I think we just… needed to process. That sound about right, Maka?”

“Something like that,” she acknowledged, finally taking a bite. Then she blinked, the taste somehow snapping her the rest of the way awake; she stared at the toast in her hand, disbelieving.

“You alright, Maka?” the cat asked.

“… this is good,” Maka confessed, “Really good… how is this so good?”

Blair chuckled, leaning back, “My career has taken me to a lot of places. You’d be surprised what I know how to do.”

“Clearly,” the Scythe Meister muttered dryly, though she failed to completely take any sense of impressed surprise out of her tone; she scarfed down the rest of her toast, and finished off her milk before checking the clock on the microwave.

Ten minutes after six.

“I think we have time to sit down and enjoy some breakfast, Maka,” Soul smiled, “We’re not late.”

“We’re still up later than I’d like,” she grumbled, “I still haven’t checked over the classwork we’ve missed…”

“Which is one of the other reasons I made breakfast today,” Blair assured, “After all the hard work you’ve done? I’d say you’ve earned at least one easy morning.”

“Really trying to butter me up today, aren’t you?” Maka snorted.

“I’m allowed to be nice with no ulterior motives,” the cat took a bite of her own French toast, smiling, “… yep. Still got it. Thank you, Eda Clawthorne.”

“Eda who?” Soul raised an eyebrow.

“Just an old friend,” she waved the question off, “Taught me how to cook.”

“Is she a magical cat too?” Maka gave a crooked smile.

“Not quite. She’s more of an owl, really.”

“Great, magical owls are a thing we have to look out for now,” the Scythe laughed, “How many souls do they have? Ten? Twenty?”

“Just the one, as far as I know,” she stated, “Don’t worry, you won’t have to worry about what happened with me happening with her.”

“And why is that?”

Blair smiled at Maka, “For one thing, you’d have to find her first.”

Maka huffed, but maintained her smile with half lidded eyes, drumming her fingers on the table, “Yeah. I guess so.”

Her smile faded, however, as her drumming continued; it wasn’t a simple, consistent thrum from her thumb to her pinky, or vice versa. It was slow, gentle beat, one she couldn’t get out of her head – and over the past two days, she’d found herself drumming it out with one hand or the other every time they were left idle, letters echoing in her mind with no rhyme or reason that she could recognize.

Right thumb. C.

Right thumb. C.

Right ring. G.

Right ring. G.

Right pinky. A.

Right pinky. A.

Right ring. G.

She changed hands, picking up her final piece of toast in her right hand, and the drumming began anew, her left hand slower and more methodical, but no less perplexing.

Left pinky. C.

Left ring. E.

Left middle. F.

Left ring. E.

Her lips twisted into a grimace. What was up with this pattern?

“Maka?”

She shook herself out of her reverie, clenching her hand, “I’m fine! I’m fine.”

Blair was now looking at her with a half lidded eye, concern evident in her expression as the Meister got to her feet, hair whipping back and forth slightly as she began gathering plates, “We should get ready. I’d rather be there a little bit early than risk running late.”

“Leaving at six thirty is plenty early as it is, Maka,” Soul stated, “It’s a twenty minute walk.”

“Well then, we’ll have an extra twenty minutes to study before class starts,” she countered, placing the dishes into the dishwasher, “That hunt for Sid didn’t exactly put us ahead. We have a lot of work to do.”

She sped into the entryway, throwing on her coat; after a moment, Soul followed her in, pulling on his jacket and headband, Blair leaning back against the doorframe of the kitchen.

“… I’m gonna get some sleep once you guys are gone,” she began, clearly not wanting to let them just leave, but also not wanting to pry, “If I’m still asleep when you guys get back, please wake me up. I don’t want to be late for my first night on the job.”

“We will,” Soul huffed, practically swallowing his last piece of toast whole, “Where did you say you’ll be working, again?”

“A local bar called Chupacabra’s,” she grinned, “They need another bartender. It’ll be a good chance for me to polish off my skills, though I’ll need to do a little practice here. It’s been a while.”

Maka immediately felt her mood sour, and it must have shown on her face, as Blair’s expression slowly dwindled into yet another concerned look, her brows upturned. The Meister looked away, fishing in her pocket for her keys to make sure she had them…

“… Maka? Are you sure you’re okay?”

“… I’m fine,” she repeated, one last time, the snap in her tone a little more harsh than intended, “Enjoy your nap, Blair.”

“… okay. Have a good day, you two.”

“You as well,” Soul raised his hand in a mock salute, and the two crept out the door, quietly closing it behind them.


Luz was roughly shoved back onto the wooden stool, pulling her knees to her chest as she stared into those golden eyes; the silver haired woman had an almost unnatural focus to her gaze, pupils noticeably dilating and contracting as she looked the Latina up and down, even leaning on one elbow to meet her eye level. Finally, she settled on staring deep into the girl’s eyes, unblinking, lips curled down in appraisal as if Luz were just another object to pawn off.

The girl was too terrified to keep her mouth shut; she was immediately babbling, voice high and loud and only barely coherent, “I’msorry! I just wan’ed my book!” she broke her eyes away, squeezing them shut as she extended her arm, “If you’re gonna eat my skin, please, just make it quick! Just do it now!”

“Eat you?” the woman’s tone was totally dismissive of the idea, “Why would I eat a potential customer?”

Slowly, Luz opened one eye, her jaw loosening and her arm wrapping back around her leg; the woman was smiling now, a broad, encouraging smile that was entirely discordant with the sheer menace she had been putting off earlier.

The girl glanced to either side, taking in the contents of the shelves that stood on either side of the strange woman; unlike everything that was in the tent, which seemed to be in some state of disrepair, most of what was on display here at least appeared to be intact. One set was dedicated largely to various bedside clocks, from a simple alarm clock with a built in radio, to a pair modelled respectively after a pyramid and a tyrannosaurus, with several miscellaneous toys and knickknacks scattered about, including a Rubik’s cube and a toy sword. The other shelf was a tad more random, with an oddly well-kept plush doll in a dress sitting beside an unplugged desk lamp, an old desktop beside a monster truck.

Above it all, though, rested a hand painted sign that read, in dark red letters, “HUMAN COLLECTABLES,” awkwardly nailed to a lopsided hockey stick attached to the tent, a worn Number 1 wearable hand pointing straight down towards the stand.

The woman reached under the table, pulling forth a single, lime green croc, “Can I offer you a human foot, filled with holes?”

Before the tanned teen could answer, she had already set the croc down, pulling out a stick of deodorant, unscrewing the end, “A bar of green human candy? Oh, oh!” she ducked under the table, pulling up a blank, handheld television, “How about this black shadow-box, that reflects only sadness?”

Luz stared into her reflection in the tiny television, eyes wide; all at once, it clicked into place. The random assortment of items, the way this woman chose googly eyed glasses over a miniature computer, actual jewellery and a potentially priceless artefact…

‘... this lady has no idea what half of this stuff even is, she realized, ‘Let alone how much any of it’s actually worth or how it even works. She’s running a flea market stand of used junk and garbage gathered by an owl.

Despite the potential danger she might be in, despite the former hostility the woman had shown in that fierce expression, the sheer absurdity of the situation was too much for Luz to handle. She tried, and failed, to stifle a giggle before erupting into laughter – and the woman’s confused expression only made her laugh harder.

When she finally settled down, she hopped off the stool with a smile, “That’s not all it can do. Here, lemme see.”

She tested the power button, only for nothing to happen; nodding, she popped open the small lid on the top.

“Thought so,” she bobbed her head, “Empty. Do you have any batteries?”

“… batteries?” the woman parroted, tilting her head.

Luz glanced back and forth, getting up on tiptoe before her eyes finally fell back down to the table, “Oh! You do!” she cheerfully reached into the small bowl labelled “Human Candy!” pulling out the two double As from amidst the paperclips, buttons and coins.

“Hey-!” the woman snapped, but before she could stop the girl, Luz had already inserted them both into the television, and pressed the power button again.

Immediately, it came to life, all neon lights and some fast paced, auto-tuned parody of disco music as a man in a leotard rapidly danced with weights in his hands, shouting encouragement as he moved.

“Voilà!” Luz said, setting the television back on the stand.

It didn’t take long for the noise to begin drawing attention; creatures of all sorts began emerging from other stands and around corners, drawn in by the sudden burst of noise and colour.

“Whoop,” Luz slipped off to the side, getting out of the way as the woman stared in pure bewilderment, approached by cat people, three eyed lizards, a four eyed dog, what the curious youth could only describe as an imp, and more; they were staring in wonderment at the tiny TV, murmuring among themselves before one of them shouted, holding a stack of papers in his tiny fist.

“I’ll pay forty snails for the screaming box!”

“I’ll give you a hundred!”

“Can I eat the tiny person inside?”

The cacophony only grew louder as each creature shouted over the other, growing into an overwhelming drone of noise that actually made Luz’s ears sting, each of them trying to shove money at the woman so they could have the box for themselves; she was quick to capitalize on the opportunity, grinning, “Alright, alright, slow down everyone. Screaming box goes to the highest bidder. Highest bid I heard was a hundred snails! Do I hear a hundred ten!? Hundred ten, anybody, hundred ten!?”

The woman continued to raise the price as more and more people kept raising the bid, Luz quickly getting lost amidst all the noise; when it was finally over, the box was taken away, and the woman cheerfully counted out the papers and shell-like coins as she spoke to the rest of the crowd, “Go ahead and browse! That box isn’t the only human treasure I’ve collected over the years!”

Eventually, she set what the tanned teen could only assume was money into what looked like some combination of cash register and typewriter, shooting the girl a smile, “… what did you say your name was?”

“I didn’t,” she snickered, “But I’m Luz. Luz Noceda.”

“Luz…” the silver haired woman pursed her lips, then snapped her fingers, baring her teeth in a self-satisfied grin, “Aha! Spanish,” she chuckled, crossing her arms, “Took me a second there. Means ‘Light,’ doesn’t it?”

Luz sputtered, startled; of all the responses she had been expecting, that had not been among them, “… y… yeah. How’d you…?”

“Spent a few years in south-western Spain,” the woman said offhandedly, “Had to pick up a couple languages to really make life there work. It was worth it, though – or at least it was, until the Reaper’s little goons started sniffing around,” she snorted, “Damn Scythes…”

“… Reaper?” Luz asked, voice weak, “Scythes?... as in… Death Scythes?

“Yep.”

“… but… that… that means…” Luz murmured, now openly staring into those intense golden eyes.

“Eh, all that’s neither here nor there,” the woman brushed the comment off, eyes half lidded, “Credit where credit’s due – that was pretty clever. For a human, at least.”

Luz’s mind stopped dead in its tracks. Her heart hammered against her ribs as the pieces of the puzzle slid together, eyes so wide they stung and her breaths quick and shallow.

The owl on the staff – once flesh and feather, now solid wood.

The folding door, obviously magical.

The brilliant golden eyes and the knowledge of Death Scythes…

“… you’re a Witch,” she realized, uncertain if the rising squeal in her chest was one of elation or fear.

“Oh, wow,” It was the Witch’s turn to blink, an eyebrow climbing her forehead, smile widening, her tone now genuinely impressed, “You really are clever, aren’t you?”

She reached up, and pulled off the shawl, her silver hair now completely loose; from the way it stuck up over her head and seemed to float rather than flow down her back, it seemed to behave more like feathers than actual hair, smooth and silky at the edges, but stiff and bristled at the center of each hair, making it stick up a bit at the base before eventually being weighed down at the end. It was even toned differently, a long streak of grey that bordered on white cutting through the silver on either side of her head. Her large ears perked up, ending in sharp tips rather than in rounded edges the way a normal human’s would, all only adding to the very not human, very much magical air the woman seemed to exude. Her sleeveless, ragged dress was both rough and elegant, her skin unnatural without being sickly, her jewellery gaudy without being hideous – and all adding to a visage most definitely predatory.

“… oh my God,” Luz breathed. She should have been afraid. She should have been terrified. She should have run screaming from the woman in front of her right then and there – but she did not. Elation won out over fear, and she felt her lips curl up in a smile so broad it actually hurt as she struggled not to scream outright, “OhmyGodohmyGodOHMYGOD-! You’re an actual Witch!

“Not quite the reaction I was expecting. You’re not scared?”

“Scared!? I’m ecstatic!” Luz threw her arms out in an attempt to show her sheer excitement, “I’m talking to a real-life Witch! I never thought I’d get the chance!”

“Ooooh, I see…” the woman began, her tone mischievous, “Well, I guess it’ll make you happy to know you’re not talking to just any old Witch, either,” a grandiose flare entered her voice as she stepped up onto the table.

“I am Eda, the Owl Lady!” she declared, “The most powerful Witch on the Boiling Isles!”

The crowd around the table, who had all been examining and fiddling with objects, only seemed to add to the draw this woman had, their clamouring seeming to shift into something akin to a cheer; Eda basked in it, a hand on her chest as she continued, “I am respected, feared-!

Busted!

A sudden gruff voice accompanied by the sound of breaking wood; the table collapsed under a heavy blow, Eda needing to quickly shift her weight to not fall with it, instead perched atop the very edge, her smile gone and frown severe.

The crowd immediately dispersed with a scream, everyone running in a different direction; within seconds, only one man remained, not quite as tall as the Owl Lady, but much, much more broad, his heavy chainmail gambeson taking his rotund, but powerful form and making it seem even heavier. Thick leather gloves accompanied a beak-like iron helm, a white shoulder-length cape wrapped around his shoulders and a heavy sword hanging from his belt.

“Eda the Owl Lady!” he shouted, holding up a parchment, “You are wanted for Misuse of Magic and Demonic Misdemeanours!”

“… Witch criminal?” Luz whispered, still in awe of the scene unfolding before her.

The massive guard reached out to grab her by the arm, “You are hereby ordered to come with me to the Conformato-”

Eda shifted her weight back, slipping out of his reach; as she did so, her broken half of the table flipped up, striking the guard in the chin and sending him sprawling onto his back. She hopped back to the ground, seeming only mildly annoyed, “Would you guys stop following me around? I haven’t done squat.”

The guard groaned, pushing himself up with a glare of his dark blue eyes, “You just assaulted a member of the Bonesborough Imperial Guard!”

“Uuuuuh, no I didn’t,” she pointed, smugly, to the broken table, “All I did was get off the table. Not my fault it sprang up and smacked you.”

“You shifted your weight so it would do that!”

“You can’t prove that. Besides, I’m not seeing any witnesses around.”

“There’s one right here!” he grabbed Luz by the hood, hoisting her off the ground with a yelp, “Moreover, she’s coming too!”

“Whoa, wait!” the girl protested, “What did I do!?”

The guard glanced at her, “Fraternize with a criminal.”

“W-What!?” Luz squirmed, trying to slip out of his grasp without tearing her hood, “But-but I- I didn’t know she was a criminal!”

“Alright, alright, fine. You win,” the red-clad Witch huffed, reaching under her stand, “Just lemme get my stuff.”

Eda’s next motion was so fast Luz had only barely caught it, despite looking right at her; an ear-splitting crack rang out as the staff collided with the guard’s helm hard enough to dent the metal plating. He was knocked clean off his feet, his grip on the girl slipping as he flew back across the cobblestones and crashed into another stand, scattering merchandise throughout the alleyway.

The Owl Lady held up her staff, spinning it between her fingers before slamming the tip into the ground, golden lightning shooting out from her body and into every object around her.

Luz let out a yelp as she fell, throwing her arms up to protect her head from the impact; it jarred through her bones, her jaw clicking shut with a sharp pain that gradually faded into an ache. A groan escaped her as she pushed herself up, carefully picking up her book and slipping it back into her bag before looking up once more.

A golden glow had surrounded Eda’s belongings, lifting everything, from the shelves to the clocks and toys to the tent itself, clean off the ground. It all floated in the air, the tent deconstructing itself, the poles and ropes and fabrics coming loose and laying themselves flat across the unravelled purple.

“Couch… fridge… generator… ah!” she reached back into her hair, pulling out a key – a key with the same eye and design as the door that had earlier floated out of Luz’s reach, “Can’t forget this!”

She pressed the eye as if it were a button, and the door flew into the pile of objects. The purple sheet wrapped around it all in a gigantic bundle before shrinking as Eda clenched her fist, compressing into a much smaller bundle, this one the size of a backpack and tied into a knot at the top. She slipped her staff through the top, an ecstatic grin on her face as she shouted, “Follow me, human!”

Luz did not have to be told twice. Even as the guard began to stir, moaning, she was already hot on Eda’s heels, the two running through the now empty flea market at a breakneck pace, the sound of harsh clanking armour soon echoing behind them.

“What did you do that has that guy so angry at you?!” the girl shouted, trying to keep the panic out of her voice, “What was he going to do to me!?

“Ha! Not important, kid; I won’t let him hurt you,” again, those eyes fixed on her, unblinking, the Owl Lady’s breaths entirely even, “A human like you is much more valuable to me alive than dead.”

“Wait, what’s that supposed to meaaaaAAAAAA-” the question was quickly replaced by a scream as Eda wrapped an arm around her waist, and, howling with excitement, jumped. Easily, she propelled herself ten, twenty, thirty feet into the air from physical force alone, carrying Luz with her. Her staff came to life, the owl’s eyes glowing and the wings unfurling as she slung her legs across, Luz plopped unceremoniously in front of her.

Had Luz not squeezed her eyes shut, she would have seen the guard shaking his fist at them in impotent rage before vanishing from view entirely, the flea market, and the city itself, quickly shrinking into the distance as the Witch’s staff carried them up into the magenta morning sky.


“… that was a little harsh, don’t you think?”

“Hm?” the Scythe Meister cocked her head, green eyes drifting towards her partner.

“To Blair, I mean,” he clarified.

She snorted, turning away, “Why do you care?”

Soul frowned, leaning forwards on his desk with his chin on his arms, “Just seems like she’s not the person you should be taking your frustrations out on, is all.”

“Hm.”

That was the only response Soul needed to know that he wasn’t going to get anywhere with her on the subject.

He sighed, watching as she turned the pages of her notebook; it wasn’t exactly hard to guess what was setting her off, even amidst the thoroughly unpleasant chaos of their shared remedial lessons.

After all, the idiot was coming back today.

His nose scrunched up in disdain; every time Soul had the dubious pleasure of having to speak to Maka’s sorry excuse for a father, he was always presented with either some thinly veiled threat, or a direct one – always made to discourage the Scythe from making any romantic moves on his partner.

Except Soul never felt particularly threatened by the Death Scythe. If anything, he just felt thoroughly annoyed by the guy, tuning out half of what the red-headed teacher had to say and responding to the other half with mild, half-baked sass, not once considering the man worth the effort of truly scathing commentary.

He had some standards, after all, and Maka’s father had already hit rock bottom.

Kicking a man while he was down just wasn’t cool.

He could only imagine how Maka felt, though; her resentment of the man was far beyond disdain, and it bled through into everything she did whenever she had him in mind. Even mentioning the bar the Death Scythe frequented, as Blair had earlier, was enough to completely ruin Maka’s day, rendering nearly every comment to leave her mouth snide and waspish.

… and yet, somehow, the thought of Maka’s father led him to the image of someone else entirely.

Her skin was almost as deep a brown as the dark chocolate of her hair; it was cut short, but not to the point of it being a military crew cut, since there was still enough length that she seemed to have a permanent case of bedhead, as if she’d cut it just short enough that she wouldn’t have to brush it out. A pair of dark studs were present in her ears, and her brown eyes were bright with excitement, her expression seeming caught in an eternal grin of joy. He couldn’t quite place her age, but if he had to guess, he’d have said about a year or two older than himself at most.

It was someone he had never even seen, but somehow, he knew at least her name.

Luz.

He felt his mouth draw out into a thin line; ever since that night at Stein’s laboratory, he hadn’t been able to get the girl out of his head, or at least not completely. The feelings of anxiety she stirred seemed more attached to her image than anything that belonged to him; a strange cocktail of unease, resentment and guilt, all projected onto his own emotions somehow, making it difficult for him to make any judgements of his own.

It was not lost on Soul that she had the same name as whoever it was Maka had been talking to on the phone in the days leading up to the remedial lessons.

He didn’t know any context beyond that... but…

“Good morning, Maka, Soul.”

He snapped awake, suddenly distinctly aware of how close he’d been to dozing off; he clutched his head with a groan before looking up, meeting Tsubaki’s gaze. Black Star stood several steps behind her, unusually quiet.

“Morning, Tsubaki, Black Star,” Maka gently closed her book, setting it aside.

“How are you two this morning?”

“Exhausted,” Soul muttered.

“Good,” Maka kept her tone neutral, “Good… what about you two? I haven’t seen you since you woke up at Doctor Stein’s lab.”

Black Star snorted, dropping down into his seat muttering under his breath. Tsubaki sighed, sitting down in turn with her arms wrapped around her stomach, her smile fading, “We’ve been… coping.”

A pang of uneasy guilt shot through Soul’s stomach; they’d spent most of the night in that laboratory, waiting as Stein tended to the shinobi pair, using his Soul Wavelength to heal their wounds.

Their panic upon awakening had been expected, but no less difficult to handle; Black Star had come out of unconsciousness swinging for the fences, destroying several beds and a good deal of expensive equipment before Sid had managed to pin him down, and Tsubaki hadn’t been much better, even if she was vastly relieved to see her partner was alive and well.

It had taken a call to Lord Death for an explanation to finally get them to settle down – and even then, it hadn’t put them fully at ease.

Not that Soul could blame them, really.

He hadn’t even been the one to experience it, and he could still see Black Star laying in a pool of his own blood, Tsubaki falling to the ground unconscious…

To say he hadn’t been frightened – or that he hadn’t since had nightmares of a man in stitches and a white lab coat, for that matter – would be a blatant lie.

“… sorry,” he murmured, his voice only barely audible.

“It isn’t your fault,” Tsubaki assured, “You both did what you could.”

“We all got tricked,” Black Star huffed, arms crossed, “And at least we’re still here. We passed, apparently…”

The four fell into an uneasy silence.

“… so,” Soul began, “Who do you think they’ll bring in to teach us this time? I hear Sid’s gonna be getting back into teaching, but he needs to get caught up with the material he missed.”

“I’m surprised they’re still letting him teach, to be perfectly honest,” Tsubaki admitted, “I thought that Lord Death would have mandated that his Soul be collected after the lessons concluded.”

“Well, he doesn’t have a Kishin Egg Soul,” Maka pointed out, “His body is dead, sure, but his actual Soul isn’t in any way corrupted. I think as long as that remains to be the case, Lord Death doesn’t have any issue with letting Sid stick around – especially since Sid actually requested this, for our benefit.”

“Idiot,” Black Star leaned back in his seat, hands in his pockets, “You’d think, for all the crap he gives us for making dumb decisions, he’d be a little smarter than that.”

“I believe the phrase is ‘Do as I say, not as I do,’” Soul ventured, risking a smirk – which only widened when Black Star let out a small snicker, a small smile finally gracing his angry expression.

Anyways,” Maka snapped her book shut in emphasis, “I’m fine with just about anyone at this point, even Von Nonameheim. Just as long as it isn’t my Dad-”

The door to the classroom burst open.

A wheeled office chair raced through the doorway, spinning wildly across the classroom floor before finally tipping over, dumping its sole occupant onto his back on the floor, staring blankly up at the notes in his hands through his round glasses, his familiar stitches and lab coat making Soul immediately blanch.

“Alright, students, settle down,” the sound of clicking as the man adjusted the screw in his head only confirmed the Scythe’s fears, “I’m going to be your new teacher for the remainder of the semester.”

The pit in Soul’s stomach only continued to grow.

“Possibly the year.”

Now the pit was filling with stones.

“Actually, this may be a permanent assignment for me, we’ll see how things turn out.”

The clicking of the screw may as well have been the grinding of gears to a halt as Soul struggled to process the declaration; all around him, students were whispering to each other, asking each other if they knew who this man was.

Slowly, he picked himself up off the ground, dusted himself off, and moved to the chalkboard.

“My name is Franken Stein,” he stated as he scratched out his name with the chalk, “But you will all either call me Professor or Doctor Stein. Either or, doesn’t matter to me. Now open up your biology textbooks to page two ninety three; I’d like to start on the right foot, and there’s no better way for me to do that than to start with my personal favourite subject.”

Slowly, Soul obeyed, flipping through the book until he reached the requested page.

The instructions for a frog dissection lab stared back at him in one final, condemning confirmation.

“… this is real,” he whispered, “I’m not dreaming…”

Maka was pale, eyes shooting from her textbook to the teacher, and back again as Black Star and Tsubaki stared blankly at the man that was now wheeling in a refrigerated cart. Finally, she spoke up, “… guys?”

“… yes, Maka?” Tsubaki answered, sounding every bit as dead inside as Soul felt.

“… I take back what I said,” she stated, hugging her arms around her stomach, “I think this is the first time I’ve ever wanted my Dad…”

Soul’s only response was a cold shudder as the scalpels and dead frogs were slowly passed down the desks.

“… this is so not cool…”

Notes:

No Spanish to be translated in this chapter. However, the translation work for this chapter is done by maho_kat on Archive of Our Own! Please be sure to thank her for all her work!

Did you know it takes at least three hours if not four to translate less than three minutes of the Owl House's first episode into text?

I didn't.

Did you know that those less than three minutes of the first episode of the Owl House also translate to roughly 4,000 words or more, accounting for variations in language and conversation progression based on changes to the characters from canon?

 

I didn't.

 

And now I do.

But I'm hoping to get the first episode wrapped up in the next chapter, so it all evens out. Plus I have a plan to introduce Kid, Liz and Patty - yaaaaay!

Please be sure to leave your thoughts below! I hope you enjoyed the tenth chapter of Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance!

Chapter 11: Doctor's Advice, Witch's Demands

Notes:

I do not own Soul Eater or Owl House.

If I did I might have a better idea of where this is all going.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

"You can open your eyes now, human."

The Witch's voice was a mix of a soothing reassurance and a mocking sing-song as Luz leaned back against her, eyes screwed shut and teeth bared as she tried to keep the tears down, the screams locked in her chest but threatening to break loose at the slightest break she took to breathe. The wind whipped at her face and hair, there was nothing under her feet, and the only thing she had to cling to was the wooden staff beneath her.

Despite this, she obeyed with a weak, wordless noise akin to a gurgle… and in a classic moment of foolishness, her first impulse was to look down.

The orange-dyed plains and forests hundreds of feet below shot past in the blink of an eye, with such speed that her eyes could only barely pick out individual trees before they were carried away a fraction of a second later.

She couldn't hold back the next startled yell that escaped her, losing her grip on the staff briefly and slipping off to the side, wrapping her arms and legs tightly around it to keep herself from falling, hanging upside down from the burnished wood.

"W-We're flying," she managed, dumbfounded, "We're actually flying…"

"First time, huh?" Eda grinned, reaching down and gripping Luz by the hood and pulling her back up, "Make sure you grip the staff with both your legs and your hands. That way you won't slip, fall and crack your head open."

Again, the teen obeyed, redoubling her chokehold on the staff as the owl at the tip flapped its wings once more, eyes glowing a brilliant gold; in turn, their speed decreased, the wind no longer so harsh on her eyes and ears, and allowing her to clearly take in the world before her.

"… whoa…"

The entire landscape was dyed with the colours of the sunset. The land and trees below were a myriad of oranges, ranging anywhere from pale, barren, trodden down sand and dust to grass the colour of peaches and trees that were almost red. Mountains of solid bone arched towards the sky in the distance, much the same as the ones in the city from before, gouging into the cloud-line by the dozens, each and every single one of the individual curved, rib-like spikes stretching high above the Witch and the human without any real effort. In the distance, the same fuchsia sea and purple sky stretched out without end, broken only by the golden clouds and the faint silhouettes of islands in the distance, the white light of the sun glinting off the waves and making the chocolate child wince, raising a hand to shield her eyes.

"… I'm guessing I'm not in Kansas anymore," she murmured, "What is this place?"

"Cute," Eda snickered, "This is the Boiling Isles, a part of the Demonic Realms that exist beyond the Human World," she gestured as a dark shadow rose from the trees below, "Every myth that you humans have is the result of a little bit of our worlds bleeding into yours, despite the best efforts of the Grim Reaper."

As if to accentuate the Witch's point, an absolutely massive winged beast erupted from the forest, screeching as it flew past them with only a couple of powerful wing-beats; grey feathers and a pigeon-like head and talons accompanied the lower body of a lion, the creature seeming completely disinterested in the pair as it drifted past, larger than Luz had ever dared to dream in the many hours she had spent reading about the last ones seen in her own world.

"A griffon," she breathed, her lips stretching into a smile.

It shuddered, seeming to briefly hack before unleashing a veritable deluge of spiders from its maw upon the world below; each one had to be bigger than one of the Latina's hands, judging from the distance, but she could not be brought to care for even an instant as her eyes shone, a hand shooting up to point at the creature as she practically bounced where she was sitting, "It even has spider breath!"

"Never seen one before?"

"Only in pictures," Luz watched as it beat its wings again, flying further and further away until it disappeared into the distance, "Never in real life. They're almost totally gone in my world."

"Well, you'll find them in abundance here," Eda assured as they finally began to descend, "And they're not the only ones who cross over every now and again," she raised a hand, extending a finger with each word, "Vampires, werewolves, leprechauns… good luck finding any of that last one, though, even in Ireland. Buuuut if you do, be sure to cut 'em open, Lucky Charms'll spill everywhere."

"Seriously?" Luz gawked.

"Ha! No," Eda shook her head, "Oh, and giraffes."

"Giraffes!?"

"Oh, yeah. We banished those guys," they finally came to a stop in a small clearing, Eda stepping off the staff with a hand on her hip, "Buncha' freaks."

Luz moved to get off, struggling to catch the ground with her legs, which weren't nearly as long as Eda's. A sudden tapping noise rang out behind, her and she craned her neck-

-to see Eda's hand, detached from its owner, tapping its fingers against the wood, all the bones of her wrist joint exposed for the world to see.

The girl gasped, slipped, and unceremoniously crashed to the ground for the second time that morning.

"Oops," Eda picked up the escaped appendage by the wrist with an annoyed frown, not even hesitating before bringing it up to her arm and physically reattaching it – spinning it against the muscle and bone as if she were just turning in a missing bolt or handle, flicking it to test the range of motion, "That happens sometimes."

"Sometimes?" Luz couldn't help but stare at the formerly missing hand; there wasn't even a break in the skin anymore.

"Just something that happens as you get older, don't worry about it," the Witch waved her off, picking up her staff; the owl's wings folded, and the golden glow of its eyes faded.

"… I have so many questions," Luz murmured, "Tantas preguntas. Ni siquiera sabes cuántas."

"Creo que puedo adivinar," Eda clenched her fist again, and the tent-turned-sack rose off the ground with a golden glow, "And I'll be happy to answer all of them, and get you home…"

"Really?!" Luz grinned, opening her mouth to fire off her first question-

Only for Eda's staff to appear right in front of her, faster than lightning, stopping just short of her nose; the tanned teen could practically smell the aged wood.

"… only if you help me first!" she cackled, a harsh, echoing sound accompanied by heavy snorts of breath as she turned around, raising a hand, beckoning the bag to float after her, "Now, come along, human."

Luz quickly fell into step behind the Witch, "It still blows my mind that you know Spanish."

"And why's that?" the Owl Lady glanced back over her shoulder, "You know that Witches exist, and that they live among you every now and again. Why's it strange that I'd know a human language or six?"

"… well, it's just that you didn't know what batteries are, or how the mini-television worked, or…" the girl shrugged, "It's just strange that you speak perfect Spanish, but don't know the difference between candy and deodorant."

"Pff. Like the average Snow knows a human foot from a shoe," Eda turned her eyes forwards, holding up the croc for emphasis before tucking it back into the bag, "I wasn't all that sure that you weren't faking until you figured out that little shadow-box."

"Still strange," Luz insisted, "Those are pretty decently old now. Think they came out… I wanna say over twenty years ago?... might've even been thirty, actually."

"Oh, lay off," Eda huffed, "It's been a while since I was in the human world. I'm not up to date on all your little toys."

Luz arched an eyebrow, but before she could ask, they broke free of the forest; the clearing stood alongside the sea, the magenta waves gently lapping at the rocks of the cliffside below.

The structure itself was some strange combination of house and castle; their construction was wildly different, the stones that made up the base of the house cut and stacked in an entirely separate manner from the stones that made up the castle walls and tower, the weather and moss upon the latter seeming to suggest that they were far older, as if the house had been built around and into the ruins of a crumbling, long forgotten fortress.

Further entrenching this idea in Luz's mind was the fact that the tower itself was cracked, lacking any sort of roof that Luz could see from her low angle, the top seeming to have been broken off entirely somehow, while the house, though undoubtedly old, was in remarkably good condition, the white stucco of the walls only slightly cracked with only some variance in tone, and not a single shingle missing from the blue roof. No smoke rose from the chimney, and a beautiful stained glass window fashioned into an eye with a cat-like pupil stared down with its multi-coloured gold and purple panes.

The only thing about this place that seemed crooked was the golden owl weathervane that poked out of the top.

The youth's eyes were wide with fascination as she followed Eda to the door, though she did glance back over her shoulder, "Seems a little high profile… aren't you worried about people like that guard following you out here?"

"Nope!" again, that sing-song tone, "Even if someone were to follow me out here – which they couldn't, I'm the best and fastest flyer on the Isles – I've got a state of the art security system."

"Hoot hoot!" a high pitched voice rang out from the door, making Luz blink and take a step back, "Password please!"

Eda proceeded to jam her fingers into the eyes of the ornament on the door – a simplistic, circular owl carving with polished brown stones for eyes. The voice cried out as if in pain, and again, Luz was left wondering where it was coming from.

"We don't have time for this, Hooty," Eda stated, eyes half lidded, staring at the ornament, "Let us in."

"Alright, alright, jeez!" finally, Luz noticed it – the movement of the ornament's beak, the sudden frown formed by its 'brows' as it spoke, "You never wanna have any fun! Ow. Hoot!"

With that, the door clicked, and swung open, Eda stepping in without missing a beat. Luz only paused for a second before following suit.

"Heeeeey, who's the new kid?" the ornament – Hooty – asked, his – its? – head turning in place, "Do we have a new housemate? Where's she from? Is she gonna be staying with us for a while-?"

Before the door could ask any more questions, Eda spun, grabbed it, and slammed it shut with far more force than was probably required, Hooty letting out a muffled "OW!" as the room fell into darkness, the girl only barely able to see the world around her in the sunlight that filtered through the windows.

"… sorry about that, kid," the Witch sighed, finally dropping the bag, "Hooty gets excited when people visit."

"N-No worries!" Luz stammered, "Talking doors! We have those!... except usually they can't think for themselves or ask questions like that!"

"I'll take your word for it. At any rate, welcome to," again, that grandiose tone as Eda raised a hand, and snapped her fingers, "The Owl House!"

All at once, light flooded into the room as candles were lit throughout the room, kindled by yet more of Eda's golden Magic; on side tables, on cabinets, on candelabras and across the entirety of the crossbeams as the fireplace roared to life, the blaze casting a brilliant golden-orange glow into the room alongside a pleasant warmth, a warmth that banished a chill from Luz's bones that she didn't even realize she had. A broom and cauldron leaped into action, the former sweeping up a storm, the latter already filled with warm water.

Overhead, the light worked its way through the pattern on the ceiling, the seemingly random etchings quickly forming into yet another stylized owl, though this one was different from the ones that came before; those were simple, with folded wings and a smooth head. This had its wings outstretched, with its talons, tailfeathers and horns on full display, stretching nearly from one wall to the other and seeming to be less a carving or etching and more of a constellation. A long, thin crown stretched over its head, and Luz had a hard time trying to tell if the light in the center of its head was a beak or a singular eye.

"Where I hide away from the pressures of modern life," Eda glanced about, her voice fond as she spoke, "… also the cops, heh… also, ex boyfriends, ha!"

Slowly, Luz took a step, then another, taking in every detail, "… this place is amazing…"

Dark hardwood stretched up the walls, stopping at waist height and being replaced with a dull-grey plaster or more of that weathered, dark stone, and what few windows had been set into the walls were made of the same stained glass as the one Luz had seen outside, the panes jagged and irregular. The fireplace was shaped to resemble a gigantic maw, stone fangs arching up from the floor and down from the mantelpiece, and above it stood a gigantic, cracked mirror with an ornately carved frame to resemble that familiar bird of prey, with claws in the bottom that dug into the cracked marble. Velvet curtains of a deep burgundy flowed like red wine from the ceiling, edged with golden tassels and tied off in the corners to keep them from covering the walls entirely.

A slightly worn, red couch sat off to the side, ornately carved so that the arch of the back resembled the wings of a bat, the feet carved into claws that dug into the Persian rug that stretched out over the floorboards, one of the cushions damaged and exposing the stuffing. A knee-high coffee table sat in front of it, and side-tables and wall-shelves were scattered throughout the room, holding anything from a half open chest Luz could have sworn was an actual Mimic to a stone bust beside an empty blender, from lopsided picture frames of people and places Luz didn't recognize to an ordinary lamp with no plugin for its cord.

And above the couch itself was a collection of objects as strangely varied as the tent from before, all proudly on display on the wall as if they were trophies; a large, heavy axe hung alongside the skull of what Luz assumed was a bull, both sitting beneath an old, dusty boom box. A sword with a steel blade and a grip and guard of bone was set beneath a severed hand with an eye in the center of its palm… both just to the right of another one of those foam "Number 1" hands, and an umbrella. Small picture frames dotted the entirety of the wall, all of them lopsided and some partially hidden behind the couch…

But the centerpiece of the display was the same parchment that the guard from before had held.

An exaggerated picture of Eda from the side, her mouth thrown open wide in a cackle and her bright golden eye fixated on whoever dared to stare into the image. In one hand, she held a flame, and in the other, her staff, eyes glowing gold and orange wings stretching out before a relief of the sun. In the bottom left corner stood a strange, black imp-like creature, with a skull for a head and a single eye with a cat-like pupil. The entire image was encased in a simple, but beautifully carved wooden frame, the glass that separated it from the rest of the room catching the light.

WANTED.

OWL LADY.

REWARD.

"… million… billion… trillion…?" disbelief was rife in the girl's tone as she counted up the zeros – twelve in total, "You're wanted for a trillion dollars!?"

"Snails, actually," there was a note of genuinely smug pride in Eda's voice as she stepped over, "But yes. I've gathered quite a price on my head over the years. And not just here, either."

The human whistled, "I don't know how much that would be in my world, but that sounds like a lot of money…"

"Oh, you have no idea."

"… it really is beautiful, though," Luz once again glanced about, constantly finding new objects to feast her eyes on, "You live here all by yourself?"

"No," she inspected her nails, "I've got a couple of housemates. You've already met Hooty, and the other-"

There was the sound of splashing, followed by several small, padding footsteps; a distant door opened before there was a creak of wood, slight, but audible, as if a small child were stomping on the floorboards as hard as they could. With each creak, the noise grew closer, gradually rounding the corner towards the entrance to the hallway.

"… is only just now getting out of the bath, apparently," Eda crossed her arms, tone dry.

"Who dares intrude upon I," the entity's voice was small, lightly pitched, as he finally came into view, stomping on the wood as hard as he could, "The King of Demons!?"

Luz's eyes shrank to the size of dots as she stared at the tiny creature before her; between his black fur, tiny claws and the skull he wore on his head like a demented Cubone, he should have been at least somewhat intimidating… but he was as far as one could get from that descriptor as one could get without dressing him up in a bee costume. His head was disproportionately large compared to the rest of his body, complete with a set teeth jutting down from the skull, most prominently the two large fangs at the end of his snout. His stubby arm only reached the top of his head, his brow furrowed beneath the skull, his large, purple eyes joined by a yellow scalera… and his entire form was absolutely tiny, only about the size of a particularly hefty house cat standing on its hind legs.

The blue towels wrapped around his head and legs were decorated with hearts and ducklings, and a red collar with a golden tag was fastened around his neck, only added to the rising scream in Luz's mind, a scream she knew too well to try and stop.

To her credit, however, it was only when he squeezed the rubber ducky in his little claw that the dam broke, a gasp escaping her.

"¡Ay, que lindo!" she squealed, and the little beast only had an instant to process that his fuming attempt at intimidation had immediately fallen apart before he was scooped up into Luz's arms, carried effortlessly up and off the ground and crushed to her chest, her cheek rubbing against his.

"Eda, he's so cute!" she held him up, his towels having fallen away to expose the horns atop his skull helm, one of which had been broken off, and his lower legs and tail. His legs were every bit as stubby as his arms, and his tail was possibly the fluffiest and softest thing Luz had ever touched, which only caused the cute alarm ringing in her head to ring even louder, "Who's a widdle guy? Who's a widdle guy? Is it you? Is it you?"

"NO! I don't know who your little guy is!" he shouted, desperately trying to wriggle out of her embrace as she once again squeezed, concern turning to terror, pushing against her face as he looked to the Witch, "Eda! Who is this monster!?"

"Oh, this is Luz," abruptly, the teen found herself hoisted up by her armpits, her arms pulled apart, allowing the tiny creature to escape; somehow containing her laughter, Eda hauled Luz back, lifting the girl completely off the ground with not even a hint of effort, and after a moment of squirming and trying to reach for King, Luz was once again left in wonder at just how tall the Witch was, and how easily she could pull the girl around.

Just how strong was she?

"A human," Eda elaborated, finally setting the girl back down, "She's here to help us with our little… situation."

"Oh!" the little creature – a wolf, maybe? – hopped up onto the coffee table, throwing out his arms, "Hooray!"

"Wait, situation?" Luz turned, blinking, "… right… you said you needed my help with something?"

"Yep."

"… but… but you're a Witch," Luz gestured to herself, "I'm just a human. What could you possibly need my help with?... I mean, if it's electronics I might be able to help put batteries in whatever you need batteries in, but I'm not an electrician or anything, I don't know how to wire things up-"

"No, no, nothing like that," Eda assured, "It should be fairly simple."

"… then… what?" the child inquired, "I'm just a kid. What can I do that a powerful Witch can't?"

"Pass through a barrier made specifically to keep a powerful Witch like me out."

"… what?" Luz asked.

"Just… let me explain," Eda stepped back, her fingertips glowing as she outstretched her arms, and drew a circle in the air, each hand leaving trails of light behind to complete the glowing golden shape; when it was complete, the inside of the circle went pitch black.

"King, here," Eda indicated the small black beast, "was once a mighty King of Demons."

The inside of the circle suddenly shone with colour, settling into a stylized tapestry of a mighty, demonic creature that looked like some fusion of wolf and dragon, black scales intermixed with fur both horns intact, a golden crown shining on his head. His jaws were open in a roar of victory over the image of a castle in the background, a great many other demonic creatures bowing as if to pay their respects.

Then, a green hand entered the tapestry from above and snatched the crown off of the Demon's head, "Until his Crown of Power was stolen, and he became…" the Witch wrinkled her nose, gesturing vaguely to him, "… this."

"You mean this little bundle of joy?" Luz had once again snatched King up into her arms.

"The Crown," Eda continued pointedly, the circle now displaying a large, bulky, humanoid figure in a beaked mask under a hood and white coat, "is being held by the evil Warden Wrath, who locked it away behind a force field that only a human can pass through."

The image slid down towards a brilliant white light, a figure standing in front of it – this one recognizably human, with rounded ears and a long cloak fluttering behind them, staring into the light with straight shoulders and a determined grace.

Luz felt her heart begin to hammer away in her chest as she slowly began to realize the implications of Eda's words. Her lips parted, excitement beginning to build in her chest.

"A human… like you," the circle glowed one last time before fading entirely, Eda's smile gentle, "If you help us retrieve King's Crown, we will send you back to the human realm," she threw out her arms, "So whaddya say?"

Luz wanted to say a hundred different things, all varying from another squeal of pure delight to a declaration of heroism against great evil and oppression, vowing to help the Witch and the little… did she say Demon?... against the wicked Warden who so cruelly withheld the Crown of Power.

But two familiar voices echoed in the back of her mind.

A voice of reason.

A voice of caution.

'You don't know these people, Luz,' Mami's words reverberated through time, the shadow of her hands firm on her daughter's shoulders, 'You don't know what they really want from you.'

'It's good that you want to help,' Dad's voice now, adding to the warning, 'But be careful you're not taken advantage of.'

She bit her lip, begrudgingly letting the words curb her eagerness, at least for the moment.

"Plus," Eda quickly interjected, clearly having noticed Luz's moment of hesitation. She snatched up King by the head, gently squeezing his cheeks, rocking his skull back and forth, "Who could say no to this cute face?"

"NO! PLEASE DON'T ENCOURAGE HER!" he begged, letting out a "NYEH!" as Eda let go, letting him drop to the floor.

Luz snickered, then frowned, "… can I ask a couple questions first?"

"Well, considering what we're asking…" Eda crossed her arms, "I suppose a couple questions is fair. Just keep 'em on topic."

"Alright. So you're the most powerful Witch on the Isles, right?" Luz began, "Why bring me into this? Couldn't you just… dispel or somehow break the barrier yourself?"

"Startin' to think you're too clever by half, kid," Eda's smile grew, tone approving despite her words, "I could just break the barrier with some powerful Magic of my own, but that would cause a pretty big ruckus. We're going into the heart of enemy territory to get that Crown back, and sometimes, a little bit of caution is the better part of just going in and throwing power like that around. We're looking to be in and out within about twenty minutes without being noticed, with any luck at all.

"Besides," she leaned forwards, bringing herself to eye level with the human, "Sometimes it's more fun to show off how tricky you are, instead of how strong you are. Just imagine the looks on their faces when the crown is gone, and no one knows how it happened."

"Okay," Luz clarified, "So, let me see if I understand this. You need me, because I can get through the barrier easily, and thus keep this whole thing quiet?"

"That's pretty much it, yeah."

"… what happens if I say no?" she ventured.

Eda straightened, a hand on her chin, "Well, it would put you in a bit of a sticky situation. On the one hand, I could just go storm the Conformatorium-"

"Conformawha?" Luz interrupted.

"Boiling Isles prison," the Witch simplified.

"Ah."

"But yes, I could just break in, take the Crown, and stir up a ruckus doing so. We don't really need you, so much as you'd make our lives easier," Eda explained, slowly circling the room, "… but you, on the other hand, need us."

'And there's the catch,' Mom's disapproving voice rang in her ears, though Luz stubbornly ignored it.

Instead, she tilted her head, "How do you figure that?"

This time, Eda's smile was a bit more sinister than the ones that had come before. She reached into her mass of grey hair, and pulled out the key with the eye set in it, holding it up – the one to the door that had led Luz to the tent in the first place, "Because have your only way home."

At this, Luz felt her throat go dry, a pit forming in the bottom of her stomach as she stared at the key. So close, but in the hands of a Witch, it may as well have been in another world entirely – she was under no illusion that she could somehow defeat Eda, even if that were a fight she somehow wanted to pick.

'… she hasn't hurt you yet,' the girl reminded herself, trying to push her apprehension down, 'She went out of her way to help you with that guard. If she wanted to hurt you, she probably would have already. Just… keep your cool.'

Luz took a breath, speaking, her words coming out with more nervousness than she would have liked, "… so I don't really have a choice, do I?"

"Nope!" a note of cheer immediately booted the sinister mischief out of Eda's voice as she slipped the key back into her hair, "Now we have no time to lose."

Before Luz could react, the Witch had leant down, and hoisted the girl up and onto her shoulder, carrying her back towards the door.

"Wh-whoa, wait!" she protested as the door opened, "Where are we going!?"

"Weren't you listening before?" Eda picked up her staff, striding outside as King followed close behind, "Somewhere super fun. The Conformatorium!"

Luz gaped, "You want to break into Witch jail!?"

"Prison. There's a difference. And it's not just for Witches."

The door slammed shut, and Luz found herself taking to the sky once more, heedless of her own accord.


"… I was not ready for today."

Maka's ears twitched at Soul's confession; throughout the morning, every student seemed to be in a similar state of cold shock, clearly having not anticipated the possibility that they would be spending their very first period cutting into the skin of dead amphibians. Even Black Star had seemed off-put, his initial cuts clumsy, forcing Tsubaki to take over from him lest he turn their shared frog into poorly-made sashimi.

The Scythe Meister shuddered, leaning forwards on the knees as her hands shook. It was stupid, she knew it was stupid – during the lab itself and after, the rational part of her mind had come in with a scathing lecture about how inconsequential this was compared to what she'd been doing on a fairly regular basis for over a year.

She was a Meister. Cutting into things with a blade was, for all intents and purposes, her job. Over a hundred times now, Maka had been out in the field, cutting through creatures both dead and very much still living with a blade far larger than a scalpel. The cuts with that blade, with her partner, were bigger, messier, and much, much more brutal than what she had just performed, bodies left severed in twain, most of them human or at least humanoid. All to get at the glowing red sphere of a Kishin Egg Soul.

A pre-killed frog shouldn't have even made her bat an eye.

But the rest of her mind had only been half listening to her internal monologue. Part of it even seemed to argue that a dissection was intrinsically different from a battle. The cuts of conflict were quick and heavy and violent. These were slow, precise, opening up skin and cutting through muscle to examine tendons and organs and bones.

Even after it had ended, for a long time, she had struggled not to squirm in her seat.

And now, here they sat in an empty classroom as their new teacher boiled a kettle, silent as he idly graded the labs from that morning – as if they weren't even there, like he hadn't asked them to stay behind after class.

"… I don't think anyone was, Soul," she finally stated.

"Coffee?"

Stein's voice broke the silence as if it were glass, making both Weapon and Meister jump in their seats. The new professor had only inclined his head towards them slightly, but it was enough for Maka to know he was addressing them.

"… no thanks," she managed.

"I'm good," Soul agreed.

"Suit yourselves," Stein shrugged, then went stock still as he continued waiting for the kettle.

'…how can anyone be so freaky just standing there?' she wondered, staring at his slightly hunched shoulders. Throughout the entirety of class, Stein seemed like he couldn't just sit down, constantly rotating the screw in his head or rocking back and forth in his chair like a child, chair creaking as he moved. Something about him was always in some constant motion – it seemed chronic, like he was literally incapable of simply standing in place without rotating or bouncing something in place.

But then, at times, he would just… shut down, going unnaturally still, even his fingers seeming to cease twitching. Maka couldn't even tell if he was blinking, the man's lanky back turned to them, and he looked for all the world like a taxidermied corpse propped up on a stand.

Finally, the kettle went off, and the stillness broke, Stein quickly snatching it up and pouring its contents into a cup through a strainer filled with freshly ground coffee.

She cursed internally; she'd been expecting it that time, and it had still made her heart leap out of her chest.

He pulled his chair behind him before settling down in front of them, once again leaning forwards into the back of the chair as he sipped from the cup, legs on either side of the spine.

"… you like your coffee black?" Soul asked.

"It's best undiluted," Stein set his cup down on the podium, settling into a slump, "I find it doesn't work as well if anything's added. It might just be a nocebo effect."

"… undiluted is one way to put it," Maka muttered, retching internally at the prospect of drinking bitter, unaltered coffee.

Soul squinted, "Don't you mean placebo?"

"No. Placebo is when your mind induces a positive effect on you through your belief, even when there are no external substances imposing any sort of effect on your body or psyche – like when you take a sugar pill instead of a Tylenol, but your pain fades anyways," he reached up for the screw, rotating it; clickclickclickclick, clickclickclickclick, the sound seemed to echo through the near empty room.

"Right," Maka confirmed, taking the opportunity in hopes that the trivia would take her mind off her own anxiety, "Nocebo is when your mind induces a negative effect on you through belief. Like when you display symptoms of having a severe illness despite there being no presence of any sort of virus, bacteria or parasite in your body because you believe you've been cursed. It's actually quite a fascinating phenomena."

Stein's brows shot up, "… I'm impressed. I didn't think either of you would be familiar."

"I've done a lot of reading on psychology," she smiled, letting her chest puff out in pride, "It was for an essay on the potential benefits and dangers of taking advantage of the placebo effect."

"… I think… I think I've heard of that," the Scythe sounded surprised at himself, blinking, "Nocebo…"

"Really?" Maka cocked an eyebrow, "I didn't think you'd done any reading on psychology."

"… I haven't," Soul declared, seeming to stare off, "… how do I know what nocebo means?..."

"… you don't, Soul," Stein stated simply, recapturing the attention of both partners.

"I'm… sorry?" the white haired boy inquired, words slow.

"It's actually more accurate to say that you didn't know, rather. The knowledge isn't your own; you got it from Maka," the scientist explained, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"… wait, what are you talking about?" Maka started, rising to her feet, "How could he know things that I've learned?"

"Come now, Maka," Stein smiled, "You're smarter than that. You've been studying Soul Wavelength for a year now; surely, you have some idea of what happens when two Souls come into contact?"

"When two Souls come into contact, they either reject each other outright, or they perform a Basic Resonance," she recited, "Their Wavelengths align and bolster the capabilities of both parties, allowing for greater physical and mental strength, alacrity and precision."

"And a level of telepathy," the professor reminded, raising a finger, "Something Sid told me you and Soul employed extensively, if your on-the-fly strategies in the graveyard were any indication."

"Yes," she nodded, "The conscious transference of thought from Weapon to Meister, and Meister to Weapon. A form of communication that allows for direct transference of not just words, but concepts, all without so much as saying a word, which is invaluable in the field."

"Along with the ability to sense the basic emotions of your partner, if not necessarily what's causing them," Soul added.

"Astute," Stein nodded, "Now… following that logic, what do you think happens when a Weapon and Meister take a step beyond Basic Resonance? What do you think happens when they allow their Souls to interact beyond a surface level and perform an actual Soul Resonance?"

At this, Maka stopped. If thought and emotion transference was what came with just a Basic Resonance…

"… memory transference?" she murmured, the realization sending a cold shock down her spine.

"Precisely," Stein bobbed his head, raising his index and middle fingers to point at them, "That's why I asked you both to stay after class. The other night, you successfully performed a Soul Resonance, but ended up going too deep."

"A Resonance Overload," Soul recalled, "That's what you called it, right?"

"Yes," Stein confirmed, "It's a common occurrence in Weapon and Meister pairs that attempt a Soul Resonance for the first time. It's when two or more Souls attempt to draw too much power from the Resonance; if Basic Resonance is simply skimming the surface of your partner's Soul, then Soul Resonance is you diving into each other. The deeper you go, the more power you can draw from the Resonance – but in turn, the more you directly expose yourself to your partner, which holds a myriad of risks for the unprepared, memory exposure among them. And in your desperation to kill me, you went far too deep for your first attempt."

Maka glanced down, meeting Soul's gaze; they weren't connected at the moment, but she could tell just from the look on his face that he was thinking the same thing she was, despite his attempts to keep it neutral.

'So it wasn't just a hallucination…'

"I wanted to check to see how you two have been doing the past couple of days," the stitched man rested his chin on his arm, "Have you experienced any instances of Rejection since? Has your dynamic shifted in any particular way?"

"… no instances of Rejection, no… although we haven't really done much Weapon and Meister material the past couple of days," Maka confessed.

"It's gotten quiet," Soul noted, "Normally we try not to badger each other too much at home, but it's been… more than usual. I guess we just wanted to give each other some space?"

"That sounds fairly normal," Stein stated, "But I'd like to confirm that you aren't experiencing anything adverse."

"Something you want us to do?" the Weapon asked.

"Just transform into a Scythe for Maka," Stein gestured, "A Basic Resonance should be all we need to confirm that there's no signs of Rejection."

Soul raised an eyebrow, "I don't think our relationship's been shaken up that much, Doc."

"You'd be surprised, Soul."

It was the heavy tone of Stein's words that kept the Weapon from arguing further. He stood, and transformed, the flash of light leaving a spinning Scythe in Soul's place.

Maka reached out, but not without a moment of hesitation; Stein was staring at them intently, eyes sharp and piercing, already evaluating the pair and making the Meister question whether or not she would even be able to hold Soul this time.

'… No,' she banished the thought, lips curling downwards, 'Soul and I have been partners for over a year. He's stuck with me through thick and thin. I'm not gonna doubt him now.'

She breathed deep, and reached out, catching Soul by the handle.

As naturally as if he had meant to be in her hands, he spun between her fingers, twirling with the familiar, easy weight before finally coming to gently rest on her shoulder, the razor sharp blade glinting in the light.

"… so?" she asked, a surge of confidence flooding her stomach as she met Stein's gaze once more.

"Hm…" he adjusted his glasses, looking the pair up and down, "… I'm not seeing any adverse effects, just at a glance. I'd like to do a more in-depth examination to make sure, but unfortunately, we don't have that kind of time right now," he sighed, slumping to the side, "It'll just have to wait."

"Okay. So what should we do in the meantime?" Soul inquired.

"Just take care of yourselves for now. If any issues arise, we can address them as they become apparent."

"Alright," Maka released her grip on the Weapon, allowing him to return to human form.

"That being said," Stein began, tone once again serious, "I would talk about whatever it is you two got from each other sooner rather than later. These sort of things rarely turn out well if they remain unaddressed."

At this, Maka couldn't contain her flinch; she still remembered the jumbled flashes and voices from the night they had fought the man before them.

What exactly did Soul see?... what did he know?

"We'll keep that in mind," Soul stated, "In the meantime, can we go eat now?"

A coy smile from the scientist, "You may. Sorry to eat into your lunch like this."

"It's alright," Maka said, turning away, "Thanks, Professor."

Stein simply waved them off turning in his seat and returning to his coffee as they left the room.

"… well, he doesn't seem too bad a guy, in a classroom setting," Soul noted.

"I know what you mean," Maka crossed her arms, "He seemed… oddly disarming in there, honestly. Like all of a sudden he knew how to get us comfortable."

"With weird anecdotes of trivia and a genuine concern for our wellbeing?"

"I wouldn't call it a genuine concern," the Meister huffed, "It still seemed like he was giving us that weird petri-dish look for a few minutes there."

"Well, chances are we're gonna have to put up with him for a while," Soul sighed, hands behind his head, "I'll take what I can get."

"Fair point."

A moment of silence passed between them, broken only by the bustle of the students around them.

"… hey, Soul?"

"Yeah, Maka?"

'How much about me do you know?' she wanted to ask, but she pushed the question down, "… you think we should talk about what happened the other night?"

"… I don't see any reason to rush it," he ventured, eyes gently closing beneath his headband.

"But Stein said we should talk about it sooner rather than later."

"And I can see his logic. But by the same token, you're obviously not comfortable with it," Soul's nonchalance was taking Maka entirely off-guard, "Healthy communication doesn't just mean telling your partner everything. It means being careful, not broaching subjects that they aren't ready to talk about. We've both got things we haven't told each other for a reason; I'm not saying nothing's changed, but I think we can afford to wait until we're both ready to talk."

… a small smile crossed Maka's face once again, "… thanks, Soul."

"Nothing to thank me for, Maka. Just basic decency."

"… I am mandating one thing, though," she felt her expression harden slightly.

"Yeah?"

"No Soul Resonance until further notice," she declared, and Soul's eye opened, crimson meeting green out of the corner.

"You heard what Stein said. There's a lot of risks that come with performing a Soul Resonance," she elaborated, "I can only assume it hasn't been explained to us in full yet because we're not ready to try it."

"So you want to hold off until we are ready?"

"Or at least until we have a better idea of what it is we're dealing with. You know the phrase. 'Walk before you run.'"

"Too true," he acknowledged, lowering his head again, "Alright, I'm good with that."

The Meister and Weapon made their way to the cafeteria in relative silence.

Notes:

Translation for Luz's and Eda's Spanish:

"Tantas preguntas. Ni siquiera sabes cuántas."

"So many. You don't even know how many."

---

"Creo que puedo adivinar."

"I can imagine."

---

"¡Ay, que lindo!"

"So cute!"

---

Translation is done by the maho_kat on Archive of Our Own! Please give her a hand for all her hard work!

SO MUCH FOR GETTING EPISODE ONE OF THE OWL HOUSE WRAPPED UP IN TWO CHAPTERS!

I ended up having to split the damn thing into four parts total, including chapter 10. FOUR. If you're wondering why this took so long, that's why; I wanted to get the episode wrapped up before posting anything else regarding this.

Ah well. At the very least, you guys should have a blast with the three parter.

Please be sure to leave your thoughts below! I hope you all enjoyed the eleventh chapter of Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance!

Chapter 12: Prisons of Guilt and Iron

Notes:

I do not own Soul Eater or Owl House.

If I did, Patty wouldn't be quite so much of a moron.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Spirit sighed as he walked down the halls of the airport, already dreading the long drive home; Death City was old in its construction, and despite its position in the middle of Nevada's endless stretches of desert, Lord Death had been very strict about not building anything outside of its walls.

This meant that Death City had no airport to speak of.

Of course, the Death Scythe was fully aware of why this was the case; as the Grim Reaper's personal Weapon, Spirit knew that he probably knew things that were secret even from his fellow Death Scythes.

But just because he KNEW why the Grim Reaper built Death City the way he had, it didn't mean Spirit had to like it.

"From one stupid, uncomfortable vehicle to the other," he grumbled, pulling the suitcase behind him; he could already feel the harsh desert heat, and he wasn't even outside yet. His legs ached from hours stuck sitting and his black suit was too stiff and his tie felt too tight in a way they only got after weeks of not wearing them at all, aside from the few hours he'd spent in Luz's school.

… and now he was thinking about his daughter again.

The discomfort he felt physically was nothing compared to how he felt having to drive away from her, the misery of leaving her to face the next three months all on her own. He would have loved to just usher her into the car right then and there, to run into the house, grab as much of her stuff as he could carry and then tear away to the airport without a second thought.

He knew she'd love Death City. It was as an anachronism in motion, the styles and developments hundreds of years blending together in a way that wasn't so much a cocktail as it was a melting pot of volatile chemicals, buildings of brick squeezed together on cobblestone streets, making the most of its limited space by literally building more buildings on top of each other, using the roofs of what was already there as a foundation for something new. Some legitimate tourist attractions hadn't seen the sun in decades, but still brought in visitors, leading them into the hundreds of tunnels that ran beneath the cobbles.

… but it wasn't his place to take her there.

He knew that.

He couldn't just take their daughter away. Not from Camila.

Luz was probably the only reason the doctor still got up in the morning.

"Why so sullen, Death Scythe?"

The question stopped him in his tracks, forcing him to finally raise his eyes from his shoes.

Before him stood a trio of familiar figures; standing in front with each bang carefully cut and his black suit perfectly smoothed, the boy was possibly one of the most suave and well-dressed people Spirit had ever met. His golden eyes shone in the sunlight, his skin alabaster white and matching both the white stripes in his hair and his white ascot, which was held in place under his jacket by a silver pin that matched the Reaper's mask.

His father's mask.

On either side of the boy stood a woman, both of them much taller than he was. Each of them were clad in a white-grey leather jacket, with a stitched up Stetson mounted firmly on their heads; the taller of the two had long, smooth hair that reached well past her shoulder, dirty blond in colour, nearly bordering on brown. Her cerulean eyes were narrow and cold, her hands stuffed firmly into the pockets of her long jeans. The shorter one, however, was far more bright, her smile brilliant, her short, wild mess of hair a bright gold, hands firmly on her hips as she stared at him with wide, appraising eyes.

"You look like someone just up and stole your dog," she stated, "You doin' okay?"

"Patty," the taller one started, scolding.

"What? That's exactly what he looks like, Liz!"

"Liz, Patty, please," the boy sighed, not bothering to turn around, "Settle down. He just got off the plane."

Despite himself, Spirit quickly found himself smiling, nodding at each of them, "Hey, Kid. Liz, Patty. What're you all doing here?"

"Today's the day you were due to come back from your vacation," Death the Kid intoned, "I thought we would save you the trouble of driving back to Death City."

The Death Scythe raised an eyebrow, "You realize I have my own car, right?"

"Already dealt with," Liz piped up, filing down a nail with a careful, practiced eye.

"We took it back to your house over a week ago!" Patty exclaimed, throwing her arms up over her head, "That was a long drive."

His eyes narrowed slightly, his voice flat, "Tell me you at least had an adult with you."

"I got my full licence earlier this year," Liz crossed her arms, "I don't need someone to accompany me while driving anymore."

"Aren't you a little young?" the Death Scythe asked.

"I'm seventeen."

"Trust me, Spirit," Kid smiled, reaching up and placing a hand on Liz's shoulder, "They've been keeping their noses out of trouble. They haven't so much as stuck a toe out of line."

"Eeeeexcept for that one time, with that the balloon-"

"That was free balloon day, Patty," Liz interrupted, "That doesn't count."

"Yeah, but I don't wanna lie, so…"

Spirit raised an eyebrow at the young Reaper; his brow twitched, face twisting in a grimace as his eyes closed, "… like I said. Not so much as a toe out of line. Isn't that right, girls?"

"Yeah, yeah," Liz sighed, returning her attention to her nails, "Sticking to the straight and narrow."

"Perfectly well behaved!" Patty agreed, "I haven't even threatened anyone at gunpoint this month!"

Spirit didn't miss a beat, "Knifepoint?"

"Nope!"

"Fistpoint?"

"Nada!"

"No threats made on anyone whatsoever, empty or otherwise?"

"Come oooooooon," Patty whined, her entire posture drooping and her lips sticking out in a pout, "Have a little more faith in me than that! I've been really well behaved lately!"

"She is right, Spirit," Kid agreed, opening his eyes again, "Both Liz and Patty have made remarkable strides since entering my household. I think you can afford to treat them with a little less scrutiny, now."

Spirit pursed his lips, looking each of the girls up and down before letting out a chuckle of defeat, raising his hands, "Alright, fair enough. If Kid's vouching for you two, then I believe you."

Patty gave him a quick glare before breaking into a smile, crossing her arms with a self-satisfied click of her boots against the tile.

"... all that aside, how do you intend to get me home?... you realize I'm not gonna fit on your skateboard, right?" the redhead began, tone teasing, "Even if it's faster than most planes, it's basically one person only, Liz and Patty not included."

"Please, Spirit. I'm not an idiot," Kid chuckled, "I've brought a limousine to take us all back."

"A limo?" both eyebrows were raised now, "Isn't that a little pricey?"

"Oh, you bet it is," the elder Thompson sister chuckled, lip curling in a slight smile.

"It'll certainly cut into my allowance for the month, you're right about that," the Meister nodded, "But I can tell from looking that you're hardly in the mood to drive, and I'm not about to stick you in an uncomfortable back seat."

"… heh. I appreciate it, Kid," he reached out, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder, "I really do."

"I'm glad," the Reaper smiled, then turned on his heel, "Now come on. Let's get you home."

"I'm driving!" Patty shouted.

"No, you're not," Liz overruled, "We have a chauffer, so just let him do his job, okay?"

"Fiiiiiine… spoilsport…"

With that, the trio turned, and began making their way through the crowd.

Spirit watched for a moment before following, his suitcase's wheels clicking on the titles as he dug in his pocket, pulling out his phone.

"Should probably shoot Luz a text before I forget…" he let his fingers fly across the digital keypad, "Landed. Should be home soon… send."

He hit the blue arrow…

Only for his phone to promptly show a red exclamation point.

"… the message couldn't be sent?" he asked, frowning.

The Death Scythe stared at his screen for a long moment, perplexed…

"Death Scythe!" Kid shouted, "We need to get back to Death City. Please keep up."

"Sorry, sorry," Spirit nodded, pocketing his phone, "… she's probably just on the bus. Summer camps always do have crummy reception…"

He redoubled his pace, working to quickly catch up to the Reaper and his Weapons.


Luz had known just from the name, and from the Witch's insistence that it was a prison rather than just a jail, that their destination wasn't going to be a pleasant place.

But she hadn't anticipated just how bad.

The darkening clouds should have been her first clue; as Eda had flown them closer and closer to their destination, clouds had unnaturally gathered, turning the entire landscape a dark grey and the sky a borderline black that only faded to a lighter shade at the very edge of the horizon. Below, rivers of glowing green flowed between the innumerable fangs and ribs that jutted up from the ground, which now seemed entirely too fleshy, all sitting at the bottom of a massive box canyon, the acrid scent of acid and the sickly sweet of rot wafting into her nose even high above it all.

At the center of these revolting rivers stood a wall of stone and steel, gently curving inwards as it rose from the earth until it formed a lip along the very top, a gigantic cauldron that could easily contain a city, the portculli of a maw-like gate clamped firmly shut over what Luz assumed was the only entrance by land. A tower stood on either side at its edge, along with one final tower that spiralled into the sky from the cauldron's center, emitting smoke from some of its windows like some sort of incense burner, though Luz highly doubted that's what it was for.

After all, an incense burner that big should have done something about the rank stench.

"That's the Conforma-thingy?" she pointed.

"The Conformatorium," the Owl Lady corrected once again, gently descending into the cauldron, settling along a secluded section of stone wall and allowing her passengers to hop down, "It's a place for those deemed "unsuitable" for society."

Luz didn't need to see Eda to hear those golden eyes rolling in their sockets. The Witch's nonchalance was astounding as she spun her staff, the sarcasm dripping from her tone more than enough to indicate that she didn't consider herself to be in any real danger.

Even with King perched atop her head, though, it wasn't enough to put Luz at any real ease. The girl swallowed, peeking her head around the corner to stare at the central tower again.

It was bigger than most skyscrapers she'd seen, with dozens of dark windows and black spires that stretched out from its surface like the curled legs of a dead insect.

Just looking at it was enough to make Luz's heart race, though her fear pulsed through her system alongstride a strange exuberance, putting any urge to turn tail completely out of mind.

Eda might have had the only way home, but the dark-haired girl knew already that even if the Witch had just offered the key freely, she'd still want to be here.

This was a real adventure, after all.

She let her gaze drift down from the tower to the walls that surrounded them; wanted posters were plastered to every surface, almost all of them of someone different. Scraps left behind from posters since torn down dotted the walls accompanied them, remnants of what Luz could only assume were renegades either captured or forgotten.

"… Snake Eater… Wind Waker… Dreadwolf… Black Swordsman… Owl Lady," she murmured, eyes wandering from poster to poster; at least five of the thirty-odd posters she could see were the same one framed in Eda's house. She pulled one down, examining it more closely, "Wow… these guys really have the hots for you, huh?"

"Yep!" Eda winked, "But we've never been caught because we're too slippery."

"Try to catch me when I'm covered in grease!" King challenged, wriggling, "I'm a squirmy little fella!"

The Demon then slipped as Luz tilted her head, and fell to the ground, quickly scrabbling to get back to his feet.

"Okay, so what's the plan?" the human asked, "We're not just marching in there, are we?"

"You and I are gonna sneak up into the top of that tower, where they're keeping my Crown!" King pointed up with a claw to the central structure that towered overhead.

"And I am going to make sure that the Warden's distracted," Eda smiled.

"Whoa, wait," Luz threw her hands up, "I thought the whole point of me coming was to avoid a commotion!"

"I can distract him without making a mess," the Witch snickered, "Distraction doesn't necessarily mean causing a big ruckus. We just need him to be otherwise occupied."

"Okay," At this, Luz relaxed… then immediately clenched her fists, suddenly bouncing with anticipation, "Oh! Do I need a disguise?"

"… uuuuuuh…" Eda faltered, raising an eyebrow as her smile slipped.

"I've been waiting to use this!" the excitement was bleeding into her voice already, fear slipping away as she pulled up her hood, flipping up the ears, "Meow meow!"

"… it's hideous!" King shouted, but before Luz could feel any sort of hurt or anger, Eda was grinning again.

"Oh, you'll fit right in," the Owl Lady assured, raising her staff, and slamming it into the ground. A gold disk extended from its tip, slipping under the trio before the red-clad woman stepped away, "Hang on tight!"

With that, it rose into the air, rapidly carrying the girl and the Demon up towards the tower.

She didn't have any time to appreciate the view as she rose through the air, leaving her breathless as the air grew cold and the ground stretched further and further away; within a matter of seconds, they were thousands of feet above the ground in front of one of the lower windows, and Luz's heart skipped a beat as the disk suddenly gave out from underneath her.

The teen didn't even have time to scream, instead throwing her arms out and grabbing hold of the window's lip for dear life, King holding onto her ankles.

'No mire hacia abajo, no mire hacia abajo, no mire hacia abajo, NO MIRE HACIA ABAJO,' she shrieked internally, trying not to contemplate the hundreds of feet of free air that were between her and the ground, only distantly aware of Eda calling out.

"Meet you guys at the top of the tower!" the Witch called, rapidly rising into the sky on her staff before her voice faded entirely.

King quickly scrambled up her body, hopping in through the window without a moment's hesitation; gritting her teeth, Luz followed suit, suddenly grateful for all the pull-ups she'd been forced to do in gym class, pulling herself over the lip…

Only to fall unceremoniously on her face, letting out a muffled "Ow!"

"Haha!" King jeered, "Cats don't do that!"

She pushed herself to her feet, shuddering; Maka wouldn't have fallen like that. She probably would have caught herself easily – no, she wouldn't have let herself nearly fall from the window in the first place, jumping in as soon as it was in reach-

'No,' she stopped herself, taking a breath, 'No. Don't be like that. This is your first adventure. Of course it's gonna be a little rough. Just… keep your cool, Luz. You can do this.'

She raised her head, tightened her hood, and started forwards into the depths of the Conformatorium.


"Thanks for the lift, Kid," the Death Scythe stated, stepping out of the vehicle with a contented sigh.

"Please, don't mention it, Spirit," the young Reaper stated, following suit, "It's the least I could do."

"It really is," Patty giggled, "If he were to shell out a little more cash, he could've gotten us a helicopter ride!"

"Which would've been loud, and cramped," Liz pointed out, hands on her hips, "Personally I like to not have my ears ringing for an hour after a long trip."

"It would've been ten minutes instead of an hour, Big Sis!"

"Ten minutes, plus however long it would have taken to find an actual spot to land…"

"We could've landed in the courtyard!"

"And risk all the precisely trimmed shrubbery, Patty?" Kid shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut, "No. Absolutely not."

"Oh, come on, Kid!" Patty pouted, "Even if they got hit, they're just plants. They would've grown back!"

"Not nearly fast enough for my liking. No, a limousine was the only option."

She let out an exaggerated "Hmph… you guys are no fun."

"Heh… lively as ever, I see," Spirit chuckled.

"Quite," Kid sighed, "But I suppose it's to be expected. We're all a little nervous about our first day tomorrow."

"First day?" the Scythe raised an eyebrow.

"Yes," the stripe-haired boy straightened slightly, "I've asked Father to officially enrol us for classes at the DWMA."

The redhead blinked, "Really? I didn't think you'd be interested."

"Well, I do say that I have been handling things fairly well homeschooling myself," he gave a self satisfied preen, adjusting his pin, "But by the same token, I've been giving it a lot of thought lately. It was your daughter's extra lessons that finally spurred me to action."

"You saw those?" Spirit felt his smile slip slightly.

"We did," Liz finally glanced up from her nails, "She did pretty well, honestly. Even managed to pull off that fancy Witch Hunter move."

"Witch Hunter!?" he gawked, electric eyes wide as shock ran through him, "You're telling me I missed Maka's first successful Soul Resonance!?"

Those golden eyes softened, "Unfortunately, yes."

"Dammit!" the Scythe pressed his palm to his forehead, "I wanted to be there for when she managed it…"

"Sorry, bud," Patty stepped forwards, heavily clapping him on the back.

"It was quite an unexpected development," Kid intoned, "Had we expected it, we would have called to tell you. Unfortunately, it seems Maka and Soul caught us all quite off-guard."

"… I guess so," Spirit sighed, straightening.

'It's better that you were there for Luz,' he breathed, berating himself even as disappointed shame bubbled in his stomach, 'Excited as she would have been to see a Soul Resonance, it's better that Maka's lessons didn't cut into your time with her.'

Despite all this, the fervent wish that he could be there for both of them at the same time did not fade. It burned in his chest, eating away at him slowly, but surely, like a wick trapped within a lit candle.

"So… tomorrow, you said?" Spirit asked.

"Yes," Kid nodded, "I believe Father has actually placed me in the same class as Maka."

He managed a smile, "I'm sure you all will be great friends."

"Here's hoping," Kid turned away, "We'll be returning home for now. Liz, Patty."

"Coming!" Patty sang.

"Yeah, yeah, let's go."

"Don't be late!" Spirit called after them as they moved, "Classes start early!"

"We'll keep that in mind!" Kid waved, not turning back to face the Death Scythe.

They rounded the corner, disappearing from view.

Spirit finally let his smile fade, the melancholy winning out as he turned back to the front door.

The temptation to turn and walk down the street to a place all too familiar was more than a little enticing…

"… don't," he spoke aloud, forcibly making his way up the steps to the door, "Don't. You just got back. Tonight is not a Chupacabra's night."

He produced his key, unlocked the door, and stepped through the threshold.


There were no torches inside the Conformatorium; the only source of light was the ambience allowed in by the windows, letting streams of grey illuminate the dark stone. But between the dreary clouds that cloaked the sky and how few windows there actually were, there was only just enough light for Luz to see where she was going.

In her prior excitement, she hadn't noticed the chill bite of the air around her, her heartbeat enough to push warmth into her limbs and confidence into her stride upon entry, but now that she was struggling to find a way up, it was finally starting to register just how ill-equipped she was to handle the cold, even with her hood drawn up over her head.

"… it's freezing," Luz murmured, wrapping her arms around herself, finally noticing the steam she was emanating with every exhale, "Why's it so cold in here?"

"This place is built to break spirits," King scurried across the floor, peering around the corner, "That means keeping people in as much total misery as possible. Both physical and emotional."

"You say that like you've been here before."

"Oh, that's because I have!"

She raised an eyebrow, "You have?"

"Yeah!" he glanced up, eyes wide, "Pretty much everyone who doesn't immediately fall in line ends up here at some point."

"Fall in line, how?" she asked.

"You'll see if we run into anyone else," he turned, "Now come, my human servant! My Crown awaits!"

He scampered forwards, and Luz followed him through another archway.

"… whoa," she felt her neck arch as her eyes wandered upwards.

They had emerged into a gigantic circular chamber, illuminated only by the skylight in the domed ceiling hundreds of feet above, allowing light to filter down through the center, until it was swallowed by the darkness below. A walkway spiralled along the edge of the room, the clockwise path leading down into the dark, a reminder that this was only the upper tip of the facility they had infiltrated. A prelude to the bulk of the Conformatorium, which lay far, far below.

But that wasn't what Luz was staring at.

Her eyes were instead fixed upon the dozens upon dozens of portculli that ran along that spiralling ramp, each and every one with some silhouette behind it. Some were hunched, others stood tall, some even had eyes that caught the dismal light and allowed her to catch a glimpse of pupils shrinking in the shadows, focused on her before their owners pulled back, slipping out of view entirely. Each and every set of bars had a designation beside it, an etching in a metal plaque that reduced each occupant to nothing more than a set of numbers.

'… prisoners… ' she realized, the taste of ash filling her mouth as her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach, eyes shooting from one cell to the next, '… there must be hundreds of them…'

"Hey, cat lady."

The voice snapped Luz out of her reverie, causing her to spin in place, suddenly grateful she hadn't approached the end of the walkway to peer over the edge; she found herself staring at a brown skinned woman with eyes of startling olive green, fangs protruding from her lips, mouth curled in a curious smile as she leaned back against the bars, neck craned to look at the girl over her shoulder.

"How'dya get out of your cell?"

"Oh, no, no," Luz pulled her hood down, shaking her head, "I'm not a cat!... also, I'm not a criminal."

"Not yet, you're not!" King hopped onto her shoulder, his tone smug.

"Well, welcome to the club," the woman raised her hand, indicating the myriad of cells surrounding them, "Neither are most of the people here. The Warden spends more time locking up people who don't fit in than he does dealing with anyone who's an actual problem."

"Wait, I thought this was a prison," Luz tilted her head, "Doesn't that mean, like… serious offences only?"

"You'd think that," the woman snorted, rolling her eyes, "But try telling that to the guards. You know what got me thrown in here? Writing fanfiction."

Luz blinked, "Come again?"

"You heard me," she reached over to the small cot in her cell, pulling a book out from under the pillow, "Fanfiction. About food. Culinary romance."

"… but tha-… that… that's harmless!" Luz spluttered, appalled, "That's not a crime! That's writing a weird recipe book in prose! At worst! How is that worth jailing someone over!?"

"Oh, you think that's bad? Check out Quintuclops over there," she gestured, and a pale, bald, stocky creature pressed his face against the bars, two of his three eye sockets gaping, empty, mouth hanging open.

"… I'm here, because I like eating my own eyes," he mumbled, reaching up and plucking one of the cyan orbs from his skull. He didn't even take a moment to look at it, merely popping the orb into his mouth and swallowing; a second later, another eye took the place of the one removed, blinking, staring at Luz with a powerful intensity.

Her stomach squirmed with disgusted fascination as she stared back at the eye that had regrown, before shaking herself free again, "… okay, a little gross… but no worse than, say, picking your nose and eating it. Socially unacceptable and a bit unsanitary, but not harmful."

"WE AWE AGENTS OF FWEE EXPWESSION!"

Luz jumped, startled as the bars on the cell to her right rattled; a tiny creature even smaller than King was rattling the portcullis, both hands wrapped around the iron. Its entire body was simply a head, its facial features all disproportionately large compared to its stubby arms and legs, its lips pulled back in a snarl, "THEY WIW NEVEW SIWENCE US!"

"… and tiny over here is big into conspiracy theories," the fanged woman sighed, slowly rolling her eyes as she pointed.

"THE WORWD IS A SIMUWATION!" it shrieked, "WE ARE BUT PWAYTHINGS FOW A HIGHEW BEING!"

"… o… kay," Luz began, "That… could be genuinely harmful."

The woman raised an eyebrow, "How'dya figure?"

The girl shuddered, "Let's just say conspiracy theories have caused a lot of damage where I'm from, and leave it at that."

"What, people actually believe the world is a simulation where you're from?" it was the fanged woman's turn to blink.

"Worse," Luz shook her head, "Some genuinely believe the world is flat. And they gather in big numbers and try to prove it with homemade rockets to carry them up into the atmosphere."

The woman stared blankly, "… you're joking."

"I'm not. I'm really not. And that's one of the tamer ones," the girl took a step, a hand on her chin, "But… even so… these aren't crimes. It… doesn't sound like any of you actually did anything wrong!"

Luz stopped, dead in her tracks, eyes widening; she reached into her bag, pulling out the poster she had torn from the wall.

The Owl Lady's visage stared back at her from the parchment, the silent cackle echoing in the girl's ears.

"… you're just… a bunch of weirdoes," she breathed, tracing the lines of the image with a finger, "… just… like me…"

The full implications of the realization were slowly sinking in. This place wasn't a prison, not really; it wasn't a place of reform, or just a holding ground for people who had committed crimes until their sentences were complete.

It was something far, far more insidious.

"… a place meant to break spirits…" she glanced up, staring at the skylight, "A cage made to wear you down until you're a shell… the same as everyone else…"

The sound of heavy footsteps on the cobbles broke Luz free from her train of thought; they echoed through the cavernous expanse of the tower, cold, clinical, and deafening, set with a heavy stride as something approached from the other side of the only wooden door of the complex.

"It's Warden Wrath!" the woman hissed, retreating into the back of her cell, "Hide!"

That was all the prompting Luz needed. She bolted for the nearest empty cell, gripping the heavy iron gate and pulling it down with every ounce of strength and weight she had, wrapping her arms around King as she slipped back as far as she could into the corner.

No sooner had her back hit the wall than the sound of a key turning in a lock rang out, and the wooden door swung open, illuminating a hulking silhouette.

"… I can hear you."

The intone was deep, reverberating through metal and stone; his upper body was massive, barrel chested and thick with muscle upon muscle beneath the white fabric of his short sleeved coat, held in place by golden buttons and a thick leather belt, the same small golden triangle emblazoned on his chest as the guard from the alleyway. His head was obscured by a black hood, his face by an iron mask with a cruelly hooked beak, the golden eyes set into the front unseeing, unblinking, the four pronged pupils sharp as blades.

"What are you fools whispering about?" he demanded, every step he took slow, calculated, and incredibly heavy.

Luz's breaths were shallow as she tried to keep herself silent, King now clinging to her every bit as tightly as she clung to him; the Warden was massive, easily standing eight feet tall if not more. As his head shifted, she clenched her teeth down on a yelp, desperately trying to avoid his attention…

Instead, he looked down, scooping up the poster she had dropped, "Ah… the Owl Lady."

The purple grey of his skin warped as his hand clenched into a fist, the morphed, changing shape entirely before hardening into a hammer, larger than Luz's head; he slammed it into the metal, denting it inwards with a vicious clang and causing one of the bars to tear loose with a harsh squeal, sending it spinning into the wall. Once more, the teen fought to keep herself silent, staring at where the hammer had left its impact as the Warden pulled it away.

"I'll get my hands on her soon enough," he growled… then paused, slowly inclining his head towards the pair.

Luz was ready to try and dive under the cot-

"FIGHT AGAINST THE OPWESSOW!"

The Warden's head cocked to the side, interest in the cell's occupant's lost; the tiny conspiracy theorist was raving again, "WE WIW WESIST! WE WIW CONQUEW!"

He stepped forwards, hammer reverting to a normal hand, glaring down at the creature.

"WE WIW NEVEW BE AFWAID OF YOU, YOU OWD CWEEP!" it shrieked, teeth bared.

The Warden's only response was to grip the lever beside the door, and yank it up; slowly, the door opened, and before the tiny being could take a single step, his massive hand closed around its body, thick fingers squeezing and completely muffling its screams.

"Let this serve as a warning," He began, gesturing to the remaining prisoners, "This is not a place of gossip, nor a place for you to indulge in your little fantasies; the Conformatorium is a correctional facility, and the more you resist, the harder it is going to squeeze."

As if to emphasize, he tightened his grip; the creature's eyes bulged, and it thrashed, to no avail, its barely audible shrieks only growing louder through the Warden's fingers.

"You are here to ensure you cease being a bother to society. Whether that happens because you conform, or because you never leave, does not matter," he pointed, "Society has no place for you if you can't, fit, in."

With that, he began stomping back to the doorway, the creature in hand, slamming the wooden door shut behind him with such force that Luz saw dust fall from the ceiling.

"… I think he's gone," Luz finally let herself breathe, heart pounding in her ears as she approached the portcullis. Somehow, the bars slotted into the wall had not been bent, allowing her to lift the gate just enough to wriggle out underneath.

"We gotta go!" King shouted, scampering up the ramp.

"Gimme a second," the girl held up a hand, inspecting the first lever.

"But my Crown!"

"King, we can't just leave them here!" she shot a glare at the little Demon.

"Kid-" the woman started, tone placating, but Luz wasn't listening. She gripped the lever, pushing upwards with all her might… but it was to no avail. The contraption was locked into place, enough that she couldn't even get it to budge even as she put her shoulder underneath it and pushed up with her legs.

"Come on! Move!" she shouted, pushing up with all her might, "I know I'm a nerd, but I'm not that out of shape!"

"Kid, I appreciate the effort," the woman reached through the bars, placing a hand on her shoulder, "Really, I do. You're probably the first person in a while to give a damn about what happens to us. But even if you could get this cell open, I don't think you have any way to get us out of here."

"But…" Luz stumbled back, looking back and forth between the woman, and the lever, still sitting locked in the downward position, "… I…"

"… just get out of here while you still can," the woman sighed, "No one here wants to kid's life on their conscience."

"… I can't just do nothing," she insisted, "There's gotta be something-"

"There isn't," the woman cut her off, "There's no key. Even without these cells, there's a hundred locked doors and at least a thousand armed guards between us and freedom. That, or a few thousand feet of free fall. And I don't think whatever got you in here is going to be able to get us all past that."

Luz fell silent, letting her eyes fall to her hands. The sheer apathetic sorrow in the woman's voice twisted her stomach, the utter despair seeming to tear it open and let the acids eat away at her insides in a flood of helpless sorrow.

"… something got you in here. That something can probably still get you out," the woman turned away, "You really wanna do something for us, kid?... you already have, showing us some basic damn kindness. Reminding us there's still some good out there. Beyond that… just… enjoy freedom for us."

She slunk back into the shadows, leaving Luz alone with the Demon, and the writhing snake of shame and sadness biting at her belly.

"… can we go get my Crown, now?" King asked, climbing up onto the girl's shoulder.

Luz didn't answer. Instead, she turned, and slowly made her way to the nearest hallway, passing the dirty tapestries without ever looking up.

"Hey!"

The brunette's ears barely twitched as Eda soared in through the window, slipping past and dismounting from her staff all in one smooth motion.

"I just checked," she jabbed her thumb to the flagstones beneath their feet, "The Warden is distracted tormenting some tiny creature. He won't be coming around here anytime soon."

Luz did not raise her head to meet the Witch's gaze. Instead, she walked past without a word, finally letting her eyes rise to the door that towered over them at the end of the hall.

CONTRABAND, the sign across it read.

"My Crown! It's close!" King shouted with glee, "I can sense its power!"

He rushed to the door, scrabbling at its surface with stubby, ineffectual claws and grunts; he leaped up onto the knob, trying to throw his negligible body weight into turning the worn brass.

"Aw…" Eda chuckled, and Luz could hear the obvious ploy in her voice, the blatant attempt to elicit a reaction, "He's so cute when he's thirsty for power."

"… is there really nothing we can do to help them?"

When the Witch didn't answer, Luz finally raised her head; the old woman's lips were drawn in a thin line, brows furrowed, but not in anger.

"… we have a flying staff," Luz ventured, crossing her arms, "We can get in and out of this place without being noticed, and I bet you're strong enough to get those cells open…"

"… I don't think you understand exactly what it is you're suggesting, human," Eda sighed, turning the staff in her palm.

"What am I not understanding?"

"How hard it is to perform a mass prison-break," those piercing eyes shot through her again, "Say we did start this little operation of yours. I could, at best, only carry two or three of them at a time on my staff, and get them out of the Conformatorium, myself included. The more people on the staff, the easier it'll be for the guards to see me flying around, and at some point, they're gonna patrol those cells to make sure everyone is still inside; whether it's on my staff or finding empty cells, eventually, someone is going to notice.

"And even if we did get everyone out, what then?" Eda asked, raising a hand, "Even if I wanted them around, I don't have enough room in my house to hide them all. The Warden has a detailed list of his prisoners, and he wouldn't rest until every single one of them was back in the Conformatorium; he'd scour every inch of the Isles if he had to, and he has the manpower to do it."

"We could at least get some of them out," the human insisted, turning to fully face the Witch, "Even if you can't give them shelter, couldn't they go into hiding or something? You do it."

"I'm a powerful Witch," Eda reminded her, "Most of them aren't. They can't make magical houses to hide in the way I did. They're gonna be exposed to the elements, stuck with whatever basic shelters they can throw together in the woods or the mountains – and I doubt that they have much by way of proper survival skills."

"But it's gotta be better than this," Luz gestured to the walls around them.

The old woman closed her eyes, and shook her head, "No. I've been there, kiddo, and trust me, that is not living. You'd just be bringing them out of one prison, and into another. At least here, they're still breathing; the wilds outside of this place wouldn't allow for even that."

"… what about the door?" the girl inquired, "The portal?"

"Send them into your world?" a single golden eye opened, "Where some of the less savoury prisoners might start wreaking havoc, drawing attention or getting people hurt? Where they'll be targeted by humans, if not Weapons and Meisters?"

Ice flooded Luz's veins; she hadn't even considered those possibilities, and now the image of the silhouettes in the cells being run through with any number of blades and bullets was stuck in her mind's eye.

Eda continued, voice steady, "Or just use it as a transport, letting-slash-forcing them back into the Isles once we're out of this place?... you'd be right back to square one. They'd still be stuck in the exact situation I just covered: trapped on the Isles with nowhere to go, no one to turn to, and probably unable to even walk into town without getting caught."

The girl's head slowly fell, chin resting on her chest; she stared at the floor, murmuring, "… so there's nothing we can do…?"

"'Fraid not," the talons that rested on her shoulder were heavy, but the genuine empathy in Eda's tone prompted Luz to raise her head, meeting those golden eyes once more.

They softened, "I get it, kid. Really, I do. It's hard to watch, and do nothing. But even I have to know when I'm outmatched; I'm the most powerful Witch on the Boiling Isles, but that doesn't change that I'm just one Witch. Even if everyone in this place deserved to be free – and believe me, there are some nasty customers in here that deserve to never see the light of day – I just don't have what's needed to make sure they stay alive and free. At the absolute least, you'd need a way across the sea, and a lot of money."

"… it's just… it's not fair," Luz's fists clenched, and she looked away, "They don't deserve to be in here. They just want to be themselves… why does everyone treat that like it's a bad thing?"

Before Eda could answer, something landed at their feet with a metallic clang; the knob of the door rolled, then wobbled to a stop on the cobbles, King excitedly pushing the door open and rushing through, giggling madly all the while.

"… come on," Eda stepped forwards, "Before he hurts himself."

"Ow!" the Demon shouted, a sound not unlike an electric shock snapping through the air.

"… little late for that," Luz mumbled, allowing a small smile to cross her lips as she entered the room alongside the Witch.

The giant pillar of light that sat in the center of the chamber cast an eerie golden glow throughout the room; King rushed at it, trying to break through with his head, only to be tossed back with another painful sounding shock, knocked head over heels across the floor and skidding to a halt on his chin.

To his credit, he was immediately pushing himself up, glaring at the light and getting ready to try again before Eda's staff cracked down in front of him.

She knelt, smiling, "We have a human, remember?"

"Oh, yeah!" King's eyes went wide, as if he had somehow forgotten that's what Luz was there for.

The tanned teen stared into the pure white for a moment, taking a deep breath before letting it all out in a slow exhale, closing her eyes. She just needed to get the crown, and she could go home.

She stepped forwards, body tense, expecting some form of shock as she pushed through the barrier with her hand extended-

And met no resistance.

It wasn't even like pushing through water; it was like nothing was there in the first place, letting Luz pass as easily as if she were walking through an empty doorframe.

Within, was a great pile of objects and treasure, all of it stacked one on top of the other, bones and crates and armour and shields all caught in the same eye-watering lime green glow as the room beyond the barrier.

And at the very top…

"… wait a second," she squinted, "Is that…?"

Slowly, she began her ascent, gritting her teeth and pulling herself up bit by bit until she had reached the summit of the small mountain of assorted weaponry and junk, grabbing her prize and slowly descending to the floor once more.

Luz was certain her eyes were playing tricks on her. It must have been the light of the barrier.

Surely, once she stepped out, it wouldn't look and feel so much like-

"… a paper Burger Queen crown…?" she asked, incredulous, staring at the logo as she emerged into the room proper.

She wasn't angry. She wasn't even particularly upset. More than anything else, she was confused, rubbing her fingers against the surface in hopes of discovering some secret, some Magic that indicated that it was more than just a cheap cardboard cut-out.

But it was to no avail. The cheap cardboard cut-out remained a cheap cardboard cut-out.

"My Crown!" King shouted, jumping in place and eagerly reaching for it. Perhaps once the little Demon had it, it would revert to its true form.

She handed the crown over with no argument; but when King placed it on his head, there was no grand transformation. The tiny Demon remained tiny, and once again, the cheap cardboard cut-out stubbornly remained a cheap cardboard cut-out.

Even so, he stared at his claws, immediately seeming even more invigorated than before, "Yes! Yes! I can feel my powers returning!... You there! Nightmare-critter!"

He turned, pointing at one stuffed rabbit that had escaped the confines of the barrier, the buttons that made up its eyes mismatched both in colour and position, making its whole head seem lopsided. The Demon scooped it up, slinging it onto his shoulder, "I shall call you Francois and you shall be a minion in my army of darkness!"

As King continued to monologue, Luz turned to Eda, pointing at the cub, "… that crown… doesn't give him any powers, does it?"

"Uh, no," Eda grinned, and the glare the girl levelled at her must have been truly severe, as the Witch promptly sighed, her smile fading as she gestured to King, "Oh, look at us, Luz. King, Hooty and I don't have much in this world; really, we've only got each other."

Once again, Luz looked at King; he was eagerly adjusting the Burger Queen Crown, clearly trying to adjust its angle so that it would look best atop his head, occasionally needing to catch it before it fell back to the floor.

The Witch was smiling again, more softly this time, "So, if that dumb crown is important to him, then it's important to me," her eyes fell to the brunette, "Besides, us weirdoes have to stick together, eh?"

Eda winked, and despite herself, Luz found herself smiling in turn, her stare falling as a slight warmth lit itself in her chest, pushing gently back against the despair that had wrapped itself so firmly around her heart before.

"Well, we owe you one," the Witch confessed, arms outstretched, "Now, let's get out of here before the Warden finds us and loses his head."

"Too late."

The blade was swung before Luz had a chance to process the Warden's voice. It cleaved cleanly through Eda's throat and spine, separating her head from her body in a single bloodless slash.

The head of silver hair flew at the human, who caught it on reflex, she stared into the blank golden eyes, horror and shock and panic welling in her throat and competing for the right to own the scream that threatened to rip itself from her lungs-

"OW!" Eda's voice rang out, the head scrunching up its eyes with a pained shout, then settling with a pained, mildly annoyed groan, "Ugh… damn it. I hate it when that happens."

Shock won out over horror as the scream finally emerged from Luz's throat. She was holding a severed head, the still talking severed head of a Witch. This was insane, how-

"Pipe down, kid," Eda cut her off with a withering stare, "I'm not dead."

"B-But your head-!" Luz sputtered, "Are you okay!?"

"I already told you," the golden eyes glanced at the still standing body, "This sort of thing just happens when you get older."

"Does it?"

"Finally," Warden Wrath spoke, his blade morphing back into a hand, "I have you cornered, Eda the Owl Lady."

He was flanked on either side by guards as he stepped forwards; they fanned out to surround the trio, and before the Demon could scamper away, the Warden snatched the cardboard crown from his head.

King let out a strangled "WEH!?" of equal parts surprise and displeasure, trying vainly to jump and get the toy back.

"My guards could never catch you," he stated, ignoring the black cub, "But I knew that if I took your pet's toy, you would come running.

"I see you even found a human to get past the barrier erected to safeguard contraband," he glanced at Luz briefly before returning his attention to Eda, "Clever, and resourceful, impressively so… but unfortunately for you, not clever enough."

With that, he crushed the crown in his fist, crumpling it into a ball before letting it fall to the floor.

"NO!" King squealed, "MY POWER!"

He fell to his knees, quietly beginning to sob.

"… so. This is the part where you throw me in a cell, then?" Eda queried, still seeming more annoyed than distraught or even angry, "Go and kiss up to the Emperor and his Coven? Earn yourself a promotion for catching the Boiling Isles' most wanted, even though I haven't even broken any of your stupid laws in front of you?"

"… no," Wrath let the crumpled cardboard fall to the floor, snapping his fingers. A guard stepped forwards, handing a large briefcase to white-clad Warden, who carefully undid the clasps, "I have almost everything I want right here. I am content to serve the Emperor in my current station. I could ask for no greater pleasure than the manner in which I am currently employed."

The silver vixen raised an eyebrow, "Then what do you want?"

"I want you…" he pulled the briefcase open, and Luz braced herself to see a weapon or some other instrument of torture as he paused, as if for effect.

"… togooutwithme," the words were so rushed that the youth only barely caught them as Wrath yanked a large bouquet out of the case, a colourful assortment of flowers that seemed garishly vibrant against the sterile white of his coat and the grey of his skin, all wrapped in a beautiful red silk cover.

"Wha-?" Eda blinked, actually seeming off kilter for the first time.

"What," Luz asked flatly.

"You got this, boss!" one of the guards shouted, all of them showing some form of support, from raised fists to thumbs up; the Warden even returned the gesture before looking back to the Owl Lady's severed head.

"You have always eluded our capture; you've always been the one that got away," genuine reverence and emotion began to creep into his words, "I found that alluring."

"I hate everything you're saying right now," Luz spoke with absolutely no hesitation, disgust lacing every syllable that left her mouth.

"You stay out of this!" he shouted, his arm once again morphing into something without shape, a mass of sludge that wrapped around Luz's torso and yanked her into the air with such force that she was sure her chest and shoulders would bruise. The teen dropped Eda's head, squirming, struggling to get free of the muck that entangled her, but it was like tugging at living play-doh; no matter how much she tugged at the substance, it always just flowed right back into the rest of the Warden's arm, rendering any progress she made effectively meaningless.

With his free hand, Wrath caught the Witch by the hair, holding her up to eye level, "So, how about it, Owl Lady? The most powerful Witch of the Boiling Isles, and the feared Warden Wrath. We'd be the strongest power couple ever!"" he emphasized, clearly trying to make the proposal sound more enticing, "I mean, it's not like you can say no right now…"

Eda faltered, glancing first at Luz, who was struggling to get out of the Warden's grasp, and then at King, who had been scooped up in the arms of one of the guards; after a long moment of deliberation, she closed her eyes with an exhale of defeat.

"Oh, alright, Warden. You win," she gazed up at him with pitiful eyes, "I'd just like to say something, first. Come closer?"

Wrath raised her head.

"No, just… a little bit closer."

He brought her in a little more.

"Just-"

They were face to face now.

"Yeah, that's good-"

Eda stuck out her tongue, and blue a raspberry, spattering as much spittle as she could through her lips; Warden Wrath had no time to react to before it hit his mask and eyes, coating them in a fine spray of spit. He reeled back in disgust, releasing Luz and letting her fall to the ground.

The old Witch cackled at her own childish trick as Wrath furiously wiped at his face, trying to rid himself of the spray.

"Impudent wench! Don't you know what could be living in your mouth!?" he shouted.

"Oh, get over it," she glowered, "You have had your guards stalk me for decades, and now you've cut off my head. I am NOT going out with you!"

"If you don't accept, then I have no choice but to DESTROY-!"

A heavy, metallic clang rang through the room as Luz swung the Owl Lady's staff into the back of the Warden's head with every ounce of might she could muster. He cried out, his hands flying to the sides of his head, the Owl Lady's head falling to the ground.

"Nihihiiice!" she grinned in approval, and her body, having long been forgotten to the side of the room, set to work. Before the guards could close in on Luz or harm King, it struck, driving an open palm into the back of the first guard's head as he drew his sword. He flew forwards into one of his compatriots, bowling both of them over and leaving them in a dazed heap in the corner.

The other two guards turned, drawing their own blades on the headless body; the body simply shifted past them as they both swung, slipping between them with a practiced ease before yanking both hoods down over the eyes of their helms, holding them in place with an ease that completely belied those thin, pale arms.

"OKAY, WE'RE GOING NOW," Luz snatched up King by the scruff and Eda's head by the hair, pulling the body along behind her. Eda's body easily snatched up King before the human held out the staff, mounting it, "Expecto… flying? Magicus escapicus!"

"Gun it, Magic stick!" the Owl Lady barked, and the staff took off, carrying all three of them into the hall, the Warden's howls of anger echoing behind them.

Notes:

Translation for Luz's Spanish in this chapter:

'No mire hacia abajo, no mire hacia abajo, no mire hacia abajo, NO MIRE HACIA ABAJO!'

'Do not look down, do not look down, do not look down, DO NOT LOOK DOWN!'

---

Translation, as always, is done by the wonderful maho_kat on Archive of Our Own! Please be sure to thank her for all her work with the translation!

Sorry Kid ended up with so little screentime in this chapter. I'm hoping that his next appearance will get him a bit more time; the main purpose of this chapter, really, was to progress the Conformatorium, though I am glad I managed to snag a bit of Kid's relationship with Spirit. When you think about it, in this continuity Spirit is struggling to play father figure to three separate kids.

As for the break where suddenly Spirit is back in Death City? It takes a while to go from the Owl House to the Conformatorium. It's a several hour trip. Luz probably spent most of her day mid-flight.

Next chapter is going to be the wrap up for episode 1, so I'm hoping you all enjoy that. After that, I can start working to make this story my own.

Please be sure to leave your thoughts below! I hope you all enjoyed the twelfth chapter of Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance!

Chapter 13: First Steps Forwards

Notes:

I do not own Soul Eater or Owl House.

If I did, Lumity would already be confirmed... oh, Hell, we already know it's confirmed, how is it not after Grom?

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Even as the wind buffeted her face hard enough to make her eyes sting from the sheer speed of the staff as they flew, Luz didn't dare to look back. She knew that whatever the cause was of the smashing sounds behind her, it couldn't be anything good; the shadows playing on the walls only cemented her determination not to look. If they were any indication, Warden Wrath was in hot pursuit, his amorphous arms having morphed into something truly horrific.

The Witch glanced back, clicking her teeth, "Yep, he's following us. Stubborn bastard."

"How fast does this thing go?!" Luz shouted.

"Probably not fast enough to outrun the Warden."

"I thought you were the fastest flier on the Boiling Isles!"

"I am. But in case you haven't noticed, I'm also decapitated at the moment," the staff weaved out into the central chamber with the cells, "That puts a damper on my ability to fly."

"Then what do we do!?" Luz demanded.

"Well, the stealthy plan's a bust," the Witch mused, "What do you say we start a prison riot?"

"A what!?"

"You wanted to let them out, didn't you?"

The cells were rapidly approaching; her chocolate eyes immediately fixated on the levers as the staff shot along the ramp.

"… lend me your hand!" she called, and the Owl Lady obliged, layering her hand atop of Luz's own.

As they roared past, Luz began yanking up the levers, her arm bolstered by the Witch's unnatural strength; each one was thrown as easily as toys, the cells opening one by one even as the commotion behind them grew louder and louder. Bells were ringing in the distance, and Luz could hear the thunder of synchronized footsteps in the distance, the heavy clank of armour as innumerable guards set to work. Behind them, prisoners were emerging from their cells, and rushing to set others free or making a mad dash for doors in a bid for their freedom.

"What're their chances!?"

"Not good, but better than zero," Eda assured, "Just keep going!"

Before long, they reached the top of the tower, shooting up and out the skylight; for a brief instant, the girl thought they had escaped, that freedom was within reach-

Only for Wrath's arms to wrap around the staff.

He was carried up into the air along with them, throwing off their flight and dragging them down with his hundreds of pounds of extra weight. He swung wildly with a heavy blade, coming dangerously close to striking the trio before the staff began spiralling entirely out of control, throwing them all off and sending them hurtling towards the ground below.

Luz screamed, squeezing her eyes shut and throwing her hands up over her head, even as Eda's arms wrapped around her tightly. The wind rushed in her ears, so loud that she only barely heard the sound, one she had never heard before.

The impact drove the wind from her lungs, and they rolled across the dirt, coming to a stop on Eda's back; the tanned teen finally opened her eyes, blinking at the golden shell that surrounded her, King, and the Witch, the imprint matching the small crater they now lay in.

"Ow! My bones!" King squeaked.

"… yep… that hurt," Eda winced, her body pushing itself back up before picking up her head, reattaching it with a pained moan.

"… you… saved me," Luz wheezed, trying to force air back into her lungs and keep the tears out of her eyes.

"'Course I did," the Witch huffed, slowly rolling her shoulders and breathing, "I got you into this mess. I gotta make sure you make it out. Speaking of…"

She glared at the nearby heap that also lay on the stone; some distance away, Warden Wrath languished on the ground, slowly gathering himself and pushing himself back to his feet, his mask slowly breaking away, piece by piece. As if the hooked beak hadn't been bad enough, there was no face beneath the metal; only a mouth that took up the entirety of his head, massive teeth dripping with saliva as he struggled for breath, fury evident with every shaky movement, tiny pale eyes shining with hatred.

"… Luz," she reached into her hair, and extracted the key with the golden eye, placing it in Luz's palm, "Go back to the human world."

"… but… what about you guys?" the human finally regained her wind, shakily rising to her feet as Eda stepped forwards.

"If you think this guy is bad," King slurred, rubbing at his skull, "You should have seen her last boyfriend!"

"Not my boyfriend," Eda reminded, her tone warning as she glanced back at Luz, "Now, go!"

"But I-"

"Go, go!" Eda snapped her fingers, and the staff glowed gold, rising off the ground and knocking into Luz and carrying her up before she could utter another word of protest, up and away from the battle as it began to unfold, Wrath unleashing a gout of flame from his horrific maw.

Luz clung to the staff with everything she had, staring down at the Conformatorium; every exposed balcony and window she could see showed signs of siege and conflict. A cacophony of screams and shouts, of breaking stone and clashing metal were finally reaching her ears, the silhouettes of guards met the shadows of prisoners, a grisly shadow play that she couldn't tear her eyes away from.

An overwhelming sense of numbness overtook her as her eyes shot back and forth, looking for something, anything that she could recognize…

Finally, she found her.

The fanged woman from the cell; she was surrounded by other prisoners as they cowered, around a corner of shattered wall, watching the battle between Witch and Warden unfold.

Luz managed to angle the staff down, and descend. She stumbled as she touched down, nearly tripping over her own feet before running over to the hole in the wall.

"Kid!?" the woman asked, incredulous, "What are you still doing here!?"

"Things didn't go as planned," Luz stated, "I couldn't just leave!"

"You should," the creature with the five eyes started, almost scolding, "This isn't going to be pretty. If you hang around too long, you'll be locked up with the rest of us."

"Wait, you aren't going to run?" she gawked, "This is your chance to get away!"

"No point," he sighed, "The Warden'll catch us. He always does; he catches everyone who tries to escape."

"Not everyone," the girl insisted. She turned, and pointed; Eda was expertly weaving back and forth between heavy, swinging blades, almost dancing as she spun between two slashes that left the Warden's blades embedded in the stone. She grinned, stepping up and driving her heel into his abdomen, lifting him clean off the ground and throwing him back on impact-

Only for one of the arms to morph, catching her across the back with a heavy hammer blow as the Warden landed heavily on his feet. The hammer turned to tendrils, wrapping around Eda's body, binding her arms to her sides.

But the Owl Lady was undeterred, responding with a golden glow that transformed the ground, a series of large spikes rising from the ground and spearing through Wrath's arm, tearing the limb asunder and setting her free, allowing their deadly dance to resume even as he once again advanced, flames shooting from his mouth in a veritable conflagration.

"That is Eda the Owl Lady. The most powerful Witch on the Boiling Isles," she declared, "Someone that Warden Wrath has never caught, and never will. She's fighting to keep herself out of this miserable place – and you all should do the same!"

"Not all of us are strong," a woman with dark skin and blond hair tied in a bun snapped, stepping out in front, blue vest flapping in the breeze, "And none of us are strong like her."

"Even if we were, we're outnumbered and outgunned," a turtle in a wheelchair adjusted his glasses, pushing himself forwards, "How are we going to get out? How are we going to stay out?"

"By helping to cut the head off the snake," Luz continued, "The Warden is the only thing keeping those guards organized. On their own, they're complete idiots! If he goes down, the guards should scatter without a leader!

"Warden Wrath has kept you all here, scared and alone," her grip on the staff tightened, "He convinced you all that there's no place for you outside of the Conformatorium. But that isn't true! Yes, you say and do strange things, but that isn't bad! That just means you see the world differently! That makes you unique! And no one has any right to take that from you just because they don't like it! As long as you aren't hurting anyone, you should be free to go wherever you want, to do whatever you want! The Warden is the one keeping you here, and he is wrong to do so!"

"… why are you helping us?" the woman finally asked, eyes wide.

"Because," Luz felt her expression soften, a flashing her a friendly smile, "Us weirdoes have to stick together. And nobody – nobody," she mounted the staff once more, rising into the air and pulling her hood over her head, "should be punished for who they are!"

The sound that followed was not screaming.

It was a sound Luz had only heard dedicated to others before.

Cheering. Confidence seemed to have been restored to the crowd before her, which was slowly swelling, more and more prisoners emerging from the innards of the Conformatorium, all of them looking to her with renewed vigour, with genuine smiles as they spilled into the courtyard.

"Now," she turned on the staff, returning her attention to the fight, "Let's get him!"

Eda skidded back across the courtyard on her heels, wiping her mouth; it was clear this fight was turning out to be a more difficult endeavour than she'd thought. Even striking Wrath with his own flames hadn't seemed to do much damage. He was a constantly advancing wall, a glacier with no intention of slowing down, much less actually stopping. He simply continued to advance, blades gleaming dully in the light of the fires that now lit the courtyard.

"No. More. Games," he snarled, "No. More. Running. Today, Owl Lady, I capture you once, and for all-!"

He was cut off as he was suddenly bowled over from the side, a crowd of over a dozen roaring inmates all rushing at once to pull the Warden to the ground; before he could react, they were pulling his arms, dragging him back across the courtyard with his limbs outstretched as far as they could manage like some gruesome parody of tug of war, the element of surprise giving them the chance they needed to gain and maintain the upper hand.

"Go, go, GO!" Luz encouraged, shooting past overhead on the staff, grin wide – and it only grew wider as she caught the Witch's bewildered stare, chest swelling with pride as the crowd pushed forwards.

The Warden was strong, that much was for certain. Against anyone here individually save the Owl Lady herself, he would have easily overpowered them, beaten them broken and bloody into the stone and dragged them back into the Conformatorium for some yet worse, grisly punishment. Luz could only assume that even against a mob half this size, he probably would have won with sheer, brute strength alone, overwhelming them with physical might.

But he had been weakened. A thousand foot fall paired with a duel against the Owl Lady had left him winded and wounded.

He was in no condition to fight. And if what little expression existed in those awful features was any indication, it was slowly beginning to dawn on him just what kind of trouble he was in.

"I EAT MY OWN EYES!" the Quintuclops shouted, wrapping his arms around the Warden's chest and squeezing, constricting with every ounce of strength he had.

"I BEWIEVE THE WOWHD IS A TWIANGWE!" the orange haired, tiny creature shrieked, shoving itself beneath his legs to topple him to the ground.

"AND I PRACTICE THE ANCIENT ART OF FAN-FICTION!" declared the fanged woman, the cries of solidarity from their fellow inmates only further stirring their frenzy.

Together, they pulled his arms across his chest and around his back, interweaving them despite his struggles to break free of their collective grasps. Again and again they dipped and weaved, the blond girl with the blue jacket slashing with a curved knife to slice his keys from his belt, a pale man with the orange weasel companion lashing out with black claws to sever one of the blades, a raccoon-like man hooking the Warden's neck with a golden cane, yanking up his chin to keep him from spitting flames onto his fellows.

It didn't take them long to get him entirely bound, his arms so stretched and tangled he couldn't possibly get them free no matter how much he struggled or attempted to morph them.

"YOU WILL ALL PAY FOR THIS!" he screamed, "NOT ONE OF YOU WILL EVER LEAVE!"

"That's where you're wrong, Warden," Luz landed, stepping forwards, "They're all leaving, today. And they're never coming back."

"… you," the amount of venom forced into that one word was chilling, those cold eyes gleaming, "Who do you think you are!?"

The human cleared her throat, pointing down as she adopted her most dramatic voice, "Do not underestimate me, Warden Wrath! For I am Luz, the Human! Warrior of Peace!..."

… her smile became mischievous as she reached into her bag…

"… NOW EAT THIS, SUCKA!" she shouted, tossing the fireworks from her book report six weeks prior into the air and striking them with all her might.

They were propelled directly into the Warden's mouth, the sparks from within almost immediately setting them alight. They promptly began to go off, the bright lights and the sounds making him cry out in pain and humiliation. He managed to tear out of the prisoners' grasps, taking off at a full run, desperate, trying to put as much distance between himself and his failure even as the fireworks continued to shriek and flare in his jaws.

"We won…?" the fanged woman stared at the Warden's retreating figure, then broke out into an incredulous laugh, "We won!"

"WE AWE VICTOWIOUS!"

"Look!" the turtle pointed to the walls, "The guards are dispersing!"

True to his word, the guards had all come to a sudden halt, stopping and staring as the Warden made his hasty retreat; their confidence faltered as they attempted to return to fighting the escaped prisoners, but without the presence of their leader to reassure them, they were visibly unsure, and quickly beaten back, one by one being forced to retreat just as Wrath had done.

"I got his keys!" the blond girl shouted, holding up the ring of brass, "Let's get the Hell out of here!"

With that, they scattered, all making their ways to the various cracks and doors in the walls in an attempt to claim their freedom.

"Luz!" the woman shouted, looking to the girl, "Aren't you coming!?"

She met the woman's gaze, blinking; after a moment, the familiar weight of Eda's hand came to a rest on her shoulder, the Witch giving her a warm, proud smile.

"… I think I've got my own ride," she decided, once again letting her eyes rest on the fanged woman.

"… if you're sure," she smiled, "Thank you. Really. Thank you. I never thought I'd ever actually get out of here."

"Less talking, more leaving," the Owl Lady gave a flick of her hand, "Scram. Those guards won't be on the back foot forever. You should go before they get a chance to regroup."

"… right," she nodded, "But still. Thank you."

With that, the woman turned, and sped off after the remainder of the prisoners.

King giggled from his perch on Eda's shoulder, "That was actually one of her better breakups!"

The Witch gave the Demon a half-lidded glare, "Not a breakup."

"… you think they'll actually be able to get away?" Luz sobered, turning her head to meet the Owl Lady's eyes.

"Not all of them," Eda stated wistfully, staring at the tower "But if it weren't for your quick thinking today, it would have been none of them. Some is better than none… and with the Warden licking his wounds, they might even have enough time to go into hiding or make it across the sea before he starts hunting for them," a toothy grin, that golden fang gleaming, "You did some good work today, kid."

Again, that swell of pride in her chest, a fluttering in her stomach that flushed her face and made her want to dance, made her heart race with the validation. It was one thing to be told good work by Mom or by Dad, but…

"… thanks," she managed, the only word she could manage to put straight in her head.

"Anyways, let's bounce," Eda took the staff, spinning it between her fingers, "Before any other monsters fall in love with me."

They quickly mounted the staff, and took off into the sky, leaving the horrors of the Conformatorium behind as the commotion died, tiny figures scattering in all directions from the prison doors and walls.

It took a long, long time after the prison faded from view for the roar of her own heartbeat to finally fade from Luz's ears in turn.


"… I haven't called Luz."

The realization had been like ice water poured over Maka's head; she'd dropped the potato she'd been peeling into the sink as she accidentally caught herself with the edge of the paring knife, hissing in pain as the blade slid through her skin.

Soul had immediately stepped over to check the wound, paper towel in hand to staunch the bleeding so he could get a better look. It was a shallow cut, but a cut nonetheless.

After that, the kitchen had become a blur; at Blair's insistence, Maka had numbly agreed to let the cat heal her, the cut closing in a matter of seconds under that oddly beautiful green glow. She'd returned to her room, leaving Soul to finish in the kitchen as she sat in the warm orange light of the sunset, listless with indecision as she stared at where she had set her phone on her desk to charge.

It was open to the same contact she had promised to keep in touch with, to update regularly. The promise she, in her single-minded pursuit of Sid, had not kept.

'Noceda.'

Sometimes it seemed the Meister couldn't even think about her sister without feeling sick to her stomach anymore. Every interaction seemed to lead to more mixed emotions, more guilt and unease. When she finally realized that she hadn't called Luz once over the past two weeks, that it hadn't even occurred to her to do so despite promising to keep her updated, she felt like she'd just fought Stein all over again.

Shaken.

Physically ill.

… frightened.

"… what are you so scared of?" she whispered to herself, hands clenching, "You know she won't hate you. You know she'll understand. Just… pick up the phone, and call her."

Slowly, she reached out, finger outstretched towards the call button.

"Just pick up the phone… just pick up the phone…"

Her hand was trembling.

She'd fought zombies, serial killers, Magic cats and worse. So why? Why was this so hard? Why was she so scared?

Why couldn't she just do it and get it over with?

… get it over with.

Maka slumped, hands rising to her eyes. She thought of this as something she needed to get over with, treating a conversation with her sister not just like some monumental task, but an unpleasant chore that she was finding every excuse to avoid.

"… dammit."

There was a knock at the door.

"Makaaa~!"

An annoyed frustration bloomed behind her ribs as the cat's sing-song voice echoed outside her door; she slowly turned in her chair, glaring daggers at the door, "What do you want, Blair?"

"Just wanted to let you know Soul's almost done with dinner," she informed, insufferably cheerful.

"… alright," Maka sighed, "I'll be out in a minute."

"… you've been in there for an awfully long time," the cat noted, "Can I come in?"

"Is saying 'no' going to stop you?"

"Jeez, someone's grumpy today. Is something wrong?"

The Meister's jaw worked as she struggled to snap 'I'm fine,' but the words wouldn't form. Her lips twisted, and she spun in her chair again as the doorknob turned, and the door clicked, swinging open to let light from the hall pour in.

Blair was dressed in a different outfit from her usual dress; a long sleeve jacket with a high, furred collar cut off at her ribs to show off her midriff, with a low cut top underneath that showed off far too much of the cat's generous cleavage for Maka's liking. Likewise, her shorts were scandalously short, only barely buttoned at the top and showing off every inch of her long legs. Even her hat was gone, exposing her large ears as they twisted in place, reacting to every little sound that they managed to catch. The only thing that remained of Blair's original outfit were the flouncing curls of her hair and her thigh high boots, which clicked on the wood with every step, accentuating the dripping sex appeal in the same way everything else the cat wore did.

"… what the Hell are you wearing?" Maka asked, even though she honestly didn't want to know.

"It's my work outfit!" Blair giggled, "I haven't worn it in a while. It's a little tighter than I remember, but I still make it work!"

The Meister snorted, "Yeah, I guess. If by 'make it work,' you mean 'barely maintain any decency."

"Yeesh," Blair's nose wrinkled, "You really are in a bad mood. Does your hand still hurt?"

"… no," Maka flexed her fingers, staring at where her cut once was, "It's fine."

Slowly, the cat in human form strode to the bed, and sat down, resting her chin on her hands, golden eyes wide as she stared at Maka. For the first time, the girl noticed the way Blair's pupils dilated and contracted; at full size, they could have easily been mistaken for a human's eyes, unnaturally bright colour aside, but now they had narrowed to near slits, entirely focused on the girl in front of her.

"… what's with that look?" she frowned, suddenly distinctly uncomfortable under the intensity of the magical cat's gaze.

"… aren't you gonna tell me what's wrong?" Blair queried.

At this, Maka's jaw tightened again, and she crossed her arms, looking away, "Nothing's wrong."

"I beg to differ," she tilted her head, quizzical, "You barely seemed to notice your cut and you haven't made any progress on your homework in the entire time you've locked yourself in here – and you've been in here for over half an hour now."

"And how do you know I haven't gotten anything done?" Maka turned her glare on Blair, the prospect of having her privacy invaded making the blossoming frustration grow – it was bad enough that the cat had invited herself into her home.

Blair remained unperturbed, however, reaching up to tap one of her ears, "My hearing is much better than yours, Maka. You've been rolling back and forth in that chair the whole time – when you do your homework, you're almost totally silent, save for the occasional shift to make yourself comfortable."

The preteen didn't have any response to that, instead gritting her teeth harder and looking away, "I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't eavesdrop on me like that."

"Sorry, can't really help that," the purple haired woman shrugged, "I can hear every little thing that happens in this apartment. That's not really something I can just… turn off."

"Could you maybe pay a little less attention, then?" Maka grumbled.

"And leave you two without any protection from people trying to break in?" Blair teased, baring her teeth in a small grin, "Noooo, I can't do that."

"We're DWMA students, Blair, we don't need protecting from you."

"Maybe not," Blair conceded, "But I can still tell you're upset. You've both been off for a few days now, and ever since you mentioned this 'Luz' person, you've been even more off."

This time, Maka said nothing. She gripped the arms of her seat, and turned away, not wanting to look the cat in the eyes anymore.

"… okay. I get it. You like your privacy, and you don't like that I can hear you so well," the girl heard Blair rise to her feet, then the click of her heels as she stepped closer. The cat set her hands down on Maka's shoulders, her claw-like nails gently digging in, but oddly, the Meister didn't feel threatened, recognizing from Blair's gentle tone that it was an attempt to soothe her, "You don't like me, in general. I understand. And I don't want to pry. I'm just… a little worried, that's all. I want to make sure that you're okay."

She tried to maintain her glare at the wall, but found her expression gradually softening of its own accord, a strange exhaustion overtaking her body as she slumped back in the chair. She felt too tired to stay angry, and once again her reason and her emotions were a-struggle in her stomach, wrestling for control.

"… it's complicated," she sighed, reason gradually winning out, "I just… I screwed up. I told her that I'd keep her updated regarding the whole thing with Sid, and I… I just didn't."

"Mmm," Blair gently worked her fingertips into Maka's shoulders in a massaging motion, "And you feel like a liar. Is that it?"

"Among other things," she curled in on herself, "I gave her reason to worry, I promised I'd update her, let her know I was safe… and now two weeks later, I still haven't told her anything even though it's been four days since it ended."

'Worse,' her own venomous mind hissed, 'Dad's come home today. She doesn't get to see him again for months. And she's probably already gone to camp.

'And you don't even have the decency to text. Much less call.'

The guilt was a poison running through her veins. She drew her legs into her chest, pressing her face into her knees, "… I screwed up…"

"… I know that feeling all too well, Maka," Blair assured, and one of her hands slipped beneath the Meister's chin, gently tugging upwards. Slowly, Maka let herself be guided, until she was staring straight up into the cat's face, her face warm, empathetic, "… but listen; beating yourself up is not going to help. It's just going to make you feel worse, and make the call you want to make harder."

"… I know," the girl managed, letting her shoulders fall.

"I also know it's hard not to do that," Blair glanced to the desk, and reached, gently turning the phone over so the screen's light was blocked out, "Sitting in here is only going to wind you up more."

"… so what should I do then?" Maka huffed, "Ignore it?"

"No," Blair stated, "Not ignore it. More… take a break from it. Come back when you're feeling a little better, instead of calling now on the verge of a breakdown."

"… 'm not on the verge of a breakdown," the Meister argued, but even to her own ears it sounded weak.

"I'm sure you aren't," Blair chuckled wryly, "But you certainly aren't in the right mood."

"So?"

"So… Soul's almost finished dinner," she gently turned the chair so that Maka was facing the hallway, "Why don't you come out and eat with us? Take your mind off of Luz for a while, relax… and come back to it once you're refreshed, with some actual food in your stomach?"

She stared out at the white wall; the Meister could now hear the clinking of plates and silverware over a distantly running sink. Soul must be setting the table now, and that water was probably for a salad.

"… what about you?" she began, glancing up as she unfolded her legs, "Don't you have work?"

"I don't have to be there for another hour," Blair shook her head, "It's a night thing."

"Explains the racy clubbing outfit," Maka muttered, though a small smile had worked its way across her face.

"Hey, some people like feeling sexy," Blair laughed, rounding the chair with an exaggerated loping swagger, running a hand up her side with a sultry smirk, "Who knows? Maybe you'll like it when you get older."

"Don't bet on it," Maka pushed herself up, patting off her skirt, "What's Soul got going for a vegetable?"

"He's using the broccoli tonight, with orange zest," the cat made an exaggerated gagging motion.

"Oh, don't be like that," Maka laughed, stepping forwards, "Orange zest does a lot to take the bitterness out of the broccoli, and blanching it rather than boiling it keeps it from going all mushy."

"Blanching?" she raised an eyebrow.

"Pouring boiling water into the broccoli, and then immediately straining it," Maka clarified.

"Aaaah. It never occurred to me to try that."

"Well, I guess we'll see how it turns out. Here's hoping the roast isn't too rare, though."

"Oh, please, rare roast is the best."

"That's because you're a carnivore by blood, Blair."

"Doesn't make it any less true!" Blair chirped.

Maka scoffed, "I still don't understand how you can even eat vegetables."

"Simple. Magic."

"… I hate how that's just a blanket explanation for everything you do," Maka groaned as the cat laughed with mischievous glee, but even so, as the two made their way back to the kitchen…

The Scythe Meister had to admit to herself that she did feel at least a little bit better.


They stood in the foyer of the Owl House once again; once all the excitement had worn off, Luz had slumped back against Eda's body for the duration of the flight back, exhausted from all the excitement. Not so much that she slept through, but enough that the Owl Lady needed to support her to keep her from slipping off the staff.

The sun was now setting, slowly dipping beyond the edge of the sea, the magenta sky being dyed briefly into a much brighter pink before fading into a deeper purple, and then into a navy blue on the horizon beyond the forest. The sea itself was a warm orange now, the sun's white glare reflecting off its countless waves like a polished, uneven mirror, creating a light show across the ceiling as the reflection shone through the stained glass windows.

The Witch had to admit – in the odd six or seven hours since the human had wandered in through her portal and snatched a trashy tween novel out of her hand, she'd grown fond of the kid. Luz had proven herself a clever girl, a quick thinker with a good heart, not yet jaded by the sands of time and the actions of those around her. A bit naïve, but perhaps that wasn't a bad thing – if Eda had to guess, the human was only about thirteen, possibly fourteen. She had room yet to grow, and a strong heart that didn't buckle in the face of adversity, if only due to misplaced confidence.

… but on the other hand, that made what Eda had to do next sting far more than what she was comfortable with.

"Well, a deal's a deal," The Owl Lady snapped her fingers; the key to the portal floated up and out of Luz's bag, and into her hand, "Let's get you home."

She clicked the eye shaped button, and it let out a small, distinct ring; the portal floated into view, unfolding from its briefcase shape and into the door that led into the human world.

"Whoa, wait," Luz sputtered, turning to her with wide eyes, "You said you'd answer some questions if I helped you!"

The Witch's smile faltered, her brows raising slightly as her lips curled downwards, "… I'll be honest, kid. I'd hoped you'd forgotten about that."

"… but I… I have so many questions," the teen insisted, "I-"

"Luz," Eda interrupted, tone gentle, "… I know I said I would answer some questions. But, here's the fact of the matter; just knowing me puts you in danger."

Luz's mouth clicked shut as she stared at the older woman with wide eyes; Eda continued, "I don't know how much you know about the whole conflict… but the Grim Reaper doesn't exactly want us Witches around. We're hunted in your world – we're fugitives just for existing. And that's not getting into how I, specifically, am a fugitive. And I'm sure you remember how you were nearly dragged off to the Conformatorium less than fifteen minutes after you wandered through the portal just because you were talking to me."

"… but…"

"It's not that I don't want to tell you," Eda emphasized, leaning forwards so that she was eye level with the girl, "It's that the less you know, the safer you are. Do you understand?"

The Owl Lady studied Luz's Soul, so small and so bright; she could see the disappointment flooding it just as much as she could see it on Luz's face, the way her enthusiasm crumbled into sorrow. She hung her head, brown eyes downcast, but ultimately, she nodded, "… yeah… I understand."

A nod, "In which case, I think it's time you went home."

"… I won't tell anyone," the girl promised, looking up, "I promise. I won't tell a single person what happened today."

'… you won't be able to,' Eda kept the thought to herself, instead straightening with a bob of her head, "I appreciate it, kid."

That said, Luz turned, staring at the door with more than a little apprehension, wrapping her arms around herself as if seeking comfort. She then glanced back, just in time to see King hang his head.

Eda hid a sigh; it was obvious the Demon didn't want to see his first playmate in a long time go.

"… before I go," Luz smiled, reaching into her bag and stepping over to King. She pulled out a small doll, with green hair and white robes, gently pulling the tiny plastic crown off its pointed hat, offering it to the Demon, "I know it's not the same, but… a King shouldn't be without a crown."

He hesitated only for a moment before gently accepting the tiny adornment, placing it on his head, "This shall suffice.

"You there, plant!" he pointed, marching forwards, "You are now under my command!"

At this, the Owl Lady couldn't hide her chuckle, fondly watching the little cub march forwards with his typical selfish cheer restored.

Then her eyes landed on the coffee table.

"Oh, right," she scooped up the book and the pamphlet, holding them out to Luz, "Can't forget these."

"… thank you," Luz sighed, staring wistfully at the objects as she accepted them, slowly walking towards the door.

Eda stared at the human's hunched back and neck, at the every step slow, shuffling and reluctant. She couldn't guess at specifics, but she could tell just from looking that the kid didn't want to go; her Soul screamed of want, of a raging desire for more of the excitement and acceptance and approval that she had experienced today. This was probably the first time in a long time, perhaps ever, that Luz had felt special, important, needed, wanted…

It was a desperate cry that could only be emitted by a truly lonely Soul.

... but that didn't change what needed to happen next.

As soon as Luz opened the door and stepped through, the Owl Lady would cast her spell – a simple charm of memory removal.

The girl would forget everything that had occurred since that morning. She would find herself by the road where she had seen Owlbert, wondering where the day had gone, all knowledge of the portal, of the Isles, of the Witch, completely and utterly gone, as if they had never been.

All Eda needed to do was wait for her to leave of her own accord.

At the very least, she could let Luz complete her misadventure of her own free will.


… she didn't want to.

She didn't want to open the door. She didn't want to go home. She wasn't ready for this adventure to come to an end.

No matter how Luz tried to approach it in her head, that was the simple fact of the matter.

She had done something she'd thought impossible today; she had entered a parallel world entirely by accident and befriended a Witch. She had helped break into a prison and defeat its cruel Warden, setting wrongfully imprisoned people free and restoring their faith in themselves all the while.

Even so, she shuffled forwards, staring at the pamphlet in her hands, the logo for Camp Reality Check staring back, the kid in the box almost seeming to mock how close she'd come to her dreams of adventure.

She pulled the pamphlet away, smiling wistfully at the cover of Good Witch Azura, holding her staff aloft with her elderly mentor smiling in the background, the young Black Wolf standing her opposite.

So close, yet so far…

She glanced up to the door, reaching for the knob…

Only to stop, staring up at the mirror on the wall, mounted in its massive golden frame.

Luz stood at the forefront.

Eda stood off in the background, watching silently.

King had settled down and was now letting his gaze wander back and forth between the Witch and the Human, as if wondering what would happen next.

… it looked familiar. Enticingly so.

Experimentally, she raised her book, comparing the cover to the reflection she saw…

And like lightning, it all clicked together.

'We're hunted in your world,' Eda's voice echoed, 'We're fugitives just for existing.'

'… you really think there's no such thing as a Good Witch?' the question she had posed to Papi.

'It's very difficult to find a Witch that isn't actively making a nuisance of themselves,' his answer in turn, 'If there is a 'Good' Witch… it's probably someone who's settled down and shut themselves away from the world. Putting aside whatever grievances they had for something… more important, I guess.'

The reflection matched the cover of the book.

It took all of Luz's effort not to stare as the realization hit her like a truck. Here was a Witch that had opted for a life of solitude. A Witch that, even if for her own selfish reasons, had repeatedly gone out of her way to protect her, a human, when she very easily could have just left the girl for dead at any point. A Witch that had nothing to gain, and in fact stood to lose protecting a human, but did so anyways.

'But hey,' Dad's smile shone in her mind, 'Maybe you'll be the one to actually find a Good Witch.'

"… I found one," she murmured, numb with a sudden, overwhelming giddiness, face breaking out into the widest smile she had ever felt, "I found a Good Witch."

"… you alright there, kid?" Eda asked, raising an eyebrow.

This was big. Too big for Luz to properly wrap her head around, even as she turned back to face the Owl Lady.

She was the daughter of a Death Scythe. Of the Death Scythe, the Grim Reaper's personal Weapon.

She had befriended a Witch. The most powerful Witch of the Boiling Isles.

She was possibly the only one who was willing to gain a true understanding of both sides. Possibly the only one who could.

Luz was actively struggling not to bounce on her feet now, doing her best to keep her body still. If she could just convince Eda… she might be able to turn the entire relationship between the DWMA and Witches on its head. She could bring an end to centuries, maybe even millennia of conflict.

By chasing an owl into a rickety old house, she had accidentally stumbled upon a once in an era opportunity. An opportunity that would probably never come again if she refused to take it now.

She would have had to be insane to pass it up.

… plus…

"Kid?" Eda prodded, now sounding concerned.

… well, ever since reading the Good Witch Azura…

… she'd always wanted to be a Witch.

She swallowed, steeling herself before finally opening her mouth to speak.

"… okay," Luz began, choosing her words as carefully as she could, trying not to let her excitement overwhelm her, "I know you got your head cut off, and that we started some kind of prison riot… but… this was the most fun I've ever had."

Eda stared, eyes wide and smile gone, blinking.

"I don't fit in at home," Luz confessed, looking down briefly before forcing herself to meet those golden eyes, "You don't fit in here. If I stay… we could not fit in, together."

She held up the pamphlet; in an instant, an irrational fury flooded her, her eyes sharpening as she glared at the grey, borderline colourless paper. Her fist clenched hard enough that her knuckles went white, bitter anger finally working its way into her tone, "I am not going to summer camp."

"Whoa, whoa, wait," the Witch raised her arms, letting out an incredulous laugh, "Okay. Just to make absolutely sure I haven't hit my head harder than I thought after getting decapitated, and that I'm not in a delusional coma… what are we talking about here?"

"I want to stay and become a Witch! Like you!" Luz held up her book, "And Azura!"

"What?" Eda wheezed, the shock in her disbelieving chuckle palpable before she sobered, reaching out and pushing the book down, "Okay, that's ridiculous. I don't think you have any idea what it is you're asking me to do. Remember what I said about Witches being actively hunted in your world?"

"Of course I do," Luz nodded, "You literally just said it."

"Then why would you want to go from fraternizing with a Witch to becoming one?" the Owl Lady demanded, "Don't you know what kind of danger you'd be putting yourself in?"

"Hey, you seem to know how to hide," Luz insisted, "I can learn!"

"You could-?!" it was Eda's turn to splutter, absolutely bewildered by the girl's determination, "Luz, humans can’t become Witches. "

"Well," she smiled, "Maybe that's because humans haven't had the chance to try."

The Witch opened her mouth to argue, then closed it, looking for all the world like a gaping fish as she struggled to find a reason to refuse Luz. The words seemed to turn to ash in her mouth, and she was left staring at the chocolate-haired girl with no idea what to say or do.

"If you teach me how to become a Witch, I will do anything you want," Luz declared, swiping her hand to the side for emphasis.

"Let her stay!" King demanded, tugging at the hem of Eda's dress, "She can make us snacks!"

The silver vixen glanced back and forth between the girl and the Demon before bringing her hand to the bridge of her nose, letting out a long, slow exhale.

"… well," she knelt, scooping up King in her arms before returning to her full height, "I could use a hand keeping this goofball out of the cupboards…"

For a long moment, Luz simply held her breath, waiting for the final verdict…

"… alright," Eda finally conceded, "I'll teach you how to become a Witch. But," she raised a hand, voice stern as she cut off Luz's incoming squeal of delight, "You have to work for me before you learn how to so much as sneeze like a Witch."

Luz paused, waiting to hear if there were any conditions beyond that…

"Deal?" the Owl Lady extended her hand, clearly looking to shake on it.

Instead, Luz gave up her control entirely, throwing her arms out wide before wrapping them around Eda as tightly as she could.

"What the-What is this!?" the Witch shouted.

"Too tight! Too tight!" King squirmed, desperately trying to get out from between the two, finally managing to pop himself loose and scramble away.

After a moment, Luz let go, stepping away, beaming as she finally let out her pent up joy, eagerly bouncing on her toes in a rhythmless dance, "Deal!"

"… alright then," the old woman bobbed her head, reasserting her composure, then gestured to the stairs, "Go pick out a room and get yourself settled."

Luz raised her hands, only getting more and more excited, "I get to pick!?"

King's eyes went wide, voice tinged with outrage, "She gets to pick!?

"You can have any of the rooms upstairs that you want – except for the room with the double doors," Eda clarified, "That one is mine. I don't want you in there unless I tell you otherwise."

"What about me!?" King demanded, raising a tiny fist, "I've been living here longer than she has! want my own room!"

"King, you sleep wherever you want anyways," Eda smirked, "You treat the whole house like it's your room."

"Weh!" he pouted, crossing his arms angrily.

"Got it!" Luz snapped a salute, "Any room except yours!"

An approving nod before the red-clad woman turned, heels clicking as she started towards the hallway, "Be careful about any closets, drawers, chests or any other sort of nook or cranny that you find; I haven't cleaned them out in a while and I don't want you getting hit with a stray death hex because you got curious while I wasn't looking. Keep your hands to yourself, don't touch anything you don't immediately recognize, and we'll get your room properly cleaned out and an actual bed ready for you over the next couple of days."

"Right!"

A low growl emanated through the room; Eda stopped, glancing back over her shoulder, smirking as Luz slowly realized where the sound had come from. She looked down at her stomach, finally realizing just how hungry she was.

"… for a second I thought that was another Demon," King wiped his brow, "Your stomach knows how to make demands!"

"… well, it has been a while since I last ate," the human gave a nervous chuckle.

"I can tell," Eda stated, amused, "I'll whip up something quick. You just go do as I told you."

"¡Puedo cocinar!" the teen offered, quickly making to follow the Witch.

"Apprecio el entusiasmo, chica… pero te lo digo por una razón. Ahora vete," the Witch shooed her away, the slightest hint of warning working its way into her tone.

"… si estás segura," Luz nodded, then finally obeyed, making her way up the crooked, creaking stairwell.

Despite its already impressive size from the outside, the interior of the Owl House was deceptively expansive. Not including the room with the large, mahogany double doors, there were at least four separate rooms that branched from the hall, plus an attic, each filled to with junk of all sorts, from books and broken radios to objects Luz couldn't even guess at.

It didn't take her long to settle on a room, though; not far at all from Eda's own room, the light of the sunset filtered in through the large stained glass window. Aside from the chest and the night-table with a candle, most of the junk had been pushed off to the sides and was largely comprised of framed photos and paintings, giving her plenty of room to set out her sleeping bag. Oddly, Christmas lights had been set up around the four corners of the room, but for what purpose, she couldn't guess.

The teen laid out her sleeping bag, and settled on top of it, laying on her back and staring up at the ceiling.

"… Dios mio… qué día," she sighed, letting her eyes slowly shut.

Only for her phone to ring.

Her eyes snapped open as the lyrics to Resonance rang out, pushing herself up and digging out her phone; despite knowing who the ringtone belonged to, Luz was still taken aback by the words that blared across the darkness of her screen, elation tempered by a gentle joy and relief.

"… and here I thought this day couldn't get any better."


Maka leaned forwards on her desk with her pencil between her teeth, phone raised to her ear. She had her eyes closed, tapping her finger on the surface of the paper in that familiar, frustratingly haunting beat.

Dinner had been a rather uneventful affair, something the Meister was grateful for; she didn't think she would have been able to handle making this call if anything else had happened, but now with a full stomach, she felt, at least physically, a little better than she had before.

Not that it was helping her focus on her homework at all.

Her head was swimming.

'Just stay calm. It's going to be fine. She's not mad. It's not in her nature to get mad,' she coached internally, reaching up and picking up the pencil 'Just…'

The phone clicked; she responded on reflex, perking up, "Hello?"

"Maka!"

Luz's usual exceptional enthusiasm and volume shot through the speaker, immediately prompting the grey-blonde to tap the volume down. Even so, she managed a smile, "Hey, Luz."

"Como- How've you been?" her older sister stopped herself before she could slip into Spanish, "Did you manage to pass those lessons?"

"We did," Maka confirmed, "It ended up being a lot messier than I'd have liked, though..."

"Sounds like you had a rough time… wanna talk about it?"

"Not really. I mostly just want to apologize."

"Apologize?"

"Yeah," she leaned back in her chair, steading herself, "… I promised I'd call. I promised I'd give you updates and let you know I was okay as the lessons went… and I didn't. I didn't even call you once."

"Oh… that," Luz's voice faltered slightly, and Maka was sure she heard a brief note of genuine hurt. Just as quickly, though, the cheerful child bounced back, "It's no big deal! I know you were wrapped up in your lessons. Fighting a zombie can't have been easy, so I don't blame you for just buckling down and focusing."

"It wasn't," Maka muttered, "But that doesn't explain the funk I've been in since they ended. I should've at least called you four days ago."

"Hey," Luz started, tone stern, "… it's not a big deal, Maka. Really. I get that it's not always the easiest thing to call someone."

"And that justifies it somehow?"

"Maybe not. But don't you think it's better to call someone when you're ready to, instead of turning it into an obligation?"

… how was it that Luz always knew exactly what to say to make her feel guilty?

"… I guess you have a point," she conceded, pressing her fingers to her brow, "Even so, I am still sorry. It's not just a matter of being ready, Luz, it's making sure I don't leave you worrying, and keeping my promises when I make them."

"… I accept your apology," Luz stated, tone thankful, "Just… try to be better, I guess?"

"I will," Maka assured, finally feeling some of the guilt receding, "… and what about you? Are you doing okay after today?"

"I think so, yeah…" she trailed off, seeming to be debating whether or not to continue, "... it was hard when Dad left, though."

The Scythe wielder bit down on a scathing scoff; if there was anything she didn't want to remember, it was that as of today, their father was now back in Death City. She pulled her phone away from her ear for a moment to make sure she still had his number blocked before forcing the resentment back down with a sigh, "… I'm sorry. I know it's… hard."

"It just… it feels like he's the only one who believes in me sometimes, you know?... I know I have Mami too, but… it's… different. There's always some sort of… 'but' there.""

"A constant caveat of some form," Maka nodded, "'You did good, but you can do better'?"

"More 'You did good, but can you please do it in a way that doesn't make people look at you funny?'" Luz corrected.

"Ah."

"Yeah… Dad, though… he just… believes in me. No strings attached, he has faith that I can do whatever I set my mind to. He doesn't… treat me like there's something wrong with me."

"I suppose that's one of his good points," the acknowledgement was begrudging.

"… you really are mad at him, aren't you?" Luz knew the answer to the question already – Maka could hear the sorrow in her words.

"… Luz, I don't want to talk about it," she stated, voice stiff, "Let's just move on, okay?"

"… okay."

There was a brief pause after that quiet, defeated response.

"… do you think I'd fit in at the DWMA, Maka?"

"… it's tough to tell," the tween admitted, "You're certainly not the weirdest kid. You'd fit in in that regard, at least. But there's a lot of other factors to look at."

"Like knowing how to fight?" Luz asked.

"Among other things. It's not exactly a walk in the park. If you're suited to the DWMA, you could thrive… but if you're not… well, you'll flounder," Maka said, gently turning the pencil in her hand over and over again, remembering how hard she'd had to work just to get to get used to Soul's weight in her hands, much less to actually apply his Weapon form as a combat-ready tool, "It's… hard to tell until you're actually in, if that makes sense."

"So, I'd basically have to get in and see for myself?"

"Pretty much," the Meister confirmed, finally setting the pencil down, "But if it helps… you're certainly stubborn enough, and you like to learn. I think at the very least you'd be able to get in, and with someone like Sid to teach you… maybe even thrive."

"… heh. Thank you, Maka."

"I'm just being honest," She picked up the paper on her desk, straightening it, "It's not really something you have to thank me for."

"Well, thank you anyways. I'm glad that you believe in me, too."

She couldn't help but smile slightly, before carefully broaching the final, dreaded subject, "So… how's the camp? You were going today, weren't you?"

Silence, before Luz sucked in a slow breath.

"… Luz?" Maka asked.

"It's… uuuuuuuh…" the faint snap of fingers, "I'm trying to find the words… it's…"

For a long moment, Maka sat quietly, patiently waiting for Luz to finish humming and hawing.

"… different, I guess?" she finally settled, "It's… strange."

"A bad strange?"

"Not quite? More like it's not what I was expecting," the teen seemed to finally find a rhythm, "Everyone here is sorta weird. It's… really just hard to explain without just showing you."

"I can facetime if you want," Maka offered.

"No, no," Luz shot quickly, suddenly seeming rushed, "My phone's got a low battery and I haven't managed to find a plugin for it yet. I don't want it dying on me before I can find one."

"Fair enough," Maka crossed her arms, shrugging, "Though I guess it is a camp for misfits… maybe that's why?"

"I mean, I guess? But it's called Camp Reality Check; you'd think a place that encourages, and I quote, 'Thinking Inside the Box' wouldn't have such strange people in charge."

"It makes sense, when you think about it. When you have someone who wants to learn how to use a sword, you take them to a sword-master," Maka extrapolated, "When you have someone who needs to learn to act normal, you take them to someone who knows what it's like to be weird and became a… normal-master, I guess. It's a lot easier to teach someone the lessons they need to learn when their mentors can relate to them on some level."

"… huh," the brunette seemed taken aback, "I hadn't thought about it like that."

"Luz," an unknown voice echoed on the other side of the phone, "Dinner's ready. Come eat."

"Coming!" Luz returned the call, then returned her attention to Maka, "Sorry, Maka, gotta go. Sounds like it's time to eat."

"I'd have thought you'd have eaten already; aren't you two hours ahead of us?" Maka queried.

"Yeah, but you know how first days can go," there was a nervous laugh, "Busy, busy, busy!"

"True," Maka felt her eyes narrow, but didn't comment, "Before you go, though, who was that?"

"Oh, that was Eda."

"One of the councillors?" the girl tilted her head.

"Y-Yeah," Luz seemed to stumble over the words, "She's the one in charge of my cabin. I'll be staying with her while I'm at Camp."

"She friendly, at least?"

"Oh, plenty. She's one of the stranger people here though. She's got a lot of weird junk kicking around, like one of those people who goes and salvages stuff out of salvage centers and recycling yards."

"Why would she keep that sort of stuff in her cabin?" Maka raised an eyebrow.

"I dunno. Maybe she's just a hoarder?"

"I mean… maybe?" now Maka felt every bit as curious as Luz sounded, though she pushed it aside, "Even so, though…"

"Luz!" Eda's voice called again, a hint of impatience working its way into her voice.

"I'll be right there! Just talking to my sister!" Luz hastily yelled, "Just one last question, Maka, then I really gotta go."

"Fire away," the green-eyed girl bobbed her head, staring out the window.

"How's Sid?"

"… he's doing okay," her brow furrowed, "Still a zombie, though."

"… well, I guess I should've figured," Luz chuckled, "Even if his death was staged, I guess you don't really come back from that…"

Maka took a hissing breath before she could stop herself, groaning as a hand came to her head. A pang of annoyance shot through her heart, letting an eye crack open as if she could shoot a glare through the phone, “… you heard about that, huh?”

… more just… figured it out, actually.

The grey-blonde’s breathing stopped, eyes snapping open as she struggled, stunned, to process the implications of Luz’s words. After a moment, she finally managed to ask, only barely keeping the wave of shock out of her question, “… when?”

... almost immediately after we spoke last time,” Luz confessed, sounding small, contrite.

It was if something had just jammed in the delicate clockwork of her brain, grinding Maka’s mind to a halt and keeping it firmly in place. She felt her brow twitching, and she could practically see Luz tapping her fingertips together with a sheepish smile, a smile that only added to the Meister’s dumbfounded frustration.

See, I put the pieces together?” her half-sister continued, “... and Dad… kinda confirmed it when I asked if it was all faked.

She couldn’t believe it. Had Maka not known better, she would have suspected she had spontaneously developed an aneurysm, staring stupefied into the space beyond the window, barely registering the harsh glint of the sun in her eyes.

'She figured it out,' she thought, an irrational, furious jealousy flooding through her 'She figured out Sid and Stein set us up in five minutes sitting at a desk, and it took me ten days of getting the stuffing beaten out of me.'

"Papi asked me not to tell you since it would defeat the purpose of the lesson," Luz finished, still tapping her fingers in Maka's mind, "... Maka?"

She couldn't answer. Too much of her brain was fixated on trying to process how she'd been so thoroughly outplayed by someone who wasn't even going to the DWMA, who wasn't even a novice Meister or investigator. By someone who thought it was somehow a good idea to use live snakes and fireworks in her book report. By her complete and utter dumbass of an older sis-

"… Maka, are you mad?"

"… no," she lied through her teeth, forcing a smile, "Not at all. I'm perfectly fine, Luz. Just… realized I got some homework to do."

"Okay," again, relief flowed through Luz's tone, "Are you still good to give me Soul Wavelength lessons on the weekends?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure," she nodded, neck stiff, "Totally good. Absolutely, totally good for that."

"Alright. Talk to you then, Maka! Te amo  love you!"

"Talk to you then."

The line went dead.

Slowly, Maka set her phone down, hands shaking.

She stood, stepping over to the bed.

She reached for her pillow, brought it up to her face…

And screamed her frustrations into its soft feathers in a wordless shriek of envious rage and wounded pride.


It was going to be a strange, bitter thing to get used to, coming back to a house devoid of music and madness, of passion and projects.

Camila restlessly nibbled at her meal; the house just felt so much more empty without Luz to breathe life into it, leaving it feeling like a big wooden shell. Everything around her just seemed to be another reminder that she was gone; the magnets on the fridge that held up old drawings, the photos in the frames on the desks and the walls…

It wasn't the first thing that made the doctor wish that sending her daughter to Camp wasn't necessary, or curse the schoolboard for threatening Luz with expulsion. And it certainly wouldn't be the last.

But she needed to remind herself that this was for the best. Expulsion or no, they were right about one thing; Luz couldn't keep drawing attention to herself the way she had. The world did not take kindly to those who stood out in such a way, regardless of whether or not they were the ones at fault.

Luz needed to change to fit the world around her, if only just enough to not attract trouble like a magnet.

The world would not change for her.

That was a simple fact. Something they all needed to accept, even if they didn't like it.

Camila took out her phone; Luz still hadn't gotten back to her, despite having been asked to as soon as she got there.

Her lips curled, and she forced herself to breathe; she had probably just gotten distracted. There had been no notice that Luz hadn't made it to camp. They would have told her if Luz was absent.

Everything was fine.

Even so, she sent a message, doing her best to keep it short, not overbearing.

"How is summer camp?" she asked.

She blinked as three words appeared across the bottom of her screen after a few moments.

"Luz is typing…"


Spirit sat in front of the fire as he finished the last of his meal; it was a bad habit he'd gotten into since Makoto had left. He hadn't been bothering to eat at the table, instead opting to constantly cycle back to the library no matter what it was he was doing while he was at home.

It was his favourite room in the house – and not coincidentally, it had also been Maka's, back when she still lived here.

Almost all his good memories of this house took place in this room, surrounded by books and sitting by the warmth of the fire.

They were almost all tainted by his own hand, turning what should have been good days into bittersweet memories.

Really, between the demands of his work and the sick mixture of nostalgia and longing this house brought, was it any wonder he hardly spent any time at home anymore?

He sighed, setting his plate aside and sinking deeper into the leather. He reached for his phone, checking his messages.

Nothing new. His old message still registered as undelivered.

The redhead took a breath, then slowly began typing, trying again.

"Landed and made it home safely," he spoke aloud, "Did you make it okay? How's the camp?

He hit send.

To his surprise, it immediately showed as delivered.

Even more surprising was the three dots that appeared at the bottom of the screen only a minute later.

'Luz is typing…'


With a full stomach and a warm heart, Luz slowly settled into her sleeping bag. She'd managed to find a working plugin for her phone charger, but right now it was just transferring the battery of one object to another; she'd need to find a more permanent solution, and was now desperately wishing she'd read up on how to make those solar panel chargers.

Just something to figure out later.

She laid down, reaching for her bag and pulling out the picture frame from within; a picture of herself with her parents, Papi's grin broad and goofy as he wrapped his arms around Luz, Mami's more understated, but no less warm as they all stood in a firm embrace. Luz's own smile was missing a tooth, as the picture had been taken when she was still losing her baby teeth, but oddly, it only added to the character of the overall photo.

Spliced into the corner, however, was an image of a grey haired girl, hair tied up into pigtails; her expression was serious, her green eyes cool as she crossed her arms, trying to puff herself up and make herself look bigger than she actually was.

Maka.

She knew there were issues at hand; anyone could figure that out at a glance. It wasn't so simple as to just wish they could all be together as a happy family… but even so, wish some selfish part of her did, desperately and overwhelmingly, for just that. For Mom to take her to Death City. For Dad to make things right with Maka. For Maka to spend time with her. For them all to eat and talk and read books together…

"… is that really so wrong?" Luz asked herself, gently flipping onto her back.

Her phone went off. Twice.

She sat up, pulling it out; a message from each of her parents had come in, almost simultaneously.

"How is summer camp?" Mom asked.

"Landed and made it home safely," Dad informed, "Did you make it okay? How's the camp?"

She swallowed, smile fading as she laid back, staring at the ceiling. Already, she'd had to lie to Maka about what was going on. It was the first real lie she'd had to tell, the first one of any real importance or impact, and already it was enough to make her feel violently ill with sudden guilt.

How in the world was she going to explain all this?...

Before she could think any more though, she heard the floorboards creak outside her door, a small voice clearing his throat. There stood King, creeping around the corner, his new stuffed rabbit in hand.

"… your sleep cocoon looks fluffy," he said, glancing away, as if embarrassed to ask.

She just patted the sleeping bag, and he immediately padded over, promptly settling down and curling in on himself, even going so far as to tug at the fabric like a cat before wrapping around his stuffy.

She stared at him, silently squeeing for a long moment before finally looking back down at her phone. After a moment, she settled on a response, letting her thumbs fly across the keyboard.

Every word she typed was true.

"I think I'm gonna like it here."

With that, she laid back down, and let sleep finally take her.

Notes:

Translation for Luz's and Eda's Spanish:

"¡Puedo cocinar!"

"I can cook!"

---

"Apprecio el entusiasmo, chica… pero te lo digo por una razón. Ahora vete."

"I appreciate the enthusiasm, kid... but I'm telling you this for a reason. Now go."

---

"… si estás segura."

"If you're sure."

---

"… Dios mio… qué día."

"... God... what a day..."

---

Translation work as always is done by the wonderful maho_kat on Archive of Our Own! Please be sure to thank her for all her hard work, everyone!

35,615 words.

111 pages.

Four chapters.

About four separate times I underestimated just how much time and how many words given scenes were going to take.

All just for the first episode of the Owl House.

Hoo boy.

It was fun though. I don't regret it for an instant.

I just hope you all had as much fun reading it as I had writing it.

From here on? This is where canon starts going out the window.

Oh, and before I forget! Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance now has its own TV Tropes page! You can find it here!

https://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Fanfic/OwlsAndSoulsWitchesAndResonance

Please be sure to thank The Literary Lord on Fanfiction.net and Donquill on TV Tropes for the page!

Please be sure to leave your thoughts below! I hope you all enjoyed the thirteenth chapter of Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance!

Chapter 14: The New Students

Notes:

I do not own Owl House or Soul Eater.

If I did, I'd really be struggling to choose between the cartoony or anime aesthetics for the resulting show.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

She ran.

Through an increasingly thick forest, she sprinted as hard as she could through the sun’s dying orange light, the world around her slowly fading into dark.

The whole world was chasing her. Everything and everyone wanted her dead. She didn’t know why – she hadn’t done anything wrong, but even so, the shadows were nipping at her heels, howls and dark chuckles emanating from seemingly just behind her head.

Her throat was raw. Her heartbeat pounded through her, making her skull feel like a far too tight helmet that was squeezing down on her brain. But these sensations were distant as she clumsily stumbled through the underbrush, trying to get away.

Then she stumbled, tripped, fell to the ground-

“No!” she shouted, trying to pull herself forwards as the shadows closed in, teeth and claws gleaming in the dark.

… but upon the sound of distant thunder, they stopped.

The sound was carried on a wind strong enough to send her tumbling forwards across the ground, carrying her yet further away from the creatures; their silhouettes stared at the sky as she scrambled away, back to a tree.

Again, the thunder rolled across the sky, the wind buffeting her, and the silhouettes promptly scattered, howls and laughter now replaced with panicked yips and shrieks.

She raised her eyes to the sky in turn; when the thunder rolled this time, the wind blasted away the trees, exposing the sky in full as the dark shape circled overhead, peering down with eyes of brilliant gold.

When they locked upon her, her fear melted away, replaced with a strange, but profound sense of relief.

“… it’s just you,” she murmured, smiling.

The shape descended, each monumentous wingbeat bringing about another round of thunder. She found herself wrapped in its mighty talons before being lifted. Her stomach dropped as she lurched with a sudden weightlessness, letting herself be carried up, and into the sky as the sun fully slipped beyond the horizon, and the world went dark.


Luz shot awake, bolting upright with a gasping for breath. A cold sweat had broken across her, leaving her with a frigid chill as a breeze blew through the room.

She shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself as she took in her surroundings; there was a nagging familiarity about the room, but she couldn’t quite place where she’d seen it all. The chests, the paintings stacked against the cracked walls, the light that shone through the stained glass window… even the Christmas lights that ran along the support beams and the giant rusted fishhooks that hung from the ceiling she didn’t immediately recognize, but the teen could have sworn…

… then her eyes landed on the black mass of fur and bone that had curled itself at her feet.

It all snapped back into place.

The Owl. Her book.

The old house in the woods. The door.

The Owl House.

The Owl Lady.

The Witch.

“… it wasn’t a dream!” she threw her arms up in pure ecstasy, kicking out of her sleeping bag, nearly tripping over the lip of the fabric as she stumbled over to the window, which hung slightly open on its hinges.

She thrust it open, staring out into the sea, maintaining her broad grin even as the faint scent of salt and rot smacked her full in the face, “Good morning, terrifying fantasy world!”

“GOOD MORNING,” a horrifying green blob shouted back, waving a tentacle at her before slipping back beneath the waves.

Luz blinked, slowly taking a step back from the window, though her elation remained undeterred; she stopped by her sleeping back, snatching King up into her arms in a single fluid motion, waking him.

“Good morning, my little cutie pie!” she teased.

I AM NOT YOUR CUTIE PIE!” he roared, pushing back against her face even as she began planting kisses on his skull.

“Oh, yes, you are,” she chuckled, finally setting him back down on the sleeping bag before stepping out of the room.

“… ugh…” he slumped, chin on the fabric as his eyes fell closed, utterly resigned to his fate, “I know…”

She rushed out into the hall, skidding in her socks and nearly crashing into the wall before finally making it into the bathroom-

“HI LUZ!”

The girl let out a scream, lashing out wildly with her fist; a sharp pain ran through her knuckles as they struck wood, Hooty’s round face flinching back from the impact.

“OW!” his head retreated, pulling back to the window on the end of a long, flexing wooden tube, glaring down, “I was just wishing you a good morning!”

He pulled out, and Luz moved over to the window, watching as he slowly retracted all the way back to the door, “Geez. Hoot! Ow!”

“Sorry, Hooty!” Luz called, then glanced at the mirror; she padded over, staring herself in the eyes and taking a breath. She leaned forwards on the countertop, her lips once again tugging themselves up and out.

“… this is it, old girl,” she giggled, “Your first day on the Boiling Isles… as a Witch Apprentice!”

She darted out and down the stairs, making for the nearest closet, eyes covered as she opened the door, “Please have witchy clothes, please have witchy clothes…!”

When she finally uncovered her eyes, the entire inside of the closet was lined with pointed hats and dark robes; she let out a delighted woop, slipping inside and immediately grabbing the first set that looked like it would fit her. Right as she was writing her name out on an unused name tag, she heard the sound of shuffling footsteps from above, the floorboards creaking as a heavy door swung open.

The teen made her way to the bottom of the stairs, eagerly staring up into the dark shadows, the innumerable framed photos and paintings seeming to stare down at her as the shuffling grew closer.

When Eda finally rounded the corner, it was with a long, almost painful sounding yawn; her back was slightly hunched and her eyes were half lidded as she started down the steps, clad in a purple sweatshirt and stained blue skirt, worn bunny slippers with bent ears on her feet, the golden gem still embedded firmly in the center of her chest. It was only when she nearly bumped into Luz that she finally seemed to notice the girl, letting out a confused grunt, blinking.

“Good morning, Eda the Owl Lady!” Luz greeted, raising a fist, “I am ready for my first day of Witch Apprenticeship!”

Again, Eda blinked, then shook her head, brushing spiders out of her hair, staring at one that got caught on her finger before flicking it away. Confused annoyance laced her voice as she spoke, the words striking daggers into Luz’s heart:

“Who are you again?”


The door to the Death Room swung shut with a heavy click as Spirit made his way down through the guillotine gates, wincing slightly as the harsh light reflected off the white sands, the circling clouds, and illuminated the vibrant blue sky above to the point where he could barely keep his eyes open.

“Damn, that’s bright,” he resisted the urge to raise a hand to block out the light, “Two weeks away and I’m not accustomed to bright light anymore…”

The familiar jagged shadow came into view atop the dais, head slightly tilted to the side as he stared into his mirror.

As the Death Scythe strode through the final gate, however, he turned.

“Ah, Spirit!” the Reaper called cheerfully, “I’m glad to see you’re back!”

“Glad to be back, Lord Death,” he stepped up to the top of the dais, walking over with his hands stuffed in his pockets, “Things go well while I’ve been gone?”

“About as well as they can,” there was an approximation of a shrug of Lord Death’s ‘shoulders,’ “It is admittedly a little nerve-wracking, running the school without my trusty Death Scythe on hand, but I’d like to think I managed.”

The Weapon let out a wry chuckle as he finally came to stand beside the inky mass of shadow, “You make me sound more important than I actually am. It’s not like I do much by way of administration or even leave the Death Room.”

“Give yourself a little more credit, Spirit,” the Reaper chided, returning his attention to the mirror, “You know being a Death Scythe is more than just staying in here with me at all hours of the day. You’re an authority. I wouldn’t have made you my personal Weapon if all you had to offer was combat prowess.”

“So it doesn’t have anything to do with the fact that I’m the only actual Scythe among the Death Scythes?” Spirit smirked.

“Oho!” Death bounced back, a smile of his own evident in his tone, “I see your vacation has encouraged your sarcasm!”

“Heh… sorry,” the Scythe rubbed the back of his head, “There’s a lot of back and forth between me, Luz and Camila while I’m there.”

“I can tell, though at least it seems to be good natured. As long as it remains that way, you have nothing to apologize for,” again, a tilt of the head, turning that mask on an odd angle, “Speaking of, how are they? Are they doing well?”

“Well, Camila still doesn’t like you, so that hasn’t changed,” Spirit sighed.

“I expected as much,” a gentle bob from the Reaper, “Though I suppose I can’t fault her for that, considering what she’s been through.”

“Me either,” the Death Scythe confessed, “She’s always been an empathetic, strongly opinionated woman.”

“And Luz? As cheerful as ever?”

“Absolutely,” Spirit placed his hands on his hips, letting out a sniff of pride, “She’s still every bit as spirited and energetic. Plus her schoolwork has improved by leaps and bounds since I started tutoring her. I can’t be there all the time, so I can only hope it’ll last, but she’s proof that any kid only needs the proper supports to reach their full potential.”

“Splendid!” Death clapped his large, brick-like hands, “It’s always a pleasure to hear she’s doing well. I hope for the chance to meet her someday.”

“Someday, hopefully,” the Scythe agreed, even as his expression fell slightly, “… though for now, we’ll just have to make do.”

“… you want to be there for her, don’t you?”

It wasn’t so much a question as it was a probing statement.

For a long moment, Spirit didn’t answer. He simply stood in place, smile slowly fading as his eyes fell, staring at his own shoes with a sudden listlessness, “… yeah.”

“… from what you’ve told me, Spirit, Luz is a resilient girl,” a heavy, assuring hand came to rest on the suit-clad man’s shoulder, “I’m sure she will be able to handle herself. If you keep in contact with her, I don’t think there should be any problems, and if there are, you know I wouldn’t keep you away from her.”

“… I know. I just wish I could be there for her more often is all,” Spirit sighed.

A firm clap on the back from the Reaper, “It will work itself out in the end. Just be patient; you’ll see.”

“… you’re right. I just gotta work my way forwards,” the Death Scythe took a glance at the mirror, approaching it. After a moment, he smirked, “But it seems I’m not the only worrywart parent here.”

“Hm?” a quizzical tilt of the mask again, “Whatever could you mean?”

The Weapon pointed into the mirror’s surface, “That’s Kid’s manor, isn’t it?”

A moment of silence passed between them before Death let out a sheepish chuckle, “It is, yes…”

Someone’s worried about his son’s big day~” the amusement in the redhead’s singsong voice would have been more than a little hard to miss.

“Oh, quiet, you,” a gentle chop landed on the back of Spirit’s head, “Like you wouldn’t be the same if it were Luz.”

“Hey, no judgement! I was the same way with Maka!” the Death Scythe raised his hands in surrender, brilliant cyan eyes sparkling with his grin. Then he paused, frowning at the mirror, “Though it looks like they’re a little late. They’ve only got…” he dug into his pocket, checking his phone, “… ah, geez, five minutes before class starts. I told them yesterday not to be late.”

“Well, you know Kid,” Death began defensively, “He’s always been one to take things at his own pace. And you know how he gets if he leaves home without making absolutely sure everything is in its proper place. And as for Liz and Patty... well, they aren’t from a background where academics are particularly valued, so…”

“True, but that doesn’t mean they can afford to not be punctual,” Spirit pocketed his phone again, “With all due respect, Lord Death, they’re all students now. While I agree they should get all the help and support they need to succeed with their quirks and handicaps, that doesn’t mean they just get to flaunt the rules. Support for special needs does not translate to blatant favouritism.”

“… I suppose you’re right,” the Reaper sighed in defeat, “And as a Reaper, even a young one, Kid really should be setting a better example for his peers. I will speak with him later.”

“Why not speak with him now?” the redhead raised an eyebrow.

“Because there’s something else we need to discuss.”

Spirit’s ear twitched as the Death Room door swung open, and then shut again, the sound reverberating through the room with a loud echo. Soon after, footsteps began to sound, a tall, lanky figure making his way through the guillotine gates.

It was only when he passed through the final gate that the Death Scythe finally recognized him.

He’d gained a few more stitches, he’d never worn glasses before, and the bolt through his skull was new, but there was no mistaking the grey-haired, pale figure before him.

Spirit felt his whole body tense and his face go pale as Franken Stein gave a lazy smile, waving a hand, “Hey, Spirit. Been a while, hasn’t it?”


Maka’s only response to the muffled, but unmistakeable sound of her father’s scream was to look upwards, eyes half lidded with annoyance. It lasted for a solid twenty seconds before finally fading away, leaving the students around her in a stupefied (and Maka herself in an annoyed) silence.

“… what do you think the idiot’s doing this time?” Soul asked, leaning back against the DWMA’s front door.

“Does it matter?” the Meister huffed, dismissive, pulling open the door, “We gotta get to class. We’re already late for being early.”

“I guess…” Soul pushed himself up, stretching, “… hey, have you heard the rumours going around? The ones about this new kid?”

“Not really. I’ve had enough of rumours since learning that the ones about Sid were true,” the girl stepped through the threshold, Weapon in tow.

“Well, they’re saying a lot of things about this guy,” the white haired boy mused, falling into step beside his Meister.

“And you’ve been listening?”

“Hey, weren’t you the one that just said that the rumours around Sid turned out to be true?” Soul’s grin stretched out like a lazy Cheshire cat’s, baring his teeth in a teasing display.

“That one was planted deliberately by the faculty, Soul, that’s different,” Maka wrinkled her nose in disdain, “I’m not gonna put stock in a rumour mill comprised of middle-schoolers. Especially not ones like Black Star.”

“Normally, I wouldn’t either,” the Weapon concurred, “But there’s a couple of common threads among the gossip. Remember the Giza incident a couple weeks back?”

At this, Maka actually blinked, glancing at her partner, “The one we weren’t allowed to take because of the rank restriction?”

“That’s the one. Supposedly, this kid dealt with that whole mission more or less by himself.”

“… I find that extremely hard to believe,” the grey haired girl snorted, “That was a job designated for multiple Two Star Weapon and Meister pairs, primarily because of the sheer number of Kishin Egg Souls involved. How could one kid manage to handle a mission like that?”

“Keeping in mind, Maka, Two Star pairs aren’t necessarily all that much stronger than us,” Soul noted, “The main difference between One Star and Two Star pairs isn’t necessarily strength, skill and experience, like it is with Three Stars. Two Star Meisters and Weapons are ones that are accustomed to using Soul Resonance, and working together in groups to deal with bigger threats, right?”

“… someone’s been paying attention,” Maka’s eyes narrowed, tone suspicious.

“Not really,” the Weapon grimaced, “Just got tired of being told ‘no, you can’t go on these missions, and this is why.’”

“Which means you’ve been paying attention,” a note of satisfaction worked its way into her voice, a smug smirk slipping across her lips.

Anyways,” Soul continued, “The mission description noted it was a Two Star mission because of a high number of targets; replicating zombies, or something like that.”

“Close enough,” Maka brought a hand to her chin, frowning, “Animated corpses, at any rate. Not all that dangerous individually, but their ability to turn living humans into more of their own makes it really easy for them to spread, especially if they were to get into a densely populated area.”

“So, say this kid had a long range Weapon with a high rate of fire and some half decent aim,” he shrugged, “I’d believe he could handle a mission like that.”

“Maybe, if he had a firearm for a Weapon partner,” she conceded, “But aren’t those rare?”

“Rare, but not flat out nonexistent-”

The bell rang; Maka let out a curse, redoubling her pace, “We’re officially late. Come on.”

Soul followed suit, hands still in his pockets, “… Black Star and I were gonna try and find this guy during our break. You wanna come with?”

“… we’ll see,” she sighed, “Might not be a terrible idea. Especially if the kid is new.”

“Alright then.”

The two made their way to class without another word.


Eda felt less like she was walking across creaky floorboards and more like she was swimming through a haze. Her grogginess made the bright morning sunlight sting her eyes even more than it usually did, forcing the Witch to squeeze her eyes shut as she slowly shuffled into the kitchen, and the concerned, rapid fire speech of the girl trailing behind her was only making it worse.

“Remember me?” the child began, “Luz?”

Eda reached out, beckoning with a finger; she heard her favourite “30 & Flirty” mug rise into the air from somewhere behind her, and promptly clonk the girl in the back of the head. Were the Owl Lady less exhausted, she might have felt a pang of guilt, but right now she was too tired to feel anything more than a distinctly grumpy annoyance.

Instead, she reached out, pulling open the fridge as King cheerily munched on whatever snacks he had dug out of the cupboards in his high chair. She dug around, finally opening her eyes to keep herself from knocking anything over with her blind groping, seeking out her delicious crimson prize; when she finally found it, she tore it open with her teeth, pouring its contents into her mug without so much as a second thought.

“We freed the oppressed and defeated the evil Warden together?” Luz asked, starting to sound desperate, “Yesterday?

“Kid, lay off the details,” Eda finally turned, struggling to keep the growl out of her voice, “I haven’t even had my cup of apple blood yet.”

She raised her mug in emphasis, a drop of bright red falling to the floor.

Luz stared at the drop for a moment before raising her eyes to meet the Owl Lady’s, hesitant, “… you mean… apple juice?

“No.”

The woman settled back against the table, once again closing her eyes; the delightfully strong mix of sugar and iron washed over her tongue as she sipped at her mug, the heavy metallic tang complimented perfectly by the sweetness. Already, she was beginning to relax, clarity returning to her as a contented sigh escaped her lips.

She opened her eyes; the girl stood before her, somewhat gangly for her age, skin tanned, brown hair cut short, chocolate eyes wide open with obvious concern, obviously frightened at having been forgotten.

Eda lowered the mug, a slight smile tugging itself across her lips. She didn’t know how the kid had managed to sweet talk her way into staying, but at least for the moment, the Witch was willing to put her at ease.

“… relax, Luz,” she chuckled, raising the mug again, “I haven’t forgotten. I just didn’t sleep that well. Needed a little pick-me-up to get myself going.”

As soon as the name escaped Eda’s lips, the Latina’s eyes immediately lit up, excited joy shooting through her body and making her bounce in place. She was a restless ball of energy, waiting for the first opportunity to explode into action.

“So what’s first!?” she half asked, half demanded, zipping to the table and leaning forwards on it, fingers locked onto the wood in a death grip, knocking over King’s pile of sugary treats, much to his dismay. But Luz was too invested in the Witch to notice, “Learning some spells!? Making a staff!? Runes!?” she gasped, “A dangerous magical quest!?”

“Slow down, kid. Becoming a Witch isn’t something that happens overnight,” Eda looked Luz up and down, not bothering to hold back her snicker, “Also, you’re wrapped in a bathrobe, and wearing the dirtiest traffic cone I’ve ever seen.”

The girl blinked, removing the filthy triangle from her head and blowing on it; a cloud of oily dust fell to the floor as the orange plastic revealed itself, Luz felt her face flush with sudden, flustered embarrassment, King pointing at her with a laugh.

The Witch finished off the last of her apple blood, setting her mug down and licking her lips to get the last of the tangy-sweet beverage, letting her smile soften, “But a Witch’s staff, huh?... you really want one?”

More than anything,” the Latina breathed, hands pressed to her cheeks as her fluster was flooded away in another rush of joyous enthusiasm.

Eda only took a moment to wipe away the red mark across her top lip before extending a hand, voice grandiose, “Magic staff, come to me!”

The staff did not immediately come to hand as expected.

Instead, the distant sounds of pottery being smashed and furniture being overturned echoed from down the hall. Before long, the sound of breaking glass rang out as well, making the woman tilt her head with a half-lidded glare.

When it finally rounded the corner, Owlbert’s carving cracked into the pale woman’s forehead like a hammer, nearly knocking her down and into the table with a yelp before catching herself, the staff itself falling to the floor. She reached down, snatching the carved wood up and spinning it between her fingers with a tired groan, attempting to save some measure of face with the human.

“It’s early,” she grunted, but Luz made no comment, instead dutifully paying attention.

“… now,” Eda began, gesturing to the ornate owl atop her staff, “The Witches of the Boiling Isles typically gain their staffs in one of two ways. Most are awarded their staffs when they graduate from school, but a rare few make their own staffs once they’re ready,” she pointed to the girl, “With me as your teacher, ideally, you will make your own staff when the time is right.

“But until then, you’re going to have to work for it.”

Eda snapped her fingers, and from all around the kitchen, bottles, jars and vials of all shapes and sizes lifted into the air and descended into a heavy burlap sack. Each was filled nearly to the brim with different pastes, liquids and solutions, their colours a veritable rainbow as they jumbled themselves into the bag, each clinking the discordant harmonies of glass and crystal.

Luz knelt, lifting out the first bottle she could reach, squinting as she read the label, “Snake oil?”

Nobody wants an unoiled snake,” the Witch grinned, “And it’s not the only thing you’re going to be delivering today.”

“Delivery?” Luz perked up, eyes shining, “Like the Ghibli movie?”

“I’m gonna pretend I know what that is and say sure,” she gestured for the girl to follow, and set off, making her way up the stairs. A flare of satisfaction lit in her stomach as she heard the bottles click together in the bag, and Luz’s footsteps following closely behind her.

“So, what exactly is it that you do?” the teen asked, “Weren’t you running a flea market stand yesterday?”

“I was, but it’s not my main source of income,” Eda shrugged, “It’s more of a side gig, really. Selling rare human ‘treasures’ that Owlbert drags over from your world.”

She cheerfully patted the carving before returning her attention to Luz, indicating a toy sword on the mantelpiece as they passed through the foyer, “But parting fools from their money isn’t exactly the most reliable business. Some days, you get suckers who will buy half the things on the shelf for an exorbitant price. Other days, nobody bites.”

“I didn’t think you’d need much for money,” the Latina confessed, glancing about, “I thought you’d have everything you need right here, or that you could make anything you don’t have.”

“Not untrue,” Eda nodded, “But I still need to put food on the table, and it never hurts to have a little extra cash on hand. Which is where my second business comes into play; the finest homebrewed elixirs, potions and other miscellaneous solutions, pastes and powders.”

“Ooooh, you’re a potioneer!”

“And a damn good one,” she preened, pushing a few stray hairs up out of her eyes, “All the potions that are in that bag you’re carrying are of the highest quality – much more potent than any of the junk you’ll find on the market.”

“… wait, aren’t you a wanted criminal?” Luz’s inquisitive frown was audible in her tone, “Is this legal?”

“Not strictly, no,” Eda admitted, “But that’s only because the Potioneer’s Coven and its various guilds want to keep their stranglehold on the market. They charge ridiculous prices for things people actually need when their products are only sub-par, and before you say anything,” she found her brow creasing into a glare as she glanced back at the girl, “it’s one thing to trick someone with cash to spare into buying an overly expensive fidget toy or a wind chime made of beer bottles and twine. It’s another thing entirely to practically extort people for medicine that doesn’t even work properly.”

Much to the Owl Lady’s surprise, however, Luz met her glare with a grim look of her own, nodding in agreement, “I’m with you there. My mom’s a doctor; she’s never liked how people have turned healthcare into a business.

At this, Eda stopped, turning to face Luz; her incredulousness must have shown, because the Latina stopped as well, her expression suddenly uncertain, as if now wondering if she had said the wrong thing.

… after a moment, the Witch let out a chuckle, turning back to the hall. She hadn’t been expecting Luz to say something like that… but an odd sort of reassurance had come to rest in her chest, now, as if she were relieved that the kid agreed with her.

“Good on ya, kid,” she intoned, resuming her stride, and after a moment Luz was on her heels again.

“So, you sell better medicine at a more fair price?” the teen queried.

“Not just medicine. Potions of all sorts,” Eda clarified, as they ascended the steps, “But yes, that’s my business, and one among many reasons that I’m wanted.”

“You must be good if people keep coming to you even though it’s illegal.”

“Stroke my ego as much as you want, Luz, it’s not going to make your job any easier.”

They emerged out onto a stone balcony, one of the smaller broken towers that the house had been built into.

“You said I’m gonna be making deliveries today?” the girl let her head sway back and forth, grinning widely as she took in the horizon.

“To my clientele, yes,” the Witch padded out to the crenelations, pointing out to the distant town with her staff. It was only barely visible from around the cliffs, “Today, you’re going to be delivering packages and selling potions in that town over there. Bonesborough.”

“… Bonesborough,” Luz repeated, stepping up to the wall and staring, her brown eyes flicking back and forth across the rooftops with a cautious awe; though her introduction to the town had been less than amicable, Eda could see the wonder in Luz’s eyes and expression, even subdued by the menace put off by the town.

“I’ll give you a map, and a list of addresses, names, and what they owe me,” Eda assured, “But you will have to be careful.”

“Because I’m a human in a place where I don’t belong?” the girl ventured, looking back up at the grey haired Witch.

“Among other reasons; I’m not the only one selling potions illegally. Even if you don’t take the Potions Coven and the guilds into account, I’ve got rivals who want to bring me down, and they won’t hesitate to use you to do it,” she let the staff rest against her shoulder, crossing her arms with a smile, “You wanted a dangerous magical quest? Sister, you’ve got one.”

“I won’t let you down, Miss Eda!” Luz turned, saluting her... and her grip on the sack over her shoulder slipping. It fell over the edge of the balcony, the Latina turning with wide, horrified eyes, staring as it fell to the ground below.

Eda leaned forwards, eyes half lidded as she caught a glimpse of the bag an instant before it hit the rocks. There was a loud series of cracks and clinks upon impact, several bottles rolling out of the bag and across the ground. Nothing appeared to be broken – magical bottles were harder to break than normal glass – but even so, it generally wasn’t a good idea to be so careless with a sack full of potentially dangerous solutions and solvents.

“I’m sure,” she intoned, tone dry as the girl gave her a nervous smile.

She led Luz back down through the foyer, handing her a map of the town and the list she’d been keeping before ushering the girl out the door, “Remember to never trust a man in sandals, and to always measure twice, cut once.”

“Uuuuuuh…” the teen stalled, staring blankly.

“Best of luck!”

With that, she snapped her fingers, and the door slammed shut.

Eda dusted off her hands before glancing at King, who had curled up in the sunlight under the window, “… I hate to interrupt your power nap, but you have to go with her.”

“WHAT!?” his gold-purple eyes shot open as he scrambled to his feet, glaring up at her with vicious malice. He jabbed a claw down at the sun-soaked wood under his paws, “But I just found the perfect spot! Why do I have to go!?”

“You and I know she’s either gonna get lost or eaten,” the Witch shot back coolly, “Probably both.

“No I won’t!” Luz’s voice echoed as she pressed her face into the glass, making Eda jump; the Witch gestured with a hand, and the curtains fell, blocking the window.

“… and because you work for me, too,” the woman finished, eyes narrowing, “Unless you want to start paying rent.”

The little Demon thrashed in place, stomping his feet with a furious, whining snarl, but Eda knew he knew better than to throw a tantrum. He hopped down with a grumble, padding towards the door.

“That’s what I thought,” she chuckled as the door opened. The Witch stuck her head out, lips parted in a grin as she met Luz’s eyes once more, “Be back by nightfall, or risk mortal peril!”

With that, Eda slammed the door shut once more, padding back towards the stairs.


“We are so late.”

Liz’s voice was a groan that echoed through the relative silence of the room, the only other sound being that of the tape-measure as the stripe-haired boy painstakingly stretched it from one corner of the room to the center of the pure white wall.

The edges of the painting were precisely eighty centimeters away from the wall, just as it should be; but the only way to make absolutely sure was to do the same on the other side.

Kid stepped into the corner, unhooking the tip of the tape measure from the hidden vertical notch he had installed for the exact purpose of this measurement. He strode to the other side, hooked the tape measure into the other, perfectly symmetrical hidden notch, and stretched it out again, checking to make sure the painting was hanging just as it should be.

“Kiiiiid, c’mon!” Patty whined, clicking her boot against the tile floor impatiently, “Spirit said classes start early!”

“Just a moment, Patty,” he intoned, lining up the measurement, “I’m almost finished.”

“You’ve been at this since five in the morning,” Liz huffed, “You know no one touches your stuff, Kid. It’s already hanging perfectly.”

“You’re forgetting that I have this place cleaned on a very regular basis, Liz. These picture frames, the bookshelves, the floors, none of them clean themselves. I must make absolutely sure everything is in its proper place,” he smiled with satisfaction; once again, a perfect eighty centimeters away from the wall.

“I thought you cleaned all of it because you can’t stand the thought of someone doing it wrong,” the elder Thompson sister squinted.

“I do,” the tape measure shot back into its casing with a whir and a heavy click, the young Reaper cheerfully depositing it into its drawer.

“Then aren’t you the one who puts everything back every time?” Patty asked.

“I am, but one can never be too careful when it comes to symmetry, Patty,” he patted off his pale fingers, “At any rate, I am now finished. The floors are spotless, the table is properly set for dinner tonight, the paintings are in place, and the toilet paper is neatly folded into triangles in the bathroom. I do believe it’s time to go, girls.”

“Finally!” Patty whooped, “Time to check out the campus!”

“We’re definitely gonna end up in detention or something,” Liz sighed, “Not how I wanted my first day to go…”

“I’m sure it won’t be that big of a deal, Liz,” Kid slipped his suit jacket back on over his shirt, “We already know all of the basics. It should be relatively easy for us to bring ourselves up to speed.”

“Not what I’m worried about, but sure, whatever,” the dirty blonde crossed her arms as their footsteps echoed collectively across the tile.

“You think we’ll meet those kids from the test?” Patty strode backwards, eyes darting back and forth between her sister and Meister, “Soul and Maka, Tsubaki and Black Star?”

“I think it’s more than likely,” Kid nodded, “I hope to make a good impression on them. They’re inexperienced, but they seem like strong Weapons and Meisters regardless.

You’re still inexperienced, Kid,” a wry smirk slipped across Liz’s face as she checked her reflection in a pocket mirror before glancing down at him, “Though I guess it’ll be good to expand your social circle a bit. I’m surprised you’re not going crazy spending all your time in here.”

“I don’t see why I would,” he glanced up out of the corner of his eye, “You both make for wonderful company, Liz.”

Smooooooth,” Patty giggled, eyes half lidded at the Reaper.

The Meister glared, golden eyes flashing and his lips curling down slightly, “That’s not what I meant and you know it, Patty.”

“Alright, alright, knock it off,” Liz snapped her pocket mirror shut, slipping it into her pocket, stopping in front of the large double doors that led outside, “Let’s just get out there before we make ourselves any later.”

“Yes. Let’s,” Kid threaded his fingers, stretching his hands until his fingers cracked before reaching for the brass knobs, and turning them, letting brilliant sunlight stream into the manor as they stepped out into Death City proper.

Notes:

Man, this story really is turning into a slow burn.

Oh well. Slow burn can sometimes be best burn.

Next time, Kid meets the kids, Spirit and Stein talk, and Luz learns things aren't gonna be as easy as she hopes.

Sorry I don't have as much to say this time around.

Please be sure to leave your thoughts below! I hope you all enjoyed the fourteenth chapter of Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance!

Chapter 15: Meetings and Reunion

Notes:

I do not own Soul Eater or Owl house. If I did... nah, I'd still be hyped for season 2.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The intense heat of Death City was something the young Reaper always found to be pleasant. Despite the near constant complaints of his companions, and the black, starched suit that was firmly in place, he never found the desert’s sear to be stifling; just the opposite, rather.

To him, the heat was invigorating, something that urged him to put a spring in his step. He didn’t know if it was because he was a Reaper, and thus did not feel the same sort of discomforts that a human being might, or if he just enjoyed the high temperatures, but in the end, it did not matter. The fact of the matter was, he loved the arid air as much as he loved the perfectly clear blue skies and the perfectly symmetrical silhouette of the academy above them.

He did not, of course, allow that spring to manifest. That would be unbecoming of a Reaper.

He did, however, smile as they made their way up the steps.

“Finally,” Liz groaned, “We’ve gotta find a shorter route to get up here…”

“It wasn’t so bad, sis!” Patty was perched on the railing, arms stretched out as she carefully put one foot in front of the other, perfectly managing her balance even as she ascended the steep incline.

“We took a really meandering pace taking the so-called ‘scenic route,’” Liz snapped, voice rife with irritation, “Couldn’t we have just taken your skateboard, Kid?”

“Come now, Liz,” he kept his eyes fixed firmly ahead, “You don’t expect me to pass up an opportunity to examine a perfectly sculpted mural, do you?”

“Considering it took us away from the campus? Yes,” she tugged at her jeans, “We’ve been walking in the sun for way too long and now I’m all sweaty. At this rate, I’m gonna get sunburn.”

“I did tell you both to invest in sunscreen,” Kid reminded her.

“And I didn’t think we’d be out here for an hour!” Liz exclaimed, throwing her arms up in exasperation, “I thought we’d be sitting in an air conditioned room by now, not still climbing up these stupid stairs! Didn’t your creepy dad at least put in a ramp!?”

“He did,” the boy nodded, taking the comment on his father in stride; Liz tended to get snide when she was upset, “The stairs are automated to flatten out into a ramp in case of delivery trucks, or to accommodate those who are wheelchair-bound or similarly impaired.”

“Then why aren’t they showing up now!?”

“Simple,” he couldn’t quite restrain the smirk, “You don’t need them.”

A choke, then a hissing breath of frustration from the elder Thompson gripped the edges of her hat and yanked down, doing her best to hide under its shadow.

“… I’m sorry, Liz,” he finally began, turning to face her, “From now on, I’ll make an effort to have our trips to and fro more expedient. It was not my intention to make you physically uncomfortable.”

She raised the brim of the Stetson slightly, glaring briefly before sighing, “… alright.”

“Look,” he gestured as the academy’s silhouette filled the skyline, “We’re almost at the top. We can take a few minutes to sit down once we’re out of the sun.”

“… we gotta look at a map anyways, figure out where we’re going,” Liz conceded.

“Think we should just skip the whole day?” Patty asked, hopping down from the railing, “Just walk around, explore?”

“And get into more trouble than we already are?” Liz crossed her arms, though she visibly relaxed as the trio finally entered the shadow, the sun disappearing from view, “I’d rather not.”

“Liz makes a good point, Patty… though I do think we should at least figure out the rough location of the Death Room first and foremost,” Kid agreed, “It always pays to know in case of an emergency.”

“Can’t you just call your old man at any time?” Patty cocked an eyebrow.

“Yes, but that’s more of a private phone call. Knowing where he is physically is a different matter entirely.”

They finally came to a stop at the top step; he blinked at the gathering of figures that had positioned themselves around the entrance, an air of tension surrounding them all.

Two boys, each as different as could be; the one with white hair lay back against the wall with a casual ease, his attire absolutely atrocious in both its colour scheme and its lack of symmetry. Kid already had to bite down on his urge to stride over, hoist him to his feet by his lapels, and put everything into place, hands itching to unstitch everything and then sew it back together if need be.

The other was perched atop the great red spike above, grinning broadly as if under the impression that he was cleverly hidden, the only asymmetrical thing about him beyond his utter nightmare of a haircut being the star shaped tattoo on his shoulder – though the significance of the mark actually made the Reaper think twice. Perhaps it would be better if that mark were removed, rather than copied to the other side.

The pair of girls, however, were a bit more subdued; the taller of the two had long black hair, the asymmetry of her outfit only barely noticeable behind the gentle aura she put off, hands folded behind her back as she spoke gently to the other. Granted, Kid noted that given the style of the outfit, there was likely precious little that could be done about the asymmetry – such robes didn’t typically lend themselves well to it, with one side needing to be folded over the other, and again… there was that star to consider.

The other, smaller girl was the one that caught his attention, nose buried in her book as she offered half-hearted responses to the her taller companion, eyes of green sweeping back and forth across the pages of her book – unlike the others, she was almost perfect in her symmetry, one of her grey pigtails only slightly further back than the other, slightly enough that she probably hadn’t even noticed.

… I wonder if her father has told her about me,’ the thought rang through his mind, unbidden, but not unwelcome as he once again looked each of them over.

“… well, well. Look who finally bothered to show,” slowly, the first of the boys pushed himself up, baring his teeth in a wide, but not particularly friendly smile, “And here I was starting to think you weren’t gonna come at all.”

“… sounds like he’s pickin’ a fight,” Patty whispered from behind him, a note of dark glee in her voice.

“Patty, settle down,” Liz warned, stern, “This isn’t the Bronx. Don’t be the first one to swing.”

“Fine, fine,” the younger Thompson grumbled, “Spoilsport…”

“Apologies,” the Reaper began, stepping forwards with his best smile, “I suppose you could say we got distracted on the way here. I would assume you are Soul Eater?”

The boy seemed genuinely taken aback, smile slipping and eyes opening wide as he straightened, however briefly, out of his slouch; for the first time, the girls were taking notice as well, breaking from their conversation to look at Kid and his Weapons, fixing on him with an equal measure of curiosity and wariness.

“… yeah, that’s me,” Soul nodded, “How’d you guess?”

“I didn’t guess; I already know all your names,” he pointed to the figure above, “Black Star-”

There was a loud, startled curse as the shinobi slipped, and fell from the spike, landing on his feet with a mighty crash.

Kid continued as if he’d never been interrupted, pointing to the girls, “-Tsubaki Nakatsukasa, and Maka Albarn.”

All of them were openly staring, bewildered now, save the irate ninja, who simply bared his teeth with a grin, “So, you saw through my hiding place, huh!?”

“Not hard to do that when you stick out like a sore thumb,” Liz said, deadpan, “Not that I’d say you were ‘hiding.’”

“Yeah, big sis is right,” Patty quipped, “That was less ‘hiding’ and more ‘standing out in the open with a big flashing neon sign that says ‘Somebody please snipe my big stupid head right off my shoulders.’’”

A moment of silence passed, everyone’s gazes now having shifted to Patty; she glanced about, as if she genuinely didn’t understand what she had done to garner such looks of fascinated horror and disgust. Even Black Star was gaping, working his jaw as he struggled to decide whether he was insulted or simply baffled.

“… what?” the bright blonde raised her hands, “It’s what I’d do to someone who put themselves in the open like that.”

The black clad boy closed his eyes, pinching his nose with a long, slow sigh.

“Congratulations, Patty,” the elder Thompson’s words were laced with exasperated frustration, “You’ve successfully established your reputation as school crazy in fifteen seconds. New record.”

“I was trying to help!” Patty pouted.

“… please don’t mind Liz and Patty,” he sighed, “We’re all just a bit excited for our first day, is all. Speaking of,” he cracked open an eye, letting his hand fall to his chin, “I don’t suppose you’re here to show us around?”

“… heh. If you wanted a tour, you should’ve been here at seven like everyone else,” Soul cracked his neck.

“Soul, don’t be a jerk,” Maka huffed, stepping forwards to gently cuff him in the back of the head, more scolding than truly angry. Her narrowed eyes quickly fixed on the Reaper, however, “Seriously, though, how do you know our names?”

“We were watching your test,” Liz shifted her weight, “You know, the one against Sid?”

“… and how do you know about that?” Tsubaki inquired, finally speaking up herself.

“Let’s just say being the Weapons of a Reaper has its perks,” Patty smacked the back of Kid’s head in a gesture that was probably supposed to be affectionate, but felt more like getting slapped.

“A Reaper?” the Magic Dark Arm blinked.

“… ah, yes,” Kid nodded, “I’ve just realized that we haven’t introduced ourselves yet.”

He bowed with a flourish, hands stretching off to the sides as the Thompson sisters aligned themselves behind him. A smile crept onto his lips again as he spoke, adding a hint of flair to his words, “These are my Weapon partners, Liz and Patty Thompson. They are the best Weapons I could ever ask for, and we’ve been working together for over two and a half years as of today.

“As for myself, my name is Death. Death the Kid, to be precise,” he straightened, arms still outstretched, “I’m a Grim Reaper – the son of the Reaper who founded and runs the DWMA.”


The red headed Weapon let out a sigh, the events of the past hour still all too fresh in his mind as he leaned forwards on the balcony of the DWMA, looking out over Death City.

This wasn’t how he’d been hoping to spend his day. He’d wanted to just settle back in to his routine, chat with Lord Death, maybe give that little punk Soul Eater second thoughts about trying anything with Maka.

But now… those were the last things on his mind as he stared out into the distance, listless, replaying the brief meeting in his head…


The scream had been far higher pitched than Spirit would have liked to admit.

It welled up from deep in his core, but had resonated high in his throat, vocal chords practically vibrating right at the back of his mouth as he let out a shriek that, were the Reaper’s mirror made of glass, would have shattered the reflective surface into countless tiny shards.

But it wasn’t made of glass. The Death Scythe wasn’t even sure it was made of silver. If anything, it seemed entirely unique, something that didn’t quite match any material he could think of, akin to liquid mercury in its smooth reflectiveness. When Lord Death received a call, it even rippled, going dark and making it look like a pool of obsidian – which didn’t make any sense, obsidian couldn’t be a pool unless it was molten, and molten obsidian was a painfully bright orange and moved more like a sludge than a liquid.

Strange things were learned when one was bored and scrolling the internet, like whether or not it was possible to cast a sword out of obsidian rather than just making a macuahuitl. As it turned out, the answer was no – the stuff was too brittle to form such a large structure without immediately snapping, which is why chips and chunks were what was needed to form any sort of blade. Blades of obsidian were ridiculously sharp, to the point of being used frequently in medical work as scalpel blades because of how they could cut the bonds between molecules with their aforementioned ridiculous sharpness, but this in turn made them spectacularly fragile and generally ill suited to hitting things with, ridiculous sharpness be damned.

Despite Spirit’s best attempts at this blatant distraction from the fact that he was staring at his first partner in the form of these barely connected, not at all relevant thoughts, they completely and utterly failed, the scream continuing to block out his mind in a single continuous sound-

At least until the Reaper’s hand collided with the back of his head.

It had been a while since the suit-clad man had received a full-blown Reaper chop. The experience, though hardly pleasant, had at least taken him out of the present for a moment as he tried to pull himself together, fighting through the haze that had filled his skull like a thick soup comprised entirely of headache.

“I think you might have hit him a little too hard, Lord Death,” he felt cold, clammy fingers stretch his eyes open; was the Death Room always that painfully bright?

“I needed to get him to stop screaming,” the Grim Reaper’s familiar voice echoed, a little more distant.

“All due respect, sir, even I could tell you that there are better methods of doing that.”

“Well, I didn’t see you doing anything!”

“I wanted to see how long he could maintain that scream for; Spirit’s always had a pretty impressive lung capacity. He reached twenty seconds before you knocked him unconscious.”

“I wouldn’t say I knocked him unconscious-”

“He’s been laying there for-”

The Weapon let out a groan, slowly pushing himself up into a sitting position, rubbing the back of his head.

“Ah, Spirit!” the Reaper exclaimed, clearly relieved.

The bright light in his eyes suddenly disappeared, Stein pulling away his flashlight with a smile, “Welcome back to the world of the living.”

“I don’t feel alive,” he slurred, taking a moment to examine his palm, “How long was I out?”

“About five minutes, give or take?” the scientist shrugged, “I’ve been more occupied with making sure you don’t have a concussion than keeping track of time.”

“Damn,” Spirit sighed, glancing up at the jagged shadow, “You couldn’t have knocked me out for the full day?”

“I wasn’t trying to knock you out at all,” Death bowed apologetically, “It wasn’t my intention to hit you so hard… I must be getting rusty.”

“It has been two weeks,” Stein noted, “That would make anyone at least a little bit rusty.”

Spirit just groaned, slowly pushing himself to his feet. He shifted his weight, back and forth, forwards to back, and then finally let out a slow sigh, “… okay. I think… I think I’m good.”

Stein adjusted his glasses with a chuckle, “You’ll be happy to know that you don’t, in fact, have a concussion. Your body is reacting as normal.”

The Death Scythe gave him a dirty look, “And how do I know you’re not just saying that?”

“Come on, Spirit,” the doctor gestured to himself, “Do I look like the kind of person who would lie to you about your medical condition for my own amusement?”

Yes,” he hissed, tone pointed.

“Wow, you’ve gotten cold since I last saw you,” Stein brought a hand to his heart in a gesture of mock-hurt, “Though I suppose you aren’t exactly wrong.”

“The screw through your head and the stitches don’t exactly help,” the Weapon’s cyan eyes narrowed.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough out of both of you,” Death raised his hands, chiding, “In case you’ve forgotten, there is actually something of great importance that we need to discuss.”

“Right, right. Apologies,” Stein sobered, smile fading.

Spirit turned, turning his gaze on the Reaper, “… so, what’s this about? I’m assuming you wouldn’t have dragged Stein back here if it weren’t so important.”

There was a brief pause as Death regarded him with a strangely sombre look, “… I’m afraid you’re not going to like this, Spirit.”

“Frankly, I don’t really like being in the same room with him,” he grunted, “Can’t be much worse than that.”

The dark chuckle from the patchwork man beside him, followed by the heavy sigh from behind that pale mask, made Spirit immediately regret his choice of words.

Albeit not as much as the next sentence to leave Death’s mouth.

“I’ve summoned Stein here in order to ask you two to act as a Weapon and Meister pair again.”

He stared at the Reaper. Then at Stein.

Then at the Reaper.

Then at Stein.

Then at the Reaper.

“… you’re not serious,” he managed, weakly.

“Oh, no, I’m quite serious, Spirit; and you know I wouldn’t ask this of you lightly.”

It was the grave tone that emanated in the Reaper that kept Spirit from protesting. All the cheer that Lord Death formerly had was now entirely gone, leaving the Death Scythe with an overwhelming sense of foreboding as he peered into the swirling darkness behind the mask.

“… did something happen while I was gone?” he asked, “What did I miss?”

“Nothing that you would have been able to do anything about,” Stein assured, “I only got the news recently myself. It’s the main reason I was brought back to the DWMA in the first place, in fact.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Spirit insisted, “Lord Death, what’s going on?”

“… do you recall the series of massacres that have been occurring over the past few months?” Death inquired, “The ones that all seemed to have been done with some sort of blade?”

“… of course I do,” the Death Scythe’s eyes narrowed, “All about a month apart from each other, give or take a week or two. All over the world, from the States, to China, to Brazil and the UK. We only heard about most of them in passing.”

“No one was ever caught,” Stein elaborated, “By the time Weapon and Meister teams could be deployed, the perpetrators had vanished without a trace, and all the cases occurred so far away from each other, and the victims so varied in background, ethnicity and gender, that it was assumed that there was no connection between them despite the relatively quick succession – a series of unfortunate coincidences.”

“And you’re suggesting there’s a connection?” the redhead raised an eyebrow.

“Not suggesting,” the doctor pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “Eventually, Death Scythe Azusa Yumi noticed something no one else did when looking over the evidence; after filing a request with Lord Death, she sent images of the crime scenes to forensic experts, and then to me for confirmation.”

He took out his phone, holding it to eye level for Spirit to see before flicking through several photos; though the Death Scythe did not flinch at the sight of the corpses and blood, his expression grew grim as the images cycled through, giving him a perfect view of a grisly fest of gore and murder. Thugs in alleyways, travellers on a subway, people gathered in church – all seeming to have been hacked to pieces, with neither mercy nor distinction.

“Every single one of these murders was committed with the same weapon. Going off the nature of the wounds, a fairly heavy longsword,” Stein slipped his phone back into his pocket, “Undoubtedly committed by someone capable of utilizing their Soul Wavelength to increase their physical capabilities.”

“… and they pulled it off by advantage of the differing jurisdictions between the DWMA branches to slip right under our noses,” Spirit brought a hand to his forehead, cursing, “How the Hell didn’t we notice this connection before?”

“We simply didn’t think there was a connection to make; we only have Death Scythe Azusa’s sharp eyes to thank for finding any correlation at all,” Death mused, “Whoever is doing this has considerable resources, The tools to get from one landmass to another relatively quickly, easily, and without being detected; in addition, the ability to murder a large number of people very quickly, and then disappear without a trace before authorities arrive, leaving us with effectively no suspects. To say the very least, we are dealing with a cunning opponent.”

“You think it’s a Witch?” the Weapon asked.

“Entirely likely – in fact, it’s probably the most likely candidate,” the grey haired man reached up, and began twisting the screw, forcing Spirit to do a double take – he hadn’t been sure that thing could even be moved, “A powerful Witch is the most likely entity capable of pulling feats like this off, especially since their positions are so difficult to monitor to begin with.”

“But it’s not the only possibility, either,” the Reaper sighed, “I don’t want to consider it, but the fact is we can’t take the worst case scenario off the table, either.”

“… the worst case scenario,” Spirit closed his eyes, bobbing his head with his lips drawn into a thin line, teeth grit, “… you think… these massacres might mark the emergence of a Demon Sword?”

“We don’t know,” Death ‘shrugged,’ “All we know for certain is that massacres have been committed, a pattern has been established between them, and that all of the human Souls from each of these incidents were taken before any investigation could be launched. Witch, Demon Sword or otherwise, this is a worrying pattern, and we can’t afford to take any risks in handling it.”

“Which is why you want us working together again,” Stein stated, “Is that right?”

“That’s correct,” the shadow glanced between the former Weapon and Meister pair, “As uncomfortable as the situation may be for you, the fact of the matter is that you are the strongest pair of fighters that can be brought in on short notice. This situation needs to be dealt with, swiftly and decisively, and mustering other Death Scythes and their Meisters would take time we may not have to get this situation resolved. We cannot risk the emergence of a Demon Sword – if that occurs, we will have a monster on our hands that is well on its way to becoming a Kishin.”

“God Damn it…” Spirit muttered, once again bringing his hand to his forehead and digging his fingers into his scalp with a low, hissing breath, eyes squeezed shut as he tilted his head back.

He did not want to do this. Right now, he didn’t even want to be in the same room as Stein – he hadn’t even known they were in the same city. If he were going to meet with his old partner, he’d have preferred it be over drinks with about a week’s prior notice and a companion to keep an eye on his glass. This was moving too quickly, the request itself was too much, and just seeing Stein had been enough of a shock that he wanted nothing more than to go home, curl into a ball under his sheets and die. Or at the very least, not come out for a week so he could actually process the theoretical fastballs being hurled at his head.

… but unfortunately, it didn’t seem that he was going to get what he wanted.

“… alright,” he managed, taking a breath to force a measure of calm into his chest, “Alright… I’ll… I’ll do it. But,” he turned sternly to Stein, who was watching him with an expression that could be described as almost bemused, “… I’m gonna need some time to think. And, we are going to have to draw some boundaries. Am I clear?”

“Crystal,” slowly, a grey-skinned hand stretched out, rough and calloused, “I look forwards to working with you again, Spirit.”

The Scythe stared at the hand for a long moment before letting his eyes rise back up to meet that pale, almost clammy face. The doctor smiled, and for a moment, Spirit was a student again, looking at what he believed was Stein’s first smile of genuine happiness, eyes closed and lips curling upwards…

He didn’t return the gesture.

He simply turned away, walking towards the guillotine gates.

“I need some air,” he huffed, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he slowly made his way to the door.

Distantly, he could hear Lord Death and Stein exchanging words, but at the moment, he didn’t care. He just needed to process, continuing to walk until long after the Reaper and his old colleague had fallen out of earshot.


“… Hell of a first day back…” he huffed, resting his chin in his hand. Right when he thought things couldn’t get more complicated or stressful, here they were, coming along to slap him in the face.

Just like almost everything else, lately.

“Lost in thought, Spirit?”

“… not in the mood, Stein,” he muttered, not bothering to turn around.

Wordlessly, the doctor approached, moving to stand beside his partner on the edge of the balcony, hands in his pockets.

Neither of them spoke for a long while.

“… never thought I’d see this view again,” Stein stated, digging into his pocket and pulling out a box of cigarettes.

On reflex, Spirit reached out, snatching the whole box out of Stein’s hands before he could pull one out to light, glaring.

“Really haven’t learned since highschool, have you?” he snapped, “No smoking on school grounds.”

Stein let out a dry laugh, pulling out a second box, “That only applies to students and non-faculty visitors, Spirit. And only when they’re indoors. We’re both DWMA faculty now.”

At this, Spirit raised an eyebrow, “What, you’re working with Doctor Gorgon now?”

“Not officially, though I am counted among the medical staff,” Stein lit his cigarette, taking a long, slow drag before letting out a slow exhale, a cloud of smoke rising into the pure blue sky, “I’m actually a professor now.”

“A professor?” Spirit rose to his full height, then blinked, startled; it was the first time he was noticing just how much taller Stein was than him now. He hadn’t really noticed in the Death Room, but now he could see that the stitched man had half a foot on him.

Nonetheless, he didn’t back down, instead redoubling his scrutiny, “Lord Death made you a teacher?

“He did,” Stein reached up, adjusting the screw again; his face went rigid with sudden concentration as he ran it back, then forth, as if trying to find a channel on a radio or find a precise setting. After a moment, he relaxed, and let his hand fall, “Believe me, no one is more surprised about this than me. Lord Death must really trust you to keep me in line.”

Spirit snorted, looking back down at the city with a stubborn glare, “I’m not your baby sitter, Stein. I shouldn’t have to keep you in line.”

“Hm. Makoto’s rubbed off on you, I see.”

It probably wasn’t a deliberate jab on Stein’s part, but that in no way detracted from its sting; the Scythe’s jaw tightened, and he forced himself to take another calming breath, crossing his arms and leaning on his elbows.

“… sore subject, I take it?”

“… we divorced over a month ago,” he sighed, “I…”

“… I see,” another drag of the cigarette, “I’m sorry to hear it.”

“You?” a red eyebrow rose, “Sorry?”

“As sorry as I can be, at least,” Stein turned, leaning back against the railing and staring up at the three spheres at the top of the DWMA, floating with no visible supports, “I don’t particularly like Makoto, for a number of reasons, but she seemed to make you happy while you were together.”

“Didn’t think my happiness was something you cared about,” Spirit let his eyes fall back to the city below.

“Please, Spirit,” a tap on the cigarette, ash falling to the ground, “I might not be capable of understanding abstracts, but I at least understand how emotions work. They’re chemicals and hormones in the body, scientifically quantifiable, and therefore can be studied and understood.”

“When you put it like that, you make them sound like-”

“Experiments?”

Stein’s interruption was neither angry nor scornful; if anything, it sounded more like a genuine question than anything intended to pierce. There was no malice behind it, the grey green of Stein’s eye locked on Spirit with a genuine curiosity. He let the word hang in the air for a long moment before smiling, closing his eyes, “They are, in a way. Isn’t everyone carefully monitoring what they say to the people around them, lest they say the wrong thing and get an undesired reaction? Slowly venturing to see what they can get away with and what they can’t in which settings, with which people they surround themselves with?”

“You always did have a dim view of social interaction, Stein,” Spirit let out a resigned sigh, straightening, “I suppose that hasn’t changed.”

“No. But that doesn’t mean I’m not capable of caring, either.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“You care about me?” the Weapon faced his former Meister, voice flat, lips drawn into a thin line, “About how I feel? What I have to say?”

“Of course I do,” the Meister blinked, seeming actually surprised that Spirit would ask such a thing, “If I didn’t, why would I listen to you?”

The two men stared at each other for a long few moments, each with their silent inquiries. Suspicious cyan staring into limestone, inscrutable as its namesake.

Eventually, Spirit broke his gaze, “I give up. I’m never gonna be able to take you at face value anyways – not without a Soul Resonance, at least.”

“I’m willing to do one with you now if it would make you feel better.”

“I’ll pass. We’re probably gonna have to do one sooner rather than later anyways – I’d rather not freak out the rest of the faculty when we do.”

“Fair enough,” another puff of the cigarette, then Stein held out the box to the Weapon, “You want one?”

He pushed the box away, “No. My drinking habit’s bad as it is. I’m not gonna add smoking to the list of habits I have to break.”

“Suit yourself.”

Again, the quiet reigned as the two men stood alongside each other, one with his eyes on the ground, the other watching the sky…


In hindsight, it really should have occurred to Luz that illegally selling potions on behalf of a wanted criminal was going to be harder than it actually sounded.

Actually entering Bonesborough had been easy enough; the heavy walls of bone and stone were dizzyingly high, conjoined with the towering cliffs she had nearly fallen from the day before. No one had even given her a second glance as she slipped in through the open gates, the guards not even bothering to give her a once over, too wrapped up in their own conversations to notice.

Navigating the town, however, was another matter entirely; its multi-level construction made reading the multiple maps Eda had given her exceptionally difficult.

Bonesborough had four separate layers; one at sea level, and three more on a series of increasingly high and treacherous cliffs, roads and walkways built into their sides, stones and bricks tumbling down from above every with alarming regularity. Tunnels were carved into the rock, leading to some sort of undertown that hadn’t been included among the maps the Owl Lady had handed her. Buildings were even built upon other buildings, adding yet more layers to an already dizzying labyrinth as entire districts were separated by singular stairwells and bridges, some sturdy as stone, others hastily constructed and feeling like they might come apart beneath her if she made a single misstep.

More than once, the teen had to sit down and consult her maps to find an address in the sprawling maze of stone and bone, steel and teeth, King impatiently tapping his foot as he waited for her. Worse, she’d found that Eda’s customers weren’t all too keen to trust her, often screaming in her face to leave and only relenting when they had seen the little Demon at her side – and that was when their doorbell didn't try to eat her when she put her finger to it.

And those were hardly the only problems they were giving her...

“… this isn’t the right amount,” she muttered, counting up the number of bills again to make sure her math was correct.

“You’ve been keeping track of how much they’ve paid you, right?” King asked around a mouthful of cockroach in a bun.

“Yeah,” she nodded, holding up her phone and the paper, “I’ve been making sure. I’ve got the list right here and I’ve been keeping note of our progress.”

“Then don’t worry about it,” the Demon shrugged, swallowing the last of his disgusting snack, “If you’ve been keeping track, Eda’ll be able to find whoever didn’t pay up.”

“Yeah, but I wanna do my job right,” Luz huffed, stuffing her phone back in her pocket, lifting the bag with a grunt; with all the walking they’d been doing, it was feeling considerably heavier, even with all the successful deliveries they’d made, “I don’t want Eda to think I’m doing a bad job because people are short-changing me.”

“Eh,” King shrugged, eyes closed, “She’ll cut you some slack. Maybe. Probably. First day and all.”

“I hope so,” she sighed, leaning back against the post, the cool surface of the metal in the shade a blessing against the hot sun. The smells hadn’t gotten much better, either; it seemed the faint, but distinct sweetness of rot that Luz had caught that morning through her open window was not exclusive to Eda’s forest and shoreline. It permeated the air all the way to town, and it had only gotten worse as the day progressed and the heat of the sun intensified.

It wasn’t to the point where she couldn’t breathe – there were enough other scents on the air to counteract the stench, and the occasional breeze brought in a fresh wave of salt from the sea – but it certainly wasn’t helping her gag reflex.

“I thought this would be… different.”

“Different, how?” King crossed his arms.

“I dunno… more exciting? Less people screaming at me?” she gesticulated, trying to find the words, “More like yesterday, with the prison riot, I guess. It was like something straight out of Good Witch Azura…”

“Oh, that,” he rolled his eyes, still seeming utterly dismissive, “Hate to break it to ya, Luz, but that kind of thing doesn’t actually happen all that often. Eda tends to, you know, lay low most of the time?”

“I guess that makes sense,” she sighed, pushing herself to her feet with a grunt, “Witch criminal and all. Certainly explains why she’s out in the woods.”

“If every day were a high octane heist, she’d have been caught a long time ago,” King quipped.

“Can’t argue with that… still, this has been a rough day,” Luz looked down the list, “We’ve only got one more delivery to make… let’s drop it off and go home.”

The two made their way down an alley, Luz’s feet aching with every step she took. Slick with sweat, her clothes stuck to her body like a film, forcing her to peel them away from her skin every now and again with a shiver, and though it didn’t hurt yet, she could feel the beginnings of a headache settling into the top of her skull.

At this point, her enthusiasm had been thoroughly curbed.

She just wanted to get back to the Owl House.

“… it’s only your first day,” she reminded herself, adjusting her grip on the heavy bag and doing her best to rekindle her spirits, “Even Azura needed a few weeks to get her first magical quest… stupid timeskips…”

“Okay, seriously,” King scampered ahead a few steps, glaring up at her, “What’s this whole ‘Azura’ thing you’re so obsessed with?”

“It’s a book series,” Luz did her best to explain while also trying to follow her map, “It’s about a Witch who tries to make the world a better place even though it’s all been stacked against her because the world is afraid of her and afraid of Magic. She’s still learning in the first book, and it takes half the story for her to complete her first quest from Gowther the Wizard… but she always tries do the right thing, whether it’s battling the gigantic Gildersnake or trying to talk down her rival Hecate.”

“Pff. Sounds lame.”

“They are not lame,” she snapped, suddenly very aware of how much King’s backhanded comments were beginning to get under her skin, “They’re my favourite novels!”

“Doesn’t make them not lame!” he said, cheerful as ever as he turned around, “Dunno why you’d want to be like her so badly.”

The Latina bit down on a growl of frustration, “Why wouldn’t I want to be like her? What’s wrong with being kind and wanting to use Magic to help… people…”

She trailed off as they emerged from the alley, coming to a halt with a gasp, pains and aches forgotten.

A veritable castle stood before them, its walls every bit as massive as the buildings they were surrounded by, soaring dozens of feet into the air, towers topped with flags that fluttered in the wind. Golden light filtered down through the clouds above, illuminating the entire structure in an enticing, heavenly shine.

“… pretty,” she managed, the headache fading from her head entirely as she quickly skipped ahead, moving up to the towering double oak doors, inspecting the bell.

“… I don’t like this,” King started, sudden concern working its way into his tone.

“Yeah, well, you’ve made it abundantly clear you don’t really like anything except yourself, King,” she snatched a small stick off the ground, experimentally poking the blue doorbell. It rang out, miraculously not attempting to eat the stick or her hand, and the doors swung open with a heavy rumble.

“No, seriously,” the Demon insisted, “Big houses like this always belong to big whack-jobs. Let’s just chuck the package inside and go.”

“We gotta collect the payment, King. Or at least try,” the teen stepped inside, calling out, “Hello?”

“Hey, wait-!” he ran after her, the door swinging shut with a heavy slam as he entered, making him yelp in a distinct mix of surprise and fear before resuming his chase, keeping pace directly behind the Latina.

“I’m delivering a package,” she continued, squinting to see through the shadows, “From Eda, the Owl Lady?”

The room came to life with a sudden roar of flame from the fireplace; all at once, long dead embers and wicks ignited from nothing, candles bursting into flame and casting a warm glow throughout the expansive room. A massive staircase stretched up from the center, rising up to multiple levels until they reached the very top of the room. Nearly every wall had a bookshelf built into its surface, thousands upon thousands of books neatly in place along the wall, not a single one showing the slightest hint of mistreatment.

At the very top of the stairs hung a portrait of an old man in purple robes etched with stars, his kind, warm eyes half lidded as if in contemplation as he smiled down at the girl and Demon from behind his folded hands. His long beard and hair flowed down in waves, immaculately combed in lines that alternated between grey and pale violet, half moon spectacles gleaming as the man himself padded out from underneath his own visage.

Luz’s eyes shone as he slowly descended the steps, lips pulling back so far her cheeks ached, “Magical wizard…!”

“A weird old man in jim-jams,” King sniffed, tugging at the hem of her hood, “Come on, let’s go…”

“I was in my oscillarium,” the old man began, voice warm and inviting as he reached the bottom of the steps, “Reading the stars… and who might you be, with eyes so full of curiosity?”

“… uh…” Luz swallowed, trying to choose her words carefully, “I-”

“Young lady,” he interrupted, approaching with a hand on his chin, “Dareth I say, I sense something… unique about you.”

The man stepped back, snapping his fingers; a chair of white silk rose behind him, decorated with gold and burnished wood, followed by a tea table laden with pastries and a pair of china cups, a second chair appearing across from him as he sat down, “Please, won’t you join me for tea?”

“Okay!” The teen couldn’t help but feel charmed, moving to take a step forwards…

Only for King to grip onto her leg, doing his best to pull her back.

“C’mon, let’s scram!” the little beast insisted, “He’s just a creepy old man with glitter in his pockets!”

“King!” she scolded, “Don’t be so rude!”

“Wizard is a fancy word for sham!” he snapped, “Are you really gonna trust a guy you only met a second ago?”

“I trusted Eda,” Luz insisted, “I’m trusting you!”

“That’s different! I’m totally trustworthy!” he scampered up her back, perching himself on her shoulder and glaring at the wizard, who remained totally unperturbed.

“Oh, come on,” the teen sighed, “You won’t get anywhere in life if you’re suspicious of everyone you meet.”

“Weh!” King turned up his nose, refusing to budge from his spot on Luz’s shoulder.

“… plus,” she began, tone conspiratory, “I see scones on the table…”

“Scones!?” his eyes snapped open, shooting around the room, “Where!?”

When the Demon’s eyes finally landed on the plate of snacks on the table, he leaped down from his perch, sprinting on all fours and scrambling up the table cloth.

Doing her best to hide a chuckle, Luz met the wizard’s gaze, slowly setting the potions down as she moved to sit down across from him, “We’d love to join you for tea.”

She picked up the cup, the handle warm in her hands as the wonderful, unfamiliar scent wafted into her nose, a sweet blend that she couldn’t even guess at, at least not off the top of her head. The sound of King messily shoving snacks into his mouth somehow only added to the already warm atmosphere as she settled back into the chair, sighing with satisfaction.

“I do hope that the blend is to your liking?”

“It smells wonderful,” she nodded, then took a small sip, “… oooh… can I ask kind of tea this is?”

“A unique recipe passed onto me by an… old acquaintance of mine,” the wizard chuckled, taking a sip from his own cup, “Fire-lilies are a rare find in Bonesborough, so one must always be sure to purchase them when you find them.”

“Fire-lilies?” she tilted her head, finally noticing the leftover heat from the tea on her tongue, “I don’t know what those are, but from the name, it explains the slight spiciness.”

“I find a little spice does wonders to any warm beverage – if your intent is to stay awake, at least,” he chuckled, “But where are my manners? My name is Adegast, Wizard of Bonesborough.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Adegast,” the teen stated, “I’m Luz. Luz Noceda.”

“Luz… now that is a nice name,” he set his cup back on the coaster, “Now, forgive me for being so rude… but I wasn’t aware the Owl Lady was open to having an employee. I was under the impression that Eda made all her deliveries in person.”

Luz let out a weak laugh, memories of other suspicious customers flooding her mind, “Yeah, well… this is my first day, so…”

“Aaaah, that explains it,” Adegast nodded sagely, “And what exactly did she hire you for? Just delivery?”

“Oh, no, I’m not just an employee,” the Latina waved a hand, grinning, “I’m her apprentice!”

“Apprentice?” for the first time, Adegast seemed genuinely surprised, blinking as his smile faded.

“Yeah. I’m training to become a Witch,” she bobbed her head, shifting in her seat slightly.

“I… see,” his tone contrasted against his words, seeming genuinely perplexed as his eyes went unfocused, staring off into space for a long moment. He seemed to go limp, shoulders slumping as his hands fell into his lap.

“… Adegast?” Luz started, rising in her seat slightly.

He jumped, everything snapping back into place with a startle, eyes fixing back on Luz with a powerful intensity.

“… are you alright?” she asked, tone hesitant.

“… yes,” he cleared his throat, shaking himself out of his reverie, his warm smile returning as he settled back into his chair, “It’s just… well, it’s most unusual for a Witch like the Owl Lady to take on an apprentice. Let alone a human apprentice… are you enjoying the experience so far?”

At this, the girl leaned back in her chair, feeling her lip twist as she debated the question to herself, stomach simmering with conflicting emotions as Eda’s devil-may-care grin flashed in her mind, golden eyes and fang glinting…

“… it’s…” she raised a hand, gesturing back and forth, as if physically searching for the words, “… well, you gotta keep in mind… first day, right? First day is never gonna be best day. Eda and I don’t have everything really… sorted out yet? I don’t even have a bed yet, I just kinda… sprang this on her out of nowhere.”

“I see… though I sense, despite this due consideration, you have… misgivings,” the wizard ventured.

“… sorta, yeah,” Luz admitted, “Today’s been… rough. I just feel like I’ve been getting yelled at all day and like I’m not really doing as good a job as I should, even though some of that… really isn’t my fault,” she let her elbows rest on her knees, “It’s been… a slog.

“And, look,” she straightened, staring Adegast right in the eye before he could interject, “I get that not every day can be a big magical adventure or quest. Eda even told me she wouldn’t teach me for free. If I’m gonna live with the Owl Lady, I gotta earn my keep, and I’m not opposed to that – I even offered to work for her in exchange for lessons. I knew going in it wasn’t going to be easy or all fun and games… but…”

“… it’s easy to realize that in your mind… but far more difficult to actually reconcile that reality with your expectations and feelings,” the old man finished.

“… yeah,” she sighed, “I dunno. I guess I just hoped it would be like what I read about in my book.”

There was a heavy pause between them for a long moment.

“… but,” Luz clapped her hands down on her knees, regaining her smile as she pushed herself back up, “Like I said. It’s just my first day, and it’s not even over yet. Maybe Eda will have something in mind for me when I get back.”

“Maybe,” Adegast agreed, “But perhaps I can offer you something more… immediate.”

“Immediate?” she perked up, tilting her head.

“You said you were hoping for a quest,” he reached into his beard, pulling forth a scroll, “And I might have just the thing.”

Luz watched in awe as Adegast broke the crimson wax seal; the scroll unfurled, revealing a beautifully calligraphic map, weathered at the edges and seeming truly old. The path led through the orange forests and through the hills, to a far off shrine surrounded by a crystalline pool, the white staff gleaming against the backdrop of the waterfall.

“The prophecy foretells of a young human girl, who will claim the Celestial Staff, and free the world of an ancient evil,” he handed the map to her, as gently as if he were handling the most delicate of flowers, “Perhaps thou hath cometh here for a reason.”

She looked the map over with a growing smile, “Perhaps I… hath…?”

The Latina trailed off, eyes finally fixing on the pile of jars and bottles beside Adegast’s chair; the same sorts of magical glass and assortments of potions and solutions as what Eda had given her to deliver, and a none-too-small stockpile of it, either.

“Should you believe yourself worthy to attempt this quest,” Adegast’s voice was distant in her ears.

“… so worthy,” she murmured hesitantly, still letting her eyes shift back and forth through the stock. Boil cream… greyscale ointment… she hadn’t completed her delivery to Adegast yet, and she was certain it wasn’t nearly that big…

“You should know the road is dark and perilous… Luz?”

“Hm?” she snapped back to reality, meeting Adegast’s eyes, “Sorry, sorry… got… lost in thought, there…”

“I could tell,” he stated, seeming genuinely concerned, “Are you quite alright?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I just…” she let her eyes fall back down to the floor, “… Adegast… do you happen to sell potions?...”

He blinked, then glanced back; after a moment, he let out a quiet, subdued chuckle, “Why, yes. I dabble in potions, with a small business.”

“You should run a business of more scones,” King snapped, “Into my mouth!”

King’s lack of decorum did absolutely nothing to put Luz at ease as he scarfed down the last of the pastries. Her previous comfort had been replaced with a sudden sweep of anxiety, as if she were somehow only now realizing that something was very, very wrong.

Despite her better judgement, she let her eyes rise back up to meet the wizard’s, trying to maintain her previous easy calm, “… but if you make potions… then… why would you be getting a delivery from Eda…?”

At this, Adegast’s body convulsed. His fists and teeth clenched as his eyes bulged violently in their sockets, neck going limp as his shoulders rose, making him seem less like a person and more like a marionette. His limbs were at once tense and limp, eyes too big and lolling in their sockets and mouth not closing properly, almost seeming hinged, making the Latina’s face and hands go cold with a fresh wave of fear...

Just as quickly as it had happened, however, his body returned to normal, his smile gone as a deep frown creased his features.

“… it does chafe me to admit it,” he sighed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “But the fact of the matter is, the Owl Lady is… more proficient at making certain types of potions than I am. Orcilae, for example; a powerful pain relieving concoction, but most doses will render its patient… physically unsteady and mentally muddled for the duration. Eda is one of the only people capable of making orcilae with all of the benefits, and none of the unfortunate side effects.”

Luz was only half listening to the explanation; her mind was too fixated on Eda’s echoing words as her heart careened into the pit of her stomach.

‘I’m not the only one selling potions illegally. Even if you don’t take the Potions Coven and the guilds into account, I’ve got rivals who want to bring me down, and they won’t hesitate to use you to do it.’

A moment ago, she had been chomping at the bit for the opportunity to go on a quest, to potentially salvage her first proper day on the Isles.

Now, it was finally occurring to the girl that she might be in very real danger.

“It’s nothing more than a business transaction,” the wizard assured, seeming unaware of her turmoil, “Not everyone can be good at everything, and there are some potions Eda likewise has trouble with. Making sure you have a stock of everything is just part of the business. You understand?”

“… yeah!” the teen quipped, trying to resummon her former cheer, even if it was only a façade. The smile was now genuinely painful as she tried to force it to seem natural, “Yeah, totally understand! Speaking of,” she snatched up the sack, digging through it and glancing at her list, “You ordered… formaldehyde... ethanol… preservatives?

“Ah, right, yes,” he spoke quickly, “I have some taxidermies on display. I’ve been running low on the supplies to keep them properly maintained.”

“Okay,” Luz nodded, rising to her feet and handing him his bottles. She didn’t bother counting the bills and he handed her in turn, simply stuffing them into her pocket.

“Well, your food is gone, and so are we,” King hopped down from the table, “Nice chat, sparkly jim-jam man. We gotta get back.”

“Yeah, Eda warned us to be back before sundown or risk ‘mortal peril,’” Luz hefted the bag of potions, resisting the urge to sprint for the door.

“Right, right, I’m sure,” Adegast flashed them one final warm smile, “I will see you out.”

The Latina and the Demon following the wizard as he led them back out to the heavy doors; they swung open as the trio approached, and Luz felt herself physically relax as she stepped out into the afternoon sun.

“Please, don’t hesitate to stop by for tea again,” the wizard began, “I very much enjoyed our conversation this afternoon.”

“Yeah, we’ll be sure to do that,” King stated offhandedly, sounding bored, “C’mon, let’s go.”

“Coming,” Luz started forwards, again resisting the urge to run, “Goodbye, Adegast.”

“One last thing, Luz,” the old man called, “Only the Chosen One can pull the Celestial Staff from its post.”

“… I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” she nodded, smiling, holding up the map he had given her.

When the door finally shut, sealing Adegast from view, she broke into a sprint. She didn’t care about the glass smacking into her shoulders, digging into her skin with every impact.

She just wanted to put as much distance between herself and that castle as possible.

“Hey-!” King shouted, struggling to keep up on his stubby legs, “Luz, what gives!?”

“I just wanna get back!” she called back, slowing just enough so that the cub could keep pace. She slipped into the alley, and began making her way back towards the gates of Bonesborough.

… she didn’t see the illusion dispel behind her, the light fading as stone disappeared and wood vanished into thin air, leaving only a ruin behind.

Nor did she see the baleful golden eyes staring into her back, alight with malicious frustration…

Notes:

Sorry this one took so long. I admit I had trouble writing Luz's section because I do NOT like Adegast.

Bit more to talk about here! Writing Stein is an interesting exercise. There's a lot to dig into with him because he's got just enough empathy that sometimes you think you can understand him, but then he does something that no one with a functioning conscience would ever do and you remember "Oh yeah! He's fucking CRAZY!" He's got basically the bare minimum regarding his sense of empathy - and it's honestly easy to forget.

As for Patty, I actually have a decent basis for her personality now since I'm trying to make her more than just a total dumbass with no personality beyond "I do and say funny shit for no reason." Ever heard of Helluva Boss?... yeah, I've based her at least partially off of Millie from the very same show. Feel free to give her a matching Texan accent if you wish, because the image of Patty talking like a southern cowgirl is Goddamn hilarious.

Luz and Adegast, as I said before, was tricky. I wasn't all that sure where I wanted to go with it for the longest time and wound up writing like a hundred words a day for it until I finally found the rhythm I wanted. I'm still not totally sure I'm happy with it, but eh, it's done now.

Regarding the differences in Luz's reactions to Adegast from canon, Luz has a bit more context as to the whole relationship between humans and Witches than she does in Owl House proper, and a better frame of reference as to how a life of adventure works in the form of Maka. She has a better understanding of her task at hand, and that it is by no means going to be easy or 100% fun and games all the time. All this in mind, she's a liiiiittle bit better at picking up the context clues and red flags than she was originally - such as "why would one potion merchant be buying potions from another merchant?" (though admittedly Eda's warning helped)

Also, the mention of Orcilae potion is a direct reference to Evilsnotbag's Lunar Eclipse Owl House AU, one of the main inspirations for this story. I highly recommend going and giving it a read, it's an excellent sit.

Just as a side note, what would you guys think if I were to open a patreon for my own original writing? To clarify, this would be entirely for my own original stories, no fanfictions, tributes or anything like that. Entirely my own work, built in my own worlds. Would you all be open to that idea? I've been considering this for a while now and I'd like your thoughts on it.

... before I go, I just want to say... rest in peace, Kentaro Miura. Your work on Berserk has done fucking wonders for me and my own work. I'm sad to see you go, even if I never knew you personally. Thank you.

Sorry to leave you all on a somber note like that. Please be sure to leave your thoughts below. I hope you all enjoyed the fifteenth chapter of Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance.

Chapter 16: Inner Troubles

Notes:

I do not own Soul Eater or Owl House. If I did, I wouldn't have to wait for Season 2.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“… a Reaper.”

The whole atmosphere had changed with that revelation; where Maka had only lent a casual curiosity to the situation at hand, it now had her full attention, her book fully stowed as she stared openly at the trio before her.

He couldn’t have been much older than they were; if anything, it was hard to gauge his exact age from his face alone. He was about the same height as the Scythe Meister, clad almost entirely in black with only the slightest bits of white on his person beyond his skin, eyes a brilliant gold in colour, the stripes in his hair seeming too perfect to be anything other than deliberate.

The two girls that stood in the pose with him, however, were a bit easier to read; Even at a glance, it wasn’t hard to tell that they were sisters, the older one couldn’t be any younger than sixteen, seeming exasperated with the boy even as she kept her arms raised, visibly resisting the urge to roll her eyes. The younger one on the other hand seemed closer to fourteen, grinning broadly as she crouched, seeming ready to lunge forwards like an animal if given the excuse.

Immediately, a sour taste flooded the grey-blonde’s mouth.

Was everything bound and determined to remind her of her less than stellar relationship with her own sister these days?

“Lord Death’s son, huh?” Soul had straightened, smile having slipped away in a strange display of sudden seriousness, “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“There are many things that most people don’t know about Father,” ‘Kid’ stated coolly, the trio stepping out of formation once more, “Is it really so surprising that he would have a child?”

“Just didn’t seem the type, I guess,” the Scythe shrugged, “Between his silly attitude and the fact that as far as I know, he never leaves the Academy… figured it just wasn’t on his to-do list.”

“Well, I guess that’s why you don’t judge a book by its cover,” Tsubaki let out a chuckle, “You never know who you’ll run across or what their story is,” the taller ninja promptly bowed, eyes closed and smile now significantly more easygoing, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Liz, Patty, and… ‘Death the Kid’?”

“Please,” he stepped forwards, finally beginning to close the distance with a hand extended, “Just Kid. And the pleasure to meet you all is certainly all ours’.”

“I’ve been itching to meet ya since seeing you fought Stein!” Patty shouted, jogging up behind her Meister with a grin, “You guys are awesome!... even if you’re a little dumb!”

“One, backhanded much?” Maka huffed, casting a half lidded glare at the younger Thompson, “Two, I’ll thank you not to lump me and Tsubaki in with Black Star.”

“Hey, what about me?” Soul glanced at her, a fake pout covering up the amused smirk on his face.

“Oh, no, she’s absolutely right about you, Soul,” the Scythe Meister snickered, “The one thing you have over Black Star is that you can actually cook, if only barely.”

The laughter that followed wiped away the furrow in Maka’s brow; the tension in her expression and shoulders faded, leaving her with a sigh of relief that she hadn’t even been aware she had been holding back before. The tense air seemed almost entirely defused now, though she couldn’t help but notice Kid’s eyes linger on her, as if in appraisal, smile genuine, but ever so slightly understated.

Disappointment?... no, that wasn’t it, there was no sign of anything of the sort in his expression.

It was closer to… apprehension?...

“… I don’t buy it.”

Black Star’s voice cut through the chatter; it was only now that Maka realized that the blue haired boy hadn’t risen to her earlier bait, his green eyes fixated entirely on the young Reaper before him.

Smoothly, Kid turned his attention to the shinobi, not so much as quirking an eyebrow as he met the ninja’s intense glare, “Do you not believe me, Black Star?”

“Not for an instant,” the Dark Arm Meister set his fists on his hips as he aggressively stomped forwards, leaning in until he was right in Kid’s face, their noses mere centimeters apart, “You just show up out of nowhere, talkin’ about how you’re the new big man on campus without even clearing it with me first?”

“Does everything have to circle back to your ego?” Maka more sighed than asked, bringing a hand to her forehead in preparation for the coming headache.

“My greatness,” Black Star snapped, still not turning his attention to his fellow Meister, “You’re supposedly the guy who dealt with that Giza mission, single handedly. You took down hundreds of targets, and a Witch. And you’re claiming to be Death’s kid – even though you don’t even look like him – but we haven’t even heard of you?”

The question hung in the air, pointed, but Kid didn’t even blink. He didn’t even back up so much as a step. He merely continued his unspoken contest with the boy before him, as if silently daring him to blink first.

Black Star snorted, finally pulling back a bit, “Sorry if that seems just a little fishy. I’m not gonna believe it just ‘cause you say it.”

“Do you want me to prove it to you?” the suit clad youth asked, “I have plenty of credentials, if that’s what you’re asking for.”

“Pff,” the Star scoffed, grinning, “Like scraps of paper and plastic prove anything. I wanna see what you’re really made of.”

For a long moment, Kid said nothing, the only indication that he’d even heard Black Star’s declaration being a slight narrowing of his eyes. Eventually, though, he spoke, words slow, “Are you challenging me to a duel, Black Star?”

“Is the sky blue?” he let his fists rise, cracking his knuckles one by one.

“… told ya they were picking a fight,” Patty muttered, her grin and voice suddenly taking on a far more vicious undertone, eyes wild under the brim of her Stetson.

Patty,” Liz’s tone was one of warning, though her own eyes had grown utterly frigid in the seconds that passed.

“Hey, whoa, wait,” Maka interjected, moving to stand between the blue and stripe-haired boys, “Break it up. We shouldn’t be picking fights with each other in the middle of a school-day, with no teachers on hand.”

Black Star opened his mouth to retort, only for his partner to approach in turn, placing a placating hand on his shoulder.

“Maka’s right,” Tsubaki stated firmly, her smile gone, “We’ve all just met each other; there’s really no need to fight, especially when it would land us all in trouble.”

“Trouble?” Kid’s eyebrows raised, perplexed, “Would you care to elaborate?”

“Duels between DWMA students can only occur in the presence of a teacher or a Three Star Meister or Weapon,” the Scythe Meister explained, “That way, they can regulate the match and make sure nobody gets hurt. It’s-”

“A lame rule that’s there for no reason,” Black Star interrupted, grinning.

“It’s an important measure,” she emphasized, through grit teeth, “to ensure duels have no negative effects on any given Weapon and Meister pairs, physical or otherwise.”

“I see,” Kid stroked his chin, “So proper matches require an officiator… yes, that does make sense.”

“Don’t listen to Maka,” the smaller shinobi snorted, folding his hands behind his head, “She’s just scared of marring her perfect goody two shoes record.”

“I’m sorry, which one of us nearly got kicked out of the Weapon and Meister program for his behaviour again?” the grey haired girl finally sniped, turning to glare at Black Star.

He shrugged, the very picture of smugness, “Better than never having any fun.

“My definition of fun doesn’t include blatant self-aggrandizing and vandalism.

“You need to change your definition of fun, then.”

“Alright,” Soul cut in, himself now stepping between Maka and Black Star, “That’s enough. I don’t think we need that right this minute; we’ve already eaten through a lot of our lunch break today without you two sniping at each other.”

Tsubaki fished out her phone, “… he’s right. We’ve only got about ten minutes left.”

“Plenty of time for me to kick new kid’s teeth in,” Black Star grinned.

“Not without a teacher to officiate,” Maka hissed, “Haven’t you been listening?”

“I’ve been listening. I just don’t care. It’s a very fine line to walk, Maka, though I suppose you wouldn’t know.”

“… is this what you put up with from him every day?” Kid asked, glancing to the others.

“Well…” Tsubaki wavered.

“More or less,” Soul admitted

Yes,” Maka emphasized, exasperated.

“… you have my most sincere sympathies,” the black clad boy pinched the bridge of his nose, then looked the shinobi in the eye, “In any case, Black Star, you will simply have to wait for your chance to face off with me and my partners. The rules are the rules, and Reaper or not, I can’t just go around flaunting them – I am just as liable to end up in trouble as you.”

“… aren’t you kinda doing that to begin wi-ow!” Soul winced, drawing a hissing breath as Maka jabbed an elbow into his ribs, gripping his hand in her own.

‘Don’t undermine the voice of reason,’ she sent mentally, doing her best to tune out Black Star’s renewed raving.

‘They’ve missed half the day as it is, Maka,’ Soul’s eyes narrowed pointedly, ‘Don’t you think he really shouldn’t be saying things like that considering they’ve essentially skipped four classes?’

‘That’s not the point,’ she glanced up, unwavering, ‘Trouble or not, we don’t need a fight on our hands, and I’d rather not end up in detention for an unofficial duel with the new kid. Do you want to end up in the Death Room again after all the work with Sid?’

‘That is why we’re here, though, Maka,” he noted, ‘We came out here to size him up. A duel is the perfect way to do that.’

‘Then you really should’ve asked a teacher to officiate,’ she let her gaze fall back to the two blonds on either side of Kid, eyes narrowed, ‘Besides… he’s got two Weapon partners. It’s hard enough to perform a Basic Resonance with just one Weapon. Somehow, I don’t think they’re for show.’

‘… fair point,’ Soul conceded, finally opting to not push the issue further.

“I think you’re scared,” Black Star jeered as Maka finally tuned back into the world around her.

I have nothing to prove to you whatsoever,” Kid replied, the very picture of nonchalance, “Now, I believe we all share a class. I think it would be best if we started making our way to that class before the bell rings, wouldn’t you agree?”

He moved to step around the knuckleheaded ninja, starting towards the doors-

Only to get roughly shoved back, the blue haired boy’s lips pulled back as he bared his teeth in a grin.

“… you’re serious about this?” Kid bemoaned, finally beginning to show signs of exasperation.

“I don’t do anything I’m not serious about,” the shinobi slammed his fist into his palm, “One way or the other, we’re doing this. Doesn’t matter to me either way.”

The young Reaper sighed, idly adjusting the lapels of his suit… only to abruptly freeze in place, golden eyes snapping open; his fingers tugged, a long stray thread pulling away in his hands away from the shoulder of his jacket.

Liz let out a groan of exasperation; Patty’s grin was only growing ever more vicious as Kid stared dumbfounded at the thread in his hand, as if he was genuinely having difficulty processing what he was looking at.

“… Kid?” Tsubaki began, “Are you… okay?”

“… Black Star,” the golden eyed boy’s voice was deathly cold, “I’m going to give you five seconds to apologize.”

“What?” he sneered, “Are you upset that I tore your suit a little?”

“You’ve thrown off my symmetry,” Death the Kid snarled, for the first time sounding genuinely angry; all the polite calm was gone from his voice and his posture as his fists clenched.

“I took off one string,” Black Star scoffed, “It looks the same as it did before!”

“Then you have worse eyesight than a monkfish with cataracts!” he pulled on the suit, as if to display some sort of line that Maka couldn’t see, “Look at this! It’s completely asymmetrical now!”

The wind seemed to have been taken out of the shinobi’s sails as he stared at Kid, his eyes going from his suit, to his hair, and then back again. Eventually, he pointed at the Reaper’s bangs, “… your hair isn’t symmetrical.”

The black clad lad went still, totally frozen in place, staring out into nothing with a slack jaw, eyes unfocused…

Finally, he collapsed, falling to his knees as he clutched at the sides of his head, digging his fingers into his scalp with a wail of what could only be described as absolute despair.

“… uuuuuuuuh…” Black Star drawled, awkwardness filling the air as he stared at the prostrate pale boy, smile gone. Before he could move to help or hinder, however, Patty had stuck her fist in his face, index finger extended and thumb raised before both transformed into what looked distinctly like a gun barrel. There was a flash of pink light and the distinct, loud crack of a gunshot, and the shinobi stumbled back with a cry, gripping his smoking forehead.

That,” she started, returning her finger to normal, “Was for being a jackass.

“What did I do!?” the ninja demanded, “I just pointed out his hair’s weird!”

Exactly,” Liz shot him a reproachful look as she knelt, then let her expression soften as she glanced back down at the Reaper, “Kid?”

“I’m worthless!” he cried, “I’m asymmetrical garbage! I deserve to be left on some street corner to be taken away to the landfill! That’s probably the only place that will take me! I can’t even be salvaged for scrap parts!”

“… dude, is there something wrong with you?” Soul asked, looking every bit as uncomfortable as Maka felt watching the scene unfold.

“He’ll be fine,” Patty assured, sinking into a crouch beside her sister, “Just give us a few minutes, okay?”

“… whatever,” Black Star shook his head, “Mood’s ruined. See you in class, Tsubaki.”

With that, he stalked off, disappearing through the doors of the Academy and leaving the rest of them to watch the blubbering boy on the bricks.

“Kid,” Liz slowly ran her hand down his back in a fluid, soothing motion, “You’re okay. Patty and I are here. Nobody’s taking you to the landfill.”

“You should!” he insisted, “I’m garbage! I’m-”

“Hey,” Patty interrupted, frowning, “You need to stop talking like that. That’s my partner you’re talking about, ya know?”

This seemed to get Kid to quiet down; slowly, he raised his head, meeting the gazes of his two partners.

“You’re not garbage,” the elder Thompson smiled, “Patty and I know human garbage, Kid, and you don’t qualify.”

“Garbage isn’t smart,” the younger concurred, “And it’s definitely not kind.”

“… I…” he tried to speak, words warbling.

“… come on,” Patty reached out, “Let’s get to class. Let’s not let one guy ruin our day. Sound good?”

“… you’re right,” he managed, slowly pushing himself up with a sniff. Unsteadily, he pulled out a handkerchief, wiping at his eyes, “I’m sorry, I… I should know better by now.”

“… we can take you class, if you want,” Maka finally offered, “You said you’re in the same class as us?”

“I… I believe so,” Kid nodded, putting away the garment, “I was… placed in the First Year, Waxing Crescent Moon class.”

“Well, that’s us,” Soul confirmed, smiling.

“… I’m sorry about Black Star,” Tsubaki bowed, “He isn’t… the most sensitive person. I promise he’s not normally that bad.”

“It’s… well, it’s a hard thing to account for,” the young Reaper slowly exhaled, seeming to finally get his breathing under control.

“Doesn't mean he can’t be a little more sensitive,” Liz huffed, “Or a little less pushy when looking for a fight.”

“… bell’s about to ring,” Maka murmured, checking her phone, “We should get inside.”

“Thank God,” the older sister moaned, “Air conditioning.

Kid finally let a smile return to his features, “Again, Liz… I did tell you to use sunscreen.”

“No, we are not doing this again.”

With that, all six of them made their way back into the building.


The chest leaped forwards as the last of the junk was finally removed from its surface; hundreds of feet sprouted from its bottom, its tarnished brass trim shuddering violently and aged wood letting out ear-splitting creaks as it moved for the first time in God only knew how long. Its hinges swung open with incredible violence, jagged white teeth rimming a seemingly bottomless crimson abyss as it lunged at the Witch, fully intent on swallowing her whole-

Only for Eda to casually slam an open hand down on the lid, slamming the lid shut and making the mimic-like creature collapse under its own weight.

“Will you just calm down already?” she asked, gold eyes locked on the wood in a stare of disapproval, “I get that you’re angry, but I haven’t left you sitting there for that long.”

A disgruntled creak rang out in response, a wordless, but vehement gesture of disagreement.

“Oh, don’t you give me that,” the Owl Lady snapped, “I didn’t even know you were in here, I thought you’d wandered off years ago!”

Another creak as the chest attempted to force its lid open, but to no avail – the woman’s grasp on the wood was like iron, keeping the chest firmly shut.

“Hey, you’re the one that came in here looking for shelter from shale hail. It is not my fault you got lost in the rest of my junk.”

A snap of metal and a heavy thud as the chest abruptly dropped to the ground in a profound display of petulance, like a child sitting down and refusing to move.

Eda let out a groan, bringing a hand to her forehead before running it down her face, “Alright, look, I’m sorry you got stuck in storage. It wasn’t intentional, and I certainly wouldn’t have left you there if I’d known you were trapped under those paintings. It was an honest accident, I swear.”

This time, the chest offered no response, instead opting to continue to sit in stubborn silence.

“… if you want to leave, I won’t keep you here,” she promised, “And if you want to stay, I’ll make sure there’s room for you. All I ask if you do stay is that you don’t eat the kid – I get the feeling she’s gonna end up sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong, and I don’t want her to disappear because she didn’t know you were alive.”

There was a pause, and then an oddly hopeful creak of the hinge and wood.

“No, you may not eat King, either.”

Another creak of complaint.

“You don’t know where he’s been – sometimes he comes home filthier than Hooty,” the Witch had to keep herself from retching as a memory came to mind, unbidden, “Once, he came home with dragonfleas, and they got into my hair and I spent a whole weekend combing through and ripping them out of my scalp. Did you know they get bigger across than the average fingernail once they’ve sucked enough blood? You want that inside you? You really want a flea-bitten fur baby rolling around in your contents?”

Another pause, then an exasperated creak of resignation.

“Didn’t think so,” she smirked, “Are we agreed?”

One final, accepting creak.

“Good. I’m glad we understand each other,” Eda nodded, lifting her hand; the chest gradually rose on its many human feet, shuffling back into the corner of the room before lowering itself back down, its lid firmly shut as it finally seemed to enter a state of relative calm.

It was hard to tell, though; it was a chest, after all, and it’s hard to gauge the mood of what should normally be an inanimate object. Especially when it had no eyes or face to speak of.

She turned away, muttering under her breath as she took another stack of cursed books out of Luz’s room, “Freakin’ sapient pearwood… who’d’ve thought luggage could be so temperamental?”

At this point, the human’s room had been largely cleaned up; the Witch had set most of her belongings aside, rolling up the bedroll and putting it in the corner for safekeeping, along with her bag and the various knickknacks that Luz had brought over from her world, taking care to keep them separate from the sea of junk that Eda had accumulated over the decades.

The photo had briefly caught the Owl Lady’s interest; it was small, but delicately framed, set up in such a way that Luz could easily look at it while lying on the floor. The Witch had nearly stepped on it when she’d first stepped into the room, knocking it over with an errant step, though to her relief the glass had not cracked. Three people took up the majority of the picture – Luz grinning widely while in the middle of an embrace from the other two.

It wasn’t hard to guess who the darker skinned woman was – the skin tone, the hair, the eyes, it all matched Luz perfectly, her smile warm as she wrapped her arms around the girl in a tight, but gentle embrace. There was no way she could be anyone other than the kid’s mother.

The other figure, however, nagged at Eda.

There was a strange familiarity to him, as if she had seen him somewhere before, but couldn’t quite place when or where; between his shoulder length red hair, startlingly bright blue eyes and pale skin, he seemed to have almost nothing in common with the girl he was embracing, his smile equal parts gleeful and mischievous. The Witch could see some faint similarities between them when she squinted – Luz seemed to share the man’s chin and cheekbones, and her lithe, lanky body seemed to be more in line with the man’s than with her mother’s heavier set frame – but that could be just as easily attributed to age as anything else.

Nonetheless, she felt a distinct mixture of emotions as she stared at the man, eyes narrowed as she tried and failed to identify him.

If she didn’t know any better, and if she were a little less proud, she might have considered the possibility that she was the slightest bit afraid.

The fourth figure seemed to have been spliced in afterwards – a young, serious looking girl with light skin, green eyes and grey hair – but she didn’t hold the Owl’s attention for very long. Before long, Eda had set the photo aside, and continued her clean sweep of Luz’s room.

She’d gone through every drawer, emptied out the closet, and even removed all the magical tomes from the room; it was hardly wholly clean, as there was still plenty of junk kicking around, but at the very least, the human wasn’t going to find herself being eaten for opening the wrong thing at this point.

Now all she needed was a place to actually sleep; that little bedroll-cocoon thing was handy, but it was hardly what could be called a proper bed.

As Eda performed the mental measurements of the room, however, a new thought rose in the back of her mind.

‘Is this… really a good idea?’

It was a small seed of doubt, to be sure, but it was doubt nonetheless. Doubt that made her stop, frowning, as she turned to face the wanted poster in the center of her mural – a mural dedicated to herself, to victories great and small, to heists grand and petty.

Her own golden eyes stared back unblinking from the parchment, bright, severe, and almost mocking, mouth wide open as if the picture were laughing.

The past laughing at the present, jeering, “When did you go so soft?”

The Witch grimaced, setting down the cursed books in the rest of the pile. It wasn’t as if she didn’t know the risks attached with letting the girl stay – or, for that matter, how big each of those individual risks were. It was more that Eda thought she had the situation under control, and that she could put out the flame before it got too close to the candle.

With any luck at all, Luz would get bored before too long; not that the Owl Lady wouldn’t at least make a token effort, but she was certain that the girl would fail at even the most basic of Magic. Repeated failure would lead to frustration, and frustration, to surrender. Luz would ask to go home, and Eda would oblige – sending her back through the portal, and removing her memories, no harm, no foul. True, Luz likely wouldn’t be where she was supposed to be, but as long as she was found, it wasn’t likely to pose a problem.

What did potentially pose a problem, however, was the potential that Luz would not give up.

Eda shuddered at the thought; she couldn’t shake the feeling that Luz wasn’t going to just give up after a couple of days of failure. If the Conformatorium had proven anything, it was that beyond having a good heart, the human was determined and resourceful, using everything at her disposal to try and puzzle out the situation at hand, even if she didn’t always consider all the factors at play. If one thing wouldn’t work, she’d try another – something that reminded the Owl Lady very distinctly of herself when she was younger.

Making things worse was that naïveté. Luz clearly didn’t know, or at least didn’t believe that humans weren’t innately incapable of Magic; the idea that humans and Witches were innately different, biologically or spiritually, hadn’t even seemed to occur to her. She genuinely believed that the only thing she needed to do to learn Magic was figure out how it worked.

“Were it only so simple,” the Witch breathed, hands on her hips as she inspected the pile of junk and books.

At the very least, Luz was still in contact with… whoever it was she was speaking with in the human world using that little purple box she carried around. That would keep people from looking for her, at least as long as she could maintain the lie – not that Eda thought she could maintain it for long. The girl struck her as an exceptionally poor liar.

All that in mind, the Witch estimated they had roughly a week – two at an absolute stretch – before people started getting suspicious and started poking holes in Luz’s story. The girl needed to be back in the human world before then.

Eda just hoped Luz wouldn’t force her hand.

“… you’re overthinking this, Edalyn,” she murmured, her full name sending a chill down her spine, “She’ll be out of here within a week. Two at most. Until then, she can lend you an extra hand.”

As if on cue, she heard Hooty’s voice from beyond the door, making her ears twitch.

“Hi Luz!” he shouted, “How was your first day in Bonesborough? Did you get all your deliveries done? Did you get something to eat while you were out? Did it taste good? Sometimes Eda brings me back things to eat from Bonesborough! They’re always pleasantly disguuuuustiiiiing-!”

“Shut it, Hooty!” King snapped, “Just let us in!”

“What’s the magic wooooooord?” the door dragged the question out, deliberately raising his voice to a volume that was practically ear-splitting.

“Hooty, please,” Luz all but begged, “Just… I really don’t wanna be out here right now.”

Immediately, the door swung open.

“See?” Hooty beamed as the two shuffled in, “That’s all you had to say! Luz is my new favourite! Hoot hoot!”

King kicked the door as hard as he could, sending it slamming shut before he slumped against the chest, panting for breath. Luz, for her part, had set the bag of potions down on the floor, wringing her hands together as she slowly padded into the room, brows arching up and lips curled down with a distinct distress as she glanced furtively out the window.

“… Luz?” Eda asked, stepping forwards.

The teen jumped, staggering back at the sound of her own name with a yelp; when her chocolate eyes locked on Eda, however, she stared only for a couple of seconds before letting out a slow sigh of relief, “… hi, Eda…”

“… you look spooked,” the Witch started, tone casual, “Something happen while you were out?”

“Well…” Luz kept wringing her hands, as if she didn’t know what to do with them as she bit her lip, clearly wondering how to begin.

King, however, was more than happy to speak for her, glaring as he pushed himself up, “Are you kidding?! We ran all the way back because one of your customers freaked her out!”

“King!” Luz shouted, eyes wide with protest.

“We stopped like, once to check the map, and then she was running again!” he crossed his stubby arms, “I couldn’t even catch my breath!”

Luz’s expression was growing more horrified by the second as her eyes shot to the Owl Lady. Fear was pulsing through the girl’s Soul, every fidget accompanied by another flux of that tiny wisp of a sphere as she squirmed under Eda’s gaze…

“… King,” she glanced at the Demon, “Leave us alone for a few minutes.”

“But-” he whined, looking back as he tried to climb atop the chest again, “But my sunspot!”

Eda didn’t say anything. She only let her eyes narrow, brow furrowing in warning.

“… oh, fine,” he huffed, quietly padding away as he muttered under his breath, drifting around the corner and out of sight.

“… Luz?” she did her best to let her voice soften.

The Witch wasn’t entirely convinced she succeeded when the teen flinched, “… y… yeah?...”

“… why don’t you sit down?”

She gestured to the couch; the Latina hesitated for a moment before slowly settling on the red cushions, idly picking at the torn cover keeping in the stuffing, unable to simply sit still in her nervousness.

Eda didn’t move to sit down beside her; she simply crossed her arms, mulling over the questions in her head before speaking, choosing her words carefully, “… so… you got scared?”

A wordless nod; Luz’s head stayed low, eyes unfocused as her fingers redoubled their tugging on the fabric.

“… you don’t strike me as a kid who’s easy to scare,” she smiled, “So… what happened, exactly?”

Luz bit her lip, hands clenching as her eyes squeezed shut. She struggled to speak, but the words seemed to catch in her throat – not like she was about to cry, but more like she was overwhelmed, unsure of where to begin or even if she should, feeding back and making her emotional turmoil even worse. Everything she could say was jamming together on their way out, keeping her from saying anything at all.

“… take a second to breathe,” the woman instructed, finally managing to get the girl to snap up and look at her, eyes now bearing an intense fixation. Eda gestured, raising a hand as she filled her lungs, and lowering it as she exhaled, “Breathe, Luz. In and out. Let yourself settle down.”

For a long few seconds, Luz stared, leaving Eda wondering if the teen had even registered what she’d been told. Eventually, however, she obeyed, chest noticeably expanding as she took in an audible breath, then let it out, struggling to keep each intake and release consistent and slow. Finally, her Soul started to steady, little by little as the fear drained from Luz’s form. Not entirely, but to the point where she seemed more tired than frightened, finally letting it sink in that she wasn’t in any immediate danger.

“Better?”

“… yeah,” she nodded, “A little.”

“Okay. Then let’s try again,” Eda gestured to the door, “What happened while you were out?”

Luz took a breath through her nose, fidgeting once again, though it wasn’t nearly as severe now. She stared at her hands, bouncing one knee as she spoke, “… it was the last name on the list you gave us. Adegast. The Wizard of Bonesborough?”

Eda raised an eyebrow, immediately picking up on the red flag as the girl looked up at her expectantly, hoping the Owl Lady would know the name; she clicked her tongue, eyes narrowing “There’s no such thing as a wizard, kid.”

The brunette blinked, “… what?”

“It’s an arbitrary term humans made up to explain the existence of male Witches,” she explained, raising a finger from its position on her elbow, “No self respecting Witch would call themselves a wizard. In fact, they’d be pretty insulted if you were to call them that. You’re either a Witch, or you’re not.”

“… that would’ve been nice to know,” Luz muttered, letting her gaze drop again as she grit her teeth, tone one of self scolding.

“It didn’t occur to me to warn you about that,” Eda sighed, scratching the back of her neck, “Didn’t think it would be an issue… that one’s on me, kid.”

“… he was in a castle,” the child continued, “Like… a full on castle, big walls and everything. He seemed perfectly friendly when he let us in – he invited us for tea, and…”

“… and you accepted?” Eda finished.

“… yeah,” Luz nodded, “We did. King had scones, and… I drank the tea.”

“… let me get a look at you,” the Witch finally strode forwards, gently taking Luz’s face into her hands.

“Whoa, wait,” the girl reached up, trying to block Eda’s fingers, “What’re you doing?”

“Making sure you haven’t been poisoned,” the silver haired vixen stated, angling the teen’s face upwards, “I don’t think you have, considering you ran back here, but keep talking just in case. It’ll keep you calm.”

“What about King!?” Luz was suddenly pushing herself up, struggling to get out from under Eda’s grip, “He’s smaller than me and ate the entire plate of scones! If I’m poisoned, then he-!”

“Don't worry about him,” Eda’s tone was as firm as her grasp, quieting the girl with four words of assurance, “He’s a Demon, Luz. He’s smaller than you, but he’s also built differently from the animals in your world. It’ll take more than a plate of poisoned scones to do anything to him; at worst, he’ll have a nasty stomach ache to sleep off.”

“… okay,” she sat back down, leaning against the cushions as the Witch tilted her head, tugging open her eyelids one at a time to get a better look at her eyes.

“Not seeing any sort of inflammation in your eyes,” the woman conjured a small orb of light, holding it up to Luz’s face, “Dilation seems normal… keep talking.”

“… he seemed perfectly friendly at first,” Luz repeated, “He… asked about you, what you hired me for… I told him some things I probably shouldn’t have, honestly…”

“Like?”

“I’m your apprentice, mostly…”

The Witch let out a chuckle, pressing a hand to Luz’s forehead, testing her temperature, “I’m not too worried about that getting out, kid. With you working for me, that would’ve made the rounds eventually. If you’d told him where the House was, that would be a different story.”

“… okay,” a slight note of relief entered the girl’s voice, “Eventually, he tried to give me a scroll for some kind of quest… that’s when I noticed he had a big pile of potions of his own. I remembered what you said about rivals, and… that’s where I started getting worried.”

Eda nodded, reaching down to pull up Luz’s arm, and pulling out a small knife, “I’m gonna make a small cut, okay? You’re not showing any physical symptoms, and something should have happened by now if he had poisoned you, but I’d rather do a little blood work and be absolutely sure.”

At this, Luz swallowed, then looked away; the tip of the blade gently pressed into her tan skin, making the girl flinch briefly before it pulled back, leaving a razor thin cut behind. A small trickle of blood slipped down her arm before Eda ran her thumb across the cut, collecting the blood, studying it for a moment before casting her spell.

The golden glow immediately had the girl mesmerized, all else forgotten as she stared at the gleam emanating from the formerly crimson liquid; the woman gave a slow bob of the head before letting the glow fade, disappearing entirely.

“… what was that?” Luz asked, eagerness slipping into her tone.

“A basic check for impurities and Magic. Heavy metals, toxins, diseases, dormant curses, that sort of thing,” Eda wiped off her finger, then pressed her hand to the cut, Wavelength gently pulsing once more with a green shimmer; when she pulled away, Luz’s cut was gone, leaving not even a scar.

The brunette’s brown eyes shimmered as she ran her hand along her arm, feeling for any sign of the wound, only to find nothing. She grinned as she looked up at Eda, “… when do I get to learn how to do that?

“That depends,” the Witch stated, deliberately keeping her answer vague, “How long ago did all this happen?”

“Uuuuuuuh…” Luz trailed off, smile fading into a look of uncertainty as she dug for her purple box, pulling it out with a response that sounded more like a question than an answer, “… about… half an hour ago, now?”

“Mm. Alright then,” Eda closed her eyes, bobbing her head, “The good news is nothing came up, and you seem to be in the clear. But I’d like to make a couple more checks over the next few hours just to make sure you don’t get blindsided.”

“No complaints here,” she agreed.

“So, you started getting worried when you realized he was running a potion business of his own?” the Witch prompted, rising to her full height.

“Yeah,” Luz confirmed, “I remembered your warning, and… asked why he was buying from you in the first place if he was running his own business. That’s… when he really started freaking me out. He just…” she gesticulated, trying to convey exactly what happened, trying to slump while holding herself up, “He just went slack. Like… like a puppet with its strings cut. His eyes hung out of their sockets a little, his jaw stopped working, his arms just hung there – his whole body seemed to be held up by his shoulders, like his legs suddenly weren’t supporting his weight anymore.”

“… a puppet…” Eda huffed, frowning, “… what did you say his name was again?”

“Adegast,” Luz pulled out her list, holding it out to the Owl Lady, “It was the last one on here.”

She accepted the list, glancing at the final name, “Adegast,” the Witch repeated, feeling it roll off her tongue in a way that left her wrinkling her nose in disgust, “Adegast… Adegast…”

“… purple robes?” Luz suggested, “Beard? Sandals?”

“Well, there’s your problem right there,” Eda snickered quietly, “I specifically told you not to trust a man in sandals.”

“I thought you were being facet… faceti… facet-ious?”

“You mean facetious?”

“Ugh!” Luz threw her arms up, tugging gently at her hair, “¡¿Por qué siempre olvido que la T está en silencio?!

“English is a leguaje exasperante, kid,” Eda set the list down, moving to peruse the shelves, “Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

The tanned teen groaned, then straightened as the Witch removed a book, flicking through it, “… what’re you looking for?”

“Bestiary. Pretty sure I know what this guy is,” she skimmed through the pages and pictures of monstrosities, eyes narrowed and lips pursed.

It didn’t take her long to find it.

“… yep,” she beckoned “Come take a look.”

Luz obeyed, stepping over to peer around the woman’s arm-

¡Ay Dios mio!

-only to immediately recoil in horror and revulsion, eyes wide as she stared at the picture within.

Its head was too big, three times the size of the man it carried in one of its many tendrils; its cheeks hung low, massive blobs of fat that hung below its near nonexistent chin, a stark contrast to its sunken eyes and mouth. Making the visage worse was the fact that it had no lips, exposing its teeth, which were the same muted gold as its eyes – nor did it have a nose, instead having a pair of nostrils on its forehead. Its arms and torso were tiny compared to the massive tentacles that supported it, dozens of bulbous, sickly yellow orbs hanging from its throat…

“… what… is that?” Luz asked, hesitant as she hesitantly drifted back in, as if afraid the picture would come back to life.

That is Adegast,” the Witch stated, “Or at least close enough. It’s a Puppeteer Demon – a creature that uses bodies as lures to draw in more victims.”

“… bodies…?” the girl’s face was growing ashen, eyes wide as her horror continued to grow.

“Bodies,” the woman confirmed, “Puppeteer Demons specialize in two things – puppetry, as the name suggests, and illusory Magic. Con artistry is generally their whole deal, since it’s how they lure in prey. They wear their victims out over time, eat their Souls once they’re exhausted, and then they turn what’s left into a puppet for their own use; if I had to guess, the puppet went slack when you asked why he was buying potions from me because you struck a nerve.”

“… he wanted taxidermy supplies,” the dawning realization only seemed to add to Luz’s revulsion as she staggered back, hands rising to the sides of her head, “… I was talking to a puppet…”

“Unless he’s somehow discovered resurrection Magic and decided to be a suspiciously good Samaritan?” Eda closed the book and set it back on the shelf, “I’d say that’s exactly what you were talking to, kiddo.”

“… he gave me a scroll,” the Latina breathed, taking out a rolled up paper and carefully unfurling it, “And I almost fell for it… I wanted to go on a quest…”

The parchment fell to the floor, forgotten. All at once, the girl’s hand fell to cover her mouth, the other to her stomach as her body convulsed, eyes fixed upon the empty space before her as she whispered, “… I think I’m gonna be sick…”

Slowly, Eda closed the book, setting it back on the shelf before slowly approaching the teen. She set her hands on Luz’s shoulders, “Hey. Look at me.”

Those brown eyes snapped back into focus, staring into the woman’s once more, but it was only when the older woman was certain that she had the girl’s full attention that she spoke again, “… I knew I was sending you out to deal with some shady customers. I wanted to make sure you were smart enough to tell when you were being had by someone. So I gave you what I thought would be a relatively easy job; exploring town, making deliveries and collecting payment.

“I didn’t realize that there was a Puppeteer Demon on the list until you jogged my memory,” she said, “It wasn’t until you mentioned puppets that I even recognized Adegast’s name. I thought that creep was long gone from Bonesborough. I didn’t think you would have to deal with someone that dangerous.”

Luz opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out; just as quickly, she closed it, uncertain of what to say or do.

“This is on me, okay?” the Owl Lady gave her shoulder a gentle, reassuring pat, “You did nothing wrong. I should have double-checked who was on that list before sending you out.”

“… no…” Luz shook her head, “That’s… that’s not it… I just…”

Again, she seemed to be struggling with the words; the woman waited, letting the girl gather her thoughts once again.

“… why would he do that?” she finally asked, brows upturned and eyes wide as she groped blindly for an understanding of the malice, “Why would he…?”

“… if you’re asking about the puppetry… well, Demons tend to be nasty pieces of work – they’re sustained by the power of the Soul, and have evolved all sorts of ways to try and take them,” the Witch explained, “If you’re asking why he would take advantage of you like that… it’s because he wanted to use you to get to me. If I had to guess, he saw you, and… tried to take advantage of your trust to lure me into a trap.”

“… but… but why?” Luz insisted, wildly gesticulating, “There’s gotta be a reason for it. People don’t just… do horrible things to each other like this because they feel like it! Isn’t there something that he wants from you?”

Eda shrugged, “Probably to shut down my potion business. Like I said, Luz – I have rivals who want to shut me down every bit as much as the Potions Coven. From his point of view, I’m probably stealing customers from his own business.”

At this, the girl seemed to deflate, the wind taken out of her sails as her hands hung limply at her sides as she struggled to process what she was hearing, expression morphing between incredulous horror… and the beginnings of genuine outrage, jaw clenching as her brows dipped into a deep frown.

“… so he’s… literally just… just that petty!?” she hissed, anger working its way into her tone, hands clenching into fists.

“‘Fraid so,” the Owl Lady pulled her hand back, letting it come to rest on her hip, “Unfortunately, Luz, there are a lot of people like that. Both in the Demonic Realms, and in your world; pettiness is how a lot of Souls become Kishin Eggs.”

“That… that’s so… so…!” the teen seemed to be doing everything in her power to keep herself from snatching something off a shelf and hurling it across the room. She raked her hands through her hair, baring her teeth in a snarl, “What a STUPID JERK!

Eda blinked; out of all things that Luz could have said, that… was far more mundane than what she had been expecting.

Nonetheless, Luz rapidly began to pace, every word met with another gesture, another movement, all ability to stand still completely lost in her newfound rage, “Seriously, what is wrong with this guy!? Here you are, trying to make a living while also helping people get affordable potions, overall doing a good, if technically illegal thing! You’d think he’d appreciate that at least a little, but noooo, this idiota is too envuelto en su propia codicia por cuidar!

With every word, she was speaking faster, getting more animated in her anger, but despite this the girl was still showing remarkable physical restraint, keeping her movements to herself despite their ever increasing speed, “Incluso si ese no fuera el acto de codicia más insignificante del mundo, ¡pensarías que se daría cuenta de que no haría mucha diferencia! ¡Dijiste "rivales" en plural! ¿¡Realmente cree que deshacerse de ti igualaría tanto a la competencia!? Incluso desde un punto de vista puramente intelectual, al menos debería poder reconocer que incluso si me hubiera engañado, ¡no eres lo suficientemente tonto como para caer en una trampa tan descarada! ¡Este tipo es un completo y absoluto idiota, de principio a fin!"

Luz’s chest heaved as she forced herself to take deep breaths; Eda could see her Soul starting to calm, the waves of anger settling back down. As the purple-clad teen slumped back onto the couch with a groan, however, elbows on her knees, head in her hands, something else seeping into her Wavelength.

Shame.

“… impressive rant,” the Witch chuckled, breaking the silence that the girl had left behind, “Though you know you don’t have to hold back any profanity under my roof, right?”

“… Mom had a swear jar,” Luz mumbled around her hands.

“A swear jar?” a silver eyebrow rose.

“You have to put money in the jar every time you curse.”

“… heh. And here I thought you just didn’t like to swear,” she stepped around the table, moving to sit down beside her would-be protégé.

“I don’t,” the girl raised her head, pulling her hands down her face before crossing her arms, expression sullen, “I just… don’t like being that person, you know?”

“I guess.”

They sat in the silence for a long moment, chocolate eyes staring off into nothing while the golden ones watched intently, debating what to say next.

“… I’m sorry,” Luz said, voice low enough that the Witch might not have heard her without her Soul enhancing her hearing.

“Sorry?” Eda parroted with a disbelieving chuckle, “What for?”

Everything,” Luz huffed, drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around herself, chin resting on her forearms, “It seems like no matter what I try, I screw it up. I sprung this whole thing on you, so you don’t have anywhere to put me. Your customers didn’t pay me what they were supposed to, so I came back with maybe half of what they owe you. And then I nearly get tricked by some sort of… puppet tentacle monster from a bad doujin.”

Every word caused a little bit more of Eda’s smile to wane, the sheer despondence in the Latina’s voice speaking to years of neglectful scorn, “I just… I feel like I can’t do anything right.”

“… you really think that?” she leaned back, eyes fixed upon Luz, “Because I think you did plenty right today.”

At this, the girl’s ear twitched; slowly, she turned her head, crannnig her neck to meet the Witch’s gaze.

Eda smirked, “Don’t believe me?”

“… I…” Luz trailed off, then sighed, “… not really.”

“… come on,” the Owl Lady pushed herself to her feet, “I think I know something that might make you feel better.”

Wordlessly, Luz slowly unfolded her limbs, and moved to follow Eda as she made her way to the door.

Notes:

Pretty low-key chapter this time, but we got more insights as to what's going on in Eda's head. Keep in mind she isn't in Owl Mom mode yet; she's still adjusting to the new kid in her life, as well as going over her intentions regarding Luz.

Although... don't be so certain regarding Eda's hypothesis on Luz and beliefs on magic. We all know how that turned out in canon, after all.

As a side note, here is the English translation for Luz's rant: "Even if that weren’t the most petty act of greed in the world, you’d think he’d realize it wouldn’t make much difference! You said ‘rivals,’ plural! Does he really think getting rid of you would even out the competition that much!? Even from a purely intellectual standpoint, he should at least be able to recognize that even if he had tricked me, you’re not dumb enough to fall for such a blatant trap! This guy’s just a complete and utter petty idiot, start to finish!"

Please be sure to leave your thoughts below! I hope you all enjoyed the sixteenth chapter of Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance!

Chapter 17: Examples Made

Notes:

I do not own Owl House or Soul Eater.

If I did... well, I'd be even more bitter about the status of Owl House season 3 than I am now. My greatest condolences to the entirety of the Owl House team, and especially to Dana Terrace herself.

Also, fuck you, Disney. Genuinely. Just... fuck you.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Luz leaned forwards on the table as Eda scratched away at the paper with her pen, formulating yet another list; she stared at her phone with her eyes half lidded, having scrolled down to the bottom of her current screen, still lost in her own despondence.

The Witch was splitting her attention between counting the money Luz had handed her for a total, and asking her for names; in turn, the Latina had been parroting the names back, along with how much they had paid her upon receiving their delivery. A little less than half the people on the list had snubbed the girl, paying only half, if that, of what they owed the Owl Lady.

“Skadi?” Eda prompted, not looking up from the homemade ledger.

“Skadi, number two, Lost Belt Lane,” the teen sighed, “The ice cream place. Ordered…” she squinted, “Various sweeteners?”

“And what did she pay you?”

“Full price – one thousand five hundred snails for a full restock.”

“Thought she’d treat you nicely,” the Owl Lady chuckled, stretching, “Skadi’s good people, if a little moody sometimes.”

“She seemed a little on the mad side to me.”

“That’s just because it’s summer – she really doesn’t like the heat.”

“Can’t say I blame her,” she took a sip from the glass of ice water beside her.

“Alright, last one,” Eda wrinkled her nose, penning in the last name, “Adegast. Taxidermy supplies…”

“… I didn’t count what he gave me,” Luz confessed, “I just… got out of there as fast as I could.”

“Honestly, I don’t blame you,” Eda nodded, making one last count of the money on the table, “You made the right call. You shouldn’t have had to deal with him in the first place, and it should be easy enough for me to see how much he paid just looking at the totals.”

“Mm,” Luz hummed, letting her chin rest on her arms and once again suppressing her body’s continuous threat to vomit; the knowledge of just how close she’d come to walking straight into a kidnapping, or worse, had made her feel violently ill. Though her earlier rage had suppressed it, she was now right back to circling through a sense of miserable self-scolding, berating herself for having trusted him so easily.

She hadn’t even trusted Eda that quickly – how had he suckered her in to having tea with him with a few quick words?

“… gotta say, you did better than I expected,” Eda finally set the pen down, “You did good work today, kid.”

At this, Luz glanced up, blinking in surprise at the self-satisfied, but genuine smile on the silver haired woman’s face, her golden eyes gleaming in the afternoon light.

“… but… I…” she swallowed, trying to speak, “I didn’t get everything they owed you.”

“No,” the Witch conceded, “But that’s entirely beyond your control. I figured a few of my customers were gonna think you were an easy mark and stiff you, and I wanted to see how you would handle it,” she gestured to the phone, chuckling, “I wasn’t expecting you to actually make a list of who paid you what. This makes my job tomorrow much easier.”

“Well… I…” Luz pushed herself up, finally matching the Owl Lady’s smile with one of her own, “I just… wanted to do a good job. I didn’t want you to think I was just a screw-up.”

“Kid, trust me,” Eda rose to her feet, sending the bills and coins flying into a nearby chest with a snap of her fingers, “You’re not a screw-up. You’re a little naïve, sure, but that just means you have some growing up to do.”

A nod… then the teen frowned, pursing her lips as another thought came to mind, “Wait. ‘Wanted to see how I would handle it’?”

The woman’s smile grew coy as she strode out into the hall, “Yep.”

Her queasy unease forgotten, Luz shoved her phone back in her pocket and pushed out of her chair, yelping as she nearly tripped over the legs before following after Eda, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Let’s turn this into a bit of a thought exercise, Luz,” the Witch did not turn around, merely raising a finger, “What did I task you with today?”

“You had me go into town to make deliveries and sell potions,” the girl recited.

“Right. And what did I give you to help you with that?”

“Potions, a list and a map.”

“And how did you do the job I gave you today?”

“Well…” Luz wrinkled her nose in thought, frown deepening as she tried to recall the exact sequence of events, “… I had to find the addresses on the map in order to find your clients. And because Google Maps doesn’t cover anything here – I checked – I had to figure out where I was on the map by taking a look at my surroundings, finding signs and landmarks and comparing them on the map. From there, I had to plan a route.

“Granted, I had King with me in case I really got lost, but…” she huffed, crossing her arms as the tiny Demon came to mind, nearly every word that came out of his mouth some sort of provocation or complaint, “Well, he was more interested in getting snacks than he was in actually helping.”

“Yeah, he can be a little bastard sometimes,” Eda agreed, coming to a halt as she turned to smile at Luz again, “But here’s my next question. What did you learn today?”

The tanned teen raised an eyebrow, “You mean other than ‘Wizards aren’t real and Demons want to trick you so they can eat your Soul’?”

“Other than that,” the silver haired owl insisted, “Come on, Luz, humour me.”

She bit her lip, squinting as she bounced her foot in place, “Well… I read the map… I met some people… I…”

“… you were in a city you weren’t familiar with.”

The casual prompt caused Luz’s eyes to snap open, realization flooding her mind as she raised her eyes to meet Eda’s; the Witch was openly grinning now, clearly pleased to see the dawning epiphany on the girl’s face.

“… this was part of a lesson,” excitement was beginning to swell in Luz’s chest now, a brilliant smile breaking out across her face, “You sent me out to get me familiar with Bonesborough!”

Bingo,” Eda’s eyes gleamed with approval as she reached out to ruffle Luz’s hair, once again turning to continue out into the foyer, “Speaking from experience, one of the most important things you should do when you’re in a new area is learn about your environment. The better you know your way around, and the more you know about the world around you, the better off you’ll be overall, since you won’t be dependent on others to help you get around and you’ll know what parts of town to avoid. And even when you aren’t familiar with the area, having some idea of how to navigate is important; you’re a Hell of a lot more confident when you can at least find your way around than you are when you have no clue where you are or where you’re going.”

“So you wanted to see how well I could get around a city I was completely unfamiliar with to see how well I could navigate and how much I could learn about it?” the human inquired.

“Yeah, but that’s only one of the things I wanted to see from you,” the Witch continued, “So, building off that, what else did you show me while you were out there?”

“I planned out routes to get from one place to another,” Luz began, “Come to think of it, I could have made my run a little more efficient if I’d checked the addresses and planned out my routes a little better… but I also kept track of who paid you what.”

“And what do you think that shows me?”

“… problem solving?” the girl ventured.

“Exactly. Navigation in and of itself is a form of problem solving, but it’s not the only thing you had to do today; you also had to deal with customers who were suspicious of you, or thought they could get away with ripping you off,” they entered the foyer, the warmth of the fireplace comfortable despite the glaring summer heat from beyond the windows, “Someone a little more reckless might’ve tried to challenge them on it. Instead, you did the smart thing; you made a ledger so that I could handle it later. You recognized you weren’t equipped to handle the problem yourself, so you made sure that I would know who to visit and what I need to collect.”

“Well, I did try to argue a couple times,” Luz admitted, rubbing the back of her head, “But they didn’t listen to me…”

“Well, you didn’t press it so much that you got hurt; that’s what matters,” Eda stated, “So, in summary?”

“I proved to you I can navigate and problem solve,” the girl recited, “I learned a little bit about Bonesborough and can at least find my way around, even if I don’t know a ton about it yet. I kept a ledger of how much everyone paid you, and I successfully escaped an evil tentacle Demon?”

“You’re missing one thing.”

“What?”

“You successfully made all your deliveries,” the Witch snickered, reaching out to roughly ruffle the brunette’s messy hair, “Didn’t miss a single one. You did good, Luz.”

Even as Eda’s talon-like nails ran through her hair, Luz could feel the elation pulsing through her body, completely wiping away all of her former apprehensions. The Witch wasn’t angry with her, not even the slightest bit – if anything, Eda seemed proud, proud that Luz had managed to do so well on her first day, even if she’d had a few missteps along the way.

She couldn’t suppress the high-pitched hum that was rising through her throat, escaping her tightly closed mouth in a muffled, but prolonged joyful squeak. Before Luz could stop herself, she’d lunged forwards, once again trapping the Owl Lady in as tight a hug as she could manage, “Thank you, Eda!”

“Agh-!” the Witch stumbled back; Luz could feel her heartbeat pulse from beneath the surface of the golden gem on her chest, which was oddly warm to the touch, as if it possessed a unique heat all its own. Eda placed her free, untrapped hand on the girl’s shoulder.

“Okay, seriously, what is that?” she pushed Luz back, breaking the embrace, sounding less angry and more confused.

“… it’s a hug,” Luz stated, now suddenly afraid she’d done something wrong.

“… a hug?” the Owl Lady tilted her head.

“Yeah,” the Latina stretched her arms out to the side, “Some people use it as a greeting, but a lot of the time it’s used as a sign of affection.”

The Witch continued to stare at her blankly, seeming somewhere between suspicious and genuinely perplexed, as if she’d been presented with a particularly obtuse riddle.

“… you’ve never been hugged by your mom?” Luz finally asked, now grasping at straws, “Your dad?”

At this, the light in the Owl Lady’s eyes dimmed. Her brow was deeply creased in a severe frown as she straightened, exhaling a slow breath through her nose.

“… Eda?” the girl prodded, “… did I do something wrong?”

“… my parents weren’t all that big on affection, kid,” the Witch looked away, arms crossed.

“… oh.”

Silence reigned between them as Luz realized the gravity of her error; she wrapped her arms around herself, trying desperately to read the Owl Lady’s now utterly stony face, her golden eyes inscrutable as the rest of her expression, her pale features seeming, however briefly, to have been carved from marble.

“… I’m sorry,” Luz apologized, “I-I didn’t-”

“You didn’t know,” Eda finished; she stared into the fire, seeming utterly lost in thought before finally stretching, raising her arms over her head, “It is what it is. No point cryin’ about it now.”

“Still… I’m s-”

“Ugh, enough with the apologies, kid,” a wry grin crossed the Witch’s face again, smothering her somber tone, “You’ve already apologized too many times for my liking. Let’s just move on, alright?”

“… okay,” the tanned teen sighed, glancing down; despite the red-clad woman’s words, she didn’t feel any better. Once again, she’d made yet another blunder, asked another insensitive question…

Was she ever going to know better?...

“… I know it’s been a long day,” Eda spoke up, making Luz raise her head again, “But it’s not over just yet.”

“… you have something else for me to do?” the girl asked, unable to hold back a tired breath.

“Actually,” the Witch smirked, raising a hand; a small orb of light flickered to light in her palm, shining brightly and immediately getting Luz’s attention. It began to spin, slowly rotating around Eda’s open hand and palm as she continued, “I was thinking we could start your first lesson in Magic.”

“… you want to teach me Magic?” the Latina murmured breathlessly, now caught in the conflict between her guilt and her excitement.

“I don’t see why not; after the day you’ve had, I’d say you’ve at least earned an introductory lesson,” the woman with the silver coif closed her fingers, causing the light to disperse, “And then, after that, there’s something I’d like to show you.”

Her guilt wasn’t fully forgotten, but it was very quickly shrinking. Luz’s heartbeat raced in her ears, and she quickly found herself bouncing on her feet again, unable to hide the joy that was once again building up within.

“Should I take that as a yes?” Eda flashed her a knowing grin.

Si,” she only barely kept her shout under control, “¡Me gustaria mucha eso!

“That’s what I thought,” Eda closed her eyes with an imperial gesture, her voice grandiose and commanding as it dropped several octaves, “Take a seat, my apprentice. Tonight, you learn the basics of Magic!”


It had not been an easy task, returning to teaching after roughly two weeks of being dead.

Sid had already studied up thoroughly on where his classes were in the curriculum; things were a couple of days behind schedule, but that was to be expected from a two-week absence due to reasons of being deceased. He already had a schedule in mind for getting his class back on track, and was more than happy to assist any student who needed help, even if they wouldn’t ask for it for one reason or another.

That was not what had made the past few school days difficult.

Rather, the difficulty had come from his coworkers.

It was no secret to the zombie that just about every member of the faculty had been strongly against his decision to allow Stein to kill him for the purposes of Black Star’s and Tsubaki’s extra lessons. The resident Death Scythe had scolded him for it over the phone; Stein himself had warned Sid that there would be no returning to the mortal coil, at least not in terms of true resurrection; Doctor Gorgon had pointedly told him it was ‘a silly endeavour over silly concerns,’ a jab that had stung more than just a little, as if she regarded his dedication to honesty with genuine contempt.

But it hadn’t stung nearly as much as the ear-ringing slap he’d received from Naigus.

Not so much as a word of hello, nor even a half second of hesitation. The instant she’d seen him after his return to school grounds, she’d strode across the room and smacked him so hard he’d been knocked entirely off kilter. By the time he’d pushed himself back up, opening his mouth to speak, she was gone, striding down the hall fuming in anger.

He couldn’t bring himself to get angry in turn. If the situation were reversed, he would probably be furious with her for the exact same reasons.

But, for better or worse, that was the kind of man he was.

Honest to a fault, even if that honesty came at his own expense.

There was no other way he could live, after everything.

The walking corpse sighed, proceeding down the list with his finger as he brought himself out of his reverie, reciting the next name, “Ox Ford?”

“Here,” the balding boy adjusted his glasses, a note of smug cheer in his voice.

“Harvar D. Éclair?”

“Present,” the tanned boy nodded, not bothering to remove his visor despite the fact that he was indoors.

“Kilik Rung?”

“Right here, sir!” the dark skinned lad called, raising a hand in acknowledgement.

“Fire and Thunder?”

The twins said nothing, each merely getting up onto their shared desk in acknowledgement beside their Meister.

“Maka Albarn?”

No answer.

Sid glanced up from the list, raising an eyebrow; the rows of ascending lecture desks were almost entirely full.

Much to his surprise, one of the empty seats belonged to the studious Scythe Meister herself.

“… Maka?” he tried again, letting his Soul sweep the room; it didn’t matter where he looked, she didn’t seem to be-

The door swung open, slamming against the wall; Maka huffed for breath alongside Tsubaki and her partner, hands on her knees before throwing up a hand, “Present!”

“… I was about to mark you and Soul as absent, Miss Albarn,” the teacher stated, “It’s not like you to be late to class.”

“Sorry, sir,” she straightened.

“We had to bring the new kids,” Tsubaki gestured, standing aside so Sid could see out into the hallway.

“‘Kids?’” a voice behind them scoffed, and as the trio stepped through the door, the zombie blinked – or at least he would have, if he were still capable of it.

The tallest of the three snorted, crossing her arms “For your information, I’m probably older than you by five years.”

“That makes you seventeen,” Soul snarked, “You’re still not allowed to drink.”

“Didn’t stop-ow!” the smaller girl winced as the older one dug her elbow into her ribs.

“Settle down, girls,” the black haired boy in front sighed, “We don’t want to cause a commotion.”

Sid glanced back down at the list of students, running through it once again to make absolutely sure he wasn’t just seeing things.

Sure enough, three names had been added.

‘… why didn’t anyone tell me Lord Death’s son had signed up for classes?’ he cursed, then began marking attendance again, “Just get to your seats, please. I’ll cut you some slack this time for helping your fellow students; that’s the kind of man I was.”

“Thank you, sir,” Maka nodded, then gripped Soul by the arm, dragging him up towards their desk. Tsubaki quickly followed, moving to sit beside Black Star, who had been oddly silent the whole time, eyes fixed upon the boy with the striped hair.

The shinobi boy was not the only one, either; everyone’s eyes were fixed on the three newcomers, the students whispering among themselves in clear curiosity.

“Students, please quiet down,” the undead instructor instructed; almost immediately, the room fell silent, devoid of all noise but Maka’s and Soul’s footsteps as they made their way to their seats. When they finally sat down, Sid cleared his throat, “Good afternoon, everyone. I’m sure you’ve all noticed that we have three new students today,” he gestured, “Please welcome Liz and Patty Thompson, and their Meister, Death the Kid.”

Immediately, the whispering started again.

“Death the Kid? What kinda name is that?”

“Dunno. But what’s the deal with the girls?

“Wait, two weapons?”

“Huh. He’s kinda like you, Kilik!”

“Well, I guess we’ll see; that’s not an easy thing to pull off, let me tell-”

“Wait, isn’t that the kid who-”

“The Giza incident?”

“Yeah, the Giza incident-!”

“Quiet down, please,” Sid reinstructed, his practiced patience pushing his irritation down to a mild, fringe sensation, “I expect you all to treat them with respect. Please make them feel comfortable, and don’t ask them too many questions,” he turned to the trio, “Is there anything you three have to say before we begin?”

Patty glanced at the elder Thompson, who merely shrugged; Kid, however, turned to the class, smiling serenely as he addressed the crowd, “I hope we all manage to get along. Thank you all for having us here.”

The murmurs returned, but approval was intermingled with the curiosity; before it could rise, however, the zombie spoke again, “Alright. Please take your seats, you three. Any of the open desks will do.”

“Thank you, Sid,” Kid nodded, leading his Weapons up the steps.

“That’s either sir or professor to you,” the teacher intoned, setting down the attendance list without another word.

Though as Kid ascended the steps, Sid couldn’t help but notice the boy’s smile fade the instant his eyes met Black Star’s.

In that instant, invisible sparks flew, Kid’s formerly friendly veneer having been replaced with a cold, simmering anger. The shinobi simply met the glare with a cocky grin, brows creased in a frown as he leaned further back in his chair – a carefree show of total pride, as though he didn’t feel threatened by the young Reaper at all.

Nonetheless, Kid kept moving, slowly coming to a stop beside Maka and sitting down, while the Thompsons continued on, slowly filing into nearby desks.

‘… right,’ the zombie thought, glad his face could no longer show his unease as his attention flickered back and forth between the Reaper and the ninja, ‘Might want to keep an eye on that…’

Nonetheless, he forced a breath into his lungs, “All that out of the way… good afternoon, students. I’m sure you all know what day it is today.”

Though most of the students either gave some form of acknowledgement or frustrated resignation, Kid simply stared down, unblinking, with an idle curiosity, hands folded atop his desk. His Weapons seemed to have largely lost interest, Liz resting her chin in her hand with half lidded eyes, Patty spinning her hat on her finger.

He’d cut them some slack this once.

That was the kind of man he was.

He turned, and started writing out two words on the board, in large enough letters that even the back of the class could see them. It was an artform, really, learning how to write that large and keep it somehow legible.

Eventually, he stepped away from the board, gripping the podium at the front of the class and lifting it off the ground as if it were nothing.

“We’re going to be testing how far you’ve all come in the past year. Combat Training.”


Luz eagerly bounced her legs in place as she sat on the very edge of the couch; Eda could feel the girl’s eyes boring into the back of her head as the Witch swept about, snatching various items from the shelves or levitating them in from other rooms. Paper, pens, several glasses and bowls, a pitcher of water, small metal stands, beakers, candles…

“What’s all this for?” Luz asked as each item gently floated to rest on either the wooden table or the floor.

“I find I understand things a little better if I have a visual aid,” the Owl Lady snapped her fingers as the candles slotted themselves into their respective stands; she heard Luz yelp as each wick suddenly came to life in a sudden flare. But each candle only blazed briefly before settling into a calm, gentle burn; the Latina scooted closer, staring in awe at the fire that had come to life from nary a spark, utterly entranced by a spell that the Witch had been able to perform since she was half Luz’s age.

Eda snickered, then dragged a chair over from the corner of the room, sitting down across from the human, “I get the sense that you’re fairly similar.”

The girl simply nodded, raising her head and continuing to bounce in place, “So! What spell am I learning first!?”

“Slow down, kid,” the Witch began to pour water into each container, “Before you learn Magic, you need to learn something else.”

The tanned teen raised an eyebrow, body abruptly going still, “What’s that?”

“Well… let me ask you a question first, Luz,” she set down the pitcher, steepling her fingers and resting her chin on her knuckles, elbows on her knees, “What do you think Magic is?

At this, Luz blinked, caught entirely off guard by the query; she stared blankly for a few seconds before tilting her head in confusion, “Is this a trick question? I thought that’s what you were going to teach me.”

“No trick,” Eda splayed her hands, as if to show she had nothing to hide, “Just an honest question. I want to see if you’ve got an answer – and if you do, how close it is,” she leaned back in her chair, fixing her eyes upon her would-be apprentice with an expectant look, “What is Magic? Where do you think it comes from?”

“… okay,” the girl began, bringing a hand to her chin as she frowned. She let out a low hum, squinting briefly before meeting Eda’s eyes again, “… well… the most obvious answer to me is that Magic… comes from the Soul?”

The Owl Lady cocked an eyebrow; that had certainly been on the list of her expectations, but she hadn’t placed it particularly high. Given Luz’s love for trashy tween novels – or at least, Eda assumed that’s what that Azura book was – she’d expected something a bit more overtly saccharine, like the heart, or friendship.

Nonetheless, she motioned with her hand, encouraging, “And what makes you say that?”

“Well, it’s what makes the most sense,” Luz scooted forwards in her seat, sitting right at the edge of the cushion, raising her hands as if she could somehow physically grasp the concept she was trying to envision, “Soul Wavelength is what allows the Soul to have an effect on the world around it, right? So, it kinda makes sense that Magic is similar to Soul Wavelength, just on a bigger scale.”

It was a genuine struggle for Eda to keep the astonishment off her face, only barely managing to keep her expression neutral; of all the possible answers, that one hadn’t even been on the list. The kid was missing quite a few details, but that didn’t change that Luz was astonishingly close to having a basic understanding of Magic – especially considering that she was a human.

In the back of her mind, the Owl Lady knew there was no doubt that Luz’s knowledge about the nature of Souls was suspicious. Generally, the only humans that knew anything about their own Souls were Weapons and Meisters, but even the youngest ones among them had very distinct, developed Souls that could be easily picked out from within a crowd. Luz’s was still small and unmoulded – all the proof the Witch needed to know the young Latina was yet to even find her Soul Wavelength.

And yet, this foreknowledge lit a fire in Eda’s stomach; an eagerness, a glee that relished in the idea of teaching such a bright, eager mind, one that showed all the same fascination about the world around her and how it worked that the Witch herself had as a girl, pushing her suspicion to the side in favour of baring her teeth in a broad, impressed grin, “Actually, you’re right!”

“Really!?” Luz beamed, scooting forwards again and promptly falling off the couch. She squeaked as she fell to the ground, smacking her head off the cushions, but she clearly was too elated to care, immediately picking herself back up and clenching her hands so hard they were trembling with her excitement.

“At the very least, you’re on the right track,” Eda shifted one of the beakers so that it was positioned over a flame, the tip of its long spout positioned directly over a shallow bowl of water, “You’re right in the sense that Soul Wavelength is what allows a Soul to affect the world around it; your theory that Magic would be an extension of that is actually a pretty solid first instinct.

“But there’s a little more nuance to it than that,” the beaker’s spout began to gently drip, droplets of water falling into the bowl below. Despite the simplicity of the setup, Luz found herself mesmerized as the falling orbs hit the still, placid surface of the clear liquid, each causing an outwards ripple with a slow, steady beat.


Despite her frustrations with his obnoxiousness, Maka knew Ox Ford was no slouch in a duel.

His tight, preppy clothing made it difficult for him to be particularly agile; he wasn’t very mobile, allowing the Scythe Meister to run circles around him in terms of raw speed.

But that was the problem; he didn’t need to keep up with her step for step.

He just needed to be able to pivot in place fast enough to match her every time she tried to change her angle.

She grit her teeth as Soul’s blade was repelled once again, forcing her to step back before that electric shock could run up her hands; Ox laughed his smug little laugh, quiet, but just loud enough to be heard as he levelled Harvar’s jagged, golden spear tip, his entire body seeming to have transformed into a solid piece of brass-coated steel.

“Ready to concede defeat?” he inquired, his self satisfaction clear in his tone.

“You wish,” she muttered coldly, raising Soul’s blade once more.

Ford’s only response was to settle onto his back foot, front heel raised slightly off the ground so he could twist in any direction that Maka tried to attack from; as opposed to the Scythe Meister and her Weapon, who had trained in a style that balanced and blended offence and defence into one with continuous motion, Ox and Harvar had adopted a highly defensive style, waiting for their opponents to come to them. It was a style that required equal parts reaction time, dedication, and patience – all things that the both of them had in spades, despite their vastly different natures and backgrounds.

Every movement was careful, calculated and minimal, as it was with every Meister and Weapon worth their salt – but where Maka and Soul used wide, circular sweeps to transition from offence to defence on a dime, and let one swing flow into the next, Ox and Harvar were linear, moving in and out in a straight line that even Black Star and Tsubaki sometimes had trouble countering.

‘They’re like a Goddamn snapping turtle,’ Soul growled, his own frustrations evident in his tone.

‘They’ve really improved since we last fought them. Just throwing ourselves at them isn’t going to work,’ she widened her stance, ‘We have to find some way to break their flow.’

‘Easier said than done. That electricity smarts a lot more than it did before, and Ox has been working on that in-and-out fighting style of his.’

‘Yeah. But so ’ve we.’

A second passed before a chuckle echoed.

‘Too true. Now that I’m takin’ a good look, he’s sweatin’; he’s having a harder time keeping up with us than he’s letting on.’

Though she couldn’t see it, the Scythe’s smile was infectious, sending a tugging sensation into her cheeks as she struggled to restrain the spreading grin, finally taking note of just how hard Ox was breathing; the Spear Meister’s chest rose and fell with considerably more gusto than her own, and despite his best efforts she could hear him taking in air through his nose from across the practice ring, ‘Guess that’s what happens when you skip cardio.’

‘Just make sure it isn’t bait. I’d rather not fall for an obvious trap.’

‘I know. And him being tired doesn’t solve our main problem. We still have to beat him.’

‘So, what’s our next step, Maka?’

‘Our basics, Soul,’ she stepped forwards, hands and hips already in motion, ‘Break the Meister’s roots!’

She spun, swinging Soul, his blade closing in. Ox raised his spear, ready to defend as the curved edge arced towards him, sparks flying as metal met metal, Meisters and their Weapons letting their Wavelengths align as the back and forth flurry commenced, power pulsing through them, sending-


-ripples through the small pool in the pan, absolutely absorbing Luz in the visage of the droplets hitting the water. She couldn’t help it; it was a simple visual, sure, but for the first time she felt like she had a proper demonstration of what the Soul was actually doing at any given moment. Her previous understanding suddenly seemed to be on the brink of being so much more clear as her eyes shot back and forth between the pan, the beaker, and the candle, feverishly trying to puzzle out where exactly to start.

“So, Luz,” the Witch began, her tone one of someone who was thoroughly enjoying the spectacle before her, “What in this system do you think is the Soul?”

The girl glanced up at Eda; the Witch gave an easygoing smile, her fang glinting in the light as she lounged in the chair, arms lazily spread up and over the shoulders and legs crossed in a display that was directly countered by the knowing gleam in those golden eyes.

She was expecting Luz to put the pieces together – and the Latina had absolutely no intention of disappointing.

She frowned, pursing her lips as she looked between the various parts of the system. It couldn’t be the pan – the pan was the Soul Wavelength. An important product of the Soul, certainly, but there was clearly a difference between the Soul Wavelength and the Soul itself.

That left…

Slowly, she raised a finger to point to the long-stemmed beaker… then stopped, another possibility occurring to her.

Luz lowered her hand…


… and with it, Soul’s blade, Meister and Weapon spinning as one. The Scythe arced up towards Ox’s torso, forcing the boy to block with his Spear to keep himself from being struck with the heavy curved blade.

Maka could already feel the electricity beginning to build, but this time, she did not let it force her back.

Instead, she called out, ‘Soul!’

‘I’m ready! Do it!’

With that confirmation, she spun. Their Wavelengths flared, and she could feel strength flood her body.

With Soul’s blade hooked onto Harvar’s haft between Ox’s hands, it was easy for the grey-haired girl to force the Spear up, yanking the Meister’s hands well over his head; he only had a fraction of a second to process the manoeuver, and to his credit, reacted just as quickly. The shock that flooded Soul and Maka’s bodies was nothing short of genuinely painful, making the Meister’s muscles convulse with agony…

But even so, she pushed through, raising her knee and driving her foot into her rival Meister’s stomach; she felt as much as she heard and saw the wind drive from his lungs beneath the impact, his glasses going askew as his grip on his partner faltered.

All at once, the Scythe Meister completed her technique, finishing her driving kick and pulling Soul back; Ox was driven back, falling to the ground under the impact as Harvar was ripped from his hands. In a desperate bid to remain with his Meister, the dark skinned boy transformed, his hands remaining firmly clasped around his partner’s, but the sudden shift in weight and balance only made Ox’s backwards momentum even worse. Both were sent careening the ground, tumbling over each other in a heap.

They didn’t have the chance to untangle themselves, much less rise before Maka was upon them, lining her Weapon’s blade with their throats.

“Hate to say it, guys, but it looks like you’ve lost this one,” Soul intoned, sounding amused despite the slight wince in his voice.

“… under different circumstances, I might say that you shouldn’t underestimate your opponents,” Ford began… then sighed, “But we can’t bluff our way out of this.”

“I concur,” Havar adjusted his visor, “Victory is yours.”

“Ox Ford and Harvar D. Éclair have admitted defeat,” Kilik’s voice rang out through the room, his hand raised towards Maka’s corner, “Match end, winners: Maka Albarn and Soul Eater!”

A relieved sigh escaped Maka’s mouth as she pulled the Scythe away, releasing her partner; in an instant, Soul was in human form at her side again, rolling his shoulders as if to work away the tension, rubbing the back of his neck with a groan. Whatever complaints he might have had, however, went unvoiced, as only seconds had passed before he reached out, offering a hand to the bespectacled boys.

For a long moment, no words were spoken between either pair. Eventually, Maka extended a hand as well, smiling as Ox stared up at her…

Then he smiled in turn, accepting her hand.

“I suppose that’s what happens when you get cocky,” he grunted, letting the Scythe Meister pull him to his feet, “It seems we still have a ways to go.”

“Hey, that was closer than it looked,” Soul noted as Harvar clasped his hand, “You made us work for that win.”

“And that’s the match,” Sid remarked as he marked down the results, “Miss Albarn, Misters Eater, Ford and Éclair, please return to your seats.”

The grey haired girl was only half listening to Sid’s words as she obeyed, slowly ascending the steps towards her desk with Soul in tow; she was less focused on the questions he was asking the class in terms as he queried what they saw, and more on replaying the events of the duel in her head directly. What could she have done better?...

She sat down, chin in one hand, the other resuming that tapping as if it had never stopped. The sequence was still present in the movement of her hand, as were the letters that popped into her head with each tap of her fingers, the rhythm as frustratingly familiar as it was infuriatingly distracting, worsened by the fact that she was still unable to identify the pattern.

Maka wasn’t even doing it consciously, it just kept coming back every time her hands were empty.

Gritting her teeth, she dug into her bag for her notebook; she could at the very least review her notes until her turn came up in the rotation again.

She had only gotten two pages in when she noticed Sid had gone abruptly quiet.

“Do you have a question, Kid?”

Maka glanced over; the young Reaper had his hand raised, expression having reverted to its cool calm once again, though there was a glint of steel in his bright gold eyes.

“My partners and I would like to go next, if that is alright, Professor,” he stated, keeping his words even; beside him, Liz groaned, while Patty let out a quiet giggle, though neither offered a protest.

“… well, I originally had you set for later in the rotation… but if you want to offer a demonstration to the class, I suppose I can let you go next,” the zombie quickly scribbled something onto his clipboard, “Is there a Meister and Weapon pair you would like to challenge?”

“As a matter of fact, there is.”

“Alright. Who do you have in mind?”

The response Kid offered was not one of words; instead, he simply raised a hand, pointing…


… towards the candle set under the beaker.

“The Soul here would be the candle, right?” she questioned, raising her eyes to meet the Owl Lady’s, gauging.

Eda gave no immediate indication as to whether she was right or wrong; instead, she stretched, still watching intently, “And why the candle?”

“… because that’s the source of the heat in this whole system,” the hesitance in Luz’s voice had been quelled quickly as it had come; the more she spoke, the more certain she became, and the more excitement bled into her tone, “The candle is heating the water in this beaker, making it evaporate up the length. Once it hits the tip, the steam condenses again because of the cold glass and the water drips out the end into the pan. It’s not the water in the beaker that’s actually causing any action; by itself, it just sits there. It needs energy from an outside source in order to do anything, so it can’t be the Soul.”

“Then what is the beaker?” the pale woman continued to press, “If the candle is the Soul in this equation, then what does that make the rest of it?”

“W-Well…” the brunette faltered, suddenly losing her certainty, doubt clouding her as she glanced back down. Nonetheless, she kept going, “The pan… is Soul Wavelength… I think… so… the beaker is…”

She trailed off, trying to think of a good analogue…

“… action?” she ventured, hoping that against all odds she had gotten it right.

There was a brief pause before Eda slowly raised her hands; a gentle applause rang through the room, the Witch’s broad grin sending a shot of equal parts pride and relief through the girl’s heart.

“Gotta say, kid – I am impressed,” the Witch straightened in her seat, uncrossing her legs, “And I do not say that lightly. There are some things you’re not quite getting right, but you are showing an excellent understanding of the basic theory.”

Luz let loose her baited breath all at once with a gleeful squeal, matching the Witch’s smile with one of her own, “So what am I missing?”

“The actual order of what’s going on here. You’re right on what part of this system is the Soul; the candle. Where you’re wrong is what part here is actually supposed to be the Soul Wavelength.”

The girl blinked, “Really?” she looked back and forth between the beaker and the basin, a sudden confusion taking her, pointing into the basin, “But… the ripple. Isn’t that supposed to be the Wavelength?”

“You’d think that, but that’s where it gets a little tricky,” the Witch chuckled, “I thought that would trip you up a little, but I’m not trying to trick you.”

“… okay,” Luz spoke hesitantly, brow creasing deeply again, “So if it isn’t Soul Wavelength, then… what is it?”

“Well, think about it like this, Luz.”

The girl jumped back with a sound that was higher pitched than she’d have liked to admit, startled as a small stone hit the water, sinking to the bottom of the pan; she glanced up to see Eda bouncing another pebble in her palm, glancing at the teen from the corner of her eye, “What happens when you throw a rock into the water?”

“… well, that… depends on how you throw the rock,” Luz stated, uneasy, “But… I guess it makes a splash?”

“And what causes that splash?” Eda inquired.

“The rock,” Luz’s frown deepened, trying to puzzle out exactly where her mentor was going with this, “I just said that.”

“Right. Water by itself doesn’t really do much; even the ocean needs external forces like the moon and the shifting of tectonic plates to move as much as it does,” the silver vixen tossed another pebble into the pan, making another plop before sinking to the bottom, “So, if the Soul is the source, and the Soul Wavelength is how the Soul interacts with the world… then what does that tell you about the system you’re looking at here?”

The tanned teen let her eyes fall back down to the dripping water, to the ripple that shot out from the center with every droplet that fell; she stared for a long few moments, biting her lip in thought…

“A stone hits the water…” she murmured, arms crossed and a hand on her chin…


… as Black Star met Kid’s gaze, eyes narrowed to near slits.

The young Reaper did not lower his hand. His own golden eyes gleamed as he pointed at the spiky haired boy, expression neutral.

But Maka could feel the cold fury radiating from Kid. It was a chill in the air, a frigid menace that hung in the air like a miasma.

“… oh, so now you wanna fight,” the shinobi grumbled, pushing himself up in his seat and out of his former recline.

Kid did not respond, rigidly unwilling to let the young Star get under his skin; instead, he looked to Sid, “Liz, Patty and I would like to challenge Black Star and Tsubaki. Is this acceptable, professor?”

“… I had Black Star and Tsubaki slated to fight someone else in the rotation,” Sid flipped through the pages, frowning… then sighed, “But I suppose there’s no reason for me to say no.

“Black Star. Tsubaki. Do you have any objections?”

“N-None in particular,” Tsubaki stuttered, glancing down at her partner; Black Star still hadn’t risen to his feet, instead maintaining the staring contest with Kid.

Then all at once, he went off like a firecracker.

“YA-HOOOO!” he roared, launching himself out of his seat with a sudden vigour. He crashed down into a deep crouch, sinking deeply into his knees before springing back up with a broad, vicious grin that seemed almost more like a snarl. He jabbed a finger up towards the Reaper, “You got a lot of nerve, challenging me to a fight after the stunt you pulled earlier! You suddenly got something to prove, now that we have an audience?”

“Yes,” Death the Kid confirmed, calm and controlled, “That my partners and I are quite capable, and that they can rely on us in joint operations.”

“Pff,” the shinobi snorted, “Like you don’t just wanna make up for your humiliating defeat from earlier. I can’t tell if you’re brave or stupid, challenging a guy as big as me!”

“I’m fairly certain we’ll prove more than your match,” the suit clad lad stood, hands in his pockets as he descended the steps, Liz and Patty close behind, “Especially with you completely blinded by that oversized ego of yours.”

“You’ll need the handicap,” Black Star sneered, seemingly oblivious as an increasingly nervous Tsubaki ran to his side, “Just try not to break down crying this time.”

If Kid was at all provoked by the jeer, he didn’t show it. He simply held his hands out to his sides in a simple gesture; in a flash of light, each of the Thompsons had disappeared, each replaced by the startlingly bright polish of a silver handgun.

He caught them both without a second thought, spinning them on his fingers before levelling them at the spiky haired ninja; the striped boy held them upside down, with his pinky finger on each trigger, but the confidence he carried immediately quelled any question of his skill. He stood stock still, waiting for permission to fire.

Black Star cracked his knuckles, “Tsubaki! Kusarigama mode!”

“Right!” she transformed in turn, taking on the similar form of the twin handheld scythes. The shinobi caught one in each hand, sinking into a deep stance that would let him rush in any direction, eyes fixed upon the Reaper with a dangerous gleam.

“… they’re serious about this,” Soul murmured, “Maybe it’s a good thing they didn’t fight it out during lunch…”

“… what do you think their chances are?” Maka asked.

“What, Kid and the sisters?” he hummed, “… well, Black Star’s pretty good at closing distance when he actually decides to fight seriously, and Tsubaki’s transformations really only help facilitate that…”

“True, but I don’t think those guns are for show.”

“… depends on if Kid can keep his distance,” the Scythe concluded, resting his hand in his chin, “The instant Black Star’s in, they’re done.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure…”

“Are you both ready?” Sid stepped forwards, standing between the two Meisters.

“Do we look like we’re not ready?!” Black Star demanded, not looking away from his opponent.

“We’re ready, professor,” Kid intoned, golden eyes narrowed, “Please initiate the match.”

“Very well,” the zombie raised his hand… and brought it down, leaping back as quickly as he could, “Begin!”

In a flash of blinding speed, both sides were on the move, all at once struck…


… by the obvious answer; Luz’s eyes were fixed at the tip of the long stem, at the water that dripped from its end.

“… the beaker,” she whispered, once again revelling in the sudden understanding that struck her like lightning, “The drip! The Soul acts through the Soul Wavelength! The Soul Wavelength is projected out from the Soul, and from there affects the world! Like throwing a stone into the river!” she pointed down excitedly into the small pool, “If the candle is the Soul, and the drips – or the rocks you threw – are the Soul Wavelength, then that means the ripple is the effect of the Soul Wavelength!”

Eda grinned, again baring her teeth, “There you go. Now you’re getting it!”

Luz did her best to restrain herself as her mentor continued to speak, struggling to catch the explanation over the roar of her own heart and mind, “The Soul is always putting out some sort of energy, even when it’s not really doing anything; as a result, it’s always putting out ‘ripples’ so to speak.”

“Like standing in the middle of a pool?”

“Exactly. These ‘ripples’ are what you’re going to be seeing once you learn to see the Souls of the people around you.”

“You’re going to teach me how to see Souls!?” her heart felt like it was going to give out from sheer elation, but the girl genuinely could not bring herself to care about that for an instant when she compared it to the sheer joy that came with the prospect of learning such a thing.

“I don’t see why not,” the Witch shrugged, “Not like it’s very hard.”

Once again, Luz found herself all but bounding forwards out of her seat on the couch, hands shaking uncontrollably and feet digging into the floor. The sheer elation and eagerness was too much to handle. She wanted to learn. She wanted to put it into practice, to try to unlock her Soul Wavelength right this second…

But Eda clearly wasn’t finished yet; she had raised a finger, and the system of beakers and candles deconstructed itself, the glass and stands rearranging themselves into something larger, more complex. A much larger candle had been placed under a beaker with substantially more water. A spiraling tube fed out from the beaker’s tip, ending in a sturdy brass valve; it was open, still dripping water into the pan below in a constant slow drip.

“Now, all this in mind,” the Witch continued, setting a stone into the center of the pan, easily twice the size of Luz’s fist, “The effect the Soul Wavelength can have on the world really varies with how it’s used. How many different ways can you think of to throw a rock into the water, Luz?”

“A couple,” she bobbed her head, “You can just throw it in, or you can skip it across the water. But I think I get what you’re saying; different methods of using Soul Wavelength get different results.”

“Bingo.”

The Witch made a simple gesture; a transparent golden shell surrounded the new setup, making Luz blink before again giving in to her own sense of awe, running a hand across the smooth, glossy surface.

“Careful,” the Witch warned, “That barrier should hold, but I’d rather you didn’t sit so close.”

“Barrier?” the Latina raised an eyebrow, “What for?”

“An example.”

Another gesture; the valve closed, and the flame under the beaker swelled in size, eagerly licking at the bottom of the glass. The surface of the barrier began to grow warm, and before long was uncomfortable to the touch, forcing Luz to pull her hands away, gently blowing on her palms as she stared at the display.

The water in the beaker had risen to a boil, the glass beginning to fog and drip as the heat increased. The valve gradually began to shift, visibly shaking even as Eda kept it firmly in place.

“There’s only so many ways you can throw a stone, sure,” the woman explained, “But Soul Wavelength is more versatile. And potentially, far more powerful.

“And with only a little bit of practice?... you can do something like this.

The Witch snapped her fingers; the valve abruptly shifted, and what shot out of the nozzle was less of a stream and something closer to a laser. The highly pressurized burst struck the stone underneath…

And shattered it, sending shards flying so hard they embedded themselves in the barrier.

Slowly, Luz lowered her arms, eyes wide as she stared at several sharp shards that had flown right for her face, suspended in midair by the orange-gold membrane.

“See why I put up that barrier?” the Latina could hear Eda’s mischievous grin.

“… yep,” the chuckle that rose from her throat sounded more nervous than she actually felt, even as the shield was dispelled; the stone splinters fell to the floor and table, and a wave of heat washed over her even as the flame died down, finally set free from its bubble.

“That’s hardly the only way to use Soul Wavelength, but it is the most straightforward. Hitting something with it as hard as you can,” the Witch settled back in her chair again, “Even for a human, there’s a lot of different applications for it. And with Magic, it only gets even more complex.”

She reached out, slowly picking up a piece of the shattered rock, bouncing it in her palm; everything Luz had just been told lined up perfectly with what she already knew, but now her understanding felt far more profound. With an actual demonstration – or at least, a physical example that she could see, that she could envision – the concept was infinitely easier to grasp.

“It really is incredible, huh?” she glanced up at the Owl Lady.

“It is!” the woman threw her arms out as if to emphasize her exclamation, “For a Witch, it can be easy to forget just how fascinating the Soul and its Wavelength actually are.”

“Forget?” the girl laughed, incredulous, “How could you possibly forget how amazing this all is? It’s Soul Wavelength!

The pale woman blinked, then seemed to sober, her expression growing somewhat somber.

“… that’s right,” she intoned, “It’s not anywhere near as common in your world, is it?

“… not as common?” Luz blinked.

“… one last lesson before we wrap up for today,” Eda leaned forwards, elbows on her knees, “How many people do you think know about Soul Wavelength, Luz?”

“… well…” she paused, pondering, “… in my world… Soul Wavelength is a closely guarded secret. You have to do a lot just to start learning how to use it.”

“… it’s a bit different here,” the Witch folded her hands, "Everyone here knows how to use Magic and Soul Wavelength. At least to some degree.”

“… everyone…?” Luz questioned, eyes suddenly wide as her heart came to a stop.

“Everyone,” those golden eyes softened, “You’re probably the only one on the Isles who doesn’t, aside from little kids.”

Luz swayed slightly, leaning all the way back into the couch; but where her body went slack, her mind was racing to picture what that would be like, just for a moment. It clashed entirely with what she knew, with the world that had Soul Wavelength and its secrets hidden away from the public for their own protection.

“The Soul Wavelength is a fairly dangerous thing to just hand out to the general public,” again, Dad’s words echoes from her memory, “Knowing how to use it basically gives you some form of super powers, and just like how not everyone is responsible enough to own and use weapons, not everyone is responsible enough to have access to and use their Soul Wavelength – which is part of why the DWMA exists in the first place.”

If Eda was telling the truth, then everyone here was capable of using their Soul Wavelength. Of harnessing power comparable to Maka, maybe even to Papi in some cases. This place – this whole realm – stood in direct opposition to that very idea.

“… this is mundane to you,” she murmured, eyes wide, “I… I just learned what, to you, is everyday knowledge.

“Everyday, yes,” Eda nodded, “Mundane?... heh. Only if you let yourself forget how amazing it all is.”

The warmth in that lone chuckle was enough to make Luz’s heart swell again. She sat up straighter, “Well… it’s never too late to learn. And I wanna learn everything I can, no matter how everyday it is here.”

“… in which case, we’ll see about getting that Soul Wavelength of yours unlocked,” the Witch stretched, then sighed, “But not tonight. I think I’m about teached out for now, and there’s something I still want to show you before it gets too late.”

“Just one last question,” Luz spoke quickly, trying desperately to sound like she wasn’t begging; when Eda met her gaze with a single open, golden eye, the girl made her question quick, “… where does Magic fit into all this? Wasn’t that what you meant to teach me tonight?”

“That’s two questions, kid,” Eda chided, again baring her teeth, “But I guess you’re right. I did say you’d learn the basics of magic tonight.”

Luz suppressed her squeal, doing her best to sit still even as her cheeks threatened to split under her smile.

“I won’t go very in depth with it tonight, but Magic is a sort of… unique energy,” Eda conjured sparks in her hand, dancing in her palm and rising into the air to form an orb of light, “It is something possessed by both the Demonic Realms, and by the Souls of Witches. It’s a little difficult to explain, but for now, know that a Witch’s Magic is the product of their Soul.”

“So, Soul Wavelength, but different?” the Latina queried.

“We’ll get into it later,” the Owl Lady extinguished the light, then pushed to her feet, waving her off, “Just know that Soul Wavelength comes first. Got it?”

“Yes ma’am!” Luz saluted, rising in turn.

“Good. Now go get King; I wanna get this wrapped up before sundown.”

“You got it!”

With that, the girl turned, and raced up the stairs, beginning her search for the little Demon.

Notes:

Sorry this one took so long. It's been hectic between my schoolwork and real life stuff. I'm trying to maintain regular updates, but, such is life.

At the very least, though I'm making progress! Every word I write brings us a little closer! And the encouragement offered by Owl House proper certainly isn't running dry - even if I want to go and punch every single Disney executive in the face!

...

Before I sign off, there's something I'd like to discuss.

This is not addressed to my general audience.

This is addressed to everyone who is posting Owl House clips to sites like YouTube and Twitter, and to everyone spreading those clips: Please, please, PLEASE, stop posting and spreading clips of new Owl House episodes on the day they are released.

I know your intentions are good. I know there are things that you want to celebrate. What I'm talking about is most certainly something that should be celebrated! I don't begrudge you that for an instant!

But I don't think you guys realize what you're doing. Because of YouTube's algorithm, I ended up getting spoiled to a huge moment in the new episode, Looking Glass Ruins, just by looking at my home page. I didn't get to experience that moment naturally, because you posted it everywhere and I couldn't even go to my homepage without seeing it.

You know exactly what moment I'm talking about.

I want you to know that as happy as I am that this is a thing, that people are getting some real validation from this show, I am also genuinely frustrated that I can't experience this moment raw, without knowing that it happens beforehand. You took a moment that would have had me jumping out of my seat with joy, and preemptively ruined the experience by telling me it happens.

And it's not just me that you've done this to; if it happened to me, imagine how many millions of other fans hopped onto YouTube and had their own experiences tainted because of clips with titles that outright spoil what happens.

There is a reason spoiler tags exist. There is a reason people like Dana and Alex and the rest of the Owl House crew request that you use them when discussing these things. There is a reason there is an unspoken rule that you don't openly talk about spoilers until a certain amount of time has passed after an episode airs. Please, please respect them.

I know you're excited. Believe me, I am too, despite the fact that I was spoiled. I don't begrudge you that excitement, or your love for the show.

But for fuck's sake. Be a little more considerate.

...

Sorry about that. I needed to get that off of my chest after being spoiled for Looking Glass Ruins.

As always... thank you reading and for your patience and understanding with me. Please be sure to me know what you think! I hope you all enjoyed the seventeenth chapter of Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance!

Chapter 18: Places to See, Places to Earn

Notes:

Before we begin, I would like to note two things.

First, a thank you to a good friend of mine who gave me some massive inspiration for how to progress this story. For the sake of their privacy, I shall refer to them simply as BK. Thanks a lot, man! This chapter would still be on the backburner without you!

Second, a warning. This chapter includes characters that appear at the end of Owl house season one and in season two proper, as well as dropping some hints as to their backgrounds that may or may not line up with what is in Owl House proper's canon.

If you have not seen The Owl House season 2 or have not reached the end of The Owl House season 1 yet, and do not want to be spoiled for these characters, then please stop reading now.

Consider yourselves duly warned.

With all that out of the way, let us proceed.

I do now own Soul Eater or Owl House.

If I did, the Emperor's Coven would probably be a much bigger threat...

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The sound of gunfire and clashing steel.

The flash of light as sparks fell to the floor from steel crashing against steel.

The sensation of sweat plastering his shirt to his skin as he raced to get ahead, teeth grit, Tsubaki’s heavy scythe blades spinning on their connecting chain.

The split second shots that forced him to change direction on a dime just to avoid being hit.

A whirlwind of steel and sound.

That was what Black Star was experiencing.

He pivoted hard, hurling the Kusarigama in his right hand while keeping a firm grip on the chain, letting it sweep inward in a gentle arc around the young ninja’s body; the crescent blade arced in towards the self-proclaimed Reaper, who gracefully sidestepped the swipe without even looking, simply continuing to aim and fire with those twin pistols.

He then twisted, ratcheting on the chain and whipping it down, Tsubaki’s blade gleaming in the light.

Though it didn’t meet flesh, a flash of satisfaction shot through Black Star as Kid’s eyes widened, realizing his miscalculation; the gunslinger dove into a forward roll, and the shinobi shot towards his opponent, ‘Tsubaki! Ninja Sword Mode!’

‘Right!’

The familiar weight of the short, almost dagger like blade spun easily between his fingers as he closed the distance. He lunged, eager to plunge his weapon down-

Only to stop dead in his tracks as the first of the handguns popped up, the gunshot just barely missing the underside of his chin. A pink flash of light shot past his nose, quickly followed by another as the second handgun rose, the pinkie finger squeezing the trigger almost faster than he could blink.

He dove to the side, sidestepping another shot and cleaving through another as Kid propped himself up on one knee, continuing to fire as if nothing had happened, eyes narrowed in concentration amidst the continuous volley.

Black Star grit his teeth. It wasn’t as though he’d been expecting an easy fight, despite his earlier boasting. In fact, he’d have been disappointed if it were easy; there was nothing that soured his mood quite like a weak opponent.

After all, there weren’t many things he hated more than punching down instead of up.

In that regard, the new kids hadn’t failed to deliver in the slightest. They were extremely well coordinated, clearly comfortable with placing their lives in each others’ hands as any Weapon or Meister should be. From the moment they’d stepped into the arena, Black Star had been able to tell they were strong from Kid’s footing alone.

None of this, however, was a cause of the shinobi’s frustrations.

Rather, those frustrations stemmed from the nature of the challenge they posed.

The young Star’s own experience with firearms was limited, but he knew enough to read at least a little into the trio’s fighting style; each of their shots carefully calculated and targeted despite their sheer number and speed, mere split seconds passing in between each one. The trio were pushing him back with every resounding crack from each firearm, forcing him to waste his energy dodging as he was pushed back into a corner. Every step he took was answered by another shot at his feet, his knees, his hips – aiming for his joints to ensure that if he didn’t keep up the pace, he’d be crippled and beaten then and there.

He was confident it would take more than one shot to stop him, but that didn’t change that he couldn’t risk it until he could find an opening – something that wasn’t happening as long as he was being forced four steps back for every two steps forwards he took.

But there were no openings to exploit; they didn’t seem to need to reload, which meant their bullets had to be some sort of Soul Wavelength technique. Nor did they ever stop to rest, instead continuously harrying their opponent with a constant barrage of attacks in an attempt to wear him down, and there was nothing to indicate that they were anywhere near their limit.

There had to be one, of course, but the boy of the Star Clan wasn’t about to engage in something so boring as a war of attrition.

‘They’re stronger than I expected,’ Tsubaki confessed, shifting back into Kusarigama mode, ‘I knew they were going to be capable, but…’

‘Well of course they’re strong!’ Black Star felt his lips move with each word as he sent the thought back, flipping forwards into a roll and hurling the first handscythe, ‘Anyone claiming to be the Grim Reaper’s kid can’t exactly half ass it!’

This time, Kid wasn’t taking any chances; keeping one of the Thompsons trained on the ninja, he raised the other to aim at the incoming weapon, shooting the scythe out of the air with impeccable accuracy.

He hadn’t even glanced away from the shinobi.

‘Can’t even distract him!’ he reeled the chain back in with a single powerful yank, catching the hand scythe and spinning it, once again deflecting the bullets getting too close.

‘… so that’s what they’re doing,’ the Dark Arm murmured, voice quiet with sudden realization.

‘Got something we can work with, Tsubaki!?’ the spiky haired boy didn’t dare look away from his opponent.

‘Just a theory, but it would certainly explain a lot,’ she began, ‘All I know for sure is that they must be sharing their senses so that Kid doesn’t have to look down the sights at all; that’s the only way that sort of guns akimbo fighting style would even be able to work. The sisters are aiming every bit as much as he is, and they may even firing of their own accord!’

‘So there’s no point in distracting him!?’

‘If I had to guess, Kid is the one handling general observation; he’s been paying very close attention to our position this entire time and he’s the one reacting to our movements,’ Tsubaki extrapolated, ‘Meanwhile, his partners are handling the details of actually aiming; if I’m right, then they’re either directing Kid so that he aims where they need him to and firing once he’s lined up, or they’re directly projecting what they’re sensing to him, so he effectively has eyes in his hands along with his normal vision. Either way, it’s a potent and ruthlessly adaptive tactic.’

‘Well that’s just wonderful,Black Star hissed, “No wonder this guy’s such a pain in the ass to hit!’

As soon as he felt his back hit the wall, he sprang up in a backward flip; planting both feet on the wall, he launched himself forwards with every ounce of force he could muster, leaving cracks behind from the force of his jump. Tsubaki’s scythes spun on their chains as the younger ninja turned himself into a human missile, deflecting shots from Kid as they closed the distance.

Calmly, Kid raised an arm to the ceiling, and pulled the trigger; a bullet-shaped burst of Soul Wavelength shot upwards. There was the squeal of metal upon metal, and pain erupted in the center of Black Star’s back.

‘Black Star!’ Tsubaki called, her panic adding to the painful throb, ‘What happened!?’

‘Don’t know, don’t care! Just keep going!’

Time seemed to slow; Black Star hit the ground, rushing forwards with both of the kusarigama spinning on their chain.

The Reaper pulled the trigger once more; the pink flash shot upwards.

The ninja spun, dodging left as he hurled the first scythe to his right, hoping to catch his opponent in the clothesline…

The bullet pierced the ground mere inches behind him.

‘Ricochet…?’ Tsubaki wondered, ‘Off the ceiling?’

Kid leaned back, slipping harmlessly under the chain, already slipping back to maintain his distance.

But it was too little too late; the knuckleheaded ninja had already closed most of the distance, and wasted no time in rushing forwards, reeling in the scythe and beginning to slash at the black clad boy before him.

It was only now that Kid’s calm veneer began to slip, gritting his teeth as he found himself on a steady defensive; each swipe and slash of the scythes was close, each miss mere milimeters away from his body as he pulled back, clearly hoping to gain some distance and regain control over the battle.

Black Star, however, did not let up; he kept going, his frustration swiftly supplanted by catharsis as he felt the tide begin to shift.

There was absolutely no question that Kid was someone who preferred fighting at long range – and really, the shinobi could hardly blame him. His Weapons were built for it, and they’d clearly spent a long time honing their techniques and their partnership to maximize their effectiveness in a fight. That, Black Star could certainly respect.

But where the fight had been completely imbalanced in Kid’s favour when he had managed to keep some distance, it had completely reversed as soon as Black Star had managed to force a melee.

The Reaper knew at the very least how to throw a punch – there wasn’t a single person here who didn’t – but Black Star lived and breathed in the pulsing heartbeat in his head and the vibration of his fists upon contact that were the centerpieces of a physical clash. Every attempt the suit clad son of the Grim tried to raise a gun to attack, Black Star either slipped past it or smashed it aside, and every step back was met with yet another vicious lunge.

Finally, the kusarigama made contact.

A surge of adrenaline and satisfaction flooded Black Star before he could truly process what was happening; the impact was cathartic, a sign he was finally beginning to get somewhere-

But then he felt more than saw the hand scythe refuse to move, caught between the barrels of the handguns like a vice.

Barrels that were aimed directly for his chest.

“Got you,” Kid said coldly, pulling both triggers.

The ninja dropped as quickly as he could, each shot striking him in the shoulders rather than the chest as his opponent had intended. The force behind the strike sent him stumbling back, but he was quick to repurpose his momentum, spinning before he was sent sprawling and lashing out with his feet.

On the first kick, Kid’s legs were taken out from under him, the Reaper tumbling head over heels; on the second, he was struck full in the chest, sent rolling back across the floor under the force of the Black Star’s sheer strength and momentum.

The shinobi wasted no time in pulling himself up and out of his spin, rising to his feet-

Only to find Kid had managed to stand as well, converting his sideways roll into a backward one that allowed him to rise to his feet with minimal effort, weapons raised once more.

For a long moment, neither moved.

“… I must admit, you’re better than I gave you credit for,” the Reaper stated.

“Starting to realize you’re outmatched?” Black Star jeered, smirking, “I’ll admit those ricochet shots you made off the roof were a neat trick, but you’ll need more than cheap party gimmicks to beat me.”

“Not in the slightest,” those golden eyes didn’t so much as blink, “I’m still certain that my partners and I are going to beat you.”

“Must be a nice dream. Too bad I have to wake you up now,” he rolled his shoulders, sinking deep…

He sprung as soon as Kid began firing again.

‘Shuriken Mode!’ he commanded.

‘Right!’

The familiar weight of the oversized ninja star slipped smoothly against his fingers as he spun, letting his momentum carry into the throw; the heavy blade shot forth from his fingers, the great steel star rushing in towards Kid’s head.

As expected, the pale boy easily side-stepped the projectile, eyes narrowed as it passed; though nothing was said, he was clearly questioning the purpose of such an attack, throwing away one’s Weapon in such a way…

“Tsubaki!” he called, “Smoke Bomb Mode!”

The burst of smoke instantly swallowed Kid into an inky haze of black fumes; Black Star couldn’t hide another grin at the shock in Kid’s eyes in the millisecond before they disappeared.

“Let’s see how much you like fighting blind!” he shouted, before leaping into the smoke himself.

When he tried to strike, however, his fist found naught but empty air.

Somehow, Kid had slipped away without making a single sound.

He came to a dead stop, listening carefully to get an idea for Kid’s position; the Reaper had stopped shooting, and an eerie silence had fallen over the room. He was blind and deaf but for his own heartbeat, a constant, heavy pulse in his head and chest that was always at the periphery of his awareness.

“Clever prick,” he muttered.

A harsh crack rang out.

Black Star only saw a brief, faint, distilled pink flash before the gunshot hit him, making him stumble, foot falling heavily as he caught himself-

“Found you.”

Kid’s voice bore the slightest hints of smug pride as he resumed his fire, shots following the sound of Black Star’s feet as he rolled and scrambled to regain the advantage.

“You really gotta learn to shut up!” the younger Thompson giggled, voice distorted within her Weaponized form as she shouted over the gunfire, “Stealth doesn’t do jack if you keep running your mouth!”

“Ghhh…!” the shinobi snarled, picking up his pace again, ‘This is stupid! I can’t get anywhere near him!’

‘Black Star,’ Tsubaki’s thoughts emanated to him through the smoke, faint in the fumes, only barely noticeable.

‘Tell me you’ve got an idea, Tsubaki!’

‘They can’t see you; the smoke is obscuring their vision well enough that they can’t target you. They’re shooting at you based entirely on the sounds you’re making.’

‘And how does that help me!?’

‘Every sound you make gives away your position. From there, they approximate where you are compared to where they are and take shots accordingly.’

‘So what, I just gotta stop making noise!?’

‘… yes.’

For some reason, he hadn’t quite been expecting such a blunt answer. He was all for a simple victory, but this seemed a little too simplistic – and he doubted Kid would be fooled by sudden silence alone.

‘You remember Mifune, right?’

‘How could I forget?’ he groaned mentally, ‘What about him?’

‘… this may be a good opportunity to use the same technique we used back then. Shadow Star.’

He leaped, pushing up off the ground with all his might over the sideways hailstorm of spiritual gunfire, gracefully letting his momentum carry him backward through the air.

‘… Black Star?’

‘I heard!’ he acknowledged, tone more of a grumble than he’d have liked to admit. He hadn’t wanted to resort to something like Shadow Star against some upstart, but if he wanted to defend his place as the big man of the DWMA…

Well, he couldn’t afford to not pull out all the stops.

‘Alright, no more screwing around!’ he finally settled, determined, ‘Tsubaki!’

‘Right!’

All at once, his breath disappeared.

He landed silently, the balls of his feet absorbing the force of his fall, the impact displaced up through his heels and into his knees as he crouched. He closed his eyes, maintaining the silent exchange of air from his lungs.

Though he couldn’t see Kid’s face or hear his voice, he could sense the abrupt confusion from the equally abrupt disappearance of gunfire, the last echoes of the contained explosions fading into the general quiet.

‘Assassin’s Rule Number One: Silence,’ a rehearsal, and a reminder, Black Star’s voice and Tsubaki’s in one, ‘Dissolve in the darkness and erase your breath. Wait for an opening to attack your target.’

Silence reigned for a long few seconds; eventually the faint sound of leather on tile made the shinobi’s ear twitch. He opened his eyes, letting them drift in the direction of the noise as Tsubaki’s breath became audible, a convincing mimicry of his own harsh breaths from before.

Someone trained to differentiate such mimicry from the real thing may have picked up on the ruse… but Kid was hardly what could be referred to as a spy.

‘Assassin’s Rule Number Two: Transpositional Thinking. Analyze the target to predict their thoughts and movements.’

“There you are,” Kid’s voice rang out, and the gunshots resumed – but not at Black Star.

They echoed from the shinobi’s left – if he had to guess, less than twenty feet away.

He gave a vicious grin as he glanced up; the smoke was slowly beginning to clear as Tsubaki’s form consolidated. Kid had his back to Black Star, guns outstretched as he took shots at the indistinct mass in the dissipating smog, shaped to resemble him.

‘Assassin’s Rule Number Three: Speed. Before the target notices your presence…’

Tsubaki’s impeccable disguise became visible, dancing between the gunfire with incredible ease. When one shot grazed her shoulder, however, the disguise began to crumble, an illusion of the Soul that quickly began to fade. The veil fell to dust and wooden splinters in the air, her determined expression one of the exact reasons Black Star was so proud to call her his partner.

“… you’re-” Kid faltered, abruptly realizing his error.

But it was too late.

Black Star was already closing in, footsteps silent.

‘… take them out!’

To his credit, Kid reacted quickly. Keeping one Weapon trained on Tsubaki, he spun, raising the other to meet his opponent. Black Star only shifted his head to the side milliseconds before the Reaper pulled the trigger, the shot just missing his temple and the sound of the gun making his ear ring with pain.

But it didn’t matter.

“BLACK STAR BIG WAVE!” he roared, driving his fist into Kid’s ribs. His Soul pulsed, sending out a shockwave that shot out in every direction, shattering the tile and rupturing the concrete beneath his feet.

He could feel Kid’s body violently ripple under the force of the blow as it tore through his body; the sheer physical force of the shockwave by itself was enough to lift the Reaper’s body clean off the ground even without the punch that accompanied by it.

To his credit, Kid did not scream; he didn’t make any vocalization at all, though that might have been the shock and pain that was currently running through his system. His entire form ragdolled, limbs limp in the air for a brief moment before Black Star followed up, bringing another strike into the Reaper’s already soft ribs.

He didn’t get in more than three punches, however, before Kid pulled himself together. The shinobi only had an instant to process the cold fury of those golden eyes, and the gun barrels being shoved into his lips, jarring his teeth and sending a far more severe ache through his mouth than such a small impact should have made, disorientating him...

And then the triggers were pulled.

The first two shots brought blinding pain, figuratively and literally; his eyes were filled with a pink brilliance so overwhelming it stung, and the sensation that shot through his lips and jaw was akin to having a grenade go off in his mouth. The taste of smoke and gunpowder flooded his mouth and nose, along with the distinct iron tang of blood, and the ringing in his ears only grew louder from such close proximity to the firearms. His hands flew to his face on an impulse he couldn't control, at once trying to protect his face, clear his eyes of the sudden splotches of light, and staunch the pain.

It did not help against the shots that followed. His elbows, his knees, his hips, all were subject to shots as Kid got to work on his now stationary target, with more pain flooding through his body with every thunderous crack. Black Star’s head was swimming, even as his eyes cleared, but he didn’t let that stop him; as soon as he could see, he threw himself forwards, swiping with both hands and pulling himself out of the bulletstorm.

Even as Kid dodged nimbly back, Black Star was regaining his ground, pushing on despite the pain, forcing the Reaper further and further back-

Until he had come within Tsubaki’s reach.

Silent and patient as a viper, she immediately lashed out as soon as Kid was in range; her hair transformed into a chain, spinning between her fingers before lashing out in a long, thin whip, wrapping around Kid’s wrist and pulling taut, both hands working to keep the chain in place. The pale boy was pulled off balance, aim thrown off and several bullets firing off somewhere to the side, Black Star only distantly aware of their ricochets off the wall.

He paid it no heed. He rushed forwards, fists raised again, even as the Reaper continually adapted, raising his pistols to fire at both the shinobi and the Magic Dark Arm-

“Time’s up!”

Sid’s voice echoed in Black Star’s ears, forcing him to skid to a halt; he glanced at the zombie in his peripheral, keeping most of his focus on Kid, who had gone stock still, and Tsubaki, who had turned all her attention to their teacher.

“The allotted time for the duel has run out,” the cadaver specified, holding up a watch, “This match is over.”

“Death the Kid and Black Star have run out of time with no overall victor!” Kilik declared, raising his arms to form an X, “This match is a draw!”

“A draw!?” Black Star gawked, eyes wide as a flood of outrage welled up from his stomach, “You gotta be kidding me, I was nailing him!”

“You got in some solid blows, Black Star, I will give you that much,” Kid acknowledged, sighing as he relaxed his grip; the paired pistols glowed before transforming back into their human forms, “But I would hardly say you were guaranteed to win.”

The shinobi glared into those glowing golden eyes, “Big talk coming from someone who just took the full brunt of my Soul Wavelength.”

“And yet, here I am, standing perfectly well on my own,” a slight, cocky smile crossed his lips, “And if I had to guess, you were expecting that strike to end that fight.”

At this, Black Star couldn’t help but grind his teeth, fists clenching as he clawed through his mind for a retort, only to find none.

“Hey, don’t feel too bad,” Patty folded her hands behind your head, “You did better than I thought you would.”

“You gave as good as you got,” Liz agreed, stretching, “You even managed to catch us off guard with that decoy trick, and might’ve even pulled out a win if you’d closed the distance in those last few seconds. But you were on the back foot for most of that fight. You two have a lot to learn.”

Before anything else could be said, Sid interjected, gesturing with his clipboard, “Kid, Black Star, Tsubaki, Liz and Patty. Please return to your seats so we can get on with the next match.”

His hands shook as he kept glaring into the back of Kid’s head; he’d been so close to winning that fight. Just another few seconds, and he’d have had the Reaper on the ground screaming uncle-

A hand gently came to rest on his shoulder.

Tsubaki’s calm smile did not dispel his frustrations... but it seem to put things into focus, those dark blue pools drawing him in like nothing else in the world possibly could. For an instant, all else was forgotten but their silent exchange, even the retreating back of the Reaper ceasing to exist.

It wasn’t as if the loss just ceased to matter. It stung, as losing always did.

But somehow, his partner’s calm made it sting just a little bit less.

He closed his eyes, taking a breath. However slightly, his anger receded, and the pulsing haze pulled back from his forehead, settling down into the back of his mind even as his stomach continued to simmer with a brimming, but controlled rage.

When Black Star opened them again, he felt his lips form a grin rather than a snarl as he’d intended, “Don’t think this means you won that!”

Kid did not turn back to face him, but Black Star could hear the smile in his tone “As long as you don’t make the same mistake.”

The shinobi snorted, turning and stomping back up towards his seat even as the rest of the world flooded back into his senses, the excited jabbering of the other students a distant noise in his periphery. He settled back into his seat, pointedly ignoring the conversation unfolding between Tsubaki and Soul and Maka, instead staring up at the ceiling, trying to puzzle out how he would beat Kid the next time they fought.


It hadn’t exactly been easy, after the day she’d already had, for Luz to let Eda tie the blindfold around her eyes – even after the lesson, the Latina still felt the creeping dread, her hands shaking whenever she stopped to think about her meeting with Adegast. With the sun rapidly setting in the distance, the scorching heat of the day had rapidly been replaced with a biting chill Luz hadn’t been prepared for, leaving her shivering the instant she’d stepped outside with the Owl Lady and the Demon. Did the Isles’ seasons not match up with the seasons of home?... did the Boiling Isles even have seasons?

These questions had been quelled once she felt Eda sit her down on the staff, and then gradually rise off the ground. She could feel the climb was slow, but smooth, something she was grateful for even as she clamped her arms around the Witch’s waist, the breeze tousling her hair and the air only growing colder as they ascended into the evening sky.

“You alright back there?”

The question made Luz tense, tightening her vice-grip as much as she could manage.

“You’re shivering,” Eda’s voice was calm, easily rising above the breeze, “You’re not scared of heights, are you?”

Were it not for the chattering of her teeth, the girl would have laughed; instead, she angled her head up on impulse, as if to meet Eda’s eyes, struggling to get her mouth to cooperate, “C… c-cold…”

Ah.

A single syllable that was as much a realization as it was a note of self-directed scorn; an instant later, Luz heard flames crackle to life, and warmth surge into the air around her, dancing across her skin and flooding her lungs with a pleasant heat, the familiar comfort of campfire smoke carried on the wind.

“Sorry, Luz,” the Witch sighed, “You’d think I’d remember one hour to the next you can’t use your Soul Wavelength to keep warm.”

“I-It’s okay,” she tried to put a chipper note back into her staggered words, “I-I shoud’v-ve said s-somethi-ing…”

“Eda, you think we’re high enough?” King piped up, the Latina feeling him clamber up onto her shoulder.

“Almost. Just gotta go a little higher.”

He huffed, and Luz couldn’t hold down her chuckle, finally feeling her warm enough that her shivering came to a stop, “… so… what do you want to show me?”

“You’ll see in a minute. I just want to get the best view for you,” Eda stated, “Shouldn’t be long now.”

“Can I guess?”

“And ruin the surprise for yourself?” Eda’s grin was prominent in her tone.

“Alright, fine, be that way,” Luz smiled, resisting the impish urge to reach for her blindfold and peek.

Eventually, Luz felt the staff smoothly come to a halt, the sound of the flames growing more distinct as the breeze died down to a gentle, barely noticeable draft; finally, the Witch spoke, her voice seeming entranced, “Okay. You can look now, Luz.”

Her breath hitched as she slowly relaxed her grip around Eda’s waist, suddenly feeling infinitely less secure without both hands gripping onto something despite her earlier temptations; even so, she slowly pulled one hand back, reaching up for the blindfold and pulling it away, blinking the bleariness away from her eyes-

And gasping at the sight below, fingers falling loose and losing their grip on the blindfold, the strip of black fabric forgotten in the wind.

An impossibly colossal skeleton sprawled out into the distance; a fallen giant so overwhelmingly massive that its torso and limbs stretched so far that they disappeared into the horizon even from the dizzying height that Eda maintained. The thing’s ribs arched up into the sky in broken, tusk-like mountains, each capped with glaciers that hung over the edges, and what was left of the sternum had long since broken away and fallen to the earth below; the pelvis was shattered, what would have been mere centimeters on normal person roughly forming dizzying cliffs and entire mountain ranges all of their own, wide enough across and so long that it left Luz wondering just how many states could fit into the thing’s torso.

To their left, the thing’s leg arched, stretching up and towering over the duo, the knee reaching into the clouds and entirely out of sight before arching back down behind them, the dead creature’s foot forming hundreds upon hundreds of islands that could have been whole countries of their own. To their right, the other leg shot out into the distance, again so unbelievably massive that Luz couldn’t see the other foot, lost in the horizon. As it was, she could only barely make out the rough shape of each arm, but only up to a point, whatever hands it might have had completely hidden by the line that divided the sky from the sea.

The only thing she could truly make out in the distance in any detail was its horned skull – and even then, only the shape and the empty sockets, the sun descending behind its unfathomably gargantuan form, bathing the distant land in hues of brilliant gold.

But its size wasn’t the most breathtaking thing about the colossal cadaver.

That would be what it had become.

Everywhere Luz looked, she could see life taking root in something long since dead. Dense forests ran along the cliffs, englessly across the thigh and torso and up the length of the leg-like mountain – mountain-like leg? – trees even holding stubbornly onto the bare stone of the sides of the sheer cliffs. A nigh infinite number of lakes dotted the pitted landscape, and a river ran up the center of the torso, having cut a deep ravine into the earth and leading down into a bay formed by the broken pelvis. The dark ocean below silently lapped at the shores, reflecting the near infinite stars of the ever darkening sky above, and the constellations they formed – constellations Luz couldn’t recognize, all forming patterns that she could only scarcely guess at.

She could even see Bonesborough from here, and even that immense city she’d spent hours exploring earlier that day was just… a speck. A multi-coloured dot in the face of the world it was built in, if even that.

“… whoa…

“The Bones of the Isles,” Eda sighed, content, expression soft as she stared into the sunset, golden eyes catching the gleam of the distant light.

“… it’s beautiful,” Luz whispered, all fear of falling from the staff forgotten, “This- This is all the Boiling Isles?”

“All this and more,” even King seemed transfixed, a smile in his voice as he hung from Luz’s shoulder, “All the way until you hit the ocean.”

“… I didn’t think they’d be so… big,” Luz confessed, “You said ‘Isles,’ and I thought you meant… like, Hawaii.

Eda chuckled, shaking her head, “Not even close. You could spend hundreds or even thousands of years trying to walk from one end of the Isles to the other – and legends say you still wouldn’t see everything they have to offer.”

Those golden eyes fixed on the Latina again, “Given my own experiences here, and that even I’m still finding new things?... I’m inclined to believe them.”

“… so am I, just seeing this view,” the girl let her eyes wander over the view again, taking in every inch of the Isles that she could under the ever darkening sky. Despite her best efforts, though, her eyes kept fixing back on Bonesborough, her smile faltering as the day’s events replayed again and again in her head…

“… still got him on your mind, huh?”

“… that obvious?” she asked, not raising her head to look at her mentor.

“Luz, I can see you’re upset,” King crossed his stubby arms, glaring up at her pointedly, “You’re not very good at hiding how you feel.”

“… Mami and Papi always said I wear my heart on my sleeve,” she mumbled, huddling in on herself, “… for better or worse…”

“Not really one to reign yourself in,” Eda noted, “I certainly get that, kid.”

“… you do?”

“Mm-hm,” the Witch hummed again, “I was always something of a wild child. Keeping my emotions in check was never my strong suit, much less actually hiding them. Got better at it as I got older, mind, but… well, I get that it isn’t easy.”

“… is that why you brought me up here?” Luz asked, quizzical, “To make me feel better?”

“Partially. But mostly I wanted to show you the Isles from a different view than you saw today,” the silver vixen settled back on her hands, “Sure, up close, they can be slimy-”

“And smelly!” King cut in, one claw raised.

“And gross,” for a moment, it looked like the red-clad woman was going to puke, eyes half lidded… then she glanced up at the sky, smiling, “Buuut, with a change in perspective…”

“… they’re incredible,” Luz finished, letting herself settle back with a comfortable awe.

“That they are – and while they certainly come with their fair share of dangers, that’s true of any place you go,” Eda mused, closing her eyes, “Whether it’s the Demonic Realms or the human realm, there’s always gonna be more than a few Adegasts out there.”

“… I still don’t understand how he could just… be such a horrible person,” the girl confessed, “It just… doesn’t make sense to me. When I do something even just a little bit bad bad, even by accident, I feel awful about it, even years after when I let myself think about it. So… how could he… how could anyone do things like that?”

“… that’s not exactly an easy question to answer, kid,” the Owl Lady let out a long, slow sigh, “No two people believe in exactly the same things – that includes morals. For some people, being powerful in one way or another is just more important than being a good person.”

“… and the worst ones let themselves become Kishin eggs?” Luz ventured.

“They’re not always the worst – they’re just the most obvious,” an eye cracked open, gold glowing with a calming, mischievous light, “But that doesn’t mean the world’s all bad, either; it just means you have to keep an eye out.”

The teen stared into that golden eye for a long moment before letting her gaze sweep back over the Isles once more; she leaned forwards on her knees as best she could, careful not to tip forwards and fall, fingers locked onto her arms as she spoke, “… ‘Most people aren’t bad; truly bad people are a rare thing in the world. Usually, people are misled, misguided, or just make a lot of mistakes. That doesn’t make them bad; that just makes them people.’”

“… neat little blurb,” Eda said, “Where’d you hear that?”

“My Dad told me that,” Luz felt herself smile again, slowly, “He’s… really good at putting things into perspective, for me.”

“… sounds like a good man.”

“… he is,” Luz sighed, “He really is…”

The sun slowly continued to descend behind the skull, bathing the Isles in darkness; the sky gave way to black, the stars growing yet more numerous, and faint lights came to life across the Isles below.

“… now I’m starting to get cold,” King grumbled, wrapping himself in his tail.

“You and me both,” the Witch chuckled, “You ready to head back, kid?”

“… yeah,” the girl agreed, “I’m getting hungry.”

“Alright. Let’s go home, then.”

Silently, they descended into the night, Luz staring out as the last bits of light faded from the swiftly darkening evening sky.


No matter where one went in the castle, the beat was a constant. A rhythmic pulse that reverberated through the stone, through the floor and walls, and as one descended into the depths, even through the air. Supposedly, when the castle had first been constructed, it required near constant maintenance even with the help of magic, the constant pounding knocking loose brick and tile and metal no matter how much it was reinforced, and rendering the entire fortress fragmented and fragile, ready to collapse on itself like a house of cards.

But if that was true, those days were long, long since past.

After all, the Emperor would never allow his personal citadel to be a mere shell on the verge of shattering.

Now, the stone slabs remained firmly in place no matter how deep one wandered; tiles and wrought iron stood fast where they were fastened, long, heavy banners bearing the winged golden sword of the Emperor’s Coven hanging motionless, symbols that were as much an emblem of strength as the castle itself.

The boy couldn’t stop himself from matching the rhythmic beat in the stone around him, each step subconsciously matching another pulse. It was easier than deliberately trying to break from the pattern, for a number of reasons – the first being its omnipresence. Constantly trying to avoid its compulsory rhythm, to maintain one’s own beat separate from its tempo for more than a few minutes was an impossible task. It was too easy to slip back into step if one didn’t pay constant attention, and when one did that, it led to two things.

The first was pounding headaches as the rhythm seemed to bear down, oppressive, perhaps even predatory, refusing to accept any sort of dissent.

The second were missed details. Details that, on previous occasions, had nearly cost him his position in the Coven.

He reached up, briefly adjusting his mask as he continued through the hallways, illuminated only by torch and candlelight. While the danger was something he’d long since grown accustomed to, he was still grateful for the privilege of having it.

He didn’t like her, not for so much as an instant… but the way the Head of the Coven constantly maintained such an impassive expression despite the pressure, and danger, brought by her position was something he envied.

He rounded the corner, moving to redouble his pace-

Only to stop dead in his tracks, nearly tripping over his own feet in his attempt to avoid crashing into the woman before him.

Clad in all black save for her long, heavy white cloak, the woman’s expression filled with cold severity as she turned to glare him down from a towering height – he didn’t even come up to her shoulders – eyes of pale jade piercing through him. Her long black hair matched that of her elegant black dress in a stark contrast to her bone white skin, the gemstone set over her chest gleaming in the torchlight.

‘Speak of the King that Crawls…’

“… oh. It’s you,” she huffed, tone dismissive as her eyes narrowed, the sharpness of her expression dimming as she turned away.

Despite himself, the boy felt the already smouldering frustration in his stomach stir, stoked in equal measure by her dismissive spite and his own desire. Nonetheless, he endeavoured to keep his tone cordial, “Lady Lilith. You’ve returned?”

She came to a halt; though she did not turn back to him, a frigid edge had entered her voice, “… and when were you given permission to refer to me by my first name?”

The chill threat hung in the air like a guillotine’s blade, and once again, he found himself grateful for the mask, certain that there was no way he could have kept the flash of fear out of his face. He could barely keep it out of his voice, his posture, as he spoke again, “Apologies, Lady Clawthorne,” he hid the swallow as best as he could manage, “I spoke out of turn.”

“… ensure that it doesn’t happen again, Golden Guard,” there was a poorly hidden venom laced in the title; a frustration of her own, likely based in the fact that she was not permitted to know his name, despite being his superior. Nonetheless, she started forwards again, heels harshly clicking against the polished tile with every step she took.

Despite himself, he couldn’t quite hold back the slow exhale of relief that escaped him. Slowly, he sidled up beside the elder Witch, keeping pace with her long, loping stride.

“… so…” he began, “You’re finally back. Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“My assignment took longer than I anticipated,” she stated, “It has finally been concluded. It’s only natural that I would return upon its completion.”

“You’re here to see Emperor Belos, too, then?”

“If I were you, I would take more care with how I used his name,” her voice lacked the none too subtle threat it carried before, but her tone was still one of warning, “Names have power. And the Emperor’s is not one to be used in idle conversation.”

“… I’m not hearing a no,” he felt a small smirk work its way across his lips.

“We are on our way to the throne room. What other purpose could I have in coming here?”

Finally, a hint of something other than contempt, even if the attempt at humour was begrudgingly dry.

Again, his smile spread, “Well, I suppose that’s true… though I’m surprised Kikimora isn’t trying to grill us for a reason to come in.”

“She’s never far from his side, unless her orders dictate otherwise.”

“She is his assistant,” he grimaced, muttering under his breath, “… not that I understand why…

Yet still she remained impassive, even as they rounded another corner, “Despite her flaws, Kikimora is an effective secretary and administrator. Your personal misgivings, and whatever reasons might lie behind them, come secondary to her skill.”

“Didn’t think you liked her enough to defend her.”

“Call it a begrudging respect – something that you should consider cultivating yourself.”

This time, he couldn’t hold back the snort, crossing his arms, “I think I can handle the Coven’s little tattletale, Lady Clawthorne.”

“Perhaps. But you should keep in mind that she has been here for far longer than you have – and that, regardless of her treatment of other members, she has earned her place within the Emperor’s Coven.”

She didn’t need to continue for him to catch the undercurrent of disdain, or the implications therein.

He ground his teeth, forcing himself to keep his breaths even. He fought to keep his frustration out of his posture, feet firm on the ground and hands clenching tightly around his elbows, resisting the urge to redouble his pace and pull ahead of her to get to the door first.

“… patience, boy,” a note of slight amusement had entered her tone, a smile pulling at the edges of her lips from the corner of his eye – he hadn’t hidden his ire well enough, “You’re not going to garner anything of worth if you rush down every hallway.”

More hidden barbs.

The Golden Guard was really beginning to wish he’d just taken the passages. It would have been so much faster, and he wouldn’t have to be subjected to the open disdain and condescension of the famous Raven Maiden...

Nonetheless, he clamped his jaw yet tighter. Emperor’s favour or no, one needed to pick their battles wisely.

Finally, they reached the doors, soaring high above and ndearly reaching the vaulted ceiling dozens of feet above. This time, it was Lilith who pulled ahead, the guards on either side immediately standing to attention and pulling the doors open without so much as a second of hesitation.

They swung open with barely a sound, the darkness of the room beyond the hall a stark contrast to the gentle golds illuminated by the torches. The Coven Head continued forwards, confident in her stride even as she disappeared into the shadows.

He only took a moment to steel himself before following suit.

The room was only barely lit by the two massive fires that flanked the golden, towering throne at the back of the room; metal pipes had embedded themselves into the stone, positioned seemingly at random and weaving their way across the floor and the walls beneath the gigantic banners that hung, swaying eerily despite the total lack of breeze. Emperor’s Coven guards flanked the room and throne on either side, standing ramrod straight at rigid attention, giving no indication that they had even noticed the entry of their superiors. The flickering eerie glow only gave slight hints at what lay in the darkness beyond, great clockwork always turning, however slowly, gears, pistons, and springs making virtually no noise despite their constant motion.

It was here that the beat was strongest. He could almost feel himself being lifted off the ground by every pulse, the physical shock seeming to faintly rattle even in his bones and settle into his skull, pounding away at his cranium from both inside and out. No other pattern, no other rhythm could exist in this room, all overwhelmed and absorbed into the thrum.

To find its cause, all one needed to do was look to the gigantic, pulsating shadow that was suspended in the frame of pipes and clockwork, foetid flesh and inflamed veins visible in the faint flicker of the flames.

But none of that was what had the boy’s attention.

No, what drew his eyes was the man on the throne.

His white cloak seemed heavier than that of the rest of the Coven; thicker, hanging from his shoulders with a more tangible weight, emphasizing the bulk of his form underneath. His head and shoulders were wrapped in a leather hood, studded with bronze, and both were held in place by the heavy medallion in the center of his chest – a medallion bearing the symbol of the winged sword.

But the most striking feature was his mask; covering the entirety of his face, the mask seemed to be some facsimile of deer and bird of prey. A pair of antlers extended from the top of the mask like branches, edges gleaming in the light of the braziers, but the bottom of the mask ended in a sharpened tip, an imitation of a beak. His eyes were not visible in the hollows, only a pair of empty black holes staring back when one tried to find them.

The only signs that the man was even alive were the rise and fall of his chest and shoulders with each breath, and the gentle tapping of one of his fingers on the arm of his throne, the golden gauntlets making a faint click every time they made contact with the stone.

And kneeling before him on the carpet…

“… Warden Wrath?” the Guard mumbled, blinking.

The hulking figure was prostate before the Emperor, hood drawn up, both hands on the floor as his great mass shuddered with equal parts fear and remorse. On closer inspection, his uniform was in tatters, his thick arms at once drooping and tense, as if he were struggling just to maintain their shape. His breaths came in harsh chokes and barely restrained sobs, his head bowed so low his face was practically pressed to the floor.

Eventually, a voice rang out. Low. Cold. Reverberating through the stone with a tangible grain, as if its owner were speaking through some sort of film, the words were distorted with an unnatural echo, one that sent chills running down the spine.

Allow me to ensure that I am understanding you correctly, Warden,” the Emperor spoke slowly, casually, though it was impossible for the boy to miss the hard edge that had entered his tone, “You managed to lure the Owl Lady into the Conformatorium.

“… yes,” the normally booming, grave voice of the feared Warden Wrath was a mere whisper.

You had her cornered, but she proved more than your match. She set free a not inconsiderable number of prisoners during her escape. You and your forces took substantial damage before finally managing to re-establish order.

“… yes.”

… Kikimora.

The small, red skinned demon crept out of the shadows, the claw-like hand atop her head curled into a fist, three of the talons covering her right eye; her left, dark yellow scalera with a brown iris, gleamed with cruelty as she strode to the ruler’s side, clad in the same white cloak with a high collar covering her mouth entirely, held closed by a triangular silver brooch, though it did nothing to muffle her prim, proper voice, “Yes, Emperor Belos?”

Do the Warden’s spoken and written reports match the data you collected from the Conformatorium?

The masked boy could see the Warden stiffen in his place on the floor, raising his head to stare at the small woman.

“Oh, not in the slightest, my Emperor,” Kikimora’s eye crinkled, and one could practically see the smile of vicious delight breaking across her impish face as her cheeks rose behind her collar. She gestured, several pieces of parchment bound together appearing from nowhere as she cleared her throat.

“To count,” she began, “The disaster began yesterday at the end of the third daily quarter, roughly four segments from sundown; when interrogated, Conformatorium guards confirm that Warden Wrath managed to corner the Owl Lady by severing her head, but that he did not initially make any move to capture her, instead attempting to leverage the situation in order to force her into courtship,” she clicked her tongue, glancing down at the Warden with a half lidded eye, “Such a naughty man.”

The chill that flooded the room was so intense that the boy could feel it even under his own thick cloak, his skin breaking out into gooseflesh; again, he clutched his arms, unable to take his eyes off of the Warden as he continued to shrink with every syllable Kikimora uttered.

It was almost funny, how easily the largest person in the room could be made to look so small with just a few quick words.

“We can extrapolate that the Owl Lady’s subsequent escape and release of the prisoners was a result of this lapse in basic capture protocol and professionalism,” she returned her attention to the parchment, scrolling down its surface with a small, manicured claw, “She recovered her severed head and proceeded to open several cell doors; from there, those prisoners began opening more cells, and then those prisoners began… well, I’m sure you get the idea. It’s no wonder the Conformatorium was so quickly overrun.”

“… and yet people wonder why I suggested keys,” Lilith’s whisper was more of a hiss as she glared disapprovingly at the prostrate, pale demon, seeming to be willing him to spontaneously combust.

“To his credit, the Warden did pursue the Owl Lady and prevented her from just flying off – but by then the damage was done. The Conformatorium was in the full throes of a prison riot – and it gets worse,” the parchment rustled as the small demon turned to read the next page, chuckling, “According to what prisoners were successfully recaptured and interrogated, they were inspired to outright rebellion by a child. An accomplice of the Owl Lady, no less, whom goes completely unmentioned in the Warden’s report – I can only assume in a desperate attempt to save face.”

Again, the pages turned, “What remains is a compiled list of all the escaped prisoners, their crimes, and their current status… the number of prisoners that have not yet been recaptured currently sits above five hundred. Had the Emperor’s Coven not intervened during the final quarter last night, we might have been looking at thousands of escapees instead of merely hundreds – and that isn’t accounting for the number of Imperial Guards dead or otherwise unaccounted for, either.”

Kikimora snapped her fingers, the parchment disappearing as she gave a self satisfied curtsy, “That concludes my report, Emperor Belos.”

Silence. That was what the room was greeted with. Even the overwhelming beating of the decaying organ above seemed to have gone oddly quiet, only audible on the periphery in light of the situation at hand. Wrath seemed torn between scrambling for safety and wanting to disappear where he knelt – but he knew as well as everyone else, surrounded as he was, there was no way either was going to be possible.

The Emperor, for his part, remained remarkably at ease, his posture not having changed once throughout the entire report; he let the silence stew, seeming to have turned to the same stone as the walls surrounding him…

… I am impressed, Wrath. Truly, I am,” he finally intoned, “Your audacity is astounding; it has been a very long time since anyone so blatantly lied to me.

“Emperor Belos-!”

Before Wrath could voice his protest, the two closest Emperor’s Coven members stepped into action, each of them raising a hand. Immediately, magic washed over the great demon, stone launching up from the ground to bind his hands and haul him to his feet, suspended from makeshift stone supports by his wrists even as purple sludge and vines bound the rest of his body; they constricted his legs, tightening around his chest and throat and forcing his breaths to come in harsh wheezes, cutting off his shouts before they could form.

It would have been one thing if you had simply admitted to your failures and disobedience,” Belos seemed almost chiding, as if he were merely chastising a child caught with his hand in a sweet jar, “I would not have been pleased, but I may have been willing to show mercy, in light of your efforts and successful service in your years as Warden of the Conformatorium.

But that you were compelled to lie to me, Wrath… calls into question everything you have done over the decades you have acted in my service.

“… I… I served faithfully…” the pale demon half wheezed, half sobbed, “I… my years as an… Imperial Guard… my decades as Warden… I… I… for so long…”

Perhaps. But how do I know that for certain?” the masked sovereign raised a hand, pressing it to his chest, “Is it only today that you have lied to me? Or have you hidden things from me before? How far back does your penchant for dishonesty stretch, Wrath?

“… I could… never trick you,” Wrath hung his head, though whether it was from pain or shame, the boy couldn’t tell, “I… I was… desperate… I was afraid… I have never… lied to you… before today… I swear it, Emperor Belos… I swear it…”

For a long moment, no one spoke. The Warden simply hung limply in his restraints, and though the Golden Guard could not see his face, he had no doubt that the massive demon’s expression was pleading, begging for mercy from a man who was not known for his forbearance.

Eventually, Belos sighed.

… very well.

“… Emperor…?” Wrath’s voice was disbelieving through his struggles for breath.

I shall allow you to return to the Conformatorium, Wrath.

All at once, the hulking form relaxed, collapsing in a relieved heap. He was openly sobbing now, no longer able to handle the flood of emotions, the dam breaking, “… t… thank you… thank you, Emperor Belos, I swear you will not regret this!”

That much, I am certain of,” the Emperor gestured, “Guards, escort the prisoner to the Conformatorium.

Just as quickly as his relief had set in, it was gone. Wrath shot ramrod straight in disbelief mere fractions of a second before the spells binding him changed. The stone suspending him broke away and crashed together, binding his wrists together behind his back in heavy stone manacles; the sludge and vines extended from his body to the Coven guards, each of them gripping hold of the makeshift leash and harness that was now binding the former Warden and hauling him back.

“Emperor Belos!” he cried, “I have served faithfully! Please! Please, give me another chance!”

Your service shall be duly considered – along with the remainder of your actions,” the masked man raised his hand, dismissive, “I do not have further time to waste on you or your failings, Wrath. You can argue your case during your trial.

Wrath’s struggles only increased as he was forcibly dragged back towards the now open door; flames began to ignite in his mouth, only for a bit to form from yet more vines, binding his jaws shut. He bellowed, deep in his throat, but no words emerged, muffled by his restraints, and it was silenced as the doors slammed shut.

As the Emperor let out a slow exhale, letting his hand fall back to the arm of his throne, Lilith approached, making the boy splutter behind his mask before settling back into attention, gritting his teeth in frustration as she snubbed him once again. When the Raven Maiden had reached the edge of the raised dais holding the throne, she descended to one knee, bowing her head.

“I am at your service… Emperor Belos,” she intoned, only slightly raising her head.

Lady Lilith Clawthorne,” the voice emanated with the same metallic echo as before, every bit as collected, as if the entire exchange with Wrath had never occurred. It was not a tone of indifference, but rather, of measure – detached evaluation as he spoke, “I see you have returned. I take it your efforts were successful?

“They were,” she nodded, “The Wild Covens of the Leftern Talon Mountains have been successfully neutralized. I will admit it took longer than I had anticipated to find them, but once we did, all five Covens were crushed within three days.”

And their members?

“Captured where possible, killed where necessary. As you commanded,” Lilith closed her eyes, “They were not eager to give themselves up. They only surrendered when we breached the inner sanctums of their caverns. As far as we are aware, however, there were no escapees. I returned as soon as the tallies and reports were complete, and the area was secured; a more detailed report will be handed in for your review shortly, and the prisoner transport should reach the Conformatorium within the week.”

Excellent work, Lilith,” a faintly pleased note tinged the Emperor’s words, “Once again, you have proven yourself as the Head of the Emperor’s Coven. It is reassuring to know my confidence in you is never misplaced.

“I am content to serve, Emperor Belos,” the smile in Lilith’s voice was gone as soon as it had appeared, “However, I did not return here with such haste just to deliver a report on our success.”

Oh?

She raised her head in full, expression one of stone, “I have reason to believe the Wild Covens we just suppressed were in contact with the Witch Order.”

A pause. The sovereign did not immediately react, sitting in silence for a brief moment as the claim settled in. Even the boy had to sit in stunned silence, staring at the back of the woman’s head, eyes wide with shock.

“The Witch Order?” Kikimora spoke, an eye narrowed, “You really think they would extend their grubby little claws out here now?”

The Coven Head’s fingers twitched, however briefly, as she looked to address the crimson-skinned woman, as if to wrap her hands around a staff…

But another voice rang out before she could even decide whether or not to act on the violent impulse.

Kikimora.

Immediately, the diminutive demon stiffened; though the Emperor did not turn to look at her, the name was spoken with a low note of warning.

“… apologies, Emperor Belos,” she bowed, closing her eye.

… you’re fully aware of the implications of your words, Lilith,” Belos stated, “Of the agreements such correspondences violate. Are you certain?”

“The correspondence suggests as much; there are letters both addressed to and received from known Order Witches Vivienne du Lac and Morgana le Faye, as well as,” she reached into her cloak with one hand, pulling out a small metal brooch, resembling a woman on a broom; it floated up into the air, and into the Emperor’s outstretched hand, “several instances of this insignia, and evidence of ceremonies performed in honour of the Old Witch Maba.”

Slowly, the masked ruler ran his thumb across the smooth surface of the emblem, studying it in silence; after a moment, he released the insignia, letting it float back down to the Head of the Emperor’s Coven.

… an inevitability,” he spoke, “The Witch Order did not concede the Isles willingly; it’s only natural they would eventually make an attempt to take them back, whatever the method they use. I am grateful you brought this to my attention, Lilith.

Again, Lilith bowed her head, slipping the insignia back into her cloak, “Thank you, Emperor Belos.”

“So, then, what shall we do?” Kikimora inquired, “Shall we remind Maba why the Isles fell from her control so long ago?”

No. I will not engage in something so boorish as open war – at least, not yet, not over something so trivial,” Belos mused, “If the Witch Order wish to assail the Isles again, they are certainly welcome to try. In the meantime,” he straightened, returning his attention to the black haired woman, “Lilith. I want you to resume your hunts for Wild Witches in the Boiling Isles; in light of your success and your discovery, I am giving you free reign as to how you handle your hunt. Use my Coven and its resources however you see fit.

“As you command, Emperor Belos,” she nodded, then paused, “… though… if I may make one request?”

Name it.

“… I want to take on the responsibility of hunting the Owl Lady myself.”

A moment passed before Kikimora let out another cruel chuckle, “Is that sentimentality I’m hearing, Lady Clawthorne?”

“No,” In that brief instant, Lilith’s entire demeanour had shifted, shoulders tense under her cloak and eyes sharp; even after she reasserted her prior calm, the hard glare she levelled at the two-foot tall woman had not faded, her voice still sharp, “It is practicality. I am the one best suited to bring the Owl Lady into our fold – or, failing that, ensure her capture. I genuinely believe that if there is anyone who can catch Edalyn Clawthorne, it is me.”

And who are you speaking for when you say that, might I ask?” the Emperor queried, “Lilith Clawthorne, elder sister of Edalyn Clawthorne?... Or Lilith Clawthorne, Countess of the Boiling Isles, and Head of the Emperor’s Coven?

“… both, Emperor Belos,” she breathed, tone imploring as she once again turned to look at him, “… Edalyn will not be caught by Imperial Guards, the Coven Militants, or by even the Emperor’s Coven alone. They have all tried. They have all failed.

“I know Edalyn better than she knows herself; she is crafty and she is powerful, but she is not invincible. In the event that diplomacy fails, I am the one who is best suited to assuring her capture. And… and…” her head lowered as her gaze fell to the floor, voice dropping to nearly a whisper, “… and I implore you to remember the promise you made me the day you made me the Head of your Coven.”

No one spoke. Lilith and the Belos remained motionless, the masked man staring down at her, posture unreadable as he silently considered her words. The Nevermore Countess remained kneeling, waiting…

… very well,” he finally nodded, “If you truly believe you are capable of doing so… then I leave the hunt for the Owl Lady in your hands, Lilith.

Lilith’s head shot up, expression one of disbelief before morphing into one of unbridled joy. Despite her quick reassertion of composure, however, the boy could still hear the smile in her voice as she lowered her head once more, “Thank you, Emperor Belos. I swear, I will not fail you.”

You can show your gratitude in the form of results,” Belos stated sternly, “I have not forgotten my promise to you, Lilith. But by the same token, you must remember your oaths to me. Do not allow this particular task to blind you to your duties and other assignments. And, if the Owl Lady will not see reason… then you know what you must do.

“… I do,” she nodded, one last time, “I shall make my way to Bonesborough immediately. If I may take my leave?”

Go. I await the fruits of your labours, Lady Clawthorne.

The Raven Maiden rose with one final bow before turning, and speeding towards the door with such a long stride she was on the verge of breaking into a run. The doors swung open before her, and then closed once more, sealing Lilith away from view.

“Emperor Belos, I must protest,” Kikimora spoke, eye narrowed, “You know her relation to the Owl Lady. Do you honestly expect her to be able to capture the Wild Witch?”

She is aware of what she must do, Kikimora; even if she fails, the nature of that failure will arguably be more important than the failure itself,” the Emperor said, “The Owl Lady has evaded every other attempt made to capture her. If it is merely a failure of capability, it simply means the Owl Lady is yet more capable than we considered; a failure of character, however-

His speech was interrupted by a wet, wracking cough; his posture shattered as his shoulders shuddered and hunched, leaning on one arm as the other flew to his chest, struggling to breathe between hacks and chokes.

Before the boy could even think, he was already in motion; the guards made no attempt to stop him as he ascended the steps of the dais, approaching the wheezing Emperor.

“Golden Guard-!?” Kikimora’s eye went wide, as if this were the first time she were seeing him.

“I’ll take it from here,” he stated, hoping he sounded more confident than he felt as he extended a hand; the golden gauntlet, so massive compared to his own hand, wrapped around his entire hand and wrist, the Emperor struggling to his feet as the boy pulled his arm up onto his shoulder.

The Guard knew how surreal it must have looked, with him supporting a man who must have been twice his size even without the antlers on his mask.

“What is wrong!?” the small demon insisted, “Surely, there must be something I-!”

“It’s none of your concern,” the boy interrupted, slowly leading the Emperor off towards the side of the room, repeating, “I’ll take it from here.”

“… with all due respect, Golden Guard, I am his assistant,” Kikimora hissed, approaching, “And I will not be dismissed like some-”

She was again interrupted by a gesture from the unsteady Emperor, who had raised a hand.

… your efforts are commended, Kikimora,” he managed, “But… this is beyond your abilities. You are… dismissed. Return to your other duties…

“... very well, Emperor Belos,” she bowed… but as the boy led him away, he could feel the diminutive demon’s eye boring into the back of his head, along with the furious envy in her gaze.

It didn’t take long for them to slink into darkness, even with the boy supporting most of the Emperor’s weight; he pressed his hand into one of the bricks on the wall, and it retracted, the bricks pulling away to reveal the passageway. As soon as it closed behind them, he pushed the towering figure of the masked sovereign to lean on the wall. The wet struggles for breath only grew more laborious as the man slumped, shoulders heaving up and down, eyes still hidden behind his mask.

Finally, he reached out, palm upturned, fingers curled as his hand shook, expectant.

The Guard wordlessly reached into his cloak, pulling the small, struggling thing free. The grey-blue squirrel squirmed in his grip, clawing and biting uselessly at the gauntlet even as it was handed over to the Emperor.

The instant it was in his fingers, his hand tightened like a vice, making the squirrel screech and scream in pain, its body splintering under the force of his grip, flesh and bone turning back into wood as the damage was inflicted. As best as he could manage, the Emperor raised the animated creature carving to his face, digging a shaking figure into its neck… and violently tearing away.

Its head fell away, finally silenced, rendered but a normal carving with that single swift motion; its insides glowed as the body fully hardened into wood, a small, gleaming, simple Soul shining in the dim light of the passage. The Emperor brought it to his face, lifting his mask only briefly…

The glow disappeared.

The shaking of his hands ceased.

The wracking coughs and wheezing stopped.

And Belos let out a slow sigh of relief, letting the carving fall from his hands to the floor as he pulled his mask back into place.

… ah… that’s better,” he murmured, straightening back to his full height, flexing a hand experimentally, “I am grateful for your efforts, Golden Guard.

“Thank you, Emperor Belos,” the boy bowed his head, ignoring the pang of hurt at the use of his title rather than his name.

… you didn’t use the passages,” the Emperor turned to fully face him now, head slightly tilted as he stared down at the Guard.

“Is that a bad thing?”

It is unusual. A change in an established pattern; I am curious as to what caused it.

As usual, the mask did nothing to stop the sovereign of the Boiling Isles from seeing right through him.

He took a breath, closing his eyes in a vain attempt to calm the slamming of his heart against his ribs before raising his head, staring into the black void of the Emperor’s mask’s eyes, “… I have a request of my own to make. I… I thought if I approached you in a more official manner, it would…”

… it would…?

“… I don’t know,” he shrugged, helplessly, “Earn me a bit more respect with the Coven, I guess?...”

For the first time that night, a slightly warmer emotion entered Belos’ voice, a chuckle echoing against the stone, tone amused, “Is this about Lilith and Kikimora?

His lips pulled tight in a grimace, looking away, “… it’s not just them. I…”

The Guard stopped, uncertain as to how to proceed. He closed his eyes, breathing in… then exhaling, long and slow, raising his head.

“… Emperor Belos. I would like permission to go after the Palisman Sword Dainslief.”

… Dainslief,” the Emperor repeated, slowly, inquisitive, “One of the Palismen lost during the old Witch conflicts with the Reaper.

“Yes. I have reason to believe it’s been found, after going over reports from the Oracle Coven,” again, the masked boy reached into his cloak, pulling out several papers, “The ones we’ve had looking into sources of lost Magic have had visions of a black sword with a mouth, that can also take on a humanoid form – after doing some cross-reference, I’ve confirmed this appearance matches the descriptions of Dainslief extremely closely. If it’s re-emerged, we can’t just ignore it.”

Do you know anything about its location? If it is currently being wielded by anyone?

“It’s been hard to pin down; the reports show a number of different locales, but they all share one consistent thread,” one final breath, “It’s in the human world.”

A long moment of silence. The Emperor stood motionless, unreadable, staring down at the Golden Guard with a posture of stone.

… you are aware that the Boiling Isles have no functioning portals to the human world, correct?

“I am. The Old Witch destroyed them all.”

Which means the only portals that link the Demonic Realms and the human world are all in Witch Order territory.

This was exactly what he’d been preparing for. Again, he nodded, taking out a map, “I know. But more reports show that there are a couple of different portals that aren’t heavily monitored. I can take-”

No.

That single word left the Guard stunned, his mouth clicking shut as he looked up from his map, heart skipping a beat; he spluttered, “B-But… Emperor Belos, I-!”

You don’t understand the full risks of what you are proposing.

“The human world is neutral ground as far as our relationship with the Witch Order is concerned!”

And the portals themselves are not,” Belos pointedly stated, “If you are discovered in the human world, the Witch Order will take it as a move made against them in order to claim more territory, which I will remind you is an open act of war – and that is not considering the Reaper.

“I can handle a little espionage,” the Golden Guard insisted, “My Soul isn’t like other Witches! With a little disguise work, no one will be able to link me to the Emperor’s Coven even if they see me!”

That does not account for the danger posed to you personally, or the possible margin of error of the Oracle Coven,” the Emperor rebuffed, “What happens if you go out there, risking your life, only to find that their divinations were wrong?

At this, the Guard bit his lip, unable to argue the point. He wracked his mind, trying to come up with a suitable counter…

“… they’re not wrong,” he finally managed, looking up at Belos once again, “Even if this isn’t Dainslief, there’s obviously something going on. And those Palismen are too dangerous to just leave alone. Don’t you think it’s at least worth investigating?”

Worth investigating? Yes. Worth your life?... no,” the Emperor stated, “I understand your concerns, Golden Guard. I agree it is not something to be left unattended. But there are too many risks attached for us to simply rush in blindly.

“Which is part of why I’m volunteering,” he brought his thumb up to his chest, “I don’t need Soul Protect the way other Witches do. By my very nature, I am far more difficult for Witches, Weapons and Meisters to detect. If Lilith is the one best suited to catch the Owl Lady, then I’m the one best suited for this sort of recon. I can do this.”

Again, Belos was silent, impassive and unreadable.

“… please,” the Golden Guard pleaded, “Just… let me at least try.

A long moment passed before Belos sighed, bringing a hand to his metallic brow. Then, he reached out with a hand.

After a moment, a long, white staff emerged from the shadows, gently floating into the Emperor’s hand; after a moment, it extended with several metallic clicks, a crimson orb emerging on its tip, and a broad, white wing edged with gold extended from its tip. It glowed with an eerie light, pulsing in time with the beat of the stone.

The boy’s breath hitched in his throat, “… your…”

My staff,” the masked sovereign intoned, holding it out.

“… you’re… you’re really-…”

Belos said nothing, holding the staff out towards the Guard.

When he reached for it, however, the Emperor snatched it back.

I am not giving this to you lightly, Golden Guard,” his tone was like ice, a warning with a glacial undercurrent, “And I am certainly not giving it to you for battle. At the first sign of conflict, you return to the Isles. Do I make myself clear?

The Guard’s eyes went back and forth between the sovereign, and the vermillion glow of the staff. Eventually, he swallowed, pushing down the bizarre combination of fear and excitement in his chest, and nodded.

“Yes. I understand.”

Then say it.

A final, deep breath, “… in the event that conflict arises and I am in danger, I will return to the Isles. I will not attempt to play the hero.”

… do not make me regret this.

The Emperor held out the staff once more.

This time, he did not pull it back when the boy reached for it.

Even through his gauntlets, it was warm in the Golden Guard’s hands, humming with power as he settled into a stance. Already, he could feel its power respond, thrumming, his heart racing as he stared into its crimson light…

“… I’ll set out as soon as I can,” he stated, feeling the staff compress itself into a smaller form.

Take care, Golden Guard; a hasteful journey is often one that ends in tragedy.

“Of course,” he bowed, “Thank you, Emperor Belos.”

… you are dismissed,” the Emperor turned away, walking back towards the throne room, “May the Titan guide you.

The hidden door opened, allowing the sovereign to pass through, and then slowly pulled shut once more, leaving the Golden Guard alone in the dark.

After a moment, he turned, and made his way down the passage, trying to keep his smile and heartbeat under control, dreams of the hunt at hand flooding the forefront of his mind…

Notes:

I am so sorry it took so long to get back to this, guys. Real life's kinda been kicking my ass...

But I'm here now.

Kind of a long chapter this time! Lots to address.

First and foremost, I made some corrections name wise in previous chapters. Turns out I got Camila's name wrong for nine months. There's only one i in it.

I also corrected the name of Luz's principal, but that's more just me nitpicking my own work.

I'm also going to be making some changes to some of Owl House's antagonists. Primarily in the threat they represent. Sometimes, I admit I feel the Owl House's villains feel a bit... toothless?... so I'm going to be making them stronger. Much, much stronger.

I'm also balancing the strength of the main Soul Eater characters a bit differently from in canon? Despite the fact that the series always tried to emphasize that Kid, Liz and Patty were stronger than Maka and Soul and Black Star and Tsubaki, it always felt like they should have been roughly equal to each other. Kid and company's greater stregnth never really comes up outside of some very specific situations, and even then it often feels like a contrived excuse to have him go off on his own. So I'm doing my best to make them A) seem a little bit better rounded as individual characters and as a team, and B)... keep in mind that they're kids. And honestly probably shouldn't be taking adults like Stein or Medusa on in full combat to begin with.

Also, anyone who guesses who Dainslief is gets a cookie. No, Dainslief is not an OC. I'm playing fair here.

Finally, thank you all once again for your patience and understanding with me. Please be sure to leave your thoughts below! I hope you all enjoyed the eighteenth chapter of Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance!

Chapter 19: Moments to Catch Up

Notes:

Sorry that this took so long, everyone. There's been a lot going on, not the least of which was a fucked computer. Water damage. I have the SSD drive, but I have no idea how much I'll actually be able to recover from it. Hence a big reason as to why this chapter is so late.

I promise we'll get some more actual "plot" stuff done soon. In the meantime, I hope this tides you over.

I do not own Soul Eater or Owl House.

If I did, Eda would be allowed to swear as much as she wants.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“I am terribly sorry, Eda,” the ragged man bowed his head, the hat-like hood pulled so far down over his head it was practically a mask, his eyes invisible behind its thick blue-grey cloth, “I was suspicious of the girl when she made your delivery; you know how Bonesborough can get, these days…”

“Hey, I get it,” she dismissed cheerfully, idly counting what he had handed her, “Illusion Witches are tricky bastards. It’s not the first time that someone’s tried to benefit off my name and reputation.”

“But it would have been the first time someone made off with a genuine product of yours,” he held up the medicine mournfully, the opaque red salve still unopened.

“Pff. You know I keep better track of my stuff than that,” Eda grinned, “If I’m letting people snag my potions, then I have bigger problems than scammers trying to snatch up my scraps. Besides, wasn’t King with her?”

“… heh. He was, yes,” the Thief chuckled, “But in my defence, King isn’t the most reliable indicator of a situation at hand.”

“Have a little more faith in him. He’s a little stinker for sure, but I wouldn’t send him out at all if he weren’t at least somewhat reliable,” she frowned, double checking her total, “… payin’ a little much for Bleedmoss Salve, don’t you think?”

“Think of it as an apology for the trouble – and a thank you,” despite the hood hiding his face, she could hear his smile, “Your work has spared me several close cuts. It’s the least I can do.”

“… well, I’m not one to say no to a little extra cash,” she shrugged, pocketing the money, “You just watch your step, alright? Next time you get caught by the Imperial Guard, I’m probably not gonna be around to let you out of your cell. And Titan knows Patches sure as Hell won’t, either.”

“Yes, yes, I know. I’m not going back to the Cavitol anytime soon,” he rose from his crouch, gripping the stones of the wall, “You stay safe as well, Eda. And please… offer my apologies to your employee?”

“I’ll pass them along,” she waved him off, “Take care of yourself, Greirat.”

The Thief simply nodded, and then clambered up the wall, scaling the cobbles and beams of wood and bone as easily as if he were simply crawling across the ground. He slipped up over the edge, and disappeared from view, as if he were never there.

“... poor bastard,” Eda shook her head, sighing, “Bleedmoss can’t fix a bleeding heart, but if it could, he’d probably make for a first rate burglar.”

Nonetheless, she turned on her heel, and continued on her way, quickly losing her wistfulness amidst the familiar pitched energy of the town around her.

Despite the dinge and danger that the back alleys of Bonesborough held for the average hapless traveller, there were few places that could add a greater spring to the Owl Lady’s step. The clicks of her heels upon the cobbles were accompanied by the distant murmur of the town’s main streets, dulled by a filter of stone and bone and dark and grime as the walls closed in on the ever narrowing corridors; she could feel the eyes upon her from every corner she turned, from every bent and crooked figure she passed, and in the spyholes carved into nigh every surface – not a single resident or storefront owner so trusting as to leave their backstreets unwatched no matter how close they were to the streets proper – and not one of those gazes held good intentions.

And she revelled in every second of it.

While there was never any true need for the Owl Lady to put on a mask, this winding labyrinth brought a vicious smile to her face in a way that few other things did, an exhilarating thrill that left her with a constant sense of anticipation. Though she was but one predator among many in these dank corridors, all of whom were waiting for even the slightest show of weakness from one another, that was all part of the game; a game she had an exceptionally deft hand for.

There was, after all, a reason so few would consider Edalyn Clawthorne a viable mark, regardless of what their game was.

She rounded another corner, the sun disappearing from view as she began a slow, sloping descent into the tunnels; though she had no intention of visiting the Marrowtown today, the passages that led there still served as a convenient shortcut from district to district – something she was grateful for, as Bonesborough could really only be called a town by technicality. 

Though relatively small compared to the sprawling fortress-city that was the Imperial Cavitol, Bonesborough was still far larger than it had any real right to be; despite never expanding beyond the walls that marked its official borders, those borders could not be considered small by any stretch of the imagination. Even without the spiralling streets and the levels divided by elevation, walking from one end of the town to the other was often a multiple hour project, and as the centuries had rolled by, residences, businesses and paths were built from lumber and stone, carved from cliff and bone, or grown from demonic flesh, adding to the complexity of the town and transforming it into a city in all but name.

To be honest, Eda was still impressed that Luz had navigated Bonesborough as well as she had; she hadn’t included the Marrowtown or its passages in the maps she’d given the girl - nor did she ever intend to - but even with King’s help, unreliable as he could be, Luz had proven she at least could find her way around in town, well enough that she could find individual addresses with only minimal assistance.

Which, as she stepped out of the tunnel into the sunlight, brought the red-clad Witch to yet another door, cheerfully raising a fist and slamming it into the wood.

“Oi! Cammy!” she called.

No response.

“I know you’re in there, ya lazy vamp, I’m here to collect!”

A moment of silence passed before the door slowly creaked open, a shock of dark hair and pale hazel eyes peering out from the crack. What could be seen of the figure’s lips and brow were both curled down in a tired frustration.

“… well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Eda spun her staff idly, “Not happy to see me?”

“… not particularly, Owl Lady,” the vampire spoke, voice low, practically a growl, “I was under the impression that our business had been concluded for the month. Did that… child… not deliver you your payment?”

“Oh, she did,” the Witch flashed a toothy grin, more amused than anything else at the lie, “But that’s the problem. I only got about a quarter of what you actually owe me.”

“I see,” those pale eyes continued to glare, unblinking, “Well, that is unfortunate. But I’m afraid you’re looking in the wrong place. The girl must have taken the money for herself.”

Eda bit down on a laugh, more amused than anything else at the blatant attempt at deception. She shifted her weight to one heel, holding her staff out to the side, beyond Carmilla’s view; without any prompting, Owlbert unscrewed himself from the staff, and took off without a sound, circling around to the back of the building.

All the while, the Owl Lady kept talking, “See, Camilla-”

“Carmilla,” the woman snapped.

“Sure, name yourself for Romania’s biggest bully,” she grinned, never missing a beat, “I would be more willing to believe that… if that girl, A, had any idea what a snail is actually worth, and B, wasn’t such a terrible liar.” 

The door cracked open further, the vampire’s glower only growing more severe as she craned her neck to meet the Owl’s gaze, doing her best to glare down the length of her nose, “So you accuse me of lying instead, Eda?”

“Please. Don’t pretend like this isn’t the eighth time I’ve had this exact conversation today,” she leaned forwards, eyes half lidded, teeth still bared with her smile, “You’re not special. You haven’t paid up, and I think you know what’s going to happen if you cause a scene over some snails. Especially considering that little gambling ring you’ve got going on in your basement.”

At this, those pale eyes finally widened, the fury draining away from the woman’s face in a single instant of cold terror; deep in her Soul, Eda could feel her link to Owlbert, the Palisman gently tugging at the back of her mind, like a child pulling at the hem of their mother’s dress.

Through his eyes, from his perch, she could peer into windows of the house, staring down through gaps in the curtains to see the figures gathered at the table. Even without seeing their Souls or the emotions they carried, the movement and passage of coin, as well as the shift in expression on Carmilla’s face, was more than enough to confirm it to the Owl Lady.

She felt her lips pull back even further, “… I’m not going to throw you to the wolves, Cam-Cam. A few rounds of Hexas Hold ‘Em never hurt anyone – well, not unless they were particularly bad at it. 

“But by the same token, if you have enough money to risk gambling, you have enough to pay me for your delivery…” she raised an eyebrow, “Unless you want to go crawling back to Alcina?”

“… Mammonistic bitch, ” Carmilla hissed.

“Like you’re one to talk. House always wins, doesn’t it?” Eda snarked, “I just want what you owe me. Once I have it, I’ll be on my way.”

The pale vamp pulled her lips back in a snarl, fingers digging deep into the wood of her door. Whatever words she had died in her throat as she choked and sputtered on her own rage, struggling to find insults or threats enough to force the Owl Lady to back down…

But the only response the silver haired woman offered was a shrug, “I’m not here to pick a fight. I just want my money. You can certainly start a ruckus, if you want; just keep in mind what the guards do when they happen across something like an unlicensed gambling den.”

She idly jabbed a thumb over her shoulder, Owlbert silently returning to the tip of her staff; she didn’t need to look back at the sound of heavy footsteps passing by to know what was behind her. The twitch of Carmilla’s eyes was confirmation enough, flickering briefly to the street before meeting the Witch’s golden orbs once more, snarl fading into a smouldering glare.

She turned away, stalking off briefly before returning with a handbag, digging around violently through its contents before pulling out a handful of coins and bills, violently shoving them into Eda’s hands.

“There’s your damn money,” Carmilla hissed, “Now get off my property.”

“Hang on,” the Witch raised a finger, idly flipping through the bills, “Gotta make a proper count… two hundred… ten… twenty… thirty…”

She could hear Carmilla’s teeth grinding against each other, and was tempted, however briefly, to slow her count down; just as quickly, though, she quashed the thought. As amusing as the vampire was when she was angry, there was no real need to cause a scene – and moreover, she didn’t have time to waste here.

She still had one more stop to make.

Finally, Eda nodded, slipping the money into her pocket, “Pleasure doing business with you, Cammy. Same time next month?”

The only answer the one woman Parliament received was the heavy door slamming in her face.

Her crooked smirk grew as she shouted, “Next time, be a little nicer to Luz!”

With that, she turned, and strode away, leaving the vampire to stew in her own fury.

A small pulse shot up her arm from her staff, carrying a wordless query from Owlbert; she petted the carving on the head, stroking the wood with a soothing motion before delving back into the alleyways.

She didn’t blame him for wanting to go back; enjoyable or not, it had already been a fairly long, tedious day, and the temptation to hop on her staff and just return to the Owl House was very real. By almost all accounts, her day was finished; she’d collected all the missing money, and oddly enough, the final name on the list had actually paid everything he owed to the Owl Lady.

But that didn’t mean she wasn’t going to pay Adegast a visit.


The garish, painfully bright neon sign that lit up the front of the bar was a perfect match for Chupacabra’s equally gaudy interior.

Illuminated by candles that had been set upon the long, thin shelves along the length of the wall, entire establishment was absolutely saturated with purple. It alternated across the floor with the shiny black tiles; every wall, every shelf, every abstract, modern art painting and large leather loveseat shared that same shameless shade of purple so vibrant it was almost more of a dark pink. It even extended to the separating screens and the bar itself, and with those, it was somehow worse, their gaudiness enriched by polished, but cheap brass trim clearly intended to mimic gold. In the corner of the bar, an old stereo had been set in the gutted, then hastily filled remains of a once-vintage jukebox, played decades-old music through a grain of film, occasionally skipping every now and again – a deliberate flaw incorporated in hopes of making the old machinery seem more authentic, a cheap veneer presented as the genuine article… though it would hardly fool anyone who looked at it for more than two seconds. 

Truly, the dive of cabaret bars, only a few steps above being a showgirls club.

But despite this air, Blair couldn’t possibly feel any more at home.

She let out low, purring hums in time with the music as she idly shook the cocktail mixer, the cold of the metal oddly pleasant in her hands. The warm air was hazy, heavy with the scent of spirits, making her grateful for the dampening spells she’d learned so long ago; the myriad of scents, as well as their strength, would be wreaking havoc on her nose were it not for them.

Finally, she removed the cap, pouring the mix of gin, lime and lemon, syrup, egg white and cream through a strainer into the glass, idly pressing a finger to the side of the glass; a chill pulsed out from her Soul and down her arm, covering the glass in a thin layer of frost as tiny fractals formed within the drink, freezing just enough to form into a healthy froth right as she poured in the seltzer, filling it up to the brim.

“And there’s your Ramos Gin Fizz!” she chirped, sending the drink sliding across the bar to the patron at the other end; it came to a halt right in front of him without so much as a single drop spilled, making him blink, raising his eyes to meet her with surprise.

She just giggled before taking her tools back to the sink, giving them all a quick, but thorough rinse, wiping them down with a fresh towel for their next use.

“… you’re pretty good at this, considering this is your second night on the job.”

The voice emanated from the edge of the bar; the cat glanced up, meeting the cerulean eyes of a woman in a short yellow dress, the pearls around her neck possibly the only genuine article in the entire building.

“Thank you, Risa!” Blair grinned, setting her tools back down on the counter, “It’s good to know I still have all my basic know-how. I’ve slowed down a little, though.”

“Slowed down?” a dark blond eyebrow arched, Risa laughing incredulously, “You got that Fizz out in thirty seconds, how is that in any way slow?”

“That’s a full ten seconds longer than my old standard,” she shrugged “Oh well. Just means I’m a little rusty!”

“… if you’re that good, then what the Hell are you doing here? ” the woman gestured, “Shouldn’t you be in a high end cocktail bar or something?”

“Let’s just say this place is a little nostalgic for me and leave it at that,” the scantily clad kitten turned, lips upturned as she leaned back against the counter, reaching up to run her fingers along the inner line of her cleavage, “Besides, I like this work outfit more than those stuffy suits.”

“Nostalgia and skimpy outfits,” the senior Chupagirl rubbed her brow, smiling exasperatedly, “Alright, fair enough. Can’t say I understand your logic, but whatever floats your boat… Blair, right?”

“Yep!”

“Just wanted to make sure… I love the cat ears, by the way,” Risa pointed up to Blair’s head, “How’d you do them?”

They flicked, Blair’s smile only growing wider, “They’re real.”

“What?”

“No, seriously!” she reached up, brushing her hair back.

Before Risa could open her mouth to continue arguing, the door swung open, the bell ringing distantly as a man lumbered in, shoulders hunched and head of dark red hair hung low.

“… oh,” the blond’s expression softened, watching as the suit-clad man stumbled into the farthest booth he could, disappearing from view.

“… someone’s down in the dumps,” the cat woman murmured, leaning over the counter in an attempt to peer around the screen.

“No kidding,” Risa crossed her arms, idly chewing a nail, “I knew he wasn’t taking his divorce well, but damn… he looks like someone just shot his puppy.”

“Divorce?” Blair blinked, turning back to her fellow bartender, “You know him?”

“Not personally,” Risa assured, “That’s Death Scythe, one of our regulars. He’s probably one of the main reasons Chupacabra’s even manages to stay afloat in this city.”

“Aaaaah,” the purple haired woman nodded sagely, turning her attention back to the booth.

“… actually, Blair, you wanna go sit with him for a bit?” the yellow clad woman picked up the cocktail mixer, “I can handle the bar for an hour or so.”

“What, you want me to make sure he doesn’t go John Wick?”

Those cerulean eyes danced with the senior chupagirl’s smile, “Nah, Spirit’s gentle as a lamb. He wouldn’t hurt a fly unless it touched his daughters,” she took out a block of ice, “That would be a different story, but if that were the case, I doubt he’d be here. But you’re gonna have to meet him at some point anyways, and I know what his favourite drinks are. I get the feeling he’s gonna want to be knocked flat on his ass, so I’ll get him started with an Aunt Roberta.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Blair raised an eyebrow, smile slipping briefly as incredulousness washed over her, “An Aunt Roberta as a start?

“That man’s got an alcohol tolerance that you have to see to believe. Now get over there.”

“Alright,” she shrugged, hopping over the bar and loping down to the corner booth where the man had disappeared behind a screen; she peered around the corner, sizing him up, lips pursed as her golden eyes took in his form.

He leaned forwards in his seat, elbows on his knees and one hand rubbing at his temple; his hair was wild, unkempt, strewn about in a thick mop of red that only served to make him seem even more haggard, eyes closed and lips pulled tight, the very picture of a man struggling to maintain his composure.

Smiling, Blair sidled in, a hand on her hip as she stared down at him, “Good evening, Mister Death Scythe.”

He glanced up, his eyes a startlingly bright shade of blue as they snapped open; after looking her up and down, he finally relaxed, letting out a sigh tinged with relief.

“… Good evening,” he raised a hand in kind, mouth settling into a crooked smile as he leaned back against the seat, “I take it you’re going to be my hostess for tonight?”

“Provided Risa and Arisa don’t take over from me,” she chuckled, rounding the table and plopping herself down right beside the Reaper’s Weapon.

His eyes remained firmly fixed on hers, only very briefly dipping before locking back onto her face, blinking. His smile slipped as he turned in his seat, staring.

Her own smile slipped slightly, “… something wrong?”

“… you’re that cat.”

She blinked in turn, “I’m sorry?...”

“You’re that magic cat,” he repeated, once again seeming entirely off kilter, “You fought Maka.”

“…  heh. Should have figured you’d know about that,” she stretched, letting her ears flick, “Being a Death Scythe and all.”

“… something like that,” he murmured, eyes dimming as he once again slumped against his seat.

“… did I do something wrong?” she asked.

“No, no, it’s… it’s not you,” he sighed, “I… I’ve just been having a rough day. First day home, and… well. It’s one of those days, where it’s just one thing after another.”

“Aaaah, gotcha,” Blair bobbed her head,  “Well, I hope I can brighten up your day. Would you like anything?”

“I don’t suppose an entire bottle of Alberta Premium rye is on offer?” he inquired wryly.

She snickered, “Not the cask quality stuff. That comes by the shot, not the bottle.”

“Fair enough.”

As if on cue, Risa slipped past the screen, tray in one hand, glass in the other; the tray was piled with five separate bottles, a shaker, and a small bucket of clear ice blocks, while dark liquid swirled in the cocktail glass in her other hand. She set down the tray first on the glass tabletop, then the cocktail in front of the red-headed Demon Weapon, smiling serenely, “There you are, Mister Death Scythe.”

He cocked an eyebrow, “I hadn’t even ordered yet.”

“I thought I’d go ahead and make you something to brighten your mood. This one is on the house, if it makes you feel a little better?”

He picked up the glass, sniffing its contents briefly, “An Aunt Roberta… not the most refined drink, but honestly?... exactly what I need right now.”

The Death Scythe tilted his head back, taking his first sip of the cocktail. The first sip quickly led into a second, and then a third, never pausing for breath, and within seconds, the entire drink was gone.

He set the glass down on the tabletop, letting out yet another sigh, this one tinged with content, “Thank you, Risa.”

“Not at all, Mister Death Scythe,” she gestured, “Blair will take care of mixing any more drinks that you want while you’re here tonight. If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to let me know.”

With that, she stepped away, disappearing once again into the throng beyond the makeshift booth.

Finally, Blair let loose the whistle she’d been restraining, picking up the glass and staring into the bottom, not a single drop remaining, “You’ve got no fear, Death Scythe. I can count the people I know who’d down that as quickly as you did on one hand.”

“It’s a skill,” he shrugged, settling back again, “Though admittedly not one I’m all that proud of.”

She made no comment. Instead, she set the glass down, letting her lips gently pull back in a coy smile, “… so I take it you’ve got no problems with me?”

“I don’t see why I would.”

“I thought the Reaper’s policy was ‘No Magic.’ Am I an exception?”

Again, he shrugged, “I dunno. He hasn’t sent anyone after you again, and I assume you’re not on his list… granted, I'm not exactly in the right frame of mind to be answering that sort of question.”

“Fair point,” she chuckled, “Though I think it probably helps that I’m a cat.”

This time, he managed a weak laugh of his own, “I suppose you’re right about that. Blair, right?”

“Yep!” Blair turned in her seat, hands on her knees, one eye closed, staring at the man out of the corner of the other with her lips curled in her best smitten smirk, “Now, are you going to tell me your name? Or am I just going to have to call you Death Scythe?”

He paused, seeming to deliberate for a long moment before letting out a mirthless chortle. The Death Scythe reached out, tracing the rim of his glass before picking up a piece of ice, tossing it in his mouth.

“Spirit,” he finally declared, “My name is Spirit Albarn.”

Blair’s practiced expression immediately shattered, her eyes snapping open and lips slightly parted as she turned to stare the Weapon in the face. She examined every contour of his face, his thin nose, his pale blue eyes, even his chin, neck and cheekbones in search of any resemblance he might have had to Maka.

It didn’t take long for the cat to find. They shared the bridge of their nose, the shape of their brow, and now that she stopped to think about it, she realized why his expression had seemed so familiar – it was the same grimace Maka wore when something was bothering her, lips pursing and brow furrowing in a manner that was almost identical to that of the man before her.

The resemblance was by no means immediately obvious – but now that the magical feline had seen it, it was impossible to get it out of her head.

“… you’re Maka’s father,” she murmured.

It was Spirit’s turn to blink, caught off guard; after a moment, he sighed, crunching the ice between his teeth before giving a hard swallow, wincing as the chunks went down, “Yeah.”

“… I thought you were just her teacher,” she chewed her lip, letting her eyes fall to the bottles across the glass tabletop, “… this… certainly explains a lot.”

“... what does it explain?” he queried.

“Mainly, why Maka got so upset when I told her I was starting work here.”

He stared at her blankly.

“… sounds like we have some things to talk about,” she said, shifting in her seat again, “Okay, so… after Maka and Soul took one of my Souls…”


… she ended up living with us, ” Maka muttered, her tone one of acid annoyance, the sound of pencil scratches faint in the background.

“Didn’t you say she had a nicer place than yours, though?” Luz queried, doing her best to pay attention to the conversation while also scanning Eda’s list, sorting through the box for what few ingredients she could identify.

Two story house all to herself, ” the Meister confirmed, “ She said, and I quote, ‘I wanna live with you two, specifically.’ Even though Soul and I just have an apartment.

“It’s decently sized though, isn’t it?” she pulled out what looked like a potato, “Four rooms, plus a closet for your washing machine and dryer?”

Five rooms, if you include the bathroom. Which I swear she loves to hog for an hour at a time, regardless of who’s home or if they need to use it.

“I still find it wild that she likes baths so much,” the Latina held up her arms, staring bemusedly at her skin, long since healed, “Last time I tried to give a cat a bath I had so many scratches, I looked like I’d been put through a Jigsaw puzzle.”

A what? ”  

“Jigsaw puzzle,” Luz repeated, “Get it? ‘Cause… sharp cat claws? Puzzles? Jigsaw is a horrible person?”

… oooh, ” Maka murmured slowly, “ … that was actually kind of clever. Took me a second, though, never saw those movies.

“Don’t,” the tanned girl forewarned, despite the grin spreading across her face, “They think they’re a lot more clever than they actually are. They’re honestly just kinda… dumb.”

Doesn’t that describe most slashers, though?

“Most slashers don’t act like they’re making some big, profound statement about the human condition. Plus, they’re just… gross. That’s really all I can say about them.”

Then why’d you even watch them?

“Because I had the house to myself at the time and I was morbidly curious. It just ended up being one of those movies – like those bags of chips. They’re gross, but they’re right there, so it’s hard to stop eating them. You know what I mean?”

Not really. I don’t really eat chips, and I don’t watch a lot of movies, either.

“Well, that’s something we’re fixing when we see each other!”

Maka huffed, “ But seriously, I don’t get what that cat’s fixation with baths is. It’s bad enough that she loves water enough to take up huge blocks of time in our bathroom, can’t she at least take showers like a normal person?

Luz raised an eyebrow, “If she’s spending the same amount of time in there, wouldn’t a shower just be wasting more water?”

You know what I mean. It should be illegal to spend more than five minutes in the bathroom at a time outside of emergencies!

“I can tell someone hasn’t had a bubble bath in a while.”

Baths are for children, Luz. Bubble baths, even moreso.

“My collection of bath bombs says otherwise,” she chuckled, setting down another ingredient on the cutting board, “Besides, you’re younger than me.”

And you have no idea how much that baffles me, ” the younger girl sighed.

This time, the Latina couldn’t suppress a wince, “Yikes… someone’s grumpy.”

… sorry. Blair just… gets to me sometimes, ” Maka finally admitted, “ I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.

“Hey, I get it,” Luz glanced back over her shoulder to where the tiny Demon furiously scribbled on a piece of paper, “King kinda gets on my nerves sometimes too, no matter how cute he is.”

King? ” the Meister asked, perplexed, “ Who’s King?

She turned to face him fully, biting her lip; King’s eyes were narrowed with concentration as he scratched at the parchment with a pencil, stubby claws only barely long enough to grip the implement properly. The scribbling became more and more intense as he growled wordlessly, the frustration in his tone more than evident…

And then the pencil’s tip snapped.

Without so much as missing a beat, he turned, and hurled it as hard as he could against the wall with a squeak of anger. It hit the wall with its eraser in a muted bounce, then rolled harmlessly across the floor, coming to a halt under the table. The diminutive pup let out a high pitched squeal, thrashing and stomping as he entered the throes of an impotent, but tumultuous tantrum, paper having been forgotten.

Despite herself, Luz couldn’t help but break out into a smile, expression softening as King continued to thrash and squirm in place. She slowly approached him, dropping to one knee, though she didn’t reach out to touch him just yet, speaking warmly, “… he’s a little Demon, is what he is.”

A Demon? ” the raised eyebrow could practically be seen.

“Yep. He runs around causing all kinds of mischief.”

“I CAUSE DESTRUCTION!” King raged, only turning to glare at Luz for a moment before returning to his tantrum.

Yeesh, that bad? I thought this camp was just for weird kids, not… problem children.

“Most of it’s harmless,” Luz whispered into the phone, hoping to spare King’s feelings, “He’s pretty small, so he can’t actually do much.” 

Oh, I see. So he’s a little kid, then?

“Yep. He takes pride in his havoc, though – he insists everyone call him ‘the King of Demons,’” she giggled, “Hence the name.”

Aaaah. So you don’t know his real name, then?

“If he has another one, he hasn’t told me,” she rocked back on her heels, dropping into a cross legged seat on the floor, “But that’s off topic. You were talking about… Blair?”

Maka let out a frustrated breath, “ Yeah. The cat.

“It really does sound like she’s bugging you. How come you haven’t made her leave?”

This time, her sister did not immediately answer. Silence was the only thing that emanated from the other end of the phone, silence as Luz idly watched the tantrum unfold before her. Slowly, the seconds ticked by, and the Latina felt her smile begin to slip.

“Maka?”

I’m here. It’s just… that…” the sound of something being chewed on from the other end of the line, “That’s a harder question than I thought it would be to answer.

“How come?”

Well, because…

“Because?”

… she… isn’t all bad,” the words came out slowly, as if forced through Maka’s teeth, the acknowledgement every bit as begrudging as it was reluctant, “She… gives us a lot more financial freedom, because she has savings and a job… she can do healing Magic, which saves money on band-aids… she can cook…

“… you have a rich, talking cat that can heal people, cooks, and keeps herself clean taking baths,” Luz stated, incredulous.

And physically transforms into a… freaking… ” an infuriated growl echoed, “ … freaking… ditz!”

“… Maka? I say this with love, but I fail to see the downside of having a talking, magical cat.”

That’s because you aren’t stuck with her.

“You’re the one who hasn’t kicked her out.”

The only response the Latina received was muted, indistinct grumbling, and once again, Luz felt herself struggling to hide her smile.

… so, why’d you call, Luz? ” the green eyed girl finally asked, trying to shunt her frustrations to the side, “ I’ve still got some homework left to do.

“I just wanted to make sure you’re still good for Sunday is all,” she bobbed her head back and forth, “You still good? Nothing’s come up?”

... something has, actually,” Maka started, “Soul and I are actually heading out to Italy for a-

¿Que? ” Luz interrupted, unable to stop herself as her mind abruptly froze.

… Soul and I are heading out on a mission in Venice for extra credit-

¡¿Puedes ir a Venecia?! ¡¿Para la escuela!?”

... Luz?

¡Nunca pude ir a Italia para la escuela! ¡Me prohibieron ese viaje! ” she whined, “ ¡Tienes tanta suerte, Maka!

… Luz, you’ve gone full Spanish again.

She let out a faux growl that was only semi-faux, “Sorry! I just… can’t believe you get to go to Italy on short notice!”

Again, it’s for school, ” Maka clarified, “ Soul and I aren’t going out there to eat or sightsee. We’re probably going to be there for two days. Three tops. No tours, no sightseeing, just collecting the Kishin Egg Soul and getting out.

“Still cool,” Luz huffed, “You guys get trips arranged for you on an individual basis. My school gets those trips like, once every five years, and I was banned from it because ‘weirdo.’”

... I’m sorry to hear that.

“I just… ugh,” she tucked her phone between her chin and shoulder, picking up the knife and setting the first of the potato-like things on the cutting board, “I hate my school sometimes. You have no idea how much I wish Mami would let me go to DWMA.”

If it helps, these aren’t normal circumstances. Normally, anything outside of North America is outside of our branch’s jurisdiction – we just got a call from the European branch for whatever reason and Soul and I happened to draw the right straw.

“It helps a little, I guess,” she adjusted her grip on her phone, “So you won’t be able to teach me this week?”

I’m sorry, Luz, ” the tired regret in Maka’s tone was palpable, “ It’s just been one thing after another lately.

“It’s alright, I get it.”

I’d offer to send an email with instructions, but that’s against the rules.

“Like the Academy textbooks?”

Exactly like the textbooks.

Another sigh, “Well, at least there’s a good reason for it…”

I’ll double our time next week, okay?

A small, soft smile finally crept back onto Luz’s face, “… okay. Thank you, Maka.”

… you’re welcome, ” that time, there was a smile in Maka’s tone, “ Now I gotta go; I gotta get these labs done before the night’s through.

“And I gotta cook lunch – Eda should be back soon,” the Latina nodded, “Talk to you soon?”

Yeah. Talk to you soon. Bye, Luz.

"Love you!"

With that, the phone clicked, and the line went dead.

She pulled her phone back down, and gripped the root vegetable, lowering her knife to cut-

“LUZ, NO!”

King’s shrill voice made her jump in place, almost dropping the knife as he tackled her arm, scrambling to get the knife.

“King!?” she shouted, trying to angle it away from him, “What are you doing!?”

“Don’t cut from that end!” he glared up at her, gripping the knife with one hand and pointing at the root with the other, “It’ll scream so loud your ears will bleed!”

“What?” she blinked.

“Haven’t you ever made mandrake tots before?” he snapped, as if it were perfectly obvious.

She stopped, then slowly turned to look at the vegetable on the cutting board; indeed, now that she had a better look, she could see the beginnings of a gnarled face on the end opposite from where she had been about to begin dicing, motionless, but distinct against the innumerable scabs and wrinkles across its surface.

“You have to cut off the head first, ” King finally hopped down onto the counter, arms crossed, “ Everyone knows that.”

“… ooookay,” she smiled, picking the demonic looking potato back up, “I don’t think I wanna cook these anymore…”

“Weh?” he tilted his head, “But mandrake tots are the best!”

“King, do we have anything that…” she gesticulated, “doesn’t scream at you if you cut it wrong?”

“Well, there’s some other types of vegetables, but…” he crossed his arms, frowning, “They’re really squirmy? Or they bite… or pinch… there’s the griffon eggs, but those are gonna be hard to break without Eda around and I don’t really wanna ask Hooty…”

“… okay, how about this,” Luz approached, leaning against the counter, “Let’s cook together, and you can tell me where everything is?”

“Hmmm… okay,” he agreed, hopping down from the counter top, “But you have to pay close attention!”

“Don’t worry, I will,” she assured, smile broadening at the prospect of finally making some headway with King.

As long as she didn’t have to cut off any heads…


“... which is why I eventually had to quit,” Blair finally finished, “Because dealing with pre-cleaned mandrake root is one thing. Risking burst eardrums is another thing altogether.”

“I can imagine,” Spirit chortled, taking another sip of his cocktail, “Especially as a cat. Dealing with a plant that’s supposed to kill you with its scream must have been nerve wracking.”

“Only a specific subspecies does that,” the cat corrected, smiling, “Its reputation is actually a bit overblown, since it’s pretty easy to recognize. The only time it’s actually dangerous is when it gets mixed in with other kinds of mandrake and all the leaves bleed together - and if that happens, someone’s probably got it out for you, they don’t normally cluster like that.”

“I’ll be sure to keep that in mind,” the Death Scythe set down his drink, the numerous bottles on the glass tabletop having been significantly depleted since they had been brought over. 

Despite Blair’s initial misgivings, Risa’s words seemed to have rung true; since the initial Aunt Roberta, the redhead had downed an additional four separate cocktails, and was working through his sixth. Had the newly hired chupagirl not known that he could use his Soul Wavelength to dampen the effects of of the alcohol (much like a certain Owl she knew), then she certainly would have stopped him by now - if not due to rowdy behaviour, then to save him from alcohol poisoning, and the hangover that was undoubtedly in Spirit’s future, Soul Wavelength or no.

And yet, such behavioural problems were yet to arise; though Spirit always seemed on the fringe of poor spirits himself, he maintained a polite and cheerful front with Blair. He spoke intelligently, if somewhat self-deprecatively, making a genuine effort to reciprocate her banter with that of his own. His hands never wandered, instead remaining folded in in his lap or reaching for his drink; his expression never leered, not so much as a hint of perverse thoughts shining through; even his eyes only occasionally dipped down from her face to meet what she had on display, and even then it was only for the briefest of moments; and he hadn’t made a single untoward gesture or comment in the entire time they had been sitting together. His occasional voicing of dismal thoughts aside, his attention was entirely on her, on their conversation - the music, the lights, even the heavily perfumed air surrounding them seemed to have been entirely forgotten.

It was an air that was entirely at odds with the image the Black Forest Witch had in her mind after what little she had managed to glean from Maka; going off the young Scythe Meister’s behaviour and offhand comments, she had envisioned Mister Albarn to be nothing short of a total sleaze, unlikeable and irritating on every possible level. And yet, Spirit had so far proven to be the complete opposite, remaining kind and considerate throughout the afternoon as the minutes swiftly turned to hours, though not without a bite to his sharp wit.

Blair had to admit - he was charming. Disarming, even. She hadn’t been expecting this troubled, but seemingly genuine gentleman.

If this was how he acted around Risa and Arisa when they acted as his hostesses, then it wasn’t hard to see why he’d be considered a ladies’ man.

“At any rate,” he finally murmured, smile distant, “I’m glad you’re here.”

“No concerns about me lounging around Maka and Soul’s apartment?” she queried, giving a cheeky grin.

Spirit hummed briefly, leaning back in the seat before giving a halfhearted shrug, “Well, I’d be lying if I were to say I’m totally unconcerned. You did show up in their apartment unannounced, after all, and this is my daughter we’re talking about.”

A raised eyebrow, “What, no concern for Soul?”

“Should there be?” his tone was flat, dead.

Wow, ” she chuckled, “That’s just cold.

“Bite me,” he grumbled, “Maka can do better than that little loser.”

There’s the protective daddy coming out,” she didn’t even try to stifle her giggle.

The Death Scythe’s smile returned, wry as he met her gaze out of the corner of his eye, before softening into something more gentle, “That being said… I don’t think you’ve been doing anything to hurt Maka. She might not like you much, but… well, she’s someone who doesn’t warm to anyone immediately. You have to really stick around in order to get her to come out of her shell.”

“So I’ve seen,” she brushed her hair back, letting her own tone soften, “Though it’s actually kind of a relief, knowing you don’t think I’d hurt her.”

“I have a pretty good idea of what you’re capable of, Blair,” he sighed, “I think if you really wanted to hurt her, you’d have done so already.”

“Fair point. But no concerns about magic or hypnotism?” she asked, genuinely curious now, “That’s the main thing people tend to be worried about when they find out I can do magic.”

“Maybe a little… if I didn’t know how hypnotism worked,” he grinned, “You can’t make a hypnotised person do anything they wouldn’t do normally. It’s all smoke and mirrors; anyone who’d let themselves get hypnotised on stage is probably someone who’s not afraid to look like an idiot in public to begin with.”

This time, the cat laughed, eyes squeezing shut with delight, speaking between wheezing breaths, “I-I think magical hypnotism should be a little more concerning to you than that…”

“Maybe,” he closed his eyes, “But why go to the trouble of paying your share for the apartment if you were just going to mind control them for free room and board from the start?... granted, I suppose this could all be you laying the groundwork for some big, intricate plan that you’ve got…” 

One of Spirit’s eyes cracked open, scrutinising… before falling back closed, his smile only growing more self-satisfied, “... but to be perfectly honest, you don’t strike me as the type to do a lot of planning ahead. You’re a very ‘live in the moment’ kind of woman.”

Another laugh escaped her as she leaned forwards on her knees, “Well, I can’t exactly say you’re wrong. You’re pretty good at this.”

“Nah. I’m mostly operating on the assumption that you’re being honest - that, and the fact that Maka hasn’t thrown you out yet.”

“She hasn’t exactly been trying very hard to get rid of me,” Blair noted.

“Exactly.”

That single word made Blair blink; all of the humour was gone from Spirit’s voice, replaced with a pained wistfulness. In a fraction of a second, he seemed to age ten years, the shadows across his face shifting to make his eyes and cheeks seem sunken, brows downturned and eyes fixed on the floor. His hands clasped together in his lap as he hunched forwards, almost seeming to shrink and wither in place as the energy he had drained away to nothing, leaving him to resemble a ragged scarecrow in a sharp suit.

“... believe me,” he whispered, seeming someplace else entirely, “If she wanted you gone… you’d be gone.”

It didn’t take a detective to understand what he meant. Her heart sank, her own smile slipping away as her ears drooped; she looked away, hands pressing together as she tried to decide what to say…

But nothing came to mind.

What could one really say, in response to such a heartbroken certainty?

“... I’m sorry,” her words came out a mumble, only barely loud enough to be heard.

“... it’s not your fault.”

Before anything more could be said, a distinct buzzing rang out overtop of the music, snapping them both out of their shared reverie. The Death Scythe dug in his pocket, fishing out his phone and clicking it on… only to curse faintly as the bright light stung his eyes, making him squint as he read the text.

“... sorry to run out on you,” he sighed, shoving the device back down into his jacket, “Looks like I’m back on the job…”

“Hey,” she did her best to put a little cheer back into her face and voice, “Don’t worry about it. Life’s like that.”

“... yeah,” he forced a smile, then paused, “... hey…”

“Something you need?” she questioned.

“... could you… keep me updated on how Maka’s doing?” Spirit finally asked, “Not-Not telling me personal details, I don’t want you to go behind her back, and I know she doesn’t want to tell me. Just… I can’t help but worry. So… tell me how she’s holding up?”

She paused, briefly, chewing at her lip once more. Maka wouldn’t want Blair to be telling her father about her personal life…

… but general events? Things Spirit would probably know anyways? Generally… whether or not she was okay?...

… she winked, “Of course. You can count on me.”

He nodded, picked up his glass, finished off his cocktail, and stepped out of the cubicle.

She peeked her head around the screen, watching as Spirit stopped briefly at the counter to leave what he owed to Risa, before stepping out the door, the bright afternoon sun briefly making Blair wince before the door swung shut.


It didn’t take long to find the castle Luz had described – or at least, what was left of it; the crumbling ruin took up a sizeable portion of what had once been Bonesborough’s upper crust, stone walls collapsed in on themselves, the thick, heavy wooden planks rotting away in chunks as the heavy metal frames collapsed under their own weight, too rusted to hold their shape. As Eda entered, light filtered down from holes in what was left of the ceiling above, massive bookcases toppled and broken, papers scattered and rotting across the stone floor.

“Adegast,” she called, voice devoid of her former humour.

No one offered the Witch any answer.

Her eyes narrowed, gaze sweeping throughout the room; there was no immediate source of Magic or Soul Wavelength present, or at least none that she could see – but between the existence of both Soul Protect and illusory magic, that by absolutely no means meant she could let her guard down.

“What, you’ll show yourself to a little human, but you scurry for a hidey hole the instant an actual Witch comes knocking at your door?” she taunted, lips curling again, “You’re certainly not doing your image any favours.”

Still, nothing. Not a single hint that anyone was even here, hidden amidst the rubble.

After a moment, Eda knelt, picking up one of the scattered scrolls, and uncoiling the parchment; her smile warped into a grimace, eyes narrowing as she took in the design of the map, clearly intended to be appear as though it were etched in equal parts passionate and painstaking calligraphy… 

But every crisp edge was identical to the one Luz had dropped; a perfect copy, printed out on paper that had likely been painted with tea or coffee to give it an artificial air of age. The ones that sat in the sunlight gleamed with illusory cursive, the glare exposing the final trick; ‘The Path shall only reveal itself to the worthy.’

A cheap, expendable lure, easily replicated to prey upon the naïve.

“… you really that desperate for Souls, ‘Wizard of Bonesborough?’” a small spark flew from her fingertips, setting the paper in her fingers alight; it burned to ash, falling to the floor as she once again cast her gaze about, “Even for a Puppeteer Demon, this has gotta be a new low.”

Finally, she saw it; a faint shift, an illusion briefly coming undone out of the corner of her eye. Though the ruins remained the same, the hulking shape at the top of the ruined stairwell flickered briefly, its outline almost entirely transparent as one of its many tendrils arced down towards her.

Eda’s lazy back-step took her completely out of the tentacle’s reach; it smashed down into the stone before her, crushing rotted wood and faded tile beneath it. Just as quickly, the tendril slithered back, slipping out of reach, the massive, shapeless figure replaced by a tanned skin man in purple robes, stroking his long, silver beard.

“… touched a nerve there, I see,” she smirked.

“I won’t deny it,” the puppet sighed, taking off his glasses briefly to give them a polish, “It seems my temper has been getting worse, lately.”

“I’m more surprised you’re still using the puppets,” her golden eyes traced the now visible outline of sprawling, boneless limbs, the central mass still perched at the top of the stairs; however faintly, his body still emanated his demonic Wavelength, his illusions not powerful enough to hide it properly – at least not from her eyes, “It’s not like I don’t know what you are or what you look like.”

“Call it force of habit,” he placed the spectacles back on the bridge of his nose with a grandfatherly smile, “I find people are much more agreeable to my business when they are negotiating with a more familiar visage.”

“Well, at least you admit to being an ugly bastard.”

This time, he didn’t rise to the provocation; instead he returned to stroking the puppet’s beard, idly running a finger through its long silver strands, “And to what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from you, Edalyn?”

“A warning,” she mused, swinging her staff up and across her shoulders, “I want you out of Bonesborough. Tonight.”

Adegast’s puppet cocked an eyebrow, “… and what exactly brought this on, all of a sudden? You’ve never had any problems with my presence before.”

“That was before you tried to lure my apprentice into the back of a windowless carriage,” she idly ground the paper further into the cobbles, the sound of it scraping and tearing beneath her heel sending a wave of satisfaction sailing through her stomach, “Because I’m better at making and selling potions than you. I’d say I’ve lost my respect for you, but honestly, it was more of a tolerance.”

Its jaw seized, eyes bulging out of its sockets before the puppeteer regained his composure, forcing the doll to act out the façade his true form couldn’t maintain, invisible tendrils spreading throughout the room in a writhing, rising tide, “Yes, because you’re being so much more honest with her, making a human your apprentice. If that isn’t a cruel joke at her expense, I don’t know what is.”

“That doesn’t change anything I just said,” she kept her tone even, “I want you out of town by sundown. Or else.

All at once, the tendrils lashed out at her; she could see them closing in from all directions, a net cast to give her no avenue of escape, another puppet at the end of each. The thrum of Souls long gone echoed in her ears, the Wavelengths forcibly stirred by the Demon’s ornery wrath so that they might strike her down.

She didn’t step back. She stood her ground, staff spinning lazily between her fingers as the golden barrier gleamed into being, blocking the steel strike of unlucky wanderer, the claws of the catfolk, the teeth of the vicious fairy, their pasts discarded so the husks left behind could be used as the puppet master saw fit.

He did not stop at that, however; he coiled around the shell, finally dropping the illusion that had been keeping him hidden, his puppets going slack, eyes drooping in their sockets, jaws hanging open and limbs stiff as all pretences of true life were abandoned. He seethed, beady black eyes gleaming with rage, juxtaposed against a face that was far too big for them, flabby lips and cheeks pulled back to expose massive, yellowing teeth set against rotted gums. Every breath brought a new wave of foetid stench, and even Eda couldn’t stop herself from grimacing in disgust as it flooded her nose.

“And who do you think you are that you can make demands of me!? ” he roared.

“Oh, that’s simple,” she chuckled, “I’m the Owl Lady.”

A derisive snort emanated from his nostrils before his snarl warped into something resembling a twisted grin, “I would hardly be so confident were I in your position. I had intended to use the girl to lure you out… but here you are, coming to me of your own volition! The bloody fool you are!”

“Last warning, Adegast. Skip the speech and leave.”

“It’s been a very long time since I’ve tasted a proper Witch’s Soul,” he seemed to be talking more to himself now, raising the golden sphere, eyes gleaming with furious greed, “I wonder how much stronger you will make me.” 

His limbs began to squeeze, physical power rippling through each tendril as they constricted tighter and tighter against Eda’s barrier.

The Witch just smirked, raising her hand in a fist before unfurling her fingers with equal parts speed and violence; the spherical barrier expanded, briefly, then exploded, throwing Adegast’s tentacles apart and the Demon himself back against the bookshelves. He landed with the harsh, heavy crunch of rotted wood being smashed into splinters under immense force, thrown around like nothing despite his great size and weight. He groaned, trying to regain his footing as the Owl Lady watched, waiting for him to get back up.

“Did you really think I’d come here if I wasn’t prepared for a fight?” she queried, pointing her staff at the horrid squiddle, “I came here to give you an ultimatum. You’ve refused. Now, I get to have some fun.

He snarled as he pushed himself up, a pulse of Magic escaping him; immediately, the musty air became acrid, heavy with the scent of sulphur. The first breath she took seared her lungs, her mouth and nose screaming as if she’d inhaled a poison mist, her skin and eyes burning as the yellowish cloud billowed from his mouth and filled the room, obscuring the Demon from her view.

A replication of the gases found in the Tumour Hills.

‘Not a bad play,’ Eda admitted to herself, listening as the heavy masses approached from all sides.

‘Too bad I know an illusion when I see one. He didn’t even bother to hide the pulse of his Wavelength.’

She forced herself to take another breath, despite the pain that came with another wave of the acidic air. She stepped to her left, dodging the first of the strikes, and raised her staff, feeling the heavy blow rock down her arms and through her body as she deflected it off and to the side. All the while, her own Magic welled up from within, building in her core as she concentrated her Wavelength…

And she released it all at once as she swung, dragging her staff along the length of Adegast’s limb, and driving the palisman carving into the Demon’s skull, his approach none too subtle under the cover of his illusory Magic.

The obvious play of a rank amateur.

His entire body rippled and crumpled under the force of the impact; she felt something cave under her swing, and as the Demon choked, his illusion came undone. The cloud of yellow mist dissipated into nothing, and the burning sensation across her body stopped all at once, little more than a lie told to the physical body.

Adegast’s hulking form lay prone and limp on the cobble floor, groaning as he reached for the wound in some vain attempt to hold himself together. Even as she idly wrenched her staff free, he had seemed to have lost interest in her, instead preoccupied with his headache – justifiably so, considering how much worse she had made the pre-existing crack.

But the physical wound was nothing in comparison to the fluctuations of his Soul, which was now rapidly losing strength; his Wavelength was growing weaker with every second, the actual shape of the Soul losing definition and shrinking just a little bit more with every passing second.

“… wow, ” Eda chuckled, “And here I thought you’d put up more of a fight. I mean, seriously, I hit you once. I didn’t even hit you that hard. I know Demon’s Souls lose their power if they don’t feed on Soul energy regularly, but seriously, how long has it been since you’ve actually maintained your Soul?”

His only response was a low gurgle as his physical body began to shrink in tandem with his Wavelength, both losing more energy and more size. Before long, the imposing Demon that had stood before her, with tendrils that trailed dozens of feet long throughout his abode, had withered away to a tiny little thing, a cute, vaguely mushroom shaped creature that could easily fit in her palm.

He took one look at her, and promptly tried to skitter away.

“‘Ey, no ya don’t,” she spoke, tone faux stern as the Witch snatched what remained of Adegast up into her hand, fingers forming a cage around the tiny creature, “I gave you fair warning. You don’t get to run.”

If the squeaks he made were that of protest, she couldn't decipher them. She only gave him a brief once over with a crooked smile and half lidded gaze before making her decision.

A Demon’s Soul this weak wouldn’t do much… but, hey, it would at least tide her over until dinner. 

With that, the Owl Lady opened her mouth, and dropped him in without a second thought. She only held him there briefly before swallowing him whole, the sensation of his squirming and his Soul Wavelength pulsing pleasantly against her throat before vanishing entirely.

“And that’s the last one dealt with,” she patted Owlbert’s head; immediately, the Palisman unfurled his wings, and the staff gently hovered above the ground, waiting for her to get on.

She didn’t keep her partner waiting; the Owl Lady mounted the staff, and the two rose gently into the air, taking off into the afternoon sky.

“Let’s go home, Owlbert,” she sighed, contented.

“… I wonder how Luz is holding up…”

Notes:

Again, I am so sorry this took so long. I can't promise as to when the next chapter will be out, but rest assured, it is coming.

I'm not giving up on this story. I love it way too much.

Oh, side note, here's everything Luz says in Spanish:

"¿Que?" ("What?")

“¡¿Puedes ir a Venecia?! ¡¿Para la escuela!?" ("You get to go to Venice!? For school!?")

“¡Nunca pude ir a Italia para la escuela! ¡Me prohibieron ese viaje!" (I never got to go to Italy for school! I was banned from that trip!)

“¡Tienes tanta suerte, Maka!" (You’re so lucky, Maka!)

Thank you all so much for your patience. Please be sure to leave your thoughts below! I hope you all enjoyed the nineteenth chapter of Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance!

Chapter 20: The Hunts Begin

Notes:

I do not own Owl House or Soul Eater.

If I did, I might be getting paid for this.

Also, please keep in mind I have only seen up to episode 14 in Season 2 of Owl House; please do not notify me of any plot developments in Any Sport in a Storm, or past that episode, both for my sake, and for the sake of your fellow readers.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

It hadn’t been particularly hard for him to reach the portal.

Really, the hardest part had been crossing the sea; the Boiling Sea that surrounded the entirety of the Isles caused a continuous curtain of steam to rise on an unending updraft, creating constant cloud cover over the ocean that was usually impossible to see from the Boiling Isles proper. It was a strange phenomena that he still didn’t fully understand himself - the ocean along the shoreline was at least bearable, if uncomfortably warm to the touch even in the dead of winter. The further away one got from the Isles, however, the hotter the ocean became, with the churning sea literally boiling in the exact same anomaly that created the scalding hot rains that were unique to the Boiling Isles.

Life still thrived in these inhospitable conditions, of course - there were even creatures that could not survive being removed from the intense heat of the Boiling Sea - but that didn’t make it any less bizarre. If anything, it only baffled him even more, and thoroughly reinforced the idea that fact was, as a matter of fact, stranger than fiction.

But beyond the scorching heat and the mists reducing his visibility until he’d gotten clear of the Boiling Sea, his journey to the mainland had gone entirely unopposed.

Though that didn’t mean he had let his guard down by any means; just because the days where Old Witch Maba could have these shores actively patrolled were long since gone didn’t mean he was going to take any unnecessary risks.

Which is why it had taken him an additional three whole days to reach the portal. 

Despite his eager impatience, the Golden Guard had erred on the side of caution, even going so far as to do away with his mask and white cloak in favour of a more discreet grey. As soon as he’d made it to the shoreline of the mainland (that was such a frustrating misnomer to him, it wasn’t as if the Boiling Isles didn’t constitute a full continent in and of themselves), he’d stowed the Emperor’s staff and continued his journey on foot, keeping meticulous measure of his map and coordinates as he travelled through the salty marshlands, and a careful eye on the sky.

Which led him to where he was now, flat on his stomach in the underbrush, observing the portal from a distance.

It wasn’t a particularly convoluted portal, as far as he could tell - not like the Avalon portal, which required a number of different factors to line up just to be able to open, the Amphibia portal, which had been tied to an artefact that had been lost millennia ago, or Titan forbid, the Yharnam portal, where falling to fitful slumber led to layers of the Realms where even the Emperor’s Coven feared to tread. 

Rather, it was a simple canal at the edge of a large, but empty town - even in the midst of the darkening sky, pale golds fading to pink, and then to an ever deepening purple, none of the windows were alight. Many of the buildings had been taken over by overgrowth, branches reaching through windows, vines snaking up and down the walls and roots bursting through the foundations, and moss and underbrush had taken over the cobbled streets. The canal itself was filled with plants and algae bloom, far too much for it to be under any sort of regular use or vigil.

It was all indicative of one of three things.

Gross overconfidence, utter incompetence, some combination thereof…

“... or a trap,” he muttered, lowering his binoculars and studying the Magic-made river. In theory, all he had to do was find a boat, and steer down the canal; he would drift under the bridge further along the way, use his staff to open the portal, and the boat would emerge from its shadow all of ten feet and an entire world away. Couldn’t possibly be easier.

And yet…

Once again, he scanned the windows he could see, straining his eyes and Soul for any sort of Wavelength, even that which might be hidden under the illusion of Soul Protect… only to once again find nothing.

“... Titan, I’m paranoid,” he shook his head, pushing up off the ground and slinging his bag over his shoulder. Slowly, he approached the edge of the canal, peering into the water, the algae an uneven mix of green and mottled purple. His broken reflection stared back at him from the surface, distorted by the gentle ripples caused by things swimming below, in addition to the canal’s own slow moving current…

Reluctantly, he took out the Emperor’s staff; though the Guard knew that he would be using its power to open the portal regardless, he was hesitant to use any more Magic than necessary, lest he draw unwanted attention…

“... ‘You can only take so many precautions before you have to take the leap,’” he recited, holding the Magical conduit in both hands, “‘At some point you will have to spread your wings, whether you’re ready to soar or not.’”

The Emperor’s lecture did little to assuage his apprehensions, but he steeled himself all the same, deliberately conjuring the derisive sneer of Lilith Clawthorne to mind so he could quash his nerves with anger.

He would not prove her right.

He would not go back empty handed.

He would prove that he belonged.

With that thought steadying his Soul, the Golden Guard brought the staff to bear, the crimson glow accompanied by a pulse of raw power. It shot up his arms with a physical jolt, making him wince slightly, but he paid the physical ache no mind. He focused on the energies within the staff, directing them down into the banks of the canal.

It wasn’t quite as though he had reached down himself into the muck to pull splintered, waterlogged wood from the muck; trained as he was, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to pull sunken boats from the mire and through the water with his physical strength alone, even bolstered with his Soul Wavelength - let alone with such ease. 

But he felt it nonetheless; slowly, but steadily, the remains of small, abandoned boats lifted from the sucking mire, rising inch by inch with equal parts force and care.

‘You have limited resources to work with here. Don’t try to make something entirely new. Just use the pre-existing frameworks, and put one back together…’

As each piece rose from the water, they joined the rest of the framework; though he didn’t have a single complete boat to work with, he made do, fitting the boards together as best as he could manage and warping the wood, twisting and stretching it where necessary to bridge what gaps he couldn’t otherwise fill. 

The further along it came, the faster he worked, his apprehensions fading, and before long he was grinning, needing to remind himself to slow and not go overboard as the sting of the staff in his hands gave way to elation. He was constructing something new out of what was twisted and broken beyond repair, with ease that humans could only dream of.

He let the finished product descend gently into the water. It didn’t matter that it was rickety or crudely fixed together, not really - as soon as he was through and out of sight, he’d pull it apart and sink it again, and then get an entirely new boat if need be.

He stepped onto the makeshift gondola, and pushed off, pulling his hood lower over his head as the moonlight illuminated the water. Slowly but surely, he drifted forwards, pushed on by the current and directed by a large wooden staff, pushing off the bottom of the canal.

The bridge wasn’t too far off; just as overgrown as the rest of the town, it was utterly overrun with creepers and vines that dug between the cobbles and bricks. Even parts of its ceiling had collapsed inwards, chunks of marble and plaster pried loose by the roots and branches and cast off into the water below, the many archways shrouded with thick vegetation. What little was visible beneath the leaves was weathered and worn from a lack of maintenance, possibly having sat untouched for decades or even centuries. In any case, it arched overhead, the final sight he would see before entering the human world proper.

The Guard pushed on.

As he entered the bridge’s shadow, he raised the staff, letting loose another pulse of magic; the space before him responded, warping and twisting before subtly, but visibly tearing open to reveal the world on the other side, the colours blending together and the sounds muted. He hurriedly pushed through, not wanting to have to reopen the portal and certainly not wanting to risk being caught between two worlds-

Only to be entirely caught off guard by the cacophony he found on the other side.

Talking and laughter echoed from every direction; he had no time to get his bearings before he emerged from beneath the bridge.

Where he had once been in a small, abandoned town, he was now in a sprawling city built on either side of the canal, stretching up towards the night sky and off into the distance until the canal curved, and slipped out of sight entirely. The structures were all built into each other or so close together that there was no space between them at all, forming veritable walls of plaster, mortar and marble illuminated by lights of all shades like oversized, mismatched lanterns, their gleam caught in the gentle waves. Dozens of other boats dotted the canal around him, some moored to the docks that ran along the edge of the canal, some slipping into the shadow of the bridge behind him, which, though identical in design, could not be any more different in its condition; it wasn’t merely intact, but brilliantly cared for, not a single crack or blemish to be seen in its surface at a cursory glance. And above, a brilliant, golden moon hung in a sky so dark of a blue it bordered on black, staring down at the world with a single, crazed eye, blood seeping from between its teeth as it quietly laughed into the night - one of the last signs that this world and the Demonic realms had once been connected.

And yet, none of what he saw in any way compared to what he heard.

The incomprehensible combination of thousands of voices all speaking, shouting, and laughing at once, hundreds of conversations blending into one, too far away to hear, but too close to possibly just ignore.

When he turned to face it, he could see them. The humans, going about their evenings, all blissfully unaware of the Witch that was suddenly in their midst, crossing the bridge every which way in droves; even the people in the boats seemed to pay him no heed, evidently assuming he had just been hidden by some corner or shadow, if they had even noticed him at all. Instead, they kept their attention to each other, enjoying their evenings as if all were right in the world.

He had known coming into this world that humans, on the whole, had grown accustomed to a relative sort of peace; most of the fighting they did now was among themselves, rather than focusing on any larger threat. Demons, Witches, Kishin Eggs - they were all left to the Reaper and his little school. For the most part, humans had grown placid, complacent, content with their century-long at best lives upon this miserable, nigh Magic-less mudball they called a world, the only true threats among them being the few Weapons and Meisters that rose to oppose Magic and its natural course.

It wasn’t as though he didn’t take the threat seriously - impossible as it was, as it should have been, the Reaper had won. Magic had been sundered, and the Old Witch severed this world’s connection to the Demonic Realms, save a few isolated portals, out of necessity. No matter how few, foolish or misguided these humans were, that did not change that the servants of Death posed a very real danger that only a truly arrogant fool would willingly ignore.

And yet, actually seeing this crowd, the complete lack of fear in their faces, in their voices as they went about their nights…

It was all… disarming, somehow. As if he’d expected to enter a lion’s den, and somehow instead wandered into a playground.

“... focus,” he muttered, once again taking up the heavy wooden pole, “You don’t have time to be messing around.”

Thankfully, it didn’t take him long to find a small alcove to tuck away his boat; letting the staff’s Magic come undone, he watched as the pieces sank beneath the water once more, marking the alcove for later before clambering up the side of the building. The myriad of handholds made it easy for him to scale to the rooftops, staring out over the vast expanse of the city, the seemingly infinite number of lights shining up from between the buildings…

He shook his head, and sat down, checking his notes one last time, “If I’m right, I’m in the city of Venice… Italy… and assuming there’s no outside interference, the Oracle Coven’s predictions state that the Palisman should be in this rough area within a few days…” his eyes narrowed, “At the very least, it hasn’t exactly been subtle with its Soul Wavelength - I should be able to track it down the second it appears… but still, that’s not a whole lot of time to work with…”

Finally, he sighed, snapping his notebook shut and stowing it back in his bag.

Nothing to be done about it now. He’d just have to make do.

For now, the priority was scoping out the city, and finding some place to stay.

“... alright,” he grunted, rising to his feet and starting across the roof tiles, footsteps silent as he stowed the Emperor’s staff, “Let’s get to work.”


“... you’ve gotta be kidding me,” Maka murmured.

“Believe it,” Soul sounded about as despondent as she felt, “It’s happening.”

There were not a lot of things that could dissuade Maka Albarn from her course of action. She was not a particularly squeamish girl - she never had been. Between her love for any sort of books she could get her hands on, her dreams of becoming an Meister, and having a veritable mistress of the macabre for an older sister, the Scythe Meister was not one who often felt the need to squirm, much less turn around and walk away in a show of absolute discomfort, disgusted, distraught and dismayed in equal measure.

What was in front of her right this moment was a prospect that made her want to do exactly that.

Professor Stein idly adjusted the screw in his head, expression locked in a faraway, easygoing smile as he raised a hand to idly wave at the partners; beside him, Spirit had his hands shoved into his pockets, seeming to be doing everything he could to ignore the man beside him. His eyes briefly met hers, and the grey haired girl could see his resigned despondence, tired and reluctant, but ultimately resolute.

For a fraction of a second, she felt a pang of sympathy for the Death Scythe.

It was promptly quashed by a sense of revulsion that only made her want to turn around even more.

“... having second thoughts?” her partner queried; they were still far enough away that they would be drowned out under the thrum of the crowd.

“No,” she lied, the word clipped and quick - too quick, she realised, though that did not stop her, “We’re already here, the tickets are paid for, and I’m not passing up the extra credit. I just don’t know why he’s here…”

“Well, I doubt he’s just following you around.”

Her brow twitched - that had been the exact theory she had developed - but Maka didn’t let her anger show, instead glancing at Soul, “What makes you say that?”

“It doesn’t explain why Stein’s here,” her partner stated, eyes so narrow they were all but invisible under the hem of his headband.

That gave the green-eyed girl pause, eyes flicking back and forth between the two men; even she had to admit that Stein’s presence significantly diminished the chances that her father was just following her around to satisfy whatever passed for parental instincts in his head.

After all, faculty members rarely went anywhere together off-campus.

There had to be a reason for it.

“... can’t hang back forever,” Soul mumbled.

“... no,” she agreed, reluctantly.

“Stein’s seen us, too.”

“I know.”

“So…?”

A final harsh, hissing inward breath, and she stepped forwards, fists clenched and swinging back and forth with every forward stride.

As they approached, Spirit blinked; the Death Scythe seemed genuinely surprised, clearly not having expected Maka to approach of her own accord.

She came to a halt right in front of the pair, eyes shifting back and forth between the two teachers.

“... good morning, Maka,” the redhead smiled, expression and tone warm.

“Death Scythe,” her voice was cold, eyes narrowed in the second she spared to glance at him.

A flicker of dejected hurt flashed in his cyan eyes before they fell to the floor, lips pulled tight into a thin line. A burst of emotion surged through Maka, something else alongside her vindictive anger - but she didn’t have time to identify it before Soul stepped up beside her, hands in his pockets.

“So what’re you two doing here?” he queried, the last word drawn out into a drawl by a stifled yawn, “Isn’t it a little early for Mister No Soul to be getting another vacation?”

“One, rude, ” Spirit snorted, tone immediately hardening as his eyes sharpened, narrowing into a withering glare.

“Am I wrong though?” the younger Scythe smirked, “Just as a rule, you don’t like having me around.”

Clever save, ” the redhead growled, “But don’t pretend that wasn’t a crack at my hair.”

“Never said it wasn’t.”

Two, I could ask you two the same thing,” the Death Scythe persisted pointedly, “Though I already know the answer. You’re off to Venice, right?”

“How’d you guess?” Soul asked.

“You are in my class.”

Maka let her gaze be drawn to Stein, who had finally interjected, rotating the screw in his head; she had grown accustomed to that clicking sound of that screw, though she couldn’t quite track whether it was sinking deeper into his skull, or emerging from it.

The clammy man chuckled, “Who do you think approved of your two-person field trip in the first place?”

“... hard to argue with that,” Soul nodded, posture easygoing, but his tone betrayed his unease.

“So, what?” Maka half asked, half demanded, “Are you two tagging along to keep an eye on us?”

“No,” Stein finally let his hand fall from his head, reaching for his pocket - only for the Death Scythe to immediately snatch the pack of cigarettes out of the professor’s labcoat, eyes narrowed.

“Airport,” Spirit warned sternly, stuffing the cigarettes into his back pocket, “No smoking area. How did you even get these through security?”

“I forgot how uptight you were,” the stitched man sighed, mildly irritated, but amused all the same.

At this, the girl couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. Her useless dad, uptight?

Before she could ask, and before her father could press the issue further, Stein had returned his attention to her, adjusting his glasses, “We have our own business in Italy. We’ll be joining you on the same plane in London for simplicity’s sake, but once we land in Italy, we’ll be going our separate ways. We won’t be joining you on your mission, and it’s extremely unlikely we will be taking the same plane home. Sid will probably have to take over for me for a while.”

“... fair enough,” she murmured, “Not like I can argue either way.”

“Gate G4, to London, England, please begin boarding,” the intercom echoed overhead, a woman’s voice, bored and tired, “I repeat, Gate G4, to London, England, is now boarding.”

“Talk about timely,” Spirit sighed, kneeling and pulling his bag up onto his shoulder.

“Timely indeed,” Stein mused, stuffing his hands in his pockets and turning towards the gate, “Come on, Spirit.”

Spirit hesitated for a moment, turning to meet Maka’s eyes once more.

Her only response was to turn away, arms crossed.

A moment of silence passed before her father sighed, and slowly walked away, following his fellow professor to the gate.

“... he’s gotten quieter since he got back.”

“... you think?”

Soul stared into Spirit’s back, eyes narrowed, as if he were trying to puzzle something out, “I know it’s only been a couple days… but usually when he sees you he spazzes out entirely and tries to impress you somehow. That, or tries to threaten me.”

“And?” she raised an eyebrow.

“I dunno, doesn’t he seem a little… subdued to you?”

At this, Maka chewed her lip, finally turning her gaze onto her father’s retreating form; in truth, she’d hadn’t noticed, not really. Without any contact with Lord Death since Sid’s death, by extension, there’d been no contact with the Death Scythe, either.

And yet, now that Soul mentioned it, Spirit had seemed… oddly restrained, now. Not a single moment of spazzing out; no screaming or shouting or anything of the sort.

“... do you think it might be Stein?” she asked.

“Could be. I dunno though.”

“Does it really matter?”

“... I guess not.”

“... well… let’s hope we don’t run into them again before we reach Venice,” Maka adjusted the strap of her bag, “Come on. Let’s get on the plane.”

With that, they strode forwards towards the gate.


“... in short, Romeo and Juliet is a dumb comedy about a twenty year old man who just got dumped by his girlfriend, and then rebounded with said ex-girlfriend’s twelve year old cousin, and then they got four people killed in three days, themselves included,” Luz finished, finally stopping to take a breath of the salty sea air.

She was getting used to the sickly sweet of rancid flesh that was present everywhere she went these days, but it combined with the salt in the strangest of ways. As taste went, sweet and salt typically didn’t meld well, especially not the sweetness of rot, but strangely enough the salt blunted the sharp edge of the stench.

King glanced up at the girl from where he scampered beside her, seeming to be raising a brow, “You sure hate this Shakespeare guy, huh?”

“Hate’s a strong word,” Luz stuffed her hands in her pockets, taking care where she stepped down on the rocky pathway, “But I’m not gonna lie and say I like most of what I’ve read, either. Everyone keeps saying he’s the best writer of his time, and I just… don’t see it.”

Up ahead, Eda chuckled, glancing back over her shoulder as she guided Luz down the cliffs, the almost natural stone stairwell hidden nicely amidst the bluffs, “Sounds like you just haven’t gotten a very good understanding of his work.”

At this, the Latina blinked, “You’re a Shakespeare fan, Eda?”

“In a manner of speaking. He’s certainly not my favourite writer by any stretch, but I have to acknowledge decent literature when I see it,” the Witch cleared the last set of steps with a final jump, turning to face her apprentice, “Taming of the Shrew and Titus Andronicus aside, at least.”

“Right?” King snickered, scrabbling up onto a large rock, “Shrews aren’t for taming. They exist to be trained! Into the minions of the mighty Ragnarök!”

He pumped his miniscule arms, claws clenched into fists, before crossing his arms with a downright condescending shake of his head, “What a dumb-dumb, am I right?”

“... yeah,” Luz forced a smile, even though she knew King wasn’t even reading the same book, much less was on the same page, “I’m not exactly a fan of those ones either.”

“Can’t say I blame ya,” the silver haired woman nodded, “But I do think you are misjudging Bill’s work a bit.”

“How so?”

“In a way, you’ve already said it,” the Owl Lady turned, gesturing for Luz to follow once more, “What’s the main thing you got out of Romeo and Juliet?”

At this, the tan girl raised an eyebrow, but played along, following the Witch down the beach, “Well… it’s a dumb love story where people die, right? I get that there’s a blood feud between the families, but everything gets blown entirely out of proportion. That’s the whole joke, isn’t it? It’s all one big farce.”

“That’s correct,” Eda quipped cheerfully, raising a finger, “But you’re really only understanding half of the equation. There’s a second side to the farce; the drama.”

Both eyebrows were raised now, the apprentice staring into the back of Eda’s head, “The drama?”

“Yep,” the Witch vaulted over a tree that had fallen from the cliffside above, “The farce serves as a comedic tool, you’re certainly right about that, but that isn’t its only purpose; it also serves to enhance the drama, which is ultimately the core of this particular tragedy.”

“But that drama could have been so easily avoided,” Luz insisted, hauling herself up and over the log, “If everyone had just sat down and talked, couldn’t everything have been resolved without people dying?”

“Hold on,” King interrupted, hopping up off the log and onto Luz’s shoulder, head tilted quizzically, “Didn’t you just say that the families had a blood feud?”

At this, the girl felt her mouth click shut; a sheepish blush spread across her face as Eda let out an amused snort of laughter, turning briefly to face them with a wide grin.

“I think that firmly takes talking off the table,” the Demon nodded sagely, eyes closed.

“He’s got you there,” the Witch pointed, smile only growing wider as Luz’s face burned.

“Especially with the meaty alternative of VIOLENCE!” the pup shouted, perching himself on Luz’s head with both arms thrown as far upwards as he could reach, “ Way more entertaining than talking!”

“Alright, alright, you’ve got a point,” the girl conceded, raising an arm to her face as if she could physically wipe away her blush, “But that doesn’t explain the whole ‘falling in love at first sight and rebounding from a breakup’ thing.”

At this, the Witch chuckled again, “That’s just the catalyst for the conflict, Luz; whether or not Romeo and Juliet are actually in love or are just flighty, hormonal kids being flighty, hormonal kids is in the eye of the beholder. Personally, I think it’s the latter, but it can be read either way, and that’s deliberate. Whether the tragedy lies in love being denied, in the stupidity of the protagonists, in the deaths of their loved ones along the way, or in some combination thereof, that doesn’t change that there is tragedy to be found here - along with the joke of the situation blowing completely out of proportion.”

The Latina hummed, frowning as the flush finally fell away from her face, “... so… it’s not just one or the other?”

“Can’t a joke be both funny and sad, or funny because it’s sad?” the silver vixen queried, golden eyes shining as she leaned down to meet Luz at eye level.

“... I admit, I hadn’t thought about it like that,” the tan teen confessed, “I never put a whole lot of thought into Shakespeare in general. I just… never took much interest. I just sort of wrote it off.”

“It takes a lot more than a disinterested teacher, or a teacher that puts an artist on a pedestal, to inspire actual understanding of an artist’s work,” the Owl Lady put a hand on the girl’s shoulder, “There’s a lot about Shakespeare to understand in order to fully appreciate his plays, from the psychology in the stories themselves to the historical context they were written in - and from the sound of it, neither he nor his work were taught to you in a way that encouraged that sort of understanding. I don’t blame you for disregarding it, disliking it or even resenting it.”

“... I think I get it,” Luz started, uncertain, though she looked away from those intense golden eyes, “I still think that Romeo and Juliet were both being extremely stupid through the whole, though.”

“Never said they weren’t,” Eda’s smile didn’t fade, eyes gleaming mischievously, “But if they decided to be smart and never speak to each other, we wouldn’t have a story, now would we?”

At that, the human had to laugh, “You have a point there…”

The hand pulled away as her mentor turned back to the beach, “We can talk more Shakespeare later. For now, we’ve got some work to do.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Luz picked up her pace, matching the Owl Lady’s stride, “What are we doing out here?”

“You’ll see~,” the Witch sang.

“More like you’ll smell,” King grimaced, still perched on the teen’s shoulder.

The girl cocked her head in query, but Eda was looking dead ahead, seeming to have no intention of answering.

She didn’t need to, however, as the stench hit the Latina’s nose mere seconds later.

It wasn’t the faint, but constant sweetness of rot that permeated the entirety of the Isles; while it was certainly in the same vein, it was far, far stronger, an absolutely rancid reek that could only come from weeks, if not months, of steady decomposition.

Even clamping her hands firmly over her mouth and nose did nothing to alleviate the foetid funk; it was utterly invasive, snaking its way into her nose and mouth. It was beyond just smell, she could taste it in the air, and she could feel her body freeze in place at the oncoming choke…

“... someone’s not used to rotting flesh,” King giggled.

“You alright, Luz?”

“... I… Dios mio… ” she gagged, eyes watering as she struggled to breathe, staggering to stand beside the Witch, “What… is that?...”

Eda merely gestured with her staff; Luz followed her line of sight, and felt her eyes widen at the sight before her.

It was massive; that was the only thing the Latina could immediately discern, beyond its dark, mottled green colour. It looked less like any sort of creature and more like an gargantuan garbage bag, laying shapeless on the beach and towering over everything around it, stretching dozens of feet long down the length of the beach, its surface dried and shrivelled, and its side ruptured, spilling its contents out onto the ground beside it, rendering the shore between the creature and the water less sand, and more ankle deep mud and sludge.

“One of the most amazing things a Witch’ll ever see,” the Witch quipped cheerily, “A carrion crawler.”

“Carrion crawler?” Luz echoed, doing her best to hold her stomach down.

“Better known as a trash slug,” King piped up, clambering down from the human’s shoulder.

“Saw it crawling around down here on my way home yesterday. Wandered too far from the slopes, looks like,” Eda mused, “With how big this one’s gotten and how much it’s eaten, it must not have been able to climb the cliffs - they’re too sheer, and it’s too heavy. High tide came in, it got blasted by a wave, and it croaked from all the salt.”

“... Hell of a way to go,” Luz murmured, turning her gaze back to the fallen creature; now that she knew that it was, she could make out the remains of its eyes and maw, the segmented, beak-like mouth split into six teeth that opened in a ring. They were only thing giving its shrivelled head any sort of definition, the membrane pulling away to expose bone, probably the only bones it had, the tendrils around its horrid mouth shrivelled beyond all possible use.

“Breathtaking, isn’t it?” the elder vixen clapped her apprentice on the shoulder, grinning as she strode forwards and clearly enamoured with the carcass.

“That’s… one way to put it,” the girl hesitantly followed, keeping her nose plugged and never taking her eyes off the oversized slug, half expecting it to rear back to life in an instant and try to crush them all.

“It’s a scavenger, making a living off of the fallen, and what other people throw by the wayside. Most people tend to regard ‘em as pests since the smaller ones get into dumps, recycling yards, salvage sites… you name it, you’ll find baby crawlers rootin’ through the garbage munching on whatever they can find,” Eda gave no heed to the tide of slime on the ground, trudging through it without a care as she approached the slug’s burst belly, “But the more discerning Witch sees something else when they come across one of these things.”

Luz frowned, eying the maw from a distance, “... an integral part of the ecosystem that breaks down what conventional predators can’t?”

A harsh snort emanated from the Witch, “Well, yes, these guys can digest just about anything they can fit down their gullets, but that’s not what I’m talking about.”

“Then what?”

Eda wordlessly reached inside, rooting through the muck without the slightest concern or hesitation. After a moment, her eyes lit up, and with a sucking pop that made Luz’s guts wrench, the Owl Lady pulled it free.

“Junk, ingredients, and the occasional artefact,” she wiped away the grime, smiling at the sheen of the clockwork contraption she now held - a silver pocket watch the size of a briefcase, its long, sharp, gothic hands still ticking away despite the filth, still holding just enough shine to catch the light, “In a world full of Magic, there’s bound to be scavengers that feast on Magical energy; the carrion crawler is no different. You never know what you’re going to find in these things, but if you manage to catch one soon after it feeds, it’s a veritable goodie bag - and whatever we don’t have any use for ourselves, we can sell at a premium!”

The red-clad woman hopped down from the wound, striding back across the miniature swamp and tossing the watch onto the sand, its heavy chain not rattling so much as it was slithering with the tangled trails of sludge caught in its links. She grinned at the Latina once again, “They don’t usually get this big - it’s a good day when you find one that’s half this size. But believe me, Luz,” she smacked the creature’s leathery skin with a grime-coated talon, “What you’re looking at here is a genuine gold mine.

The grandeur in Eda’s tone did nothing to put Luz at ease. She just looked back up at the titanic trash slug, stomach still churning, though it was more from the stench than from the sight, “... I don’t like this…”

“I didn’t either, first time I found one. It’ll grow on ya,” the pale woman turned back to the carcass, scratching her chin with her clean hand, “I don’t expect you to go through the ruptured stomach on your first time through, so I’ll have you start with the mouth.”

“... the mouth?” the tanned teen looked to the teeth, which were clamped firmly shut, “... what am I supposed to do with that?”

Wordlessly, the Witch reached into her hair, not even requiring a second to pull out the pickaxe, its iron edge gleaming in the sunlight as she held it out to her apprentice.

“... please don’t make me, ” Luz half croaked, half whispered, staggering back as her eyes shot back and forth between the pick and the crawler.

“Aw, c’mon, Luz,” King snorted, derisive as he hopped up Eda’s leg, reaching into her hair and pulling out a white beach towel. He stomped back down the sand, unfurling it and laying on the golden duckling imprinted on its surface, “It’s not every day you get to pick apart a garbage carcass.

“Eh, nuts to ya both,” Eda snorted, turning back to the body; she hefted the pickaxe, and drove it beneath the first tooth, the metal easily biting through dessicated flesh and between bones with a sickening crunch.

Even so, Luz watched on, unable to deny the horrific fascination as she watched, the Witch tearing through with terrifying ease every time she swung. Before long, the entire skull had been broken open, with her mentor reaching deeper and deeper into the slug.

“... so, Eda,” she began, trying to keep her tone cheery, even as the heavy crunches of breaking bone continued, “I was thinking that, maybe… I could learn more about my Soul Wavelength today? Maybe work towards learning to use it?”

Someone’s eager,” her mentor grunted, stopping briefly to pull out an undamaged tooth, inspecting it.

“Well, can you blame me?” the girl grinned, “You showed me so much about how it all works, and it’s the first step towards learning real Magic! I can’t wait to get started!”

“And yet, you’re doing everything you can to avoid doing your job for the day,” Eda’s amused tone was paired with a knowing, half lidded glance, lips curling upwards as she met Luz’s gaze.

“I-!... b-but-!... I’m not-!...” she sputtered, eyes shooting up to the corpse before meeting the Witch again, “Going from deliveries to digging through monster guts is a pretty big jump, don’t you think?!”

“Not really,” the woman reached inside once more, “It’s not particularly hard work. Time consuming and messy, and you’ll need a bath once you’re done, but it’s not hard.”

Luz shifted her weight from foot to foot, not taking her eyes off the revolting remains. She really didn’t want to go in…

“Remember what we agreed to~,” the Owl Lady sang, voice mockingly melodic, “Your lessons come in exchange for your work. I’m not gonna make you, but don’t expect me to teach you anything if you don’t hold up your end of the deal.”

Every cell in Luz’s body was screaming at her to walk away. To turn around, and march back up the beach, up the stairs in the cliff, and to the Owl House. To pester Eda for a different job or even forgo lessons for the day, just to get out of the disgusting task ahead…

But eventually, she swallowed, forcing herself to step forwards.

No es justo, ” she whined, pushing the roof of the mouth aside with her hand to follow the Witch; she shuddered at the texture as the flesh crinkled, all but crumbling under her touch, the surface slick with some ooze she couldn’t identify. She covered her nose as best she could, trying to filter the rancid air through her shirt.

Eres la que quiere aprender Magia, ” Eda chuckled, still crawling forwards.

“... so, if Magic comes from the Soul, then how do potions work?” Luz asked, desperately trying to distract herself from the situation as she crawled after her mentor.

“‘Eeeey, don’t think I don’t see what you’re doing, Luz,” the smile was audible in Eda’s tone.

“Hey, if I’m gonna be doing this, then shouldn’t I be able to learn something on the job?” the girl insisted, “Like, you said there’s magical artefacts in here. Like tomes, right? Scrolls? How do those have Magic in them? Does the slug drain the Magic from them when it eats them?”

“... clever girl,” Eda chuckled, “Phrasing the question so it’s related to what we’re doing.”

“Can’t say I’m not learning from the best,” despite herself, the Latina grinned.

“... Magic is not limited to the Soul,” Eda began, “Magic is produced by the Soul of a Witch, but that is hardly the only source of Magic that you can find. In the Demonic Realms, Magic permeates the air, the sea, the stone and the soil, and everything that grows from it - and the Boiling Isles in particular are a place where Magic is extremely rich in everything around you. With the right skills and tools, you can harness that Magic in a myriad of ways, whether that’s keeping the Magic bound into the paper of a scroll so it can be directed and used at a later point, or infused into a tome for the instruction or protection of what’s written inside.”

“Okay. And potions are the same way?”

“Potioneers are the best in the business at harnessing the Magic inherent to objects - they have to be, in order to make even mediocre potions, since they’re taking all different kinds of Magic in their ingredients and channelling it into a harmonious, usable physical medium made for a specific purpose. Screw that up, and only the Titan knows what effects it’s gonna have, and that’s if it doesn’t just blow up in your face,” the Witch explained, “Oftentimes, potioneers have skill making Magical artefacts as well because of the relationship between the skills - some of the best spellbook binders and staff makers in history practised as potioneers at some point in their lives.”

“That’s incredible,” Luz murmured, “And… that’s all part of how the slug survives? It absorbs the Magic from what it eats?”

“Yep. Which is why you gotta be careful about what you throw away or leave out, but it’s also why it’s good to dig through these things when they turn up; sometimes you’ll find something it only recently ate and hasn’t fully corroded yet, or something it couldn’t digest.”

“Will I get to read tomes and make potions?”

“Potions, maybe, but don’t hold your breath on tomes, kid. If I’m teaching you Magic, I’m teaching you the unpredictable beauty of Wild Magic. None of that Coven approved, watered down garbage they teach in schools.”

The girl failed to catch the note of frustration in the Witch’s tone, “There’s Magic schools here!?”

“‘Course there are. Not that they’re good for much - they don’t teach any sort of resourcefulness, ” Eda grunted, continuing to dig away briefly before giving a satisfied nod, speaking again before Luz could press the matter further, “Alright, here’s a good spot for you to start.”

Luz squinted through her stench-induced tears, struggling to find what the Witch was indicating, “... what’m I looking at?”

Wordlessly, Eda conjured a light; now, Luz could see the object lodged in the crawler’s throat, gnarled and twisted and casting a ghastly shadow against the mottled flesh of the surrounding flesh.

“... is that a branch?” she queried.

“From a Maleficent’s Briarwood, from the look of it. Relatively fresh, too - still has some of its deadheads.”

“Is it Magical or worth something?”

“The branch itself? No - the Magic’s all been sucked out of it already, but if you were to get the wood to a carpenter, you’d probably be able to sell it for a decent price,” the pale woman pointed to the few dead flowers that remained on the twisted wood, petals having long fallen away, “The dead flowers, on the other hand, are definitely worth our while.”

“Oh, yeah!” at this, Luz couldn’t help but smile, “The deadheads are full of new seeds, right? Once they’re pollinated, all the petals fall off and the plant starts trying to make more seeds to spread!”

“Heh! Look at you, knowing exactly what I want ‘em for,” Eda’s laughter was openly approving now, “You garden?”

“Mom did for a while,” the Latina corrected, “She used to have me help look after plants every now and again.”

“Well, get in there and grab ‘em, then.”

The girl swallowed, then held her breath, forcing herself to wriggle forwards, her movements causing the shadows on the putrid walls to dance as she moved; the blackened wood gnarled against the desiccated flesh, small, twisted thorns digging in like claws.

Nonetheless, she reached out, and started picking the deadheads, one by one, trying to get as many as she could into her pocket without getting them caught in the grime she was kneeling in and desperately trying to ignore. One by one, she pulled them loose, until the last few were trapped behind the branch…

“C’mon,” she muttered, gripping the wood and trying to pry it just far enough that she could get the last deadheads free.

“... Luz?” Eda started.

Flakes fell from the surface of the flesh, the walls oozing underneath, and she stubbornly clenched her jaw against the twisting of her stomach, refusing to let herself puke-

“Luz, that’s enough, you can leave the rest-”

The branch snapped.

Its twisted, talon-twigs fell.

The fragile flesh tore.

And a fresh wave of equal parts sludge and stench washed over Luz, physically pushing her back as it struck her full in the chest. It pushed up her nose, into her mouth, her mind going entirely blank as she struggled to process the absolute abhorrence that was flooding her senses.

She scuttled back, away from the flood, away from the rot, towards what little light she could see through the blanket of blech that was now coating her. It was in her clothes, in her hair, in her shoes. She clambered out on all fours, unable to smell the salt of the sea as its waves crashed against the shore.

The girl couldn’t help it. She couldn’t hold it down.

Her stomach ejected everything she had eaten that morning, the burning in her throat and the taste of her own bile comparatively pleasant against what it was currently washing away.

“... eugh. Gross,” she heard King say, though she couldn’t tell which direction he was in.

Behind her, she heard the sound of squelching, and the Witch’s long sigh as she pulled herself out of the slug’s insides.

“... well,” the elderly magus sighed, “That could’ve gone better.”

“You think?” the Demon snarked.

“I don’t see you helping, King,” the Owl Lady’s tone was one of warning.

Weh.

Luz finally reached up to wipe her eyes, looking back over her shoulder.

Eda’s dress and hair were soaked in green bile, a hand on her hip as she stared at the other, face stuck in a slight grimace. 

The teen winced, and then looked away, guilt pooling in her stomach, “... I’m sorry…”

“Hey,” the silver vixen’s voice held a smile, “It’s nothing a little Magic can’t fix.”

Luz looked back up at the Witch; Eda flexed her hand for a moment before snapping her fingers. Immediately, the green began to slough off her form, out of the fabric of her dress, out of the thick mane of her coif - all of it falling to the ground in thick waves of gunk. Before long, it was all gone, not leaving so much as a stain behind on her skin or outfit, left in a ring around the woman’s feet.

“Alright, your turn,” Eda beckoned, “Stand up. It’ll make this easier for me to clean.”

Wordlessly, the girl obeyed, unsteadily rising to her feet; another snap of Eda’s fingers saw the sludge pouring off her body, all but peeling itself from her skin, from her hair, and out of her clothes. She could even feel what was left being gently pulled out of her mouth and nose, drips coaxed out and only leaving the phantom of the unholy stench behind, leaving her standing in the center of another ring of green.

“... gross,” Luz shuddered, stepping back out of the ring.

“I hear ya.”

“What… happened in there?” the girl asked, looking back up at the Witch.

“The branch was lodged in there deeper than I thought,” Eda crossed her arms, “When it snapped and fell, it tore open the next stomach. Must’ve been fuller and closer to rupturing than I expected.”

The girl shuddered, reaching into her pockets. She blinked as she felt the deadheads, pulling them out. She managed a smile, holding them up, “... at least we got these?...”

The red-clad Witch snickered, accepting the would-be seeds, “At least there’s that.”

“So, Luz?” King quipped cheerfully, “You ready to go back to dumpster diving in a trash slug?”

She couldn’t even bring herself to look at the carcass. She turned away, arms crossed firmly over her stomach, “I… really don’t wanna go back in there.”

“I don’t blame ya,” Eda glanced back at the slug, “Maybe going from deliveries to a trash slug dissection was a bit of a jump after all.”

“... so… what now?” Luz queried.

“Well, I can’t let this thing sit here - won’t be long before other scavengers come looking for a feast,” Eda turned back to it, “I’ll keep hackin’ away at it. I should be able to get all the best and most valuable stuff out of this thing within the hour.”

“... and what about me?” the girl pressed.

The Witch glanced back with a coy smile, “You tellin’ me you don’t wanna scrub yourself down in the shower after that?”

Luz couldn’t hold down her shudder; despite the ring of green that was still laying on the beach as evidence to the contrary, she could suddenly feel a new layer of gunk clinging to her body like a second skin, “Well now that you say that, I do!”

“Then go take one,” Eda waved her off, turning back to the body with the pickaxe in hand, “You put in a good effort. I’ll show you something later, at the very least.”

With that, she began digging once again, idly tossing a tuba over her shoulder, whereupon it promptly landed on King’s head, leaving the little Demon trapped, his shrill, panicked cries echoing inside the brass horn.

Luz turned away, trudging back up the beach as she ran her hands up and down her arms, as if it would somehow help slough away the feeling of ickiness that was still clinging to her skin, genuinely struggling to keep her spirits up.

Digging for garbage in an oversized corpse hadn’t been on her list of things to do to begin with.

Cleaning spells or no, being flooded with rot and sludge had only served to make it worse. And the fading stench did nothing to push the sensations, or the embarrassment, away.

“... good with the bad,” she huffed, trying to steady her breathing, finally making her way back to the top of the cliffside path, “Eda’ll teach you something later… good with the bad. Just go back to the House, and-”

“You can do it!”

… the Latina come to a halt, blinking.

“You can!”

… she definitely hadn’t imagined it that time.

“... mysterious voice of encouragement?” the girl wondered, turning off the path to follow the source.

It only took a brief push through the foliage to find it.

Sitting on the edge of the clearing, was another girl, eyes hidden behind her glasses and the mess of wild, dark green hair, her purple sleeves and leggings protruding from a dark grey tunic beneath her heavy shoulder cape, idly kicking her boots against the heavy pot before her

“... no, ” Luz gasped, a new smile breaking out on her face, “ Little Witch girl…

Notes:

Finally. Done. First semester.

Unfortunately the next one starts in May... hoorayyyy.. here's hoping I can get a bit more accustomed to school flow and manage my writing time better, eh?

Please don't bring up anything that's in the newer episodes, please. I'm yet to watch Any Sport in a Storm due to a general lack of energy. Hopefully I'll be able to catch up over the next couple days.

Thank you for your patience everyone. With any luck I'll be able to do more consistent updates soon. In the meantime, have a tease for a Willow, Amity and Gus appearance.

...

Spanish Translations for the chapter:

“No es justo.” ("No fair.")

“Eres la que quiere aprender Magia,” ("You’re the one who wants to learn Magic.")

...

Thank you all so much for your patience. Please be sure to leave your thoughts below! I hope you all enjoyed the 20th chapter of Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance!

Chapter 21: Infiltration for Experimentation

Notes:

I do not own Soul Eater or Owl House.

If I did, I wouldn't keep putting off the season two finale of the Owl House because it keeps making me anxious every time I go to watch it...

Also, a shoutout to Luci Christian, the voice behind Medusa Gorgon, who I had the pleasure to meet at Comic Con earlier this year! I don't know if you've gotten the chance to read this story, Luci - I get that the life of a VA is a busy one - but if you have, I certainly hope you've enjoyed this wild ride so far! Thanks for your time at Comic Con this year! It was a pleasure to meet you!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Willow Park’s day hadn’t exactly started off with the brilliant sun she’d been hoping for.

Well, technically it had - the sun shone right through her window and woke her up at her desk, but that hardly been any sort of comfort when it was proof that yet another all-nighter had gone entirely to waste. 

Once again, she’d gotten absolutely nowhere despite hours upon hours of work. She didn’t know when she’d fallen asleep or how much sleep she was actually operating on, and the Abomination gunk had dried across her face and hair; with her fathers being just as hopeless at Abomination Magic as she was, Willow had been forced to spend more than half a segment scrubbing it off of her scalp and skin, leaving her head feeling raw. By the time she was finished, she didn’t have any time left to try to put something, anything, workable together out of the sluicing sludge that now sat equal parts motionless and worthless in the cauldron she had to lug around in her wheelbarrow.

Nonetheless, she forced cheer into her voice as she stood up, pacing, “You can do it! Even if you get a bad grade, it’s not a reflection on you as a Witch! And my parents are right,” she insisted, “There are better opportunities in this track! Now get to school!” She stomped forwards-

And felt her heart skip a beat at the snap that followed.

She didn’t need to look down to know what had happened; immediately, she had fallen to her knees, cradling the broken, crushed flower in her hands.

“Oh, no, I’m so sorry! Here!” She didn’t even bother to check her surroundings. Immediately, her Soul Wavelength surged, green light flowing through her palms in a torrent; all at once, the snapped stem and the torn petals began to repair, as swift as it was beautiful. Plant fibres knitted themselves back together, petals smoothed and returned to their original shape; within a split second, the flower was standing tall and proud once again, as though her misstep had never happened.

“Tough little guy, aren’t ya?” she pulled her hands away, happily resting her chin in her palm, “Well, that’s good to see. It’s good to know you’ll grow up strong, little friend.”

“... Willow.”

The voice made her blood run cold; so wrapped up in her panic, having stepped on the flower, she hadn’t even realised someone had come up behind her.

Much less the one person that she didn’t want to see this morning.

She slowly turned, looking up over her shoulder; perched atop an immaculately polished black iron cauldron, her own wheelbarrow far better constructed, the girl peered down at her from the corner of her brilliant gold eye, lips curled downwards in a sign of clear disapproval, as though WIllow had somehow been the one to distract her from the book in her hand. Her hair was green, but it was several shades too bright to be the colour of any plant Willow knew - something that privately infuriated her - and she wore the same short black cloak and purple sleeves that denoted her as a student of the Abomination Track.

But all that was nothing compared to Amity’s Soul.

Burning a brilliant violet hue, it seemed fairly small at first glance - but anything more than a cursory look revealed that it wasn’t due to weakness, but focus, taking all of the already powerful prodigy’s being and refining it into the most intense of flames, concentrated to the point of melting stone and shearing through metal. Her Wavelength was every bit as controlled, not so much washing over Willow in pulses as much as it exerted a constant pressure, the dark-haired girl unable to pick out the individual beats. 

She’d have wondered if it were deliberate show of force, were this not the default state of Amity’s Soul these days.

“... hi, Amity,” Willow finally forced herself to respond, rising to her feet.

Casually, Amity snapped her book shut, hopping down from atop her cauldron, tone idle, but chiding, “You know you’re not supposed to be mixing Magic.”

“I wasn’t,” Willow muttered, breaking her gaze back to the flower, “Does this little guy look like he’s got any Abomination goo on him?”

“Don’t be obstinate, Willow. You know what I’m talking about.”

She grit her teeth, refusing to look Amity in the eye as she approached, the prodigious Witchling standing several inches taller than her.

Even so, Amity continued, “If you wanted to be doing Plant Magic, then you should have joined the Plant Track. You are in the Abomination Track; therefore, you practise Abomination Magic.”

Willow didn’t respond as Amity stopped mere inches away. She kept her gaze low, hoping the other girl would lose interest and leave if she refused to play…

“Willow?”

“... I know,” she finally whispered, feeling her whole being shrink as she uttered the words.

A nod, accompanied by an approving pulse from the other Witchling’s Soul. When Amity spoke again, her tone was still chiding, but it had taken on a more cheerful, condescending cadence - one that could only stem from the reinforcement of the hierarchy, satisfied with Willow’s submission, “I know it’s hard, but believe me when I say this is for your own good. The rules are for everyone’s benefit - and I’m sure that you’ll get the hang of Abominations sooner or later.”

Despite herself, Willow could feel her jaw clench even tighter, her teeth grinding against each other as she bit down on the barbed arrows that threatened to fly from her tongue, anger held in check by a bizarre, but all too tangible fear.

“... speaking of,” Amity turned on her heel, examining Willow’s cauldron, “how’s your Abomination coming along?”

“... fine,” Willow managed, “Just… just fine.”

“Show me.”

The green-eyed girl’s heart skipped a beat, dread abruptly sprouting in her stomach like a thorned, black root, “What?”

“You heard me,” Amity turned to face her once more, “Show me. I want to see your progress.”

“W-Well, I-I-” Willow stammered, eyes darting back and forth between her cauldron and Amity’s inquiring stare, “I… but…”

An eyebrow slowly crept up the young Blight’s forehead, “Is something wrong, Willow?”

“... he’s shy,” Willow finally managed, her voice, already croaky from lack of sleep, coming out a helpless squeak.

It was immediately clear that the prodigy saw through the lie; her eyes fell half lidded, her lips drawn in a thin line, brows knit together and her posture all but screaming ‘Really?’

“... he’s shy,” she said instead, her tone flat.

“... yes,” Park insisted, having no clue what else to say, “He’s shy.”

“A Magical construct with an artificial, extremely basic Soul, made specifically to follow commands, with no real will of its own, is shy, ” Amity repeated.

“... yes,” Willow finally agreed, helpless.

A long, slow sigh escaped the Blight as she raised her hand, closing her eyes as she pinched the bridge of her nose, disappointment tangible in her tone, “Willow… it’s not a plant. It’s a construct. You shouldn’t be anthropomorphizing to begin with, but certainly not with an Abomination.”

“Y-Yeah, well-”

“Just show me,” the green-haired girl snapped, interrupting, “We don’t have a lot of time, and if there’s anything I can do to improve class performance on the whole, I would like to do it before we present.”

Willow’s eyes shot back down to the cauldron, trying and failing to swallow the lump in her throat; Amity wasn’t backing down. Going off her tone and expression, she was seconds away from turning and animating the awful attempt at an Abomination herself - and Willow doubted that even Amity would be able to hold it together for long.

She didn’t want to. It was bad enough that she was going to fail today.

She didn’t want to humiliate herself any more than she already had to.

Nonetheless, Willow caved; she raised her hand, trying her best to feel out the magic, even as she failed to ignore the shiver of disgust as she reached out with her Soul. It was like reaching into sludge - not the pleasant cool of smooth clay or loamy earth, but a stomach-churning sucking mire of artificial, chemical purple.

It was taking everything she had just to get it to move, but move it did. She gave it shape, physically moving her hands as if to mould the cauldron’s contents into a humanoid body; it began to rise, the cauldron’s lid beginning to lift, and for a moment, Willow could scarcely believe what she was seeing, the glowing green eyes peeking out from the darkness, a dark purple hand reaching out…

But just as quickly, it began to lose shape; the cauldron, off balance, swiftly toppled out of the cart. The lid bounced and rolled away briefly before hitting a tree, falling to the ground, and the Abomination all but disintegrated into a watery mess that spilled across the forest floor, a sticky purple puddle that would be impossible to clean without help. A single eye was awash in the muck, looking back and forth between the two girls before slowly blinking, an ingredient that hadn’t fully incorporated into the mixture…

“... what did you do?

Willow could scarcely bring herself to look at Amity, whose expression was somewhere between incredulous disbelief and appalled disappointment as she stared at what should have been the Park girl’s Abomination; she raked both hands through her hair, eyes wide and mouth hanging open, “It’s been three weeks, Willow, how are you still struggling with the most basic of constructions? I can’t even see a Soul in this!”

“I’ve been trying, okay!?” Willow started, “Professor Hermonculus’ instructions aren’t clear or intuitive, and I don’t take to Abomination Magic the way you do!”

“You don’t take to any Magic, Willow!” Amity snapped, “This is exactly why everyone calls you Half-A-Witch!

Silence; Willow screwed her eyes shut at the nickname, the sting all too familiar as she ground her teeth, fists firmly clenched at her sides. When she finally opened her eyes again, blinking back the tears, Amity had crouched down, sticking a finger into the violet goop and examining it with a careful eye.

“... there’s not a whole lot I can do about this right now,” she muttered, raising a hand, her own Soul Wavelength pulsing; all at once, the sludge began to recede, flowing back into Willow’s cauldron in a swiftly receding tide, “Frankly, it might be easier to start over from scratch than try to fix this.”

“How’m I supposed to do that before class starts?” Willow asked, hoping it sounded less like a whine than she thought.

“You’re not,” the Blight sighed, picking up the lid and putting it back on top of the cauldron, “But I can stall for time. You know how Professor Hermonculus likes to show off his best students; I’ll help you make a new one over lunch and you can present in the afternoon. It won’t be anything impressive, but you’ll have something to show, and it’ll at least get you a passing grade.”

“... don’t you have lunch with Boscha today?”

“You’re obviously struggling, and as class rep, it’s my responsibility to help my peers when they’re floundering,” Amity returned to her own wheelbarrow, climbing atop the cauldron, “Boscha can either reschedule or stop being such a whiny brat when things don’t go her way. Worse comes to worst, I remind her why she only got the position of grudgby captain after I left the team.”

The darker-haired girl didn’t respond, simply looking on as Amity snapped her fingers; the Abomination within her own cauldron immediately came to life, flowing up and out of its iron confines before settling into a decidedly human shape, its eyes glowing green in the morning light, absolutely towering over the both of them; it had to be standing at least ten feet tall, the Soul within simple, but gleaming, the same purple hue as Amity’s own Soul. It reached down, picking up the wheelbarrow by the handles, and plodding forwards.

“See you at lunch, Willow,” Amity waved, taking out her book, “We’ll get your Abomination sorted out yet.”

Willow didn’t dare move until the young Blight was well out of view, and the sounds of her Abomination’s lumbering footsteps faded into total silence; her lips pulled back in a grimace as she turned to her own wheelbarrow, glaring furiously at her cauldron.

“‘See you at lunch, Willow,’” she mimicked, anger blazing in every word as she gripped the handles, lifting and pushing further down the path, “‘We’ll get your Abomination sorted out yet. We’ll make you a new one, and by that, I mean I’ll make you a new one and you’ll present something I made for you! ’”

Suddenly, the wheelbarrow lurched, tipping sideways; the Witchling panicked, Wavelength flaring as she tried to pull it back the other way… only to pull too hard, her strength combined with the wheelbarrow’s newfound momentum causing it to fall back in the other direction. The cauldron smashed to the ground, once again spilling its contents across the forest floor in another tide of vile violet sludge.

Willow was already screaming wordless, bloody murder into the forest before it even occurred to her that she wouldn’t be able to clean it up on her own - not that the occurrence helped. She raked her fingers across her scalp, teeth grit as the growl in her throat escalated into a dull roar, her Wavelength writhing around her and causing the trees to bend and bow with her anger, “I HATE THIS!”

She heard the earth begin to break as the roots under the soil writhed like serpents, churning up the ground and crushing the stones below the soil; even despite her anger, she made an effort to keep them steady, not wanting to kill the trees in her fury. Instead, she felt their roots grow, digging deeper into the ground even as their trunks swelled, their branches twisting in the morning light, reaching down around her in a gesture that seemed somewhere between protective and calming.

But she didn’t want to be calm.

She wanted to scream, and keep screaming.

“I HATE GETTING BAD GRADES! I HATE THIS STUPID TRACK! ” she snarled, those smug hazel eyes peering down at her in her mind, “AND I HATE YOU!!!

“I’m sorry!”

The new voice made Willow’s heart skip a beat, her outburst thrown off at the sound of panic and regret; she looked around, trying to identify the new noise, her anger retreating, but not entirely, “Who said that?”

“U-Up here!”

Finally, the young Park directed her gaze up… and felt herself blanch as she saw the girl, bound in branches and hoisted high in the air, eyes shooting back and forth between Willow and the trees in a mix of transfixed awe and pleading panic. Her hair was short, a few shades darker brown than her light mocha skin, and dressed fairly bizarrely in an outfit Willow couldn’t quite place; obviously, her coat was a hooded one, but who wore a hooded coat with short sleeves? Who wore long pants under shorts? For that matter, who wore shorts that short? And none of the colours matched either…

But that wasn’t the strangest part; the girl seemed to be keeping her Soul hidden, with only a basic, basic flare visible in the base of her stomach. Vibrant, but… simple. Colourless, shapeless. Utterly blank, even.

“O-OH!” Willow felt her rage dissipate entirely, now panicking herself, “Oh, I am so sorry-! I didn’t know anyone else was here!”

“I-It’s okay! I’m fine!” the girl assured, managing a smile, “Just, please let me down?”

Immediately, Willow flared her Soul, far more calmly this time; as gently as possible, the branches began to lower, setting the strange girl’s feet firmly on the ground before slowly pulling away, losing their arched, taloned form as the trees resumed their former tall, straight posture.

“I’m so, so sorry,” the green-eyed girl repeated, wanting to snatch the strange girl’s wrists to look, but hesitant in case she somehow worsened any damage she might have done in her tantrum, “I-I didn’t hurt you, did I?” 

“All good - the thorns only went through a couple layers of skin,” the girl assured, smiling broadly and holding up her arms - indeed, only faint scrapes were left behind on her wrists, with no blood to be seen, “You mostly just surprised me, but it’s not the worst thing I’ve been through today.”

“I find that a little hard to believe,” Willow grumbled, but she didn’t argue, instead opting to take a closer look at the newcomer; it was only now she realized how lanky the mocha child was, her whole body long and thin, as if all of her growth had gone straight into her height and failed to give her much of anything by the way of bulk. She couldn’t have been much older or younger than the Park herself was, but she had several inches over the dark-haired Witchling, to the point where Willow was distinctly looking up to meet her gaze. Her smile was open, her eyes wide, earnest and fascinated - boring right into Willow’s own with an almost uncomfortable focus.

“Willow, right?” she piped up.

“I’m sorry?” 

“Willow,” the girl repeated, “That’s your name, isn’t it? I heard while you were talking with… who was that?” she pointed off into the woods where Amity had disappeared.

“Oh,” the Park’s expression soured, “Amity. And, yes, my name’s Willow. Willow Park.”

“Luz!” the tanned teen grinned, holding out a hand, “Luz Noceda!”

“Luz,” Willow echoed, testing how it felt on her tongue; short and soft. Bright, even; she couldn’t help but smile as she accepted the girl’s hand, “It’s nice to meet you, Luz.”

“The pleasure’s mine!” Luz shook enthusiastically, and Willow found herself knocked off kilter - not at strength of Luz’s grip, but at the lack thereof. She seemed to be putting a lot of effort into the movement, but it had none of the strength to match; she wasn’t even that strong, but if the Witchling had wanted to, she could have easily stopped the tanned teen’s hand in place. Not the effort it took to write with a pen, but certainly the effort it took to lift and move a new tree out of its pot.

“So, what you did earlier. That was Plant Magic, right?” Luz asked excitedly, her eyes shooting back up to the trees briefly before locking onto Willow’s eyes again, “That was you, with the trees?”

“... yeah,” Willow said, clutching one hand in the other, “I… I’m not supposed to be doing Plant Magic, but… yeah, that was me.”

“You’re not?” the tanned teen blinked, seeming perplexed, “Why not?”

At this, Willow had to blink, now focusing more closely on the girl’s features; at a glance, she couldn’t see any sort of deception in the other teen’s face or posture. Didn’t she know about the Tracks? The Covens?

For that matter, why couldn’t Willow get a good read on her Soul? No Witch should have a Soul that weak, that featureless, unless…

Her eyes narrowed, studying Luz with a newfound discretion; it wasn’t as though it was uncommon for Witches or Demons to use Soul Protect when they didn’t want to be noticed. Combined with certain cloaks or even just some decently thick walls, it could make a Witch or Demon all but entirely invisible. But Soul Protect just by itself in the Boiling Isles served to draw its own sort of attention - Souls here were all strongly developed, after all. 

Furthermore, most of those who used Soul Protect tended to be powerful, underhanded, or both; nobody learned to use Soul Protect just because. It was too powerful, too difficult a spell for anyone to learn just because they did a little light reading; if someone knew Soul Protect, they knew it for a reason.

Before Willow could ponder further, however, the distant ring of bells echoed in her ears.

“... dammit,” she whimpered; in all the excitement, she had almost entirely forgotten about class.

“... that your school bell?” Luz asked.

“Yeah. Must be third segment already.”

“Segment?”

That made Willow pause, but just as quickly she shook the thought off, kneeling to try to scoop what she could of her Abomination goo back into her cauldron, “I gotta get to class. It was nice meeting you, Luz.”

“Wait a second!” the mocha girl started, all excitement again, “You go to a Magic school, right?”

“Yes,” the pale teen grunted, managing to suppress a shudder as the poorly-mixed ingredients stuck to her hand.

“... I think I have an idea that might get both of us something we want.”

“Luz-”

Before the green-eyed Witchling could really start her sentence, Luz had all but leaped belly first into the violet sludge, making Willow suppress a squeal and back up to avoid being splashed; she splayed arms and legs haphazardly as she wriggled around in the muck, seeming to be trying to coat herself in as much of it as possible. After a moment, she looked up, virtually unrecognizable as she wiped the slime from her eyes, grinning.

“Whm-ff-mm-” she started, then stopped. She grimaced, then wiped off her lips with a hand, spitting some of the stuff out and making Willow suppress a gag before Luz tried again, “What if I were your project?”

“... come again?”

“You need an Abomination thingy to present to your teacher, right?” she now sat cross-legged in the goo, “I wanna learn more about how Magic works, and… well, my teacher’s gonna be busy for a while. You need a solid abomination to present so you don’t get a bad grade. If I act as your ‘Abomination,’ you won’t need that Amity girl’s help! You’ll get a good grade, I’ll learn about Magic, and everyone goes home happy!”

At this, Willow couldn’t help it; she was now far too confused, and her curiosity too thoroughly piqued, to not pursue the rabbit hole in front of her, “Okay, okay, slow down… you want to learn more about Magic?”

“Yeah,” Luz nodded, “I only started learning a couple days ago. I want to learn as much as I can!”

“... tha-that doesn’t make any sense,” the Witchling insisted, “How are you using Soul Protect if you only started learning Magic a couple of days ago? That’s a spell that can take years of practice.”

This time, it was Luz’s turn to blink, “Soul Protect?”

“You know, the spell that hides your Soul Wavelength? It was made to make your Soul seem like… like..”

Willow trailed off, the thought finally crossing her mind. She stared openly at Luz now, trying to read as much of her Soul as she could, feel out all its contours, its colours, its intensity… only to find just the most basic of Souls, emitting a mix of concern and confusion, of excitement and eagerness.

It was insane. It was- well, maybe not impossible, but extremely unlikely all the same.

But it was the only possibility that made any sense.

“... like a human’s,” Willow finally finished, perplexed concern taking her over, everything else in the world seeming to just disappear at the realisation.

Luz’s gaze finally broke away; she ran her hands nervously back and forth through the slime around her, lips caught in a smile that was contrite, anxious.

“... you’re not a Witch… are you?” Willow asked.

“... I… thought that was obvious,” the girl chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of her head, “You… couldn’t tell?”

“I thought you were using Soul Protect to hide your Soul,” Willow knelt and reached out, cupping both sides of Luz’s head to pull her in for a better look, “... it’s weird.

“What is?” Luz queried, reaching up and pulling the Witchling’s hands away.

“You look just like a Witch,” the darker haired girl wiped her hands on her leggings before crossing her arms, frowning.

“The round ears didn’t give me away?” the human asked, brushing her hair back to show her indeed rounded ears.

“Some Witches have those - a lot have pointy ears, and a lot have round ears, it’s not that uncommon,” Willow snickered, but then grew serious again, rubbing her chin, “But your Soul, it’s… it’s so small. I wasn’t looking for you, mind, but I didn’t even sense it before. I thought you were skulking around for some reason and got caught up in the trees, but… well, it explains why Amity didn’t sense you either.”

“... huh,” Luz murmured, “First time anyone’s ever said I’m easy to overlook.”

“Sorry, sorry,” Willow pressed her hands to her forehead, “I’m just… trying to process this. There’s a human sitting right in front of me. I don’t know when the last time there was a human on the Boiling Isles - that we know of, at least.”

“Well, there’s one here now,” the mocha girl grinned, pushing herself to her feet, “And we have a class to get to!”

“I-I’m not sure that’s a good idea,” Willow stood, “What if someone senses you?”

“Hey, Abominations have Souls too, right?” she gestured to the goo around her, “We’ll just explain it away as you making a very good Abomination!”

“Well…” the Witchling trailed off, biting her lip…

“Come on, we can at least try, ” Luz insisted. She clutched an arm, casting her gaze down to the ground, tone sympathetic as she continued,“I know what it’s like to get a bad grade after trying so hard.”

The green-eyed girl continued to chew at her lip for a long moment before finally sighing, “... well, it’s not like I can just leave you here all by yourself...”

“YESSSSS!” the goop-clad teen pumped her arms, “I’m gonna learn Magic!”

Willow managed a smile at Luz’s enthusiasm, but it hid the flood of questions that swirled about her mind. How was the human even here, in the Boiling Isles? Had there been some sort of freak twist of Magic that stranded her here? Or had she somehow been stolen away from the human realm?

Moreover… she was pretty firmly convinced she was going to learn Magic, either from some teacher or at Hexside. Didn’t she know?... no matter how clever or determined humans could be, cleverness and determination couldn’t change the fundamental difference between a human and a Witch.

A human Soul can’t create or harness Magic, after all.

“Just lemme get myself totally covered,” Luz’s words snapped the Witchling from her thoughts as she toppled back into the muck, waving her limbs back and forth to coat herself as much as possible.

“Hold still for a second,” Willow stated, “I need to try something before we know this’ll work.”

She closed her eyes again, breathing deep; she reached out to the violet vileness that surrounded Luz, leaning into the disgusting sensation it left upon her Soul as she ran her Wavelength through it.

She didn’t need to make a whole Abomination, not if this worked.

She just needed to hold it against Luz’s body.

She felt it begin to move, to slough up and off the ground in waves and onto the human’s form; it swiftly went from a thin, but sticky liquid coat across a lanky body to a thicker, more gelatinous shell, forming overtop of the human and using her body as an effective skeleton.

Before long, the human was entirely gone; in her place lay a large, purple mass of slime in a vaguely humanoid shape, with only faint, shadowy indents for Luz to see and breathe through. Much to Willow’s surprise, the gunk also served as a camouflage for her Soul, the Magic infused into the fluid obfuscating the brightness of Luz’s Wavelength; if she weren’t the one holding the goo together, Willow could have easily mistaken it for a genuine Abomination.

“Okay,” Willow nodded, “I need you to stand up?”

Slowly, Luz obeyed, her motions unsteady with the coating of gunk across her whole body; she held out her arms, examining them, but it was hard to tell what she was feeling with her face totally hidden by the coating.

“... this is so weird,” Luz murmured, her voice muffled by her disguise, but no less enthusiastic, “Kinda reminds me of the time I got locked in a pizzeria overnight by accident.”

“What’s a pit-zer- nevermind,” Willow refocused, examining the amorphous shell, “... I’m surprised at how well this is holding together… this is way easier than holding an actual Abomination in one piece.”

“So it’s working?”

“Yeah… but you gotta change the way you talk,” the Witchling noted, rubbing her chin, “Abominations don’t… have great vocabularies, generally? They don’t talk like people, they really can only string together basic sentences; only super advanced Abominations made by high-ranking Coven members are capable of complex speech.”

“What, like,” Luz abruptly slumped, staggering forwards with jerky, exaggerated motions, “ Yeeeeeesssss, Masstaaaaaaaaar…

At this, the green-eyed girl couldn’t help but giggle, “Actually, that’s pretty close! Just do that, and do what I tell you to do, and I think it should be smooth sailing.”

“Got it!” the other teen gave what Willow assumed was supposed to be a thumbs up.

“Alright, I guess we’re doing this,” Willow reached down, resetting her overturned wheelbarrow, “I’m gonna have to ask you to get in the cauldron. It should be big enough for you, but I’m sorry if it’s a little uncomfortable.”

“I’ll be fine!” Luz stated cheerfully, climbing up onto the wheelbarrow and into the cauldron, “I can handle a couple hours of discomfort if it means learning some Magic! Eda’s gonna be so impressed with how much I know when I get back!”

Eda. Where had Willow heard that name before…?

Another piece of the puzzle - but the puzzle would have to wait.

As it was, they were already running the risk of being late.

“Try not to make too much noise,” the Witchling said, putting the lid back on top of the cauldron, “I’d rather not draw attention. The more we can keep you in there, and the less we have to actually keep up the facade, the better.”

“You got it, Willow!”

With that, Willow released her hold on the purple goo. She gripped the wheelbarrow handles, lifted, and set off towards Hexside School of Magic and Demonics, shaken free of her anxieties.

All but one, at least.

… what was she going to do with Luz when this was over?...


She was running out of testing grounds.

Or perhaps more accurately, she was running out of time.

She idly tapped her pen against the paper as she looked over the maps with a clinical eye, the numerous circles - and nearly just as numerous Xs that had been crossed through them - staring back at her like eyes innumerable from some shapeless amalgamate of a monster, each with notes about the relative success or failure associated with the location. The light filtering in through the blinds was not helping matters, the clear blue beyond the slats of the cheap flimsy metal making her eyes sting; focusing her Soul Wavelength into her eyes was enough to render the daylight brilliance beyond the window a mere nuisance, but a nuisance it remained, the obnoxious shine of a summer’s day and the stifling heat it brought worsened by the relatively poor conditions of the building she had chosen for her base of operations, discreet, out of the way, and actively avoided by the local populace and only watched by the crazed eyes of the maddened sun...

But beggars couldn’t be choosers, and her work demanded a hardy, persistent patience at any rate.

‘Hong Kong, May 15, 2017.

‘Souls Devoured: 5.

‘Developmental progress of Demon Sword within acceptable parameters. However, impact on local populace remains minimal. Madness Wavelength remains localised to Subject.

‘Madness Wavelength Experiment Results: Failure.’

‘New Orleans, October 21, 2017.

‘Souls Devoured: 7.

‘Developmental progress of Demon Sword within acceptable parameters. Impact on local populace remains minimal. Attempts to amplify Madness Wavelength unsuccessful; Wavelength remains localised to Subject.

‘Madness Wavelength Experiment Results: Failure.’

‘Moscow, March 27, 2018.

‘Souls Devoured: 6.

‘Developmental progress of Demon Sword within acceptable parameters. Subject’s Madness Wavelength finally appears to be affecting environment and Souls it comes into contact with. However, impact on local populace remains minimal. 

‘Madness Wavelength Experiment Results: Tentative success.’

On and on through the months these logs continued, the more detailed personal reports hidden away in the cabinet that had been concealed into the wall with Magic.

‘Cairo, August 19, 2018.

‘Souls Devoured: 7.

‘Developmental progress of Demon Sword appears to have slowed compared to initial predictions. More Souls may be required for progress to continue.  No progress on Subject’s Madness Wavelength since the Moscow experiment. Perhaps this is evidence of a point of diminishing returns?

‘Madness Wavelength Experiment Results: Failure.’

She hadn’t expected the process to be easy by any means. Rather, she had expected setbacks, failures, even. Both of her own accord, and on account of the test subject.

‘Quebec City, November 1, 2018.

‘Souls Devoured: 10.

‘Developmental progress of Demon Sword does indeed require an increased intake of human Souls than was initially projected. Frequency of killings and number of victims will both need to increase for visible progress to resume. No progress on Subject’s Madness Wavelength since the Moscow experiment.

‘Madness Wavelength Experiment Results: Failure.’

It wasn’t as though she didn’t have an abundance of humans to experiment with. They were everywhere, these days; almost no point of this realm had been left untouched by them. Curious, inquisitive things, she had to admit - from a scientific, entirely entrepreneurial standpoint, she couldn’t help but feel some level of kinship for the species.

‘Dubai, February 5, 2019.

‘Souls Devoured: 14.

‘Beginning increase in frequency of experiments. Subject required coercion. Developmental progress of Demon Sword still slow. Yet to see if increased frequency will increase speed of development. Actual experiments regarding Madness Wavelength will need to be postponed until further notice.

‘Madness Wavelength Experiment Results: N/A.’

The individuals within that species, however, were terribly dull, even considering the complacency that was all too commonly found in the ‘human’ realm these days.

‘Chicago, May 3, 2019.

‘Souls Devoured: 17.

‘Subject required further coercion. Punishments applied accordingly. Developmental progress of Demon Sword appears to have increased in accordance with the Dubai experiment; larger number of victims has increased progress as predicted (minimum 10-15). Frequency of experiments shall be maintained or increased as necessary. Singular sprees are to be maintained as to avoid connection between incidents.

‘Madness Wavelength Experiment Results: N/A.’

In the absence of Witchkind, they had all gotten too comfortable.

‘Kyoto, July 5, 2019.

‘Souls Devoured: 14.

‘Subject appears to have settled into the new routine. Developmental progress of the Demon Sword within acceptable parameters. As a side note, Dainslief is becoming difficult to handle; may require punishment if it continues acting up.

‘Madness Wavelength Experiment Results: N/A.’

Even the humans that fought among themselves failed to scratch her inquisitive itch, or even briefly entertain her nowadays; there was nothing interesting about a conflict for resources, and even conflicts for monetary gain were incredibly dull. She knew everything she needed to know about the base need for sustenance and the desire for wealth.

‘Paris, October 20, 2019.

‘Souls Devoured: N/A; 19 killed. Souls confiscated for the purposes of behavioural correction.

‘Dainslief attacked me, attempting to use its position within the Subject to puppet it for the purpose of devouring my Soul. Severe punishment was meted out to both. No progress made during this experiment. However, Madness Wavelength was noted during incident; perhaps I should resume experimentation.

‘Madness Wavelength Experiment Results: N/A.’

Not that Witches were any better, really. If humans were merely dull, then Witches were pathetic. With the Old Witch losing her touch, she was blind to the infighting taking place within the ranks of the Order - and that wasn’t even touching on the Boiling Isles, the Emperor of which seemed to have outright modelled his ideal society off that of humans.

‘São Paulo, January 28, 2020.

‘Souls Devoured: 18.

Developmental progress of Demon Sword has once again slowed, as within predicted parameters. Will begin increase in experiment frequency to monthly occurrences. However, progress on Madness Wavelength appears to have stalled. Will need to encourage its manifestation somehow.

‘Madness Wavelength Experimentation Results: Failure.’

It would be laughable, if it weren’t all so pitiful. It was almost enough to make her yearn for the company of her sisters, if only for the sake of an intelligent conversation not plagued with discussion of things that ultimately had no impact on which direction the worlds spun.

‘Sydney, February 19, 2020.

‘Souls Devoured: 28.

‘Developmental progress of Demon Sword has resumed acceptable parameters. Once again, a larger number of victims is required to maintain progress (minimum 25-30). This increase was anticipated. Madness Wavelength manifestation, however, remains minimal, despite Dainslief’s increasing influence over the Subject. Need to identify the cause restricting the Wavelength.

‘Madness Wavelength Experiment Results: Failure.’

Unfortunately, even if she knew where her sisters were, they were each tied up in their own petty desires, more interested in fleeting power than watching the world as she was. And beyond that, they certainly would not be capable of solving her current conundrum, not without making her life substantially more difficult - undoubtedly in part because of all the knives they’d rather be sticking in her back. Not that she could blame them, really; she’d be doing the same thing if their positions were reversed.

‘London, March 13, 2020.

‘Souls Devoured: 34.

‘Developmental progress of the Demon Sword within acceptable parameters. Dainslief, however, got reckless, and I needed to recall the Subject by force to prevent conflict with police and exposure. Both were punished accordingly. Attention has been drawn to this incident; will need to select next location with care to prevent a connection from forming. Madness Wavelength continues to refuse to manifest.

‘Madness Wavelength Experiment Results: Failure.’

The issue lay in the fact that she hadn’t made any real progress in months.

‘Beijing, April 24, 2020.

‘Souls Devoured: 26.

‘Developmental progress of the Demon Sword within acceptable parameters. Beginnings of Madness Wavelength seemed to have some effect on the surrounding populace, but only within a small area - mass hysteria noted, but exact results are difficult to determine. Madness Wavelength still woefully behind projections, despite manifestation.

‘Madness Wavelength Experiment Results: Failure.’

Despite the growing strength of the Palisman Sword on its steady diet of human Souls, it was failing to project any Madness outwards. The energy seemed to remain firmly directed inwards; the Souls of both the petulant Dainslief and its host were practically swimming in Madness, but they were not performing as she’d hoped in the slightest.

‘Birmingham, May 19, 2020.

‘Souls Devoured: 37.

‘Developmental progress of the Demon Sword within acceptable parameters. However, Madness Wavelength manifestation attempts have been met with abject failure. I am beginning to wonder if this is merely the result of incompatibility between the Subject and Dainslief, or perhaps the Subject with the very nature of these experiments. 

‘Madness Wavelength Experiment Results: Failure. I am losing both time and patience with these repeated results, even with the enhanced power of the Subject and Palisman. The next experiment will be their final opportunity to prove that one or both can become a Kishin before I move on to different methods.’

Although she was certain that even if a connection was made between each individual incident that no connection could be drawn back to her, she was beginning to question how long that reality could be maintained for - as well as the validity of this particular path. If the true creation of a Demon Sword took this long to achieve, even in an environment specifically designed to nurture and exacerbate Madness within a particular subject, then she didn’t know how long she had before such connections could be drawn. She had no choice but to treat it as an inevitability; eventually, someone would notice not only the number of incidents, but also the similarities between them, and from there, draw connections. It was only a matter of time; she needed to come to a conclusion, or find an alternate way forwards, before that happened.

She wouldn’t echo the mistakes of her older sister, who’d been too proud to consider the possibility that she might be discovered; moreover, she wasn’t about to continue an enterprise that was doomed to failure. Twelve years may be a long time to invest in a project such as this, even for a Witch, but she was not so stubborn as to fall for the sunk cost fallacy. If the current project would not work as she intended, she would simply need to find another method with which to employ the Black Blood.  She already had some ideas, and enough resources to begin their implementation… but in the meantime…

Her ear twitched as the door clicked, and then swung open; small feet hesitantly stepped forwards, almost shuffling in their attempt to avoid making noise. Nonetheless, they distracted her from her train of thought, and she closed her eyes with only the slightest of sighs to betray her frustration.

“Crona,” she didn’t so much as look up, putting a distinctly clinical disappointment into her tone as she spoke, “I thought I told you not to disturb me.”

“... I-I’m sorry, Lady Medusa,” the child stammered, their voice wavering with every word, “B-But Ragnarök won’t leave me alone! He won’t let me sleep, and I don’t know how to deal with it!”

Slowly, she turned to face the child, arms and legs crossed and golden eyes narrowed; they were slim, perhaps unhealthily so, the thin dress that would have been stretched thin on any other child their age practically swaddling them in folds of black fabric. Beneath their tangled purple bangs, their blue eyes were ringed with shadows, the folds in their pale skin like black ripples in an otherwise pristine pool of liquid marble. Their whole body shook, and they hugged their arms to their chest, seeming to be trying to compress themselves inwards as though they could suck their whole body into nothingness in some personalised black hole.

I told you she wouldn’t listen to you, Crona.

The voice was as deep as it was malicious, bearing a demonic echo as a dark sludge began to emerge from the preteen’s back, gradually gaining more definition as it settled into a humanoid form; with its muscles horrendously exaggerated, its whole body bore more bulk than most demons, and Crona’s slim frame visibly struggled to hold up its sheer weight for a brief moment before steadying. Its circular eyes somehow twisted in a sneer, the white X that formed over its otherwise entirely smooth skull seeming to facsimile the crest of a brow and the bridge of a nose. It roughly gripped the child’s skull, yanking it around with a gleeful cruelty.

Look at you, ” it mocked, tugging on the pale teen’s cheek and making them wince with obvious pain, “ Running back to Medusa! Even after she told you she didn’t want to hear it!

“Stop it, Ragnarök!” Crona cried, weakly batting at the demon’s hands, “If I don’t get any sleep, my eyes will be all baggy tomorrow and I don’t know how to deal with that!”

You deal with it by sucking it up, ” the demonic caricature only pulled harder in response to Crona’s half-hearted attempts to push it away, “ No one likes a whiner, Crona! It’s why you don’t have any friends!

While it usually took no control to keep herself from reacting to the back and forth, Medusa could feel her temple beginning to throb as she watched the pair, her usual dispassionate detachment from them both marred by the urge to sigh in frustration; refusing to grant so much as a blink, however, she kept her gaze even, a finger idly stroking the scale pattern of the tattoo of her arm beneath her white lab coat.

“... how many times have I told you, Crona,” she began, only allowing the faintest of scoldings to etch her words, “ not to indulge Dainslief’s delusions of being the Ragnarök?”

At this, the Black Sword Palisman went still, ceasing its bullying of its host; it raised its gaze to glare at the Witch, a low growl rising in whatever passed for its throat.

Finally, she turned her eyes up towards the black iron being, maintaining an appraising, distinctly unimpressed stare. She said nothing, however, not bothering to dignify the implied threat with a response.

Its hackles raised with anger at the silence, but she maintained her gaze, unwilling to treat the interaction as anything more than the verging tantrum of a child. After a long moment, the Palisman’s entire frame lost all aggression, its eyes breaking from hers as it settled back behind Crona, keeping a hand firmly on the child’s shoulder.

It seemed that it remembered the Paris experiment after all.

“As for you, Dainslief,” she started pointedly, “When I told Crona that I was not to be disturbed, that warning by extension applied to you as well.”

At this, the would-be Demon Sword flinched slightly; it maintained its silence, not rising to meet Medusa’s stare again, seeming to be wishing it had not made its appearance.

“... let me make myself perfectly clear,” she lectured, letting her eyes narrow for the first time, “You both have a significant amount of work to do tonight, and as such, both of you need to be rested. I do not have the time or the patience for tonight's experiment to end in failure because one or both of you neglected to get a full eight hours of sleep. Do you understand?”

“... y… yes, Lady Medusa,” Crona warbled, barely managing to meet her eyes.

“... Dainslief,” she prompted.

The creature flinched again before raising its head to glower at her, defiant; for a long moment, it stared her down before finally letting out an angry mutter, “Yes.”

“Good,” she turned back to her notes and maps, “Now get back to bed, both of you, and keep the lights off and the blinds shut. I don’t want to see you again until tonight.”

“... yes… Lady Medusa,” the teen murmured, weak and defeated as their shuffling footsteps resumed. Slowly, the door closed behind them, and the creaking of the floorboards grew more and more distant, until they faded into silence entirely.

Satisfied, she reached for another paper, picking it up to examine it, lifting it into the sunlight, forcing her eyes to narrow to make the text readable; it wouldn’t be long before she needed to rest as well. Even Witches had their limits, and despite being yet to settle on a solution for her current situation, she needed to be in top condition herself for the coming night’s experiment.

Even so, she wanted to be as thorough as possible before letting herself rest.

She leaned forwards on her elbows as she skimmed through the manuscript’s contents, raising an eyebrow as she read the title. 

Peering Into the Blackened Soul, and the Magics Therein: An Exploration of the Ancient, the Arcane, and the Accursed.

Written by Medusa Gorgon and-...

Ah.

Now this…

This brought back memories.

Even Medusa couldn’t quite fight back the twisted smile that crossed her lips at the thought of that devil-may-care grin against a shock of orange hair, eyes of brilliant gold gleaming in the Demonic Realms’ half-light daylight. A brilliant Witch in every regard, from her staggering intellect and power to her absolute refusal to be controlled, either by the Emperor, or the Old Witch.

Her old partner in the exploration of dark and ancient Magics.

“Edalyn Clawthorne,” she mused, settling back into her chair as she let the wave of nostalgia take her, “How the time flies…”



Notes:

I FINALLY INTRODUCED MEDUSA! YAAAAAAAY!

Sorry for the delay, everyone! This is something I've been fighting with for a while, but I've been super excited to show you all this chapter! It's late because of family stuff and... well... uh...

...

... because...

...

... because Elden Ring...

...

... I'M A HUGE SOULSBORNE FAN, OKAY!? I'M ONLY HUMAN!

In all seriousness, I hope you enjoyed the bombshells I dropped here, and I'm sorry it took so long for this to come out. I'm going to try to get the next chapter out in the next two weeks; with any luck at all it should be easier this time since I'm done with school for the summer.

Thanks for giving this a read, everyone, and thank you so much for your patience and understanding with me. Let me know what you think! I hope you all enjoyed the twenty first chapter of Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance!

Chapter 22: Assignments Underway

Notes:

I do not own Owl House or Soul Eater.

If I did, I'd be writing a script, rather than a novel. And it would take nowhere near as long.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

It was a genuine struggle for Amity to not drum her fingers across the surface of her desk.

A well practised struggle, mind, but however much she trained in the art of stillness, of keeping every motion she made precise, accurate and deliberate, the impulse to let some part of her body fidget remained. To stretch and flex her toes; to bounce her legs on the balls of her feet; to drum her fingers upon the surface of her desk, or roll her pencil back and forth across its surface like a bored cat. She even had to admit, it was amusing when Ghost did it - but Palisman or not, a cat was a cat.

Amity was not a cat. 

She was a Witch.

More than that, she was a Blight.

And Witches of the Blight Family had to be perfect in every manner, as they had been since before the Emperor’s reign, and even before the rise of the Old Witch.

As such, she kept her body still, only adjusting her position to gaze around the room at her fellow classmates, each and every motion practised and deliberate.

Things were going as she had expected, rather than as she had hoped. Despite her efforts to improve overall class performance, most of the students present were still struggling with creating a proper Abomination; the formulae to create an Abomination were complex on their own, but creating an entirely new Soul, no matter how basic or transient, was hardly an easy task. Shaping and weaving Magic through the mixture into a singular point, and then compressing it, concentrating long enough that it formed into a pseudo-Soul capable of understanding its creator’s intentions, if not necessarily their actual words, and following their commands… even she had to acknowledge the difficulty in that, and she was likely the most well practiced student in Abomination Magic in the room.

And it only became more difficult the more complex and powerful the Abomination’s Soul had to be - difficult enough that Amity still heard Mother occasionally cursing the outlawing of animal and human sacrifice for the creation of Abominations, even with the practice’s tendency to result in Abominations that were anywhere from mildly disobedient to dangerously unpredictable.

Here and now, though, only basic Abominations were being presented.

At the very least, most of them had proven to be adequate, if only barely. They were managing to maintain the shapes of their viscous liquid golems, giving them basic commands, which the creatures then struggled to perform, staggering about as they attempted to lift their cauldrons or their creators off the floor, or write out the beginnings of the old runic alphabet, or even manage to speak a sentence or two.

They were hardly measuring up to Amity’s own astronomical standards - already, she was drawing up an after-school program to propose to Professor Hermonculus to improve class performance in her mind, comprised primarily of review and experimentation - but by the same token even she had to begrudgingly admit that nobody could master a Magic in three weeks. 

Hermonculus, however, clearly disagreed.

“Too many toenails in unexpected places,” he huffed, dismissive as he turned away from the horned Witchling, her hopes swiftly dwindling even before he declared “Fail.”

As the lid was placed firmly back onto the cauldron, the young Blight held back a sigh; there hadn’t been anything wrong in particular with that Abomination, not really, but Wickeh Treo hadn’t followed the instructions of the presentation. Rather than manipulating her Abomination into the classic and versatile humanoid shape, Wickeh had turned it into something comprised primarily of feet and closely resembling a modern art piece, something that the cantankerous perfectionist Hermonculus was known for having precious little patience for.

His small body, barely coming up to Amity’s knee when perched on his thin, stubby legs, was carried by his own Abomination, its glowing pink eyes glowing and its Soul clearly visible alongside its master’s, holding him at eye level as he crossed his arms. His Soul was the colour of a pale rose, clearly displaying his high strung nature with its carefully maintained shape, his Wavelength quick and rhythmic like a swiftly strummed lute. His pale skin and what remained of his green hair around the sides of his head and at the tip of his chin seemed only to enhance the severity of his expression, which was already quite unamused, the downwards curve of his nigh-beaklike mouth enough to trick one into thinking he was incapable of smiling.

“Pathetic,” he all but spat, adjusting his glasses as Wickeh returned to her seat, “ Three weeks I’ve put my all into teaching you the ins and outs of Abomination Magic, and a select few aside, you’re closer to being Abominations yourselves than you are to successfully making one! As far as I can tell, you collectively understand about as much as one!”

No one so much as breathed a word; they only watched as his gaze swept the room, eyes as hard and sharp as his tone, “ Clearly, the lot of you haven’t had enough practice! If the next Abomination presented fails, everyone will be receiving extra homework for the entirety of the next lunar cycle!”

This time, the class stirred, unable to remain silent in the face of the threat; Amity kept her smile firmly in place, though she did feel it stretch somewhat at the hushed whispers of panic that echoed around her, a certain satisfaction settling into her stomach at her classmates’ evident distress.

More homework!? I’m barely managing as it is!”

“He’s bluffing, right? He’s gotta be bluffing, there’s no way-”

“This is Hermonculus, of course he’s not bluffing-!”

“We just cleared the last round of extra homework-!”

She knew it was wrong to feel that way. To take pleasure in their anxiety, their fear, the way they squirmed when put under duress. But some small part of her couldn’t help it. It was, in a way, confirmation of her own skill compared to those around her; acing every test, mastering every paper, perfecting every performance, a little extra homework was just another minor hurdle for her to step over, while everyone else was already floundering.

Besides that, it was an opportunity; struggling students wouldn’t last in Hexside, after all, and as the class representative, it was as much her job to help her peers grow as it was their Professor’s. It wouldn’t be easy, and she had no doubt some of them would drop out of the class entirely before she could realistically help them… but gradually, overall performance would improve. An overall high grade in the class would be largely attributed to her efforts - and with Amity’s already soaring grades, it would only reflect better on her, both as a Witch and as a Blight, in the long run.

And Boscha had the nerve to whine about how little time Amity had to spend with her.

Bringing herself back to the present, and tuning the babbling out and into the background, Amity briefly glanced at the clock; it wasn’t quite close to the second quarter just yet, but by the same token, Professor Hermonculus was as passionate as he was strict. For better or for worse, he was a man who loved to fawn and espouse endlessly about anything that managed to impress him - and the mint-haired heiress was certain that once he saw her Abomination, he wouldn’t be able to stop himself from using it as the perfect example, dragging his lecture out until the morning classes had concluded.

It was something of a dirty trick, to be sure… but it would buy her remaining classmates precious time to revise their work, and hopefully improve it, however slightly, for when it was time to present.

Well… all her classmates aside from Willow, at least.

She was fidgeting in her chair, almost seeming to space out entirely with her hands folded firmly on her desk, legs crossing and uncrossing and fingers all but tying themselves in knots in a display of total unease. Beside her, her ramshackle cast-iron cauldron sat, silent and motionless, but since class had begun at the end of the first quarter, she had checked on the contents of her cauldron at least half a dozen times; it was as though the dark-haired Witchling was half expecting its contents to either disappear or explode, and wasn’t certain which outcome would be worse.

Clearly, things hadn’t improved since morning.

But, Amity could hardly be surprised.

Instead, she raised her hand, maintaining her smile, “Professor? If I may, I’m ready to present my Abomination.”

To emphasise her scholarly eagerness, she let her Soul flare, Wavelength reaching into her cauldron to stir the contents within. The lid lifted however slightly, exposing the glowing eyes within, but the Blight didn’t let her creation out of its confines just yet; she had it wait, wait for the miniscule Witch’s permission to emerge. All around her, she could feel the class hold their breaths, hopeful that their Professor would show mercy by picking his favourite…

… all but Willow, who still didn’t seem to be paying any real attention. Rather, she seemed lost in her own little world, only paying token attention to what was around her, so anxious she seemed.

That was… disconcerting.

Nonetheless, Amity kept as much attention as she could on Professor Hermonculus, waiting, expectant, for him to take her bait.

When his sharp eyes landed on her, they immediately softened, an amused, but warm, proud smile gracing his face. But his laughter was playfully chiding “Ohoho, Amity… you know that I prefer to save the best for last. If I didn’t, we would get  nothing done. You’ll simply have to wait your turn.”

She kept her smile, biting down on the mild irritation that arose at the corner of her mind as Hermonculus returned to surveying the class; the other students immediately returned to their former anxious energy, aimless as they struggled not to whisper among themselves.

It should be fine, at least. As long as he didn’t pick-

A small, taloned hand immediately fell on the pale, dark-green haired girl, who’d once again lifted the lid of her cauldron.

“Willow Park,” he half said, half barked.

She blinked, dropping the lid with a startle, “Me?”

“You,” he nodded, “You will be next to present.”

The anxiety turned to gloom as Willow stared forwards like a griffon caught in lamplight, the entire room groaning in frustrated resignation as she slowly, painfully slowly got to her feet and started wheeling her cauldron up to the podium, lifting it off with a grunt before setting it on the floor.

“Not Half-A-Witch, ” one of the boys grumbled, slumping in his chair.

“Of course he picks her, ” Wickeh moaned, cupping her face with her hands. 

“The one person guaranteed to fail…”

“Guess I can kiss my weekends goodbye…”

Amity did her best to ignore them, now genuinely struggling to keep her smile in place, a pang of pity dropping into her gut like a stone. She didn’t take pleasure in watching Willow struggle, not like she did in watching others squirm and fail. With them, it wasn’t necessarily a failure of ability, but merely character; they had failed in some key way, either not paying proper attention, not keeping up with their studies, or simply missing some component of how the Magic worked. In any case, it was a lack of self-application that caused them to crash and burn; even if they would never be able to keep up with Amity Blight, just on account of how much effort she herself put in, it was amusing to see someone suffer the consequences of their own lack of effort, in addition to the satisfaction of knowing she had worked the hardest.

With Willow, there was none of that.

Willow tried. Willow fought and bit and clawed and tried. But it was never enough.

She could do Magic, certainly, she wasn’t a human… but it always seemed like something critical was missing. Something effort alone couldn’t bridge. Some key lack of understanding or capability that kept Magic eternally locked away, forcing her to only ever learn Magic meant for children.

That wasn’t amusing to watch.

It hurt. It hurt to watch the girl try and try and try, over and over again, only to end up with the same result. 

To always end up back where she started, no matter how hard she worked. 

To be Half-A-Witch.

It was why Amity had snapped at her earlier, seeing the irreparable mess Willow had made.

It was why Willow was the only one she genuinely wanted to help.

She was snapped out of her reverie by Willow’s breaths, long and slow; again, she seemed anxious about what was in her cauldron, swallowing hard, seeming unsure of what to do; she spaced out, biting at her lip, as though debating whether or not to even try…

‘... just sit down,’ the Blight thought, ‘There’s no shame in just sitting down, Willow. Please, just sit down…

“... Willow?” Hermonculus prompted, expectant.

“... sorry, sorry,” the green-eyed girl managed, “Just… nervous.”

“We don’t have all day,” he stated, crossing his arms, “Please bring out your Abomination, or I will mark it as a failure.”

Another harsh breath from Willow, before she steeled herself, reaching forwards to remove the lid.

Amity closed her eyes.

She didn’t want to watch.

She didn’t want to see Willow humiliate herself again…

“Abomination, rise.”

There was a loud series of squelches, and then a loud, harsh splat.

The entire class let out gasps and murmurs, forcing Amity’s eyes to blink back open.

The purple, sludgy figure slowly slid out of the cauldron, inching forwards bit by bit on its face before slowly pushing itself up into a seated position, its face flattened by the impact it had made against the floor. It looked about briefly before slowly rising to its feet, a muffled groan escaping its mottled mouth.

It was moving.

It was intact.

It was humanoid, with four limbs and a main body and a head with all the right features, if somewhat shorter than what the recipe should have made.

It even had a Soul, dim and basic, but burning in its confines nonetheless as it turned to face Willow, still groaning.

Willow herself seemed somewhat shocked, but nonetheless, directed the creature to the rest of the class, “Abomination, bow.”

It only took a couple seconds to glance at the captive class audience before obeying, haphazardly pulling one arm across its body before bending at the waist, dropping into a clumsy, exaggerated bow.

Amity was scouring its entire body, mouth dry and smile completely forgotten. This shouldn’t have been possible. There was no way Willow would have been able to create this out of the utter mess she’d had before class started. Someone else had to have made this, had to be animating it - that was the only plausible explanation for what she was seeing. Not even the youngest Blight could have made a functioning Abomination that quickly; she’d tried to do just that before, multiple times.

But there was no mistaking Willow’s Wavelength pulsing through the construct’s body, keeping it intact as any basic Abomination’s body should have been, shape and motion maintained by the Magic of its creator.

A nearly perfect basic Abomination.

“... remarkable, ” Hermonculus murmured, adjusting his glasses as his own Abomination held him in for a closer look, “I fully expected you to have nothing to show, Willow. This is extremely impressive; I’d expect this kind of work from Amity.

Willow’s cheeks burned, and she stammered, “W-Well, I’m not gonna say it was easy…”

“... can it speak?” he finally asked, looking back at the Park girl.

She bit her lip again, then cleared her throat, issuing the command, “Abomination, speak.”

Again, there was only a brief pause before the Abomination obeyed, “ ... I might beeee… an Abom…ination… ” it reached out, wrapping its gooey arms around Willow’s shoulders, “ But yoouuu’rrreee… myyy… A- mom… ination…

It made puns.

It understood wordplay well enough to make puns.

Amity still hadn’t garnered enough skill with the Magic to get her Abominations to do that.

Amomination! ” Professor Hermonculus let out a delighted chortle, clapping his hands, “This is quite an achievement, Willow; an Abomination that can perform wordplay like that is very impressive, especially for someone just starting down this track!”

“Like I said,” the green-eyed girl started, gently pushing the Abomination away, “It wasn’t easy.”

“I imagine not, but this is a remarkable improvement,” he smiled, “I am very impressed with you, Willow. You’ve earned yourself a perfect score!”

The entire classroom erupted in an uproar, but it was all a distant, dull roar in the Blight’s ears, the words blending together into a vague, uncomfortably loud drone as her stare kept flickering back and forth between Willow and her Abomination. The dark-haired Witchling stood nigh motionless, once again seeming trapped by her own anxiety, unable to fully process what was happening before slowly and sheepishly shuffling back to her desk, the Abomination picking up the cauldron, placing it in the wheelbarrow, and pushing it gently back to its master’s desk.

Amity knew what she had seen before, earlier that morning.

That Abomination had been completely unusable, unable to hold shape and utterly lacking in any sort of Soul.

It was absolutely impossible for Willow to have somehow salvaged it, much less in the mere minutes she had before class began.

There was no doubt in the class representative’s mind that Willow had cheated, somehow, some way. It was the only explanation that made any sense. It was tricky, but not impossible, to transfer ownership and mastery of an Abomination from one Witch to another, and the easiest way to do it was with a willing partner; it was what Amity herself had been planning to try to salvage Willow’s grade for the day.

But who, and why?... no one had shown any interest in helping Willow before. Barely anyone in this class had that sort of skill with Abomination Magic, and she sincerely doubted that any of them just had a spare perfect Abomination lying around for the infamous Half-A-Witch to use.

And moreover… what would drive Willow to cheat like this in the first place?...

‘... I’m definitely missing something here,’ she thought, not once noticing that her gaze had morphed into a hard glare as she stared into the back of Willow’s head. Without a way to prove that the green-eyed girl was somehow cheating, she couldn’t cause an uproar, not without getting in trouble; that would be unbecoming of the class representative, and even moreso of a Blight.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t make any moves.

She just needed to be patient.

Forcing herself to take a breath, she returned her attention to the presentations, doing her best to note the failings of each for later, and to keep her gaze from drifting back to Willow and the Abomination…


“Hellooooooooo Italy!”

Soul’s joyous roar was only barely audible over the roar of the motorcycle as they raced down the road, the winding streets easily wide enough for the Weapon to easily weave his way through the city even in the bright sunlight, the afternoon sun still burning brightly even as afternoon slowly bled into evening. Stalls, shops, vendors, people, they all shot by like the wind, a flurry of colour and brilliance that dazzled the eyes and left the senses ever more wanting, though the white haired preteen still took the streets and corners slowly enough that he had plenty of room for error, and that the both of them could catch glimpses of the veritable melting pot that surrounded them.

God, what a cool city!” he whooped, “You know, I had my doubts about coming to Venice, but call me a believer, Maka! This place is incredible!”

She didn’t answer, merely turning the page of her notebook as she studied the notes she’d taken regarding their mission.

“Makes me kinda sad we can’t see the rest of the country while we’re here,” he shouted, “What do you think, Maka? Should we get something to eat before we get started, take advantage of the school’s funding? I’m sure we can find some kickass all-you-can-eat pasta places here!”

“No time, Soul,” she declined idly, raising her voice over the nigh-obnoxiously loud purr of the engine, “We’re burning daylight and we have classes to get back to. We complete the mission, and grab the next flight back home, done and dusted.”

“Oh, lighten up, would ya? We can at least get something after that garbage airline food!” the Weapon called, glancing back at her briefly over his shoulder, “And would you get your nose out of that book while I’m driving? You’re as responsible for your safety as I am!”

“I trust that you can avoid getting into an accident,” she smirked, pulling her hand back to flick back a page, sitting on the bike with both hands free to prove her point.

“And you call me reckless!” he huffed.

“That’s because you are.

“Then why’d you let me drive?”

“‘Cause I don’t have a license.”

He snorted, but didn’t argue the point further, though he seemed more amused than exasperated or frustrated with the argument, “Who the Hell are we looking for out here anyways?”

“The Emerald Lake Killer - some guy named Sonson J.”

“What, the Crystal Lake copycat from BC?”

“That’s the one.”

“The Hell is he doing all the way out here in Venice? Shouldn’t he be harassing campers out in the Rockies or something?”

“Who knows? Maybe he had a hankering for some all-you-can-eat pasta.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t blame him!” Soul snickered, “Venice is a cultural melting pot! And food’s one of the best ways to experience that culture!”

“Well, we’ll have to come back at some point, then,” Maka snapped her book shut, “Sonson tends to commit his murders after dark, so we don’t have a lot of time before we’re on the clock. In a way, the extreme difference in time zones acts in our favour here; we can get straight to work.”

“Agree to disagree, Maka!” he huffed, “I don’t call getting up before midnight for a four hour flight, followed by a ten hour flight, and then immediately getting to work ‘in our favour!’ Besides, I don’t think the sun’s going down anytime soon, do you?”

She clicked her teeth, glancing up at the sun; despite the relatively late hour, it was nowhere near the horizon, the proper evening still quite a ways off. It would take some time for sunset to set in, and even then it likely wouldn’t be well and truly dark until well past ten in the evening.

Nonetheless, she remained firm, “Be that as it may, I still think we’re better off gathering info than we are wasting time at restaurants, Soul.”

He grunted, grumbling under his breath as they rounded yet another corner.

The grey-haired girl paused, then sighed, “... tell you what. Let’s get this wrapped up, and we’ll find some place tomorrow before we leave, okay? That way you won’t have to stomach crappy airplane food on the way home.”

At this, the white-haired Weapon glanced up at her, crimson eyes flashing despite the nonchalance of his expression; after a moment, he grinned, turning his attention back to the road, “That sounds cool as Hell, Maka.”

“Just seems like a decent compromise is all,” she scooted back slightly in her seat, looking back to the city around her, “You ready to get to work?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s go.”

The roar of the motorcycle redoubled, and they sped off into the winding labyrinth of roads and waterways…


The infernal scream of the bell was hardly music to Amity’s ears.

She could barely remember most of the class; despite her best efforts, she hadn’t been able to stop her mind from racing, tuning out everything around her except for Willow and that Abomination.

She doubted anyone else noticed, but its jerky movements had eventually ceased. It handed Willow her books with a smoothness it hadn’t had during her presentation; it scribbled down notes for her with far more dexterity than it should have had. It even seemed to act on its own to some degree, at one point pointing to something in the textbook that forced the green-eyed Witchling to bite down on a screech, running her fingers through her hair as if she had missed something extremely obvious. It was only now that class was over that its overtly jerky movements had resumed, taking exaggerated, staggering steps as it helped put Willow’s materials and books away for lunch.

And yet, throughout the entirety of the class, Willow’s Magic had never wavered; her Wavelength filled the Abomination, undeniable proof that somehow she was maintaining it, maintaining its movement. And all the while, its Soul burned, never once threatening to wink out throughout the entirety of the morning.

There was definitely something up with that construct.

Taking a breath, Amity stood, slowly striding out the door to follow Willow as she walked down the hall, the Abomination beside her pushing the wheelbarrow.

“... very impressive, Willow,” she stated.

The darker-haired teen jumped, spinning in place with a yelp and very nearly smacking the Blight with a flailing arm; she stared for a moment before giving a nervous chuckle, “Uh… heheh… uh, thanks… Amity…”

“No need to thank me,” she let her gaze slide over to the Abomination, which now stood stock still, seeming to stare at her, “It really does deserve praise. It’s not quite as good as mine in some respects - mine move more smoothly - but even I have to admit it when I see something this well made.”

“Y-yeah,” Willow managed, fidgeting, her nervousness from before having seemed to returned, if not redoubled, now that she was under closer scrutiny.

Amity paid it no heed, instead leaning in towards the Abomination for a closer look, arms crossed; it didn’t react, staying stock still as the class representative looked it over, not even when she reached out to adjust its face, tilting its head one way, then the other, “It makes me wonder, though… how did you pull this off?”

“... forty eight hours without sleep, eight cans of Green Dragon, and A Fool’s Guide to Abominations?”

At this, the gold-eyed Witchling felt her teeth grind, frustration flooding her at what felt distinctly like mockery. She turned to face Willow, all pretence of patience gone, “Don’t play stupid with me, Willow. I saw your Abomination earlier. It was a puddle. It had no Soul. I can count the number of full-grown Witches I know who can throw together something like this in less than a segment on one hand and have fingers left over.”

The stockier girl swallowed hard, doing her best to stand tall despite the Blight looming over her, eyes wide and face pale.

Amity leaned forwards, eyes narrowed, “Who gave this thing to you?”

“N-no one!” Willow insisted, raising her hands as if to defend herself, “It’s all my work, I-I swear!”

A beat passed before Amity let a slow exhale escape through her nose, eyes closing. She tapped a black-painted fingernail against her arm briefly before opening her eyes again.

“... I don’t know how you did this, Willow. I really don’t; nothing I can think of makes any sense,” she finally intoned, eyes narrow and brows curled down, “But we both know what I saw this morning. And what you’re actually capable of when it comes to Magic.”

The words hung in the air, an unspoken accusation punctuating each and every one.

However, Willow didn’t react how Amity expected her to.

Rather than shrinking as she had before, her expression hardened. Her fists clenched at her sides briefly before she reached up, pushing her glasses back up her nose, lips pursed, her own eyes narrowed as she stood on tiptoe to bring herself closer to the youngest Blight’s face.

“... you don’t know the first thing about me, Amity,” she finally hissed, practically spitting the words out, “ Much less what I can actually do.”

Silence; Amity didn’t blink, didn’t move, waiting for Willow to realise the foolishness of her anger.

Instead, Willow let herself drop back to her heels, turning to her cauldron and lifting the lid.

“Abomination, in,” she commanded.

The Abomination obeyed, flopping forwards awkwardly into the cauldron before dropping the rest of the way in, remaining firmly humanoid even as Willow replaced the cover.

“Go have lunch with Boscha,” she said, lifting the wheelbarrow and beginning to stride back down the hall, “I’m not seeing you for ‘tutoring’ today.”

“... I’ve got my eye on you, Willow,” was all Amity offered in retort before she rounded the corner.

When the other Witchling had disappeared, the mint-haired girl raised her hand, examining the handful of Abomination goo she had swiped from Willow’s creation. Separated from the overall construct, it was now runny, thin, although nonetheless sticky, forcing her to stretch out her fingers to get them apart. 

There was no way this would be viscous enough to hold form on its own; Amity doubted even she could force an Abomination to hold shape with this material. A Witch may as well try to make a sculpture out of completely melted ice.

She turned, walking down the hall before turning into the bathroom; after checking to see if anyone was present, she chose a stall, and locked herself in, staring at the purple sludge.

Amity knew she shouldn’t be doing this, especially not after spending part of her morning lecturing Willow over mixing Magic.

But by the same token, she was studying to take that apprenticeship under Countess Clawthorne; Mother had seen fit to ‘get ahead’ on Amity’s studies in that regard.

Besides, this was as much for Willow as it was for anything else.

As much as she hated seeing Willow struggle, as much as she didn’t want to watch Willow be humiliated… she couldn’t just let this slide. Not when it could turn out so much worse for her in the long run.

“I’m sorry, Willow,” Amity murmured, closing her eyes, “But this is for your own good.”

Her Soul flared; the familiar, lighter purples typical of the Oracle Coven gleamed within her Wavelength, the whispers of spirits making themselves known to her. The world around her at once went dark and brightened as she closed herself to the physical realm around her, and opened herself to the spiritual realm, the realm of the Soul itself. The lights gleamed around her, the spirits called, all trying to get her attention and whisk her off into the distant dark that lured away many young Witches unprepared for this spell…

But she ignored them, as Mother had taught her.

Instead, she directed them, forced them to focus on the material in her hand, to guide her back to its creation; to find the source of the residual Wavelength that remained within…

‘... no,’ she realised, ‘Not Wavelength… Wavelengths.

Amity followed their trail back, peering into the past; pity filled her once again as she watched Willow struggle through the night and into the morning to get her Abomination to form, and then later at her own harsh words upon seeing the utter mess the desperate Park had made, her herculean efforts met with naught but scolding. She watched herself leave, the promise she made now feeling empty…

She skipped ahead, seeking out the second Wavelength she felt. It was so bright, but so small, a distant star or a blazing spark, ready to burst with energy, but so fragile…

Finally, she found it.

The girl, tan skinned and dark haired, seemed practically made of chocolate. She met Willow’s pessimism with boundless enthusiasm, grinning with open wonder at the Witchling before her, as if everything she’d seen up to now was her first time seeing-

‘-not a Witch… are you?’

‘-couldn’t tell?-’

‘-so small -’

‘-easy to overlook-’

‘-human on the Boiling Isles-’

The words, only distantly heard through spirits and Soul, nearly knocked the Blight out of the spell entirely. She struggled, only barely regaining her foothold to watch the rest of the scene unfold. The girl flopped down into the goo, as if she were a toddler playing in the mud, and then Willow flared her Soul; the purple sludge rose, and coated the girl, her body acting as a frame, giving it shape, her Soul muted somewhat by the Magic in her new coating…

She released the spell.

Amity collapsed against the stall wall, staring down at her hand as she gasped for breath, less from exertion, more from shock.

She’d been right.

Willow had, in fact, cheated.

She just cheated in a way that Amity had never expected would even be possible.

“... a human…?”


“... so, what makes you think the Demon Sword’s going to be here, in Italy?”

“Just a hunch,” Stein took a sip of his coffee, the bitterness and heat pleasant on his tongue as he stared at the twin screens of his laptop.

“A hunch?” Spirit asked, tone flat, his own coffee laden with so much milk and sugar that Stein was no longer sure it could be identified as coffee, “You dragged me all the way out to Italy based on a hunch?

“Mm-hm,” he glanced up from the screens, smiling, “I thought you’d have a little more appreciation, Spirit. Remember the last time we came to Venice?”

“You threatened to kill half the Materazzi,” the Death Scythe recounted dryly, “The other half, you traumatised. We’re lucky the DWMA didn’t force us to pay their therapy bills.”

“In my defence, the head of the family did have a Kishin Egg Soul in the end,” the doctor noted.

“Which Lord Death confiscated.”

“It still needed to be done. Plus it’s pretty thoroughly neutered them as a threat. Are the Materazzi even involved in organised crime anymore?”

“Nah, at this point they’re just hooligans that stand on lawns and solicit private property, at least according to what I’ve read since,” the Death Scythe took a long sip of his blend, “They’re not harmless, there are still assaults and muggings that happen from time to time, but they’ve long since fallen off the stage as a major crime organisation.”

“Well, then I’ll count it as a success.”

“Of course you do,” Spirit sighed, taking another sip of coffee, his expression that of a man who longed to sneak some whiskey into his drink. Then he glanced up at Stein again, frowning, “Hey, would you stop turning that screw in your head every ten seconds? You’re drawing attention to us.”

Stein blinked; he hadn’t even realised he had reached up to adjust the screw, the clicking failing to register on his ears; he’d only been aware of the fading pressure on his skull, the relaxation that followed flooding through his body, every joint and muscle loosening with the turn of the screw.

He chuckled, “That’s not really something I can help, Spirit. This thing’s been in my head for so long that I forget people don’t consider it normal.”

Despite the Weapon’s snort, the words were entirely true; it had taken Stein a frankly embarrassing amount of time to figure out why he’d been getting so many strange stares and averted gazes since he left Death City. Even now in the Caffé del Doge, people were either overtly trying to avoid staring at him, or couldn’t even be bothered to make the attempt, likely wondering how he was even functioning, much less sipping black coffee as he idly scrolled through the files on his laptop. It was every bit as patchwork as he was, with various covers awkwardly broken off, taped together and screwed into place wherever he could find room for screws between the myriad of datachips, processors, and batteries, its pair of screens not quite folding over top of each other properly even when closed. With its sheer bulk, many awkward parts, and the volume of its fan, it was less a laptop computer and more of a portable desktop with a built-in power source.

“... but seriously,” Spirit began, “Why Venice? There’s gotta be more to your reasoning than just a hunch.”

Finally, Stein felt his expression grow more serious, his stitches stiff against the slight frown of his brow, “I hate to admit it, Spirit, but I don’t have a whole lot of leads to go on regarding this. There are only a couple of consistent threads between each case, those being the weapon used, and the surprise attacks in gathering places or high traffic areas. There is some level of tourism comparison to be made with each target - they’re all fairly major cities that draw foreigners from all over the world - but that doesn’t really contribute to any sort of pattern, since no city gets hit twice, but some countries haven’t been touched at all, like Spain and Germany, while Britain has had two separate incidents. Predicting where the next strike is going to be may be just about impossible; there isn’t exactly a shortage of cities that are tourist hotspots in the world.”

“So again,” the redheaded Weapon pressed, “Why Venice?”

“Two reasons,” the pale Meister held up his index and middle fingers, “The first being that I’ve had Azusa looking into the evidence collected at each incident, looking at it more in depth for a more concrete link than just the Weapon.”

“Having her look for residual traces of Soul Wavelength?” Spirit raised an eyebrow, “I thought those decayed too quickly for them to be found after more than a few minutes.”

“They do. But you know Azusa; even Makoto and I can’t quite match those eyes of her’s,” Stein tapped his glasses, “If anyone can find a residual Soul Wavelength in those crime scenes, it’s her. Though apparently it was quite the song and dance trying to get the Chinese government to cooperate.”

The Death Scythe snorted, derisive, “As if we needed more reasons to dislike the Chinese government.”

The Meister chuckled, then refocused, “At any rate, she eventually got back to me with something; a very faint, incomplete, but distinct signature.”

“And you think there’s a match for it somewhere in this city?”

“We have to start looking somewhere. And there’s probably only one city in all of Italy that matches Venice in its prominence as a tourist destination - Rome.”

Another thoughtful sip of that sickeningly sweet coffee, those cyan eyes narrowed as Spirit peered into him, seeming to be searching for something in the patchwork man’s pale green eyes. 

“Okay,” he finally started, “I think I get your thought process. But why are you so fixated on the tourism and population size of each city that gets hit?”

“Well, that’s the other thing,” Stein mused, leaning on the table, “From each attack, I’m getting the impression that there’s a specific objective that whoever is doing this is trying to carry out. They want something specific to happen, and they need lots of travel and a large population density in order to make it happen.”

“Not to mention the diverse cultural makeups of places like that,” the Weapon rubbed his chin, “Lots of intermingling, and not all of it ends well.”

Silence hung in the air for a long moment as both men pondered, the only sound being the music played gently over the speakers in the dim lighting.

“... assuming that this Wavelength is that of a Witch, or a Demon Sword,” Spirit began, “Did the Wavelength signature Azusa sent you have any tinge of Madness, Stein?”

“A bit, yes,” Stein nodded, “But since it’s incomplete I can’t tell to what degree.”

“Any amount is enough to draw some assumptions,” the Death Scythe gestured to the computer, “May I see some of those files?”

Wordlessly, Stein turned the laptop around, and pushed it towards his partner; the redhead swiftly began scrolling, cyan eyes shooting back and forth between the screens and giving off the minute movements that were telltale of a swift reader, somehow taking in each document within less than a minute before moving onto the next.

“Highly populated areas… train stations… places of worship… indiscriminate slaughters,” he murmured, coffee forgotten as he fought to put the pieces together, “No immediate pattern of location, but… that doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

“You have an idea, Spirit?”

“Just a theory,” Death’s personal Scythe admitted, “But if I had to guess… it seems like whoever’s doing this was trying to use these murders in conjunction with a Madness Wavelength to inspire widespread panic.”

It was the Meister’s turn to quirk an eyebrow, “You think the killings themselves aren’t the actual goal here?”

“At the very least, I don’t think they’re the only goal,” Spirit stated, grabbing a napkin and pulling out a pen, scribbling out a drawing as he spoke, “Reading these, I feel like I’m seeing someone trying and failing to start a fire. Trying to do something in particular and failing repeatedly. If I’m right, then I think the goal here was to create much bigger incidents than what actually happened, with each massacre intended to act as the spark.”

Stein frowned as he looked over the quick, but surprisingly detailed sketch of a forest map, with multiple fires having died throughout; he glanced back at his partner as the computer was pushed back across the table, “If that’s the case, Spirit, then we’re not just dealing with a Demon Sword. They’re not exactly known for their ability to plan, much less set off deliberate chain reactions like what you’re suggesting.”

“You said yourself a Witch is the most likely culprit here,” the redhead picked up his coffee again, “Honestly, I’d be almost relieved if it were just a Witch.”

“I wouldn’t,” Stein crossed his arms, “Witches tend to fall into two categories with this sort of planning. They’re either reckless and get killed off the bat, or they’re careful and they never get caught. Given that this has been going on for two years at least, I’d say we’re probably dealing with the latter.”

“... God, I hate it when you’re right,” Spirit groaned.

“Aren’t I always?” the doctor smirked.

“That’s why I hate it so much.”

The clammy man chuckled, then glanced outside at the slowly setting sun, “... we should probably check into our hotel soon. We need to be on standby in case anything happens. I’d rather not be lugging around suitcases as we fight.”

“Yeah, I know,” the Scythe managed a smile, “Why do you think I insisted we go for coffee?”

“You realise all that sugar and caffiene is going to make you crash after a while, right?”

“Shut up.”

Stein merely laughed as Spirit downed the rest of his coffee.


The tune that the Owl Lady whistled was high and sharp as she strode back through the forest, the burlap sack a pleasant weight over her shoulder and against her back, King’s lightly padding footsteps not far behind as he struggled and fought with the large multicoloured puzzle box he had declared his new toy - or rather, his new “weapon of doomsday.” He whined and grunted relentlessly as he tried not to match the patterns, but rather to force them into particular combinations, caught halfway between trying to turn the various cubes as he was supposed to, and pry them apart, his stubby claws leaving scratches across each square.

Of course, it wasn’t a true doomsday device - Eda knew an empty prison seal when she saw one, and this one had its sealing Magic corroded entirely by the carrion crawler - but she wasn’t about to tell King that, not when it would likely keep him preoccupied for days, and especially not when watching him adorably struggle with it would bring nigh endless entertainment.

She herself had gotten a truly impressive haul; that particular trash slug had eaten a pretty large selection of magical items, many of them still having some magic intact, or at least would be easy enough to restore into something usable or sellable at the night market. Even beyond that, the number of random nicknacks, paper weights, fidget toys and even just random junk she could fashion into “collectables” would be enough to keep her stall full for quite some time, enough that she wouldn’t need to make another trip into the human realm for at least a couple more weeks.

Not that that would stop her; if there was anything her trip to Vegas and her cheating spree therein, culminating in a marriage that lasted for a grand total of an hour before she took the poor bastard for everything he owned, it was that keeping up with human customs and technology had its perks. Especially when she really needed to lay low from other Witches for a while.

She was pretty sure that Stanley Pines still owed her a favour or two, after all.

She snickered at the thought, easily hopping over the log again and stopping to wait for King, his new box being tossed over before he squirmed his way over the wet, rotting bark, immediately snatching the toy up and beginning to fidget with it again. Satisfied he was keeping up, she turned-

“So, when are you going to tell Luz?”

The Witch stopped mid-stride; she turned, blinking, “What?”

“You know,” he didn’t glance up from the cube, “That she can’t actually learn Magic?”

At this, her teeth clicked shut, the cheer draining from both her chest and her face as she stared down at the juvenile Demon. She felt her lips twist into a grimace, a frown creasing her brow as she tried to hold down the coming snap.

“What?” she asked instead, trying to bring back some of her usual sass, “You don’t like having the human around?”

“She’s fun. It’s good to have someone else around for a change, and she’s tough - she hasn’t run away screaming from us yet. That’s usually a good sign,” King ratcheted another piece around, managing to actually get some of the right pieces aligned before he promptly scrambled them again, “But eventually, she’s also gonna figure out that you’ve been lying to her about teaching her Magic.”

“And when that happens, I’ll send her home,” she turned away, resuming her way up the path, “A gentle toss through the portal, a little memory charm to remove a few days of memories, and boom, she’s home, no harm, no foul.”

After you teach her how to use her Soul Wavelength?” the Demon pressed, scampering forwards to stand in front of her, his puzzle forgotten in his hands.

Eda shrugged,“I don’t see why not,” she made a deliberate effort to step past the pup rather than over him, “You’ve seen how clumsy she is; Luz needs all the help she can get. I might be stringing her along with Magic, but that doesn’t mean I can’t get an actual lesson or two in for her.”

“That’s exactly what I’m asking about,” King insisted, this time jumping up on a rock to reach her eye level, “For someone who’s just using Luz for odd jobs and chores, you’re putting a lot of effort into actually teaching her. You’re even enjoying it! I heard you two talking the other night, you were having fun teaching her!”

“Your point, King?” for the first time, a mild edge slipped into her tone as she came to a stop, eyes half lidded.

“You care about her!” he threw up his diminutive arms, “You’re lying to her about teaching her Magic, but then turning around and treating her like she’s actually your apprentice!”

“She is, technically,” the Witch snarked.

“If it were technical, you wouldn’t be treating this half as seriously as you are!” he jabbed a stubby claw at her, “I can’t tell which one of you is the bigger sucker - Luz, for believing you can teach her Magic, or you, for lying to yourself about just using her for free work!”

“Are you just mad that I’m giving her so much attention, King?” she smirked, “Do you want some lessons of your own?”

Weh!

He hurled the box at her; she easily dodged, tilting her head slightly to the side as it sailed past and unceremoniously crashed to the ground.

Then it pulsed; a dormant Magic Eda had not sensed in it before began to form within the box, the symbols across its surface suddenly gleaming with a dim orange-gold light of flame. It pulsed, the top slowly folding open, an arm clad in black leather slowly emerging from its confines, the hand a pale white-

Only for Eda to immediately kick the box with all her might, her leg rising into a perfect vertical split and sending the demonic prison careening upwards with enough physical force to catch fire, the creature within shrieking in equal parts shock and agony; in the distance, its tiny orange glimmer could be seen, the tiniest spark against the sky, before disappearing into the distance, with naught but a faint white shimmer to mark where it vanished, before that too ceased to be.

“... nice kick,” King managed weakly.

“I wasn’t the star player on the Hexside grudgby team for nothin’, King; coulda gone pro if I had joined a Coven,” the silver vixen preened, then rubbed her chin, “I really shoulda noticed that, though… I should look at these things more closely before giving them to you as toys.”

“It was a doomsday box! ” he shouted, then lost his balance, falling to the ground with a panicked squeal.

Eda chuckled, crouching and picking the Demon pup up, setting him on his feet, “Look, King… I’m the one responsible for Luz being here in the first place. Even if I’m just using her for chores, it’s my responsibility to make sure she doesn’t get hurt while she’s here. It’s the least I can do to make sure she gets home safely.”

“But you’re still lying, ” he snapped, dusting himself off, “Either to her or to yourself. And I’m not sure which is worse.”

“... you like her that much, huh?” her expression softened.

“... don’t tell her I said this, but… yeah,” he crossed his arms, looking away, “Like I said. She’s fun, and I have someone to talk to other than Hooty, and… and reliable minions are hard to come by.”

“... I don’t blame you for getting attached,” she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, “I like her too. But she’s going to have to go home eventually. She doesn’t belong here.”

“Then why didn’t you just send her home the first time?” he finally met her gaze again, eyes somewhere between imploring and accusatory, “You know the longer she stays, the harder it’s going to be, for all of us.”

For the first time, she had no answer; she just maintained her gaze for a moment before letting out a sigh, rising to her full height, “... I don’t really know. I guess I wanted a change of pace, is all. It was an impulse. A whim.”

King let out a breath of his own, “Look… I just… don’t think this is going to end the way you want it to. Or even how you think it’s going to.”

“... we’ll see how things turn out, okay?” Eda finally stated, “I get where you’re coming from. But I have this under control; everything will turn out fine.”

“... if you say so,” King murmured, before starting back up the path.

It didn’t take long for them to make their way back to the Owl House; standing tall over the cliff, the sea-salt breeze was pleasant on the nose as they approached.

“Hey guys!” Hooty called “Good to see you’re back!”

“Hooty, please don’t start,” King murmured, already gripping the sides of his head.

“Get a nice haul today!?” the door Demon shouted, not at all heeding the diminutive Demon’s request, “That’s a pretty big bag you’re carryiiiiiing!”

“Yep!” Eda shook the bag slightly, grinning, “Nice big selection of items and ingredients. This should keep me set for anything exotic for a while - or at least a couple weeks.”

“Oh, that’s very good! Hoot hoot!” Hooty hooted, delighted… then blinked, glancing back and forth, “Heeeeey, where’s Luz?”

She blinked in turn, startled by the question, “What do you mean, ‘where’s Luz’?”

The tubular entity just stared, “You mean she’s not with you guys?”

“I sent her home hours ago,” the Witch declared, “You mean she’s not here?

“Haven’t seen her,” Hooty shook his head.

Only a second passed, just long enough for a chill to run down Eda’s spine and a dark pit to form in her stomach before she threw open the door, darting inside. She tossed the bag to the side, not caring for an instant where it landed, before rushing up the stairs, both Demons forgotten in her wake.

There was no way Luz could have snuck in without Hooty’s notice, even if she had wanted to in the first place; if Hooty hadn’t seen her, then there was no way that she was here. It was all too likely she’d wandered off, distracted by something else that had grabbed her attention, slipping off into the woods with no one to guide her or find help should something go awry. The Latina wasn’t stupid by any means, but she also had little indication of what was and wasn’t safe in this realm, and moreover had a tendency towards reckless exploration, a great deal of youthful, misplaced confidence, and a proclivity to be far too trusting for her own good.

If she ran into the wrong creature, or the wrong person on her own out there, she’d be eaten alive - or worse, handed over to the Covens.

The Witch flung open the door to Luz’s room and descended on the bedroll, eyes and hands both combing it for hair, for nail clippings, anything that Luz might have left behind in the nights before. It didn’t take long for her to find the strands of short brown hair, which she immediately snatched up.

It had been a while since the Owl Lady had done any Oracle Magic - it was one of her least favourite types - but that didn’t mean she had no knack for it.

She cast the spell, her Soul briefly flaring a light purple; her eyes fluttered shut as violet-tinted images filled her mind, of the girl’s evenings getting ready for bed, of being all but dragged out of bed come morning; of following Eda down the cliffside, through the forest, their conversation only distantly registering on the Witch’s ears, like it was being filtered through water and music; of the carrion crawler, and the sickening scent and taste of rot and sewer; and finally, of wandering off the path, to find-

Witchlings-?

Uniforms-

A distant bell-

Hexside-

Her eyes snapped back open, the spell coming to an abrupt halt.

“Titan- Damn it, Luz! ” she shouted, snatching up her staff once more and all but slamming open the window.

“Eda!” King called from behind her, scrabbling for purchase on the wooden floor, “Did you find Luz!?”

“No, but I know where she is,” she hopped up into the sill, “Just stay here. I’ll find her.”

Before King could offer a word of protest, she was already off, Owlbert carrying over over the autumn orange pines.

Hexside, ” she hissed to herself, “Luz, of all the places you could have wandered off to, why did it have to be Hexside!?

She tightened her grip on her staff, and would have been all but strangling Owlbert had his throat been further down, urging him to fly faster.

Luz had no idea how much danger she was in.

Notes:

Oh, wow, I actually got this out two weeks later almost exactly. Just one day off!

I hope you guys enjoyed my take on Amity's perspective here. Things are gonna get very interesting next chapter at Hexide, especially once I get to Gus... who I admittedly am not wholly sure how to write yet. Eh, I'll figure it out.

Stein's perspective wasn't quite as interesting as I'd hoped this time, but I think that's because he's pretty preoccupied with what's going on. Hopefully next time I write from his perspective I can go a bit more into detail regarding how his mind actually works.

Still, this was a fun chapter to write! Lots of exciting things going on, and I'm hoping that you all enjoyed it too!

I just can't wait to introduce Crona to Maka and Soul. I've been looking forwards to writing that fight for MONTHS.

Thanks for giving this a read, everyone, and thank you so much for your patience and understanding with me. Let me know what you think! I hope you all enjoyed the twenty second chapter of Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance!

Chapter 23: The Stalking and the Stalked

Notes:

I do not own Soul Eater or the Owl House.

If I did, Ragnarok would not be a comic relief character.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“She’s onto us.”

Luz didn’t respond initially as Willow redoubled her pace, the sludge around her sluicing with every step, jostling the entire cauldron with each and every tile the wheelbarrow rolled over.

“She’s onto us,” Willow repeated, out of breath, “Oh, Titan, she’s onto us.

“... Willow?” the Latina risked a murmur, raising a hand to lift the lid of the cauldron slightly.

Sssh! ” the Witch hissed, making Luz drop the lid with a startle, “Don’t draw attention! Just stay in there!”

She sank back into the mire, swallowing what little spit was left in her mouth and trying to avoid letting any of the violet muck past her lips. She could hear the fear in Willow’s voice, now that her anger had faded, her mutterings not yet ceasing; though she was hardly being any louder than the din of the surrounding crowd, her tone was distinct, rife with worry and only barely keeping a stutter out of her words.

“She’s onto us and I stood up to her, ” the bespectacled girl whimpered, “Why did I do that, why did I do that, why did I do that? She’s gonna be watching us now!”

Luz shifted, pushing herself up so she was sitting in the cauldron rather than curled up in a ball, lips pursed as she stared up at the lid. Through the whole class, it had not once occurred to the tanned teen to be afraid; her disguise had been perfect, and she eagerly performed her role as Willow’s Abomination, having to physically keep herself from jumping for joy at the Professor’s announcement of the Witch’s perfect score, and since then she worked to take down notes throughout the class, both for her new friend’s benefit and for her own - she could just snap a picture of the pages once they were all done for her own reference.

However, it hadn’t taken long for the elation of having managed to fool not only the teacher, but the whole class, to wear off once Amity had approached them.

Despite her desire to speak, to stand up for Willow as the taller Witch had seared her with accusations, she maintained her silence, not wishing to get her new friend in trouble.

Thankfully, Willow had managed to stand up for herself - though it wasn’t long afterwards that the green-eyed girl had begun to break down, her former confidence, fuelled by anger, swiftly replaced with fear.

She heard a door open, and then close, the drone of the innumerable voices beyond her iron shell fading to a distant murmur; she heard the young Witch take a shaky breath before lifting the lid, letting dim light stream into the cauldron.

The Latina poked her head; the dark haired teen was now slumped against the wall, a hand pressed to her forehead as she breathed deep, slowly opening her hand and closing it one finger at a time, counting to five with every inward and outward breath.

“... Willow?” Luz asked.

Those green eyes didn’t rise to meet her, instead staring off into nothing from behind the sheen of her glasses, lips drawn into a thin line.

Slowly, the tanned teen approached, taking one slow step, and then another, “... Willow, are you okay?”

“... not really,” the dark haired Witch lifted her glasses, rubbing at her eyes before sighing, slowly sliding down the wall to sit on the floor, “... I have no idea what we’re gonna do, Luz.”

“... well, we’ve come this far,” Luz smiled, “We only have a couple more hours to go, right?”

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” Willow murmured, “I don’t think we can keep this up for the whole afternoon.”

“What makes you say that? We’ve done pretty well so far,” the tanned girl gestured back to the cauldron, “Can’t you just keep me coated in that goo like you did before?”

The Witch shook her head, “Not with Amity scrutinising everything we do.” 

“Aw, come on,” the human finally sat down beside her friend, smile breaking into a grin, “Even your professor bought it, Willow, and he should know the difference between an Abomination and a human better than anyone. By the time Amity notices anything, school will be done, and we’ll be on our way home - she won’t be able to look at your Abomination at all!”

“You don’t get it, Luz,” the pale girl snapped, “Professor Hermonculus might have been fooled, but he didn’t see my Abomination this morning. Amity did. She knows something is wrong, and she’s class rep - it’s her job to keep track of struggling students, and catch any cheating. She has every reason to watch us, and eventually, we’re gonna slip up and she’ll notice. She lives and breathes Abominations. And that’s not touching on what’s going to happen when she takes whatever she finds to Hermonculus.”

At this, Luz felt her smile waver, her joy withering in her stomach; she watched as the leaf-green eyes of the young Witch closed, the back of her head making a dull thump as it hit the wall, “... I didn’t think this through at all. I saw a chance to salvage my grade and show Amity up, and… I just jumped for it,” she drew her legs up to her chest, pressing her forehead into her knees, “I didn’t think about what would happen…”

“... well, we’re not caught yet.

Finally, Willow raised her head to look at her; the Latina put as much determined cheer into her voice as she could manage, her smile broad, brows furrowed in the way that they only could with a competitive spirit as she clenched her fist, “If there’s one thing that I’ve learned playing chess with my sister online, it’s that the game isn’t over until someone gets checkmate. We’ve still got a while before lunch is over; that means we still have time to make some moves before Amity can corner us.”

“... what about stalemates?” the Magical teen cocked an eyebrow.

Luz stared for a brief moment before feeling her face flush, embarrassment flooding her being as she broke her gaze, “I mean… those are draws, technically, right?... better than losing…”

“... how often do you actually win chess against your sister?” she could hear the wry, but curious amusement in the Witch’s voice.

“... uh… two?...”

“Out of…?”

“... thirty seven in the past two years,” the tanned teen finally grumbled.

Her cheeks burned as Willow erupted into a fit of giggles, clutching her stomach and glasses; the laughter was light, soft, somewhere between incredulous and delighted at Luz’s admission. Slowly, the young Witch pulled her glasses away, rubbing at her eyes with her free hand, teeth bared in a grin, “Well, I know who I’m not taking chess tips from anytime soon.”

“I forced a draw in the last one, and I only lost two of the three before that!” the human protested, “I’m getting better!

“Well, at the very least, you don’t give up,” the glasses went back on; there was a new spark in those green eyes as Willow held out her hand. A green light flared, and then immediately faded; in its place, a small scroll had flashed into existence, the dark green parchment wrapped around a pair of dark wooden spools, floating silently in the air between them.

“... what’s that? ” Luz asked, her embarrassment forgotten at the sight of the object, already fascinated with it.

“It’s a personal scroll,” Willow unfurled the parchment, revealing a whitish-yellow surface beneath the green covering; it stayed blank only briefly before ink and watercolour paints suddenly flooded its surface with colour, a calligraphy painting of words and landscapes forming all at once, a vast vale with a forest cloaked in snow. She ran her finger across the surface, the ink shifting with the movement like she’d dipped her finger through a three dimensional painting, trailing colour behind her with each movement that quickly faded into the rest of the picture, “It’s primarily used for long distance communication, but there’s a lot you can do with it.”

“What, like a phone?” the purple coated girl pulled out her iphone, clicking it on; Willow blinked, staring at the tiny purple box as Luz flicked back and forth through the apps in a demonstration.

“... there’s no Magic in it,” the Witch stated, though it sounded halfway like a question.

“Nope. Just plastic, glass, metal and a battery - and you can contact almost anyone in the world with it, as long as they have one too,” the tanned teen chirped, “And a whole bunch of other stuff, like take pictures, play games, do math… it even has a built in flashlight.”

She clicked the light on for emphasis; the dark haired girl fixated on it, brows raised slightly before they furrowed with focus. She reached out, pulling the phone in for a closer look, “... all that… without Magic…”

“... something wrong, Willow?”

“... it’s just…” she shook her head, turning her attention back to the scroll, “Nevermind, it’s not important right now. Right now, I gotta call a friend.”

“A friend?”

“Someone who’ll be more than happy to sneak you out of here.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait,” Luz threw up her hands, “What?”

“I can just say I’m too tired to keep my Abomination going for the afternoon - it won’t exactly be a lie, keeping that goo on you actually gets pretty hard after a while,” Willow rubbed her chin,”In the meantime, you’ll get snuck out before class starts-”

“Willow, I am not leaving.”

The Witch stopped, turning to meet Luz’s gaze.

The Latina crossed her arms, jaw set, “This whole thing was my idea, remember? If you get in trouble, it’s because I got involved and convinced you to cheat. I don’t want you to get in trouble because of me - and I definitely don’t want you to take the fall while I get off scot free.”

“... Luz, I appreciate the sentiment - I really do,” the chalk-skinned girl began slowly, but with clearly wearing patience, “But the longer you stay here, the more danger you’re in.”

“Yeah, I’ve been getting that a lot the last few days,” Luz didn’t so much as budge, though she did direct her gaze upwards, her frown deepening with thought, “I still don’t really get why, though.”

“Because you’re not-” Willow halted, bit her lip, as if reconsidering what she was about to say.

“I’m not… what?” a chocolate eyebrow rose.

“... you’re not a student here,” Willow finally settled, adjusting her glasses again, “Technically, non-students and non-faculty really aren’t supposed to be here outside of special circumstances. Even aside from the whole cheating thing, if they found out I snuck in someone who’s not supposed to be on campus, it could get me expelled, and you handed over to the Imperial Guard.”

“The Imperial Guard aren’t that tough,” Luz snorted… then she scratched her chin, frowning again, “... that being said, I really don’t want to get you in any actual trouble… would you really get expelled for this? That’s a little excessive, don’t you think?”

“You’d be surprised,” the bespectacled Witch turned her attention back to her scroll, “I don’t know how it works with human schools, but here? Uninvited W- guests tend to be bad news. I’d rather not get you shipped off to the Conformatorium if I can help it.”

“... I still don’t like it,” the goo-clad child insisted, crossing her arms again, “I’d much rather stay and help you get through the day.”

“... you’ve already helped plenty, Luz,” Willow smiled, cycling through a variety of pictures and words that the human could only assume were apps, “After all, you pointed out what I’ve been missing from the Abomination formula this whole time. Maybe now I can actually make one properly.”

“It’s still wild to me that you guys speak and write the same languages we do,” finally, Luz found her smile again, “I’d have thought Witch languages would have seen very different development from human ones over eight hundred years of separation.”

“Well, humans and Witches did share a history for quite a while before the Grim Reaper showed up, and the Titan’s Empire still deals with the Witch Order every now and again - who themselves still access the human realm,” the Witch noted, a curious tone slipping into her voice, “There’s still some amount of regional variance, but… maybe that was enough to prevent too much drift from occurring over the years?”

“Maybe,” she bobbed her head as Willow finally tapped on a name - Gus Porter - bringing forth a picture; the boy was skinny, skinny and young with a broad grin that immediately lit a spark of joy and kinship in the human’s stomach. His dark hair bordered on black and was cut short, basically a crew cut along the sides and back, with only just enough hair up top to grow into subtle curls, evoking the image of a carefully cultivated beadhead, unlike Luz’s own wild mess that she more often than not didn’t bother to look after these days. His eyes were a dark grey, the colour of steel, and his skin was actually a shade or two darker than her own. His slim limbs were kept within sleeves of light blue, his slender fingers excitedly pointing to the cover of-

“... Gold Chains for Old Men?” the Latina raised an eyebrow.

“Gus is a bit of a… human-ist, if you will,” the parchment’s surface swirled, the other girl still not glancing up from the cascade of colours, “He’s fascinated by humans and human culture. Even tried to get a club set up for it - he was firmly shot down though.”

“Why’s that?”

“Let’s just say fascination with humans is generally frowned upon and leave it at that.”

Before Luz could question further, the scroll’s colours settled, the boy from the picture staring back out of the parchment. The enthusiasm in the portrait had been replaced with curiosity, an eyebrow quirked as he spoke, his voice light, bearing a higher register than the human had expected, “ Willow?

“Hey Gus,” Willow waved, smile renewed.

How come you’re not at the cafeteria? I saved you a seat!

“You always save me a seat.”

And that is part of why I’m such a great friend! ” he grinned, “ But seriously, what’s up? Amity corner you for tutoring?

“She tried, ” the pale child noted dryly, “But no. I actually need you to come down to the Footward Wing. The…” she glanced to the door, “Third Potions classroom?”

At this, Luz glanced up, finally taking in the room; on each desk, a number of burners were present, along with various beakers, mortars, and other objects she couldn’t immediately identify. There were even cauldrons near the back of the room, along with larger stone bowls bigger across than any fire pit she’d ever seen, the blackened surface of each suggesting that large fires had been burning in the base of each.

Third Potions? ” both eyebrows climbed his forehead, the darker Witch blinking, “ What’re you doing in there?

“I’ll explain when you get here. Please hurry - I don’t think anyone’s gonna walk in here, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.”

... alright. I’ll be there in a minute, Willow - just lemme grab my stuff.

With that, the scroll’s surface dissolved, returning to a swirl of colours shifting between landscapes and people.

“Sooo, what’s his deal?” Luz queried, curiosity once again piqued.

“Gus is in the Illusion Track,” Willow started, rolling her scroll back up; with another flash of light, it vanished.

“Illusions?” Luz did her best to keep her squeal to a reasonable noise level, even as she reached out to grasp at the air where the scroll once hung.

“Yep. And as Witches go, he’s actually pretty good at it. If there’s anyone who can sneak you out of here, it’s him.”

“So is he gonna turn me invisible, or make me look more like a Witch?”

“The former is probably easier, especially with how small your Soul is - he’d have to fake a Soul Wavelength for you rather than just disguise it. Plus we’re trying to not draw attention. So…”

“Aw. I was kind of hoping it would be something that would let me stay here a bit longer,” the Latina sighed, her wistful tone still betraying an undercurrent of enthusiasm, “Still, being invisible is cool too!”

Willow allowed herself a snicker, green eyes sparkling, “You really are easily amazed, huh?”

“Of course I am! Humans don’t get to see real Magic that much,” Luz crossed her arms, still grinning, “Most humans haven’t even met a Witch. Can you blame me for being amazed?”

“No, I guess not,” the Witch conceded, holding out her hands again; this time, a paper bag manifested, falling into her palms. She opened up the bag, holding out-

“... is that a sandwich?” Luz murmured, eyes wide.

“Yep. Papa packed my lunch for me today, since I was in such a rush,” Willow held it out, “You wanna have some?”

“Please!?” the tanned girl pressed her hands together, unable to reign in her pleading tone, “I haven’t eaten all day and I really need to get the taste of trash slug out of my mouth!”

“Trash slug?” the young Witch raised an eyebrow, but held out the sandwich regardless.

Immediately, Luz snatched it, biting into it with equal parts violence and vigour; a blazing sweetness flooded her mouth, the bread warm to the touch and what the human could only assume was some sort of jam all but searing her tongue. Even as it made her cough and gasp for breath, she took bite after bite, the sensation nothing short of heavenly with the image of the rot she had endured earlier burning away to nothing under its influence.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down!” Willow dug through her bag again, pulling out a glass flask, “You don’t wanna eat too much fire-bee honey all at once, you’ll burn yourself! Here, drink.”

The human obeyed, pulling the sandwich away just long enough to take a few swallows of water; the heat was washed away as quickly as it had come, the liquid mercy soothing her mouth and throat. After a moment, she managed a weak chuckle, handing back what remained of the sandwich, “Sorry about that… didn’t mean to eat your lunch…”

“Hey, you’ve been a huge help, Luz,” Willow shrugged, then took a bite of the sandwich herself, “Giving you some of my lunch is the least I can do.”

“That was really good though,” Luz wiped her mouth, “What’d you say was in there? Fire-bee honey?”

“Fire-bee honey and blood orange marmalade.”

“Oh, Witches have blood oranges too?”

At this, the Witch blinked, “Wait, humans have blood oranges?”

“Yeah! They’re pinkish-red on the inside!” the brown-haired girl nodded.

“Huh,” Willow took another bite of her sandwich, taking a hissing breath through pursed lips - not that Luz could blame her, the heat of that honey was overwhelming, “I didn’t think the human realm had natural blood veins for the trees to grow in.”

“... wait, what?”


It hadn’t been difficult to find where Sonson J. had committed his last killing.

Although the copycat killer of Canada’s west coast had been forebodingly good at hiding - at least, according to Maka - the nature of his killings were always thoroughly messy; everything from pinning people to doors with arrows to leaving dead bodies in cots with a spear driven through them, through the mattress, and into the floor, clearly in deliberate display.

Here in Venice, it was no different. Though the body had long since been taken away from the scene by local authorities, Soul could tell just from looking at the chalk outline on the secluded pier that the killing had been particularly grisly. Whether they were metal, wood or plastic, oars didn’t exactly make for efficient weapons - and this one at some point had its edge broken off from the sheer force of the swing, the missing chunk of aluminium embedded in the brick of a nearby wall.

He was starting to appreciate why his Meister had turned down all-you-can-eat pasta.

Yeesh, ” he suppressed a wince as he examined the twisted edge of the metal, jagged and gleaming in the early evening’s golden light, “ Someone was having a bad day when they did this…

“Multiple someones were having bad days.”

He glanced out of the corner of his eye; Maka was kneeling over the chalk outline, tracing its edge briefly with a finger, eyes narrowed before scribbling away in her notebook. After a moment, she stopped, idly chewing on the lid of her pen as she stared at the pages, “At the very least though, the pattern seems consistent with his killings back in Emerald Lake…”

“Established territory?” the Scythe ventured, sauntering over to stand beside the pigtailed tween, “Singling out any poor bastard that wanders in?”

“Seems so, though it’s hard to determine what the exact range of this territory is,” she pushed herself to her feet, dusting off her knees before looking further down the dock; the bloodstains trailed all the way to the water’s edge, where they abruptly halted, a clear sign of how the killer had escaped, “It doesn’t help that Sonson seems to have actually learned how to swim.

“Of all the ways for him to deviate from his inspiration,” Soul chuckled, “That’s just annoying.

“The good news is we may not need to do much to hunt Sonson down,” the Meister tucked her notebook into her black overcoat, stretching, “If we just stay in this general area, he may very well just come for us outright.”

“Think there’s any chance he’ll return to this particular spot?”

“Even if he doesn’t, I doubt he’ll go too far off,” Maka crossed her arms, “Local authorities can’t do anything to him and he knows it. That, and he wants to put everything he does to people on display, draw attention to himself; I don’t even know if the possibility of being hunted down by the DWMA even occurred to him.”

“Well, something brought him here,” Soul crouched, studying the bloodstains in the slowly dwindling summer sunlight, “Guys like him don’t just leave their stomping grounds. Something made him leave - whether it was him getting spooked by the DWMA, or something else entirely.”

“His behaviour still isn’t rational by any means. If he came here with the intention of hiding, he blew his cover the instant he started killing again.”

“Even so, he was smart enough to run when the pressure was on. I’m not sure we’re gonna get a second chance at this if we screw it up.”

Maka didn’t answer, her fingers tapping the dark fabric of her coat as she stared out into the water.

“... something on your mind, Maka?” Soul queried.

“... nothing relevant,” she decided, turning around and making her way back up the dock, starting along the edge of the canal, “Come on.”

He raised an eyebrow, but moved to follow regardless, “Where are we going?”

“To see if there’s anything else we can find, something the police might have missed,” she stated, “He won’t have gone far. If we can find him before he comes out to play, the better.”

“Never one to just do things the easy way, huh?” the Weapon smirked, “Don’t wanna just lure him into a trap? It would be easier, more surefire; like you said, we just hang out, he might just come for us, mistaking us for easy prey.”

She bit her lip, eyes narrow and nostrils briefly flaring.

“... Maka?” Soul prompted, “Is something wrong?”

“... sorry,” she finally muttered, rubbing her temple, “I just… don’t get it.”

“What, why he’s here?” Soul blinked.

“No,” the grey-haired girl shook her head, “I mean… why eat normal human Souls? Why just kill someone out of the blue?... what drives a person to do something like that?”

She seemed to be struggling not to turn around, to keep her eyes from drifting back over her shoulder to stare at the bloodstained wood, at the white chalk that marked where the woman had been found the night before; Soul could feel the urge to glance back himself, a certain solemness taking him over.

“... I’ve been doing this for almost a year,” she murmured, still keeping her gaze firmly forwards, “and I still don’t have an answer. I had to push that question to the back of my mind, and I… I think I almost stopped asking myself at some point.”

“... you compartmentalise,” he said, “We all do. We separate our personal feelings for what’s going on from what we need to do - otherwise, we wouldn’t be able to do our jobs at all.”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean…” Maka trailed off, again chewing at her lip.

Soul didn’t interrupt, instead waiting for her to continue.

“... that doesn’t mean we should just… stop, ” she crossed her arms, “People’s lives are at stake. Every person these guys catch is someone else we couldn’t save. Someone that… didn’t have to die.”

“... so really, you’re less concerned about the Eggs themselves, than you are about their victims?” Soul ventured, “Is that it?”

“... yeah. Yeah, it is,” the green eyed girl nodded, “It’s so easy to get wrapped up in the hunt, in learning about these killers, using their murders as case files to help in tracking them, actually finding them and reaping their Souls, that… you never really forget that there are victims in all this, but… it’s easier to just push them to the back of your mind in order to focus on the hunt, and… God, Soul, we got almost a hundred of these guys in less than a year, and they all had a body count. That… that’s hard to think about.”

He could feel the weight in his Meister’s voice, the quiet horror and solemn anger in every word; he could see the tension of her fingers beneath her gloves as she grasped at her own arms, as though they were lifelines she wished to pull, in some helpless desire to save those who had already slipped beneath the black waves of death, pulled to their graves by a monster that didn’t possess the strength to live as a person. Her lips twisted in a grimace as she tried to bury her distress, instead letting her revolted outrage slip through the cracks of her normally cool, collected mask.

Despite his own facade, Soul knew the feeling all too well; after all, someone had died here. Someone had been walking home, or perhaps was just out for some evening air when all of a sudden, they had been attacked. Bludgeoned, and then stabbed with a broken metal oar, slowly bleeding out across the planks of the small boardwalk, and into the water below.

But even when they expired, that hadn’t been the end of it.

Their Soul had been taken. Devoured. A sacrifice to sate some horrible, howling craving, one that was, if not outright evil, then at the very least completely and utterly amoral, regardless of whether the act was born of malice or madness.

The Scythe couldn’t imagine what would drive a person to such action.

But ultimately, that didn’t matter.

At least, not here, not now.

“... but at the same time,” the girl continued, “thinking about it doesn’t solve the problem. It doesn’t bring me any closer to ending it, to finding the monster that did it. It makes me impatient - I don’t want to play it safe. I want to find him and get it over with… I get frustrated, and… reckless, and…” she clutched at her head, “... and that’s how you get hurt. Get killed. Because you weren’t focused.”

“Which is why we compartmentalise,” Soul repeated, “It’s a necessary step. We have to put how we feel aside so we can do things properly.”

“I know. I know,” another heavy sigh, Maka’s hands falling to her sides, “... but like I said… how long do you compartmentalise like that for, before you put it out of your mind completely?... I… I don’t…”

She snorted, low and harsh, rubbing her brow again, “... I’m sorry. I’m scattered, and I’m probably not making much sense… and like I said, I don’t think it’s relevant to what our next steps are.”

“... You think so?” 

“You don’t?” those green eyes pierced through him, lips crooked.

Soul finally let his eyes drift back to the dock, “I wouldn’t call it irrelevant at all.”

“... but it doesn’t help what we’re trying to do here,” she mumbled, tone quiet, “It doesn’t help catch the killer so we can end it.”

“Maybe not,” the Scythe conceded, “But I think it’s a good thing you’re thinking about this. It means you know why this is so important.”

A pause held in the air between them; slowly, the Meister’s hand fell from her face. Her eyes lost their intensity, her face softening as she too looked back at the outline of white, which stood out starkly against the dark wood. Her shoulders seemed to slump, the agitation leaving her body a little more with each passing second.

“... you think so?...” she asked, voice still small.

“I do,” he smiled, “That’s part of being a Meister, Maka. Or have you forgotten what Sid taught us at the start of last year?”

At this, Maka blinked, startled out of her melancholy; she stared at him for a long moment, eyes wide before a snicker escaped her, “You’re awful, Soul. Who cracks jokes at a crime scene?”

“Hey, anything to get you out of your funk,” his smile split into a full grin, “You know better than anyone else how you get when you’re stuck in your own head.”

She took out her notebook and gently swung it; Soul had all the time he needed to dodge just enough, the book’s corner cuffing him upside the temple. Mock anger furrowed the Meister’s brow, though her new smile did not waver, “Jerk.”

“Hardass,” he turned, starting down the side of the canal once more, “Come on. Let’s get out of here, find somewhere we can actually sit down and figure out how we’re gonna catch this guy.”

“Gladly.”

Maka fell into step alongside him, already flipping through her book and scribbling madly into the pages, mind afire with renewed purpose and passion.

The Weapon closed his eyes, not bothering to hide his smile as they made their way away from the crime scene, the sun dipping ever lower beneath the horizon…


“... so, wait, blood orange is just a metaphor in the human realm?” Willow gawked.

“Yeah,” the human bobbed her head, “It’s just a descriptor for the colour of the orange and its juice, it doesn’t have actual blood in it.”

“That is so weird,” the green-eyed girl murmured, “I mean, Witches aren’t exactly strangers to metaphor, but with Magic, a lot of what’s figurative can very easily be made literal.”

“I’m still stuck on the whole ‘Witches have trees that feed on blood’ thing.”

“I thought humans had those pink cherry blossoms that fed on blood spilled in battlefields?”

“Sakura blossoms, yeah. Though I thought that was just Japanese folklore,” she scratched her chin, thoughtful, “But then again, if you put food colouring in a flower’s water, its petals will change colour when it absorbs the water, so maybe that’s not as far-fetched as I thought,” Luz crossed her arms, smiling, “Guess there’s a kernel of truth in every story, huh?”

“Guess so,” the Witch conceded, “It’s still weird that you call them blood oranges when the real deal exists though.”

“You have got to let me try one of those-”

The door opened, cutting Luz off before she could press the discussion forwards; in strode the boy from Willow’s scroll, young, thin and vibrant. Even sitting down, the human could immediately tell he was shorter than her new friend; Willow had to have at least three or four inches on the boy, his face seeming distinctly young now that she was finally getting a good look at him. His uniform seemed almost oversized on him, his sleeves loose and slipping down over his wrists and onto his hands, his leggings bunching up around his ankles, though at the very least his cloak and skirt seemed properly fitted.

“Heya, Willow!” he waved, grinning, “What’s up?”

“Hey Gus,” Willow raised a hand, “It’s, uh… it’s been a day.”

“Isn’t every day learning from Hermonculus a day?” he asked, hopping onto a desk and swivelling to face her, legs kicking freely in the air, “I only have two classes with him each week. I can’t imagine having him as my primary prof.”

More of a day than usual,” the female Witch sighed, gesturing to Luz.

¡ Hola, amigo! ” she greeted cheerfully, doing her best to unstick her fingers from each other as she gave an enthusiastic wave of her own.

For the first time, his eyes fixed on her; he blinked, looking her up and down before his face went pale, turning back to Willow. He pointed at the goo-coated child, voice hoarse with abject horror, “... Willow, you brought a Witch with Soul Protect into-!?”

“She’s not using Soul Protect,” the bespectacled girl interrupted, “She can’t. She doesn’t have any Magic of her own.”

Again, he blinked, startled, then looked at Luz again; his eyes were wide, the grey of his irises shimmering in what little light filtered in through the drawn curtains. A long moment of silence passed before he went ramrod straight, the realisation striking him as he clamped both hands over his mouth, staring up at her with equal parts shock and fascination.

“... no way,” he breathed, “No fudging way…”

The human bit down on a laugh, not wanting to ruin the moment for the boy before her as he slid off the desk, taking slow, hesitant steps towards her. He pulled out a handkerchief, and reached up, wiping away some of the goop that had stuck to her cheek; he was utterly transfixed, caught somewhere between shock and awe as he staggered back, as though he hadn’t believed she was real, and had instead expected his hand to go straight through her, only to find that she was very much there.

“... th-this isn’t a trick, is it?” he tried and failed to look to Willow, unable to tear his gaze away from Luz, “You don’t have some other Illusionist conjuring this?”

The green thumbed Witch gave him a wry smile, “Gus, you’re the only Illusionist I know, and we both know no one short of one of the teachers could trick you with an Illusion. She’s as real as they come.”

“... oh, Titan, ” he squeaked, again pressing both his hands to his mouth, “ You’re a human. An actual human.

“It’s nice to meet you, Gus,” Luz extended a hand, grinning, “I’m Luz.”

The blue-clad boy seemed uncertain as to how to react, but slowly, he reached out, gingerly accepting Luz’s hand in his own; he shook it, gently, then more animatedly, his barely contained excitement beginning to spill out as his shock began to fade into ecstatic glee.

“A human! I’m shaking hands with a human! ” Gus seemed to be doing everything he could not to squeal, suddenly yanking Luz in with strength that absolutely did not fit his small frame, “Where did you come from!? How are you here!? Is it true that humans weld barbed wire to their teeth!? If so, why!?”

“Uuuh, well, I came here with Willow - I volunteered to be her Abomination for class,” the brown-eyed teen managed, slowly pulling her hand out of the boy’s now very impressive grip, “As for barbed wire on teeth… are you talking about braces? They’re meant to fix your teeth by holding them in place as you grow up, like clamps, but they’re mostly good for catching snacks - or at least that’s what I’ve read.”

“You clamp your teeth in place with wire to fix them?” the male witch gawked, “And I thought our dentists were gruesome, that sounds horrifying!

“Okay, okay, we can talk about bizarre human things later,” Willow interrupted. She looked at her friend, expression serious, “Gus? I need you to get Luz out of Hexside.”

“What? Why?” Gus asked, abruptly confused.

“She’s not safe here,” the purple-clad Witch crossed her arms, “You know the rules about bringing in outside Witches, right? How do you think things are going to go if they find a human here?”

At this, Gus’ mouth clamped shut; his eyes shifted up, staring into nowhere as he considered the possibilities. After a moment, his face went ashen, horror creeping into the entirety of his expression.

“... okay, yeah, that’s bad. That-that’s really bad,” he managed, “But what do you want me to do? I can’t just keep her invisible the whole afternoon!”

“I don’t expect you to,” Willow shook her head, “Do you think that you could keep her at your place until we… figure out what we’re going to do?”

“What, like… after school?” the boy asked, “I mean, I’d love to - I could set up a spare closet and everything - but that doesn’t solve what we’re gonna do about her now.

The pale girl tapped her fingers together, suddenly contrite.

“... no,” Gus said.

“Look, Gus,” Willow started, “I know this is asking a lot, but-”

“Willow, I’ve got a test this afternoon,” he protested, “I can’t just play hooky! My dad would kill me!”

“Can’t you fake being sick?” the bespectacled Witch asked.

“I mean, I guess I could try? But what if they just send me to the school Healers? Or worse, the student Healers? ” those grey eyes clamped shut as he shuddered, “I don’t wanna have to have a situation like last time, where a Healer had to re-break my arm because a student set it wrong!”

“Uuuuuh, guys?” Luz raised her hand, getting their attention and reminding them of her presence; she smiled, trying to reassure them both, “I already got a place to stay with my teacher; if you could just get me back to the woods, I could just make my way back from there. There’s no need for a whole school day to be missed on my account.”

Rather than seeming at all soothed, Willow and Gus shared a silent glance; a whole conversation seemed to silently pass between them, their expressions morphing from a determined pleading and a panicked refusal to a shared concern as they once again turned their gazes upon the human.

“... what?” she asked, “Did I say something wrong?”

“Well…” the Illusionist folded his hands, chewing at his lip as if debating where to start, “... it’s just… you called this person a teacher?”

“... yyyeeeeaaaaah,” the tanned teen ventured, furrowing her brow, “Why?”

“Luz, are you absolutely sure that this teacher of yours is trustworthy?” the Abomination Witch pressed.

“... well…” she raised a hand, levelling it back and forth, “That depends very much on what you’re trusting Eda to do. But, she’s kept me safe so far.”

“Eda?” Gus frowned, tone dubious.

“It’s just,” Willow started before the blue-clad boy could inquire further, gesticulating as she tried to find the words, “Witches don’t usually-… humans can’t-”

“They’re in here.”

As the new voice made itself known, Luz felt her blood freeze in her veins; Willow and Gus had both gone completely still, cold shock and dawning horror plain in their faces and their sudden hunched postures. Slowly, they looked towards the door at the front of the room; a shadow was now being cast through the window, the innocuous flickering now distinctly ominous after the urgent cadence of that all too familiar tone.

“I do hope you’re genuine about this, Miss Blight,” a second voice, refined but grave, echoed, “This is a very serious accusation.”

“Principal Bump, you know I wouldn’t make an accusation like this unless I was absolutely sure.”

“Yes, but what you’re suggesting-”

“... Bump, ” Willow breathed as the two voices went back and forth between each other, “She went straight to Bump…

“Bump?” the goo-coated child asked.

“... the Principal…” Gus squeaked, “We’re dead. We’re dead…”

She nearly choked on air as she tried to swallow, her throat finding her dry mouth entirely empty; as the voices continued their argument, their words lost to Luz’s rising heartbeat, her gaze whipped about the room, looking for something, some way of escaping…

Her eyes landed on Willow’s cauldron.

“... Willow,” she started, “Make me your Abomination again.”

She blinked, “What?”

“Hurry!” Luz urged, rapidly waving her hands, “If I can maintain the act, maybe we can still get out of this!”

“... I don’t have any better ideas,” the boy murmured, “Willow?”

The purple clad Witch seemed ashen, even with her already pale complexion; she shook, hands clammy as she clutched the edge of one of the desks, the other barely able to adjust her glasses. She gasped for breath, clearly struggling to regain her focus, her eyes trying and failing to fix on the human…

Finally, she breathed, deep, repeating the motion from earlier, the fingers of her hand extending one at a time on the inward breath; on the outward breath, they curled, one by one, until they were clenched in a gentle fist. Slowly, her shaking began to settle as she repeated the motion, and the Latina finally realised what exactly the movement was - a countdown, to assist with what was very clearly a breathing exercise.

On the third repetition, Willow finally seemed to have regained her composure, brows furrowed and lips curled downwards in determination.

“... okay…” the bespectacled girl said, “We can at least try.”

The Abomination goo flowed up and out of the cauldron once more; it wrapped around Luz, the sensation akin to sinking her feet into wet clay as the purple flooded across her skin. Under different circumstances, had the Witch been more gentle, the sensation would have been pleasant - but as it stood, Willow had no choice but to rush, the sludge roughly manhandling the Latina as it spread, leaving her certain she would find bruises later when she had to change into her pyjamas. She had to firmly clamp her lids and lips shut to keep any of it from getting into her eyes or mouth this time, and even then she still felt it jam up her nose, her heart leaping into her throat as she realised she couldn’t breathe, before it pulled back, just enough to let her see and breathe.

“Sorry,” Willow whispered, just before the door opened.

The first figure to enter was at least familiar, the same light purple sleeves stopping just short of her hands as she strode in, mint ponytail whipping with the motion of her head and brow furrowed. Amity let out a slight huff as her golden eyes slipped from figure to figure, first landing on Willow, and only briefly glancing at Gus before finally fixing on the false Abomination, forcing Luz to again swallow under the intensity of her glare.

The other was entirely strange to the Latina; somewhat hunched under his long black robes, the man’s skin was of a pale clamour, not unakin to Eda’s bone white complexion, though this was a mildly healthier tan akin to parchment. While his face bore the wrinkles of loose skin brought by the onset of age, on his hands it seemed stretched thin, with barely any muscle present in his palms or his long fingers, emphasising the line and curve of every bone and tendon, his long nails giving them a distinctly talon-like visage. His long sleeves were edged with gold, along with the collar and shoulders that had been set atop his robes, a long blue stole hanging from around his neck, each end bearing the same gold triangle that had been present on the uniforms of the guards in the Conformatorium - which set Luz on her guard more than anything else about him, even more than the small, hunched figure on his back, its purple-red skin leathery, its oversized mouth having swallowed half his head like a demented ski mask that was missing its bottom half, its fangs peeking out overtop his cheeks. His green eyes gave a slow blink as he surveyed the room, his lips curling down, a single exposed tooth enhancing the expression of cautious curiosity.

“Miss Park,” he acknowledged, nodding, “Mister Porter.”

“P-Principal Bump!” Gus immediately leapt to life, anxiously wringing his hands like a desperate, jittery, overly cheerful salesman, “W-What a surprise!”

“What’re you doing here?” Willow asked, “Is there something wrong?”

“That really depends,” the elderly man said gingerly, stepping forwards, “What were you doing in here? Neither of you are in the Potions Track, and lunch only started a few minutes ago.”

“W-Well…”

The girl stammered; her eyes thankfully hidden behind the glare of her glasses, but her already shaky confidence was faltering. She clasped her hands together, thumbs twiddling in her lap…

“We just wanted to be left alone,” the blue-clad Witch interrupted, “You know how it can get during lunch; sometimes it’s easier to just slip into a classroom away from all the noise, ya know?”

“I see,” Bump said dryly, idly drumming his fingertips against each other as his eyes drifted between the two Witches, clearly picking up on every single nervous movement, every shift and shudder acting as an admission of guilt…

But the Principal wasn’t who had Luz’s attention anymore.

Since entering the room, Amity had not looked away from her for so much as an instant. The bully was all but unblinking, her uncanny glare gleaming gold, as though trying to channel sunlight itself in hopes of revealing the truth. She stayed only a couple steps behind the elderly Witch as he approached, a single black nail tapping against her arm, very clearly fighting the urge to wrap her fingers around something and squeeze…

“I also wanted to see Willow’s Abomination,” Gus chuckled nervously, maintaining the speed of his words in hopes of keeping the Principal distracted, “I-It’s not very often she gets a perfect score, so, I wanted to see what impressed Prof Hermonculus so much.”

“Ah, yes, the Abomination,” At this, Bump’s eyes landed on Luz once more, eyes narrowing slightly, “I’ve heard quite a bit about this from Miss Blight. Might I take a moment to examine it, Miss Park?”

“I, uh,” she started, stopped, swallowed, “I-I don’t know how much longer I can maintain it for… I’ve been trying to keep it up all morning, so… I was hoping I could put it away…?”

“It won’t take but a moment,” he assured, gesturing to the humanoid cloak of sludge, “If this is merely a misunderstanding, then it will be simple enough to clear. Now, if you would?”

What little colour had remained in Willow’s face had drained away to nothing, leaving her on the verge of stark white. Slowly, she turned to Luz, swallowing before issuing her command, “Abomination, lie.”

It was Luz’s turn to feel herself go cold, even colder than before as her heart sank into the pit of her stomach; she hadn’t been expecting a request to just make up lies on the spot, not when it was anyone’s guess what lies would even translate from the human realm to what a Witch might immediately recognize…

Nonetheless, she endeavoured, deliberately slurring her speech as much as possible while still keeping it coherent, praying what she was saying wouldn’t be written off as total nonsense, “... humans and… Witches… are… the same species!... a cat… would not… eat you… if it got… the chance!... vaccines… cause… autism?...”

The Latina trailed off, the visible panic on Willow’s face causing her to slow to a complete silence; Amity’s lips twisted even further, her eyes glimmering with newfound certainty and malice, and for the first time, a note of mild humour entered Bump’s voice, even as it remained low and grim.

“How odd,” he noted, “for an Abomination to get the command wrong. Doesn’t it understand that you mean lie down, Miss Park?”

The words echoed in the tanned teen’s ears, ice flooding her veins as the bespectacled Witch worked her jaw, clearly struggling to find some sort of excuse. Panic filled her green eyes once more, her breaths harsh and fast as she struggled to speak-

Only for Amity to step into Luz’s field of vision, forcing her to look up.

Luz was used to being the tall one in her class; she’d always been gangly for her age, with a long torso and longer limbs, but at the same time ending up thin - not quite twiggy, but certainly not broad in any sense of the word. It was something Papi claimed she got from his side of the family. Before, her confidence had been maintained, even when Amity had gotten in her face; even when the bully had reached out to grip her chin, the teen hadn’t wavered, doing her best to bite her tongue and follow Willow’s lead as best she could.

But now, seeing the bully up close, the Latina felt… small; now that she was being forced to pay closer attention, now that there was realistically nothing she could do, Amity was more imposing than Luz had initially assumed. The mint-haired Witch proved not only to be taller than the human by several inches, but also broader in the hips and shoulders, her long sleeves emphasising lithe, athletic muscle that made the girl’s mouth go dry as the Blight’s arms uncrossed, her fingers flexing like a cat’s paw when it was ready to pounce, her furrowed brow and cold glare only adding to the tanned teen’s sensation of abrupt, helpless fear.

Before the brown-haired girl could step away, the prodigy had reached out, her black fingernails hooking into the sludge; they broke entirely through the layers of purple coating Luz’s face, making her wince as they scraped her skin with enough force that the human was left briefly wondering if she was now bleeding from the scratches that now stung her cheek. A brief flash of purple filled her eyes, making her flinch, accompanied by a sickening squelch as the entirety of the coating was peeled and ripped away from her face like a mask, the humid, but oddly cold air on her skin making her gasp for breath…

And Amity’s only response was to snort, jaw set and eyes shining with equal parts vindication and outrage.

I knew it, ” she hissed, “I knew it!”

Finally, panic began to pound through the tanned teen’s body in time with her heartbeat, her mind going blank, every muscle in her body locked firmly in place even as the failed Abomination sloughed off her body all at once. Her breaths sounded ragged, but she failed to feel any air entering her lungs-

“Luz, run!

Willow’s scream rang in her ears, a spark to gunpowder that finally propelled Luz forwards. She forced her eyes to break from those rings of bright gold, trying to at once dash past and reach for her friend-

But she didn’t make it three steps before being roughly yanked back by the hood, the grip suddenly encircling her wrist so tightly she felt her bones creak from the pressure even before her right arm was twisted and forced up the centre of her back, Luz’s own fingers tracing the outline of her spine. 

She cried out, trying to twist out of Amity’s grasp, but the prodigy held fast, her grip far, far too strong for the human to simply slip out of - her hands had a superhuman might to them, firmly keeping the brown haired girl in place with no effort despite her squirming. Even trying to drive the back of her skull into the Witch’s face proved fruitless, as Amity simply moved her free hand up from the human’s hood to her head, black nails scraping her scalp as those pale fingers tightened around a fistful of hair, using it as a short, painful leash. The goo-clad girl was roughly shoved down onto one of the desks, bent over at the waist with her chest and face pressed firmly against the smooth wood.

Even still, she struggled.

“Let go! ” Luz squeezed her eyes shut, still trying to twist her wrist back out of the Witch’s grip, “ You’re crushing my arm!

“Calm down,” Amity warned, words calm, but harsh, “I don’t want to hurt you, but I can tell just from holding you that you can’t use your Soul Wavelength. It won’t take any effort on my part to break your arm, and I will do it if you don’t obey.”

To emphasise her point, the mint-haired Witch squeezed; Luz tried and failed to bite down on a screech before her captor’s hand relaxed, just enough for the sharp pain to dull into a throbbing ache, though Amity’s grip was still far too tight - she could already feel the bruise starting to form on her arm, wincing as her heartbeat carried one pulse of pain after another from the tender flesh.

“... a human on the Boiling Isles,” Bump sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, “It seems you were correct, Miss Blight,” he shot a glare down towards the bespectacled Witch, “ Really, Miss Park, just what were you thinking?

“Hey, whoa,” Luz raised her head and pulled herself towards the Principal as best she could, starting, “This was all my idea, I’m the one who-AGH!” again, pain lanced up her arm, cutting off her words with a yelp before subsiding. She shot a glare back over her shoulder, trying to push back against the hand in her hair to look Amity in the eye, “Will you stop that- OW!

“Stop acting up, and I won’t have to,” Amity said, pushing the human back down against the desk, only relaxing her grip when Luz had settled.

The elderly Witch hadn’t even seemed to have heard the Latina; he kept his gaze fixed very firmly on Willow, whose eyes were now cast to the floor, half lidded. Her whole posture was slumped, defeated, lips pursed and hands limp at her sides, all of her former fight now gone.

“... don’t hurt her,” Willow’s eyes rose to meet the Principal’s as she began to plead, growing more animated with every word, “ Please, don’t hurt her! This is my fault. I’m the one who cheated, I’m the one who brought her here! I-I found her out in the woods, on my way to school, I- I couldn’t just leave her out there to wander around all by herself!”

“... you should have brought the human to me from the start, Willow,” the old man’s voice had softened a touch, though it still bore the scolding of a disappointed mentor, “As it is, discussing this will have to wait; right now, dealing with the human is more important than determining responsibility or meting out any sort of punishment. I need you all to accompany me to my office - you included, Mister Porter,” his sharp, viridian eyes gleamed with warning, “You’re a witness that a human is in the Boiling Isles.”

Gus swallowed, his grey eyes darting between each figure in the room before finally fixing on Luz, “... what’s gonna happen to her?”

“The human will be handed over to the Emperor’s Coven - any human without an owner is to be given to the proper authorities and transferred to the Cavitol immediately,” the old man folded his hands behind his back, striding forwards, “The presence of humans in the Isles, even one child, is not to be taken lightly - the Emperor will want to know one is here, and learn how it arrived.”

“‘It?’ ‘Owner!?’ ” Luz shouted, appalled, “I am not an ‘it!’

Again, she went ignored, the Principal instead gesturing for his students to follow, “Come along. I can’t leave any of you unattended until this matter is properly dealt with.”

Luz opened her mouth to protest, only to find herself hauled back up to a standing position, Amity half guiding, half driving her forwards like an animal on a harness. Silently, listlessly, Willow and Gus fell into step behind alongside them, their eyes low even as the Principal idly conjured a flash of blue light.

The human blinked; all of a sudden, she couldn’t see her free arm. Looking down, she couldn’t even see her legs, as though the entirety of her had simply ceased to exist, despite the fact that she could still feel her feet on the ground; she craned her neck as far as Amity’s grip would allow, only to find that the girl seemed to have her hands at her sides. She opened her mouth to speak, only to find that she couldn’t make a sound.

Then she found her head dragged right back into a forward position, the grip in her hair and on her arm still as present as it was painful.

“It’s an Illusion spell,” Amity informed, tone quiet and clinical, “All it’s done is make you invisible and unable to make any noise. It’s there to keep you from causing a panic. Don’t try anything, and I promise that you won’t get hurt - a Blight always keeps her word.”

Again, the Latina tried, and failed, to speak, instead having to settle for petulantly sticking out her tongue before Bump opened the door, and they all entered the hall.  


Despite all the time they had spent in the dark, they still didn’t know how to deal with it.

They huddled in the middle of the room, spindly arms hugging their legs to their chest, only sure that their eyes were open because of the sting of the musty air. No light filtered in through the blinds, as they had been covered with a sheet that brought the already stifling heat to a sear. No noise rose from the vents, or managed to filter in from outside, neither from the door nor the firmly shuttered window - even Ragnarok was strangely silent from where he splayed across the room’s only bed, refusing to allow them to even touch it and forcing them to instead lay on the floor as usual.

In truth, they didn’t know how to deal with any of it. The heat was suffocating, making it difficult to breathe; there was nothing to hear; and they couldn’t even see their own hands in this complete and utter darkness.

They didn’t know how to deal with the heat, the sweat plastering their dress to their body. They didn’t know how to deal with the silence, though they didn’t dare break it. 

They didn’t know how to deal with the dark, despite its familiarity.

They didn’t even know how to deal with the fact that Ragnarok was leaving them alone. The Demon Sword lay almost completely motionless, the only movement he had caused by the beating of their shared heart, a physical constant rather than a deliberate motion.

They knew he was awake. If Ragnarok had fallen asleep, he’d have retreated into their body by now, letting them crawl to the bed in search of some vestige of physical comfort.

Instead, he silently laid on his back, staring into the empty black, just as they were.

They weren’t sure how long it had been. Lady Medusa had never allowed them to have a clock; the only time they ever saw the sun was on the rare occasions she had let them outside. The seconds bled into each other, and they would swiftly lose count; minutes simultaneously dragged on and slipped past before they could realise it, becoming indiscernible from moments or hours - and there was never any way to tell when one day ended and another began. They were always home, by the time the sun ever rose or fell.

Time was something Lady Medusa kept track of, something she tracked with watches and hourglasses and calendars.

They didn’t know how to deal with time.

They didn’t even know if they’d gotten any sleep.

They felt exhausted, but that indicated nothing. They were always exhausted, even on the rare occasions Ragnarok didn’t wake them up.

They clutched themselves tighter, in hopes that they would drift off into the soundless abyss of a dreamless slumber…

Only for the door to click, and then slowly creak open.

Light streamed in from the hall, flickering as the old wood clicked with each of the visitor’s steps; only her silhouette was visible against the harsh, yellowing glare, but it was familiar enough for them to know who it was.

“Crona.”

The name, the singular word from Lady Medusa was a command all on its own, one they did their best to obey as they groggily got to their feet, trying not to stagger as they stepped forwards.

She reached out, cupping their chin with a firm grip; her slit irises dilated slightly as she twisted their face one way, then the other. She was utterly neutral, entirely clinical in her inspection of Crona’s face.

They knew better than to cry or to shout as her nails dug into their skin, as sharp as they were slender. They knew better than to try to shrink away or hide from that withering gaze.

All they could do was wait until she was finished.

“... there are still shadows under your eyes,” she noted, “Have you gotten any sleep whatsoever?”

“I-I don’t know, Lady Medusa,” they answered honestly, “I can’t tell when I’m asleep or when I’m awake in here…”

The Witch’s expression didn’t change, pressing a hand to the pink haired child’s forehead; a brief green glow filled their vision before subsiding, followed by Lady Medusa clicking her teeth.

“Not even an hour’s worth of sleep,” she said, pulling her hands away and leaving Crona to rub ruefully at their jaw, “Perhaps I should have had you medicated after all.”

“... the sleep medicine makes me sick,” they murmured, “I wanna lie down and throw up and I get all clumsy and I don’t know how to deal with it…”

Lady Medusa didn’t answer this time; instead, she turned away, stepping back into the hall, “Come along, Crona. The sun is almost down. You’ll just have to do the experiment as you are.”

Wordlessly, Crona stepped forwards. Behind them, Ragnarok idly rose from the bed, his hulking form shrinking down and slipping into Crona’s back without a word - but not without a jab, idly smacking the swaddled preteen in the back of the head with a quiet, malicious chuckle.

As usual, their cry went unnoticed by the Witch, who didn’t slow in the slightest.

Crona had to clumsily rush down the stairs to keep up, the harsh glare of the lights and the sun from beyond the windows blinding them, making them wince until their stinging eyes had finally adjusted. Before long, they were at the building’s front doors, before Lady Medusa turned to them again.

Again, she placed her hand to their forehead.

Again, they felt their eyes roll into the back of their head as the image was burned into their mind.

The buildings as they zipped past, starting from the apartments they were in and winding across roads and bridges into the city.

The stone architecture of their target.

The people within.

The information was wordless, but clear - but no less painful for it as Lady Medusa pulled her hand away, leaving Crona struggling to maintain their balance where they stood, clutching at their now aching head as they tried to make sense of it all.

“... b-but it’s so far away,” they whined, “It’ll take me so long to walk there…”

“Then you’d best get walking,” she stated, reaching for the door handle, “I will be monitoring your progress, Crona. Don’t disappoint me - and feed as much as you need to.”

With that, she opened the door, letting the evening air rush in; the child only had a moment to shudder before the Witch’s eyes levelled on them again, cold and uncaring, “Go.”

They didn’t make any noise of affirmation.

They didn’t even nod.

All they could do was stand silent for a moment that seemed all too long before shuffling out into the street, rubbing their hands against their arms in an attempt to maintain some illusion of warmth.

They didn’t know where they were, not really. All they had was a rough idea of where to go, what corners to turn at, what paths to follow - that wasn’t the same thing.

But that was one of the few things they could deal with.

And at the very least, they knew why they were here.

They would kill. They would feed. They would do whatever they wanted until the night was through, as long as they did what Lady Medusa said.

As long as they became a Kishin.

Silently, they entered the maze of lights and laughter, of paths and people.

Notes:

Man, these can take a while sometimes.

I'm gonna try to get the next two chapters out soon, guys. But please keep in mind school is starting for me again soon and that's going to start eating more of my time very soon. But the next couple chapters, this one included, I think are gonna be a three parter, possibly four parts, depending on how things go with Hunter and Crona. So, thank you in advance for your patience - I'll try not to keep you all waiting for too long.

Thanks for giving this a read, everyone, and thank you so much for your patience and understanding with me. Let me know what you think! I hope you all enjoyed the twenty third chapter of Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance!

Chapter 24: Preparation and Improvisation

Notes:

I do not own Soul Eater or Owl House.

If I did, Willow and Gus would have gotten a lot more screentime to shine with.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

It had been a very long time since Eda had laid eyes on Hexside’s school grounds.

She’d lost count, in fact, since the thousandth year; she couldn’t remember quite which century her graduation had occurred anymore, just that it was somewhere within ten or twenty years of the turn, at least by the dates of Witches. By the dates of humans, she couldn’t even begin to guess, with the way they had centered their entire system of historiography around the birth of some man who’d been nailed to a pair of crossed boards at the eastern edge of the Mediterranean Sea.

All she knew for certain was that it had been a very, very long time.

And yet, despite that time, Hexside School of Magic and Demonics remained remarkably unchanged from how she remembered it. The building was almost exactly the same, the white stone still startlingly bright in its polish, the tile of the domed and sloping roofs still bearing its nearly turquoise hue. The school herald remained emblazoned on the front of the main tower, an ouroboros curving in a figure eight across the pages of an open tome, which itself lay within a cauldron. Even the high stone fence remained starkly familiar, even though she was certain more than a few repairs would have had to have been made to it over the years.

Even for a Magical structure, it was quite a feat of architecture, engineering, and maintenance. 

Despite her grievances, she had to admit - old Bumpykins certainly knew what he was doing.

Which was exactly why she didn’t step onto the grounds herself.

She hovered in the air briefly before touching down in the trees just beyond the borders; even with just a cursory look, she could see the barrier that had been erected over the school, its multicoloured surface shimmering in the daylight and refracting like a prism under her gaze, its very border touching down just short of the treeline.

A joint effort between the Principal and the other staff at Hexside, this barrier was specifically made for two reasons. The first was to keep the long list of criminals out - everyone from petty thieves to Witch Order terrorists, a list that the Owl Lady knew she herself was certainly a part of. One touch was all that would be needed to trigger any number of effects - from spontaneous combustion, to electrocution, to delirious nightmares and visions, it was designed to completely incapacitate any undesirable that so much as touched the barrier’s surface.

It wasn’t something she was incapable of handling by any means - if she absolutely had to, she could tear through it relatively easily - but that wasn’t her main concern.

The second reason for its existence was what gave her pause, after all; no Witch could step onto Hexside’s grounds without the entirety of the faculty being made aware of their presence. Any unidentified Witch would bring at least two teachers to their location immediately - Eda’s presence would likely send the entire school into a total lockdown, and even if she liked her chances against the Witches here, she had no desire to cause a major incident.

It was a spell that had been in place, and continually refined, for as long as she personally could remember. One that she was all too familiar with.

The gold-eyed woman grimaced. She’d spent the entire trip debating how to circumvent the barrier; despite the strength and skill of all those maintaining it, it was hardly a perfect spell, especially with so many students to keep track of as it was. Any Witch with a halfway clever use of Soul Protect could easily disguise their Soul and simply stroll onto the grounds, the faculty already too wrapped up in keeping track of hundreds of far younger, weaker Witches to notice the sudden appearance of an additional presence… 

Though by the same token, that would not disguise Eda herself - and while the strength of a Soul Protect could vary depending on the amount of Magical might she wanted to keep, she would need to drop the spell immediately to muster her full strength in the event she was discovered.

And conflict was the last thing she needed right now.

She just needed to get in, get Luz, and get out.

There was a gentle hoot; she glanced at her staff as Owlbert unscrewed himself from his perch on her staff, eyes wide as his Soul gently reached out to her’s, his own shared concern accompanied by a gentle reassurance - and a wordless query.

“... you want to go in there yourself?” she asked.

An affirmative bob of his tiny body.

Eda frowned; on some level, it certainly made sense. Palismen were used for just about everything, at least on the Boiling Isles, and were far more difficult to keep track of than the individual Witch; no one would so much as blink at a Palisman appearing on school grounds, likely assuming it would be a parents’ Palisman seeking out a particular student, and it was very likely that the enchantments made to keep her out would not affect the small wooden owl. Though that still left one particular concern...

Nonetheless, it seemed to be her best option.

And Luz was likely running out of time.

“... go,” she agreed, thrusting her staff up into the air. 

With a flap of his wings, Owlbert soared up into the air, piercing the barrier and flying out over the grounds.

She backed off further into the woods, letting Owlbert’s Soul connect with her own, projecting his view into her mind.

Now, all she could do was guide, and wait.


It turned out that Hexside was a lot bigger than Luz had initially thought.

The school had no less than four separate floors, at least from what she managed to glimpse from the main atrium; every noise around her screamed for her attention all at once, and the bright colours of virtually everything she got to look at for more than a fraction of a second demanded that she wander over and touch, be it the vicious-looking mimic-lockers, the classrooms with their various nicknacks and objects, the books or uniforms of the students, or even the students themselves, the appearance of each more varied and strange than the last. 

Not that the Latina had more than a moment to take everything in, much less the opportunity to fulfil her desire to touch and play with everything she looked at or follow every noise she heard; Amity’s fingers had still clenched around her wrist and in her hair, and the young Witch was still not-at-all gently steering her after the slowly shuffling Principal. Faculty and students alike parted in a rainbow sea rather than a strictly red one as he made his way through the halls, but that by no means made the walk easy. Several times, she’d felt Amity’s shoes dig into her heels, or she’d trip over her own feet when pulled into another turn - each of which was swiftly followed by a sideways or upward yank, or a forward shove, the mint-haired teen clearly trying to keep Luz at a perfect distance and pace as they moved.

It hadn’t taken them long to reach the heavy double doors, which opened to a large, but oddly cozy room. The bookshelves and glass cabinet were topped by a number of objects; a marble bust of a bearded man Luz couldn’t recognize; a dagger on a stand that she could only assume was Magical; several framed photos, all with some form of movement occurring behind the glass, though she wasn’t close enough to make out the details, and what seemed to be a framed certificate written in a language Luz recognized, but couldn’t name or read; and a crystal ball, so dark a purple it was nearly pitch black. A grandfather clock carved from wood and bone and decorated with fangs sat off to the left, bronze pendulum lazily swaying, two sets of hands overlaid overtop one another; each displayed an entirely separate time, and the sounds of ticking were constant, overlaid atop one another, throwing the Latina entirely off from the normal rhythm of passing seconds.

To the right of the room sat a strange mix of cabinet and standing desk, several books larger than her torso on the surface of the chest level wood, a statuette of a dragon perched on the very top, high out of reach, the patterned edging of the cabinet’s wood seeming inlaid with brass or gold. In the very corner, a plant grew out of a pot, seeming to be a severely overgrown venus flytrap that was more animal than plant; it visibly rose and fell with each breath, and the mouth of each of the three massive heads seemed ringed with actual bone teeth meant to tear flesh and crush bone rather than merely prongs to assist in trapping its prey. Along the back wall, held above shelves, clock and cabinetry, hung nine separate banners, each of a different colour, each bearing a different symbol; all hung to bear more presence and prominence than perhaps anything else in the room, though what exactly they honoured, Luz couldn’t for the life of her begin to guess.

And in the center of the room sat the desk, simple, yet ornate. One one side sat another crystal ball, this one clear, sitting atop a small gold stand, easily able to fit in the hand; on the other, sat a pen and ink, the pen made to resemble a quill. On the front was emblazoned a symbol, with more words written around it that Luz couldn’t read; before she could get a good look, Amity had dragged her off to the side of the room, while Willow and Gus sulked off to the opposite wall.

Bump merely raised a hand as he shuffled around the desk, sitting down in the ornate chair; with a flash of blue light, the tanned teen found herself visible again.

“... okay,” she tested, not particularly wanting to have her arm twisted any further, “Now what?”

All at once, she was released; Luz stumbled forwards, startled, spinning in place and torn between inspecting her now swollen arm, rubbing the back of her aching head, and trying to meet Amity’s gaze-

And then she was shoved backwards.

She landed hard in the chair with a jolt, head smacking against the wooden headboard; she heard the dull, almost pained groan emanate behind her before something massive, sticky and heavy wrapped its gooey form around her, a thick coating pinning her arms against the armrests and body keeping her firmly stuck against the chair. She could immediately tell this wasn’t like the muck that had been in Willow’s cauldron; this was a much thicker mire, one that she struggled to move in at all, unable to shift even an inch in the sucking violet mud. She looked up at the Abomination’s mottled, twisted face before letting her eyes fall to Amity, who lowered her hand, arms crossed.

“Now,” she started, audibly struggling to hide her anger beneath a more dispassionate tone, “We wait.”

Luz wrinkled her nose, feeling her brow crease with indignance, but said nothing; the throbbing of her arm was already a very real reminder of the situation she was in. Instead, she turned her gaze to Bump, who had his hand on the crystal ball, eyes closed; he breathed deep, the ball taking on a brilliant blue glow.

For a long moment, nothing else happened; the whole room seemed to be waiting with baited breath for something to happen…

And then a figure appeared in the crystal ball, as the Principal pulled his hand away.

From her current angle, Luz couldn’t see their face; only the heavy white hood that had been pulled over their head, completely obscuring the entirety of their head and shoulders from view.

State your name and business with the Emperor’s Coven,” they spoke, low and gruff.

“Principal Hieronymus Bump,” he intoned, “I need to speak with the Head Witch of your office regarding a possible realm breach.”

The figure didn’t make so much as a word of protest or counter; instead, they nodded, “Transferring your commune now.

With that, the figure disappeared, the blue glow remaining in the orb.

“... if only our call transfers worked that quickly,” Luz muttered - then felt the purple climb further up her torso and onto her neck and chin, the muck stopping just below her lips, threatening to engulf her mouth. She whimpered, trying to wrench her head up and away from the sticky mud, even as the Amity shot her yet another glare.

Quiet,” the mint haired teen hissed, the threat more than evident in her tone.

It didn’t take long for another figure to appear in the crystal; again, Luz couldn’t get a true inkling of what they looked like. The only things she could see were the silky sheen of their long black hair, the white fabric of their cloak heavy across their shoulders. An imperious voice rang out, commanding, powerful, and distinctly feminine despite its low register.

Principal Hieronymus Bump,” they began, a hint of a smile present in their tone, “Now this is a pleasant surprise.

The old Witch jumped in his seat, visibly startled, eyes wide and blinking at the sight of the person in the glowing orb; he spluttered, then forced himself to take breath, clearing his throat.

“L-Lady Clawthorne,” his own voice had taken on a more uptight, formal cadence.

“Clawthorne?...” Luz murmured, looking to the others; for the first time, Amity seemed to have lost all interest in her, instead openly staring at the crystal ball, eyes wide and mouth slightly open in obvious awe. Even Willow and Gus seemed to have forgotten their former gloom, seeming at once shocked and awestruck by the woman in the crystal, as though seeing a living legend for the very first time - whoever this woman was, she had to be important.

Please, Hieronymus,” the woman chuckled, “I may be Head of the Emperor’s Coven now, but that does not change that you were once my teacher. You may address me as you always have.

“... forgive me, Lilith,” relief seemed to flood the man, though he did not fully relax, “I… I was not expecting you of all people to answer. I had thought you were stationed in the Cavitol, not Bonesborough’s imperial office.”

There has been a recent change in organization; I am in Bonesborough by my own request until further notice,” the dark haired Witch - Lilith - explained casually, “I do trust this will make your calls to this office more pleasant, as few as they are.

“I see.” 

But I can very clearly see you’re not just making a house call - you’re the last person I would accuse of making prank communes to the imperial office,” Lilith’s tone grew somewhat more stern, “I trust there is a reason for your contact?

Bump folded his hands on the table, his own expression growing more serious, “There is. And I hope you will forgive me for addressing you more formally, Lady Clawthorne, but this is not a situation for familiarity. A human has been found on Hexside’s school grounds.”

Silence; the woman did not immediately move. She kept her gaze firmly on the Principal, the silence only broken by the maddening ticking of the clock, each one slipping away faster than Luz could count them.

... and here I was hoping to give you a pleasant surprise of my own with my return visit,” Lilith sighed, “It seems I will have to come earlier than I anticipated, and that I won’t be staying the day as I’d hoped.

Even as Amity struggled to reign in her quickening breaths, and Willow and Gus’ eyes shot from each other to Luz in panic, Bump kept his expression even, “When will you be arriving?”

Within the hour. I would come immediately, but I need to prepare a separate, isolated holding space for the human first. How old is it?

“Thirteen, maybe fourteen years,” The Principal said, “Female.”

Thank you. I will see you soon, Hieronymus. Have… well, as good a day as you can.

“You as well, Lady Clawthorne.”

With that, the orb dimmed and then lost its glow entirely.

“... now then,” Bump raised his eyes, fixing them on the room’s three students, “I believe we have some events to clear up.”

“Principal Bump,” Amity protested, “I thought I had made it quite clear-”

He raised a hand, “Miss Blight. I have already heard your version of events. While I have no reason to doubt you, there are still two sides to this story that I am yet to hear. I cannot make any proper judgements until I have heard all versions of today’s events.”

With that, the Blight fell silent, chewing at her lip.

“... three.”

The Latina blinked; her eyes shot to Willow.

“... Miss Park?” the elderly Witch queried.

“... there’s three more sides to this story, Principal Bump. Not two,” she adjusted her glasses; she seemed to have regained some of her former confidence, uncertain, but determined to at least try to push forwards, “Mine. Gus’,” she raised a hand, pointing at where Luz sat, bound to her chair, “And Luz’s.”

For the first time, the Principal deigned to look at her; she swallowed under his gaze, unsure as to whether she should meet his gaze with a look of defiance, or a friendly smile.

“... the human?” Amity asked, flat, frustrated, “Seriously, Willow?”

“Yes, Amity,” Willow snapped, “The human.”

Bump let out a long, slow breath, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Miss Park, I hardly think that the human’s-”

“Her name is Luz,” the bespectacled girl interrupted, “And since this discussion is about her, and why she’s here, I think that if you really want to get to the bottom of this and mete out a proper course of action to go forward with, then you need to listen to what she has to say.”

Despite herself, the Latina couldn’t help but smile; with just a few quick words, Willow had somehow managed to brighten up the entire room. The whole situation suddenly seemed so much less bleak, even as the Principal pursed his lips, eyes narrowed in thought.

“... Willow, it’s a human,” Amity insisted, incredulous, “You can’t honestly think that it genuinely has something worthwhile to say? What is this, some sort of ploy to buy time? You think that if you just stall long enough, you can somehow sneak it out of here?”

Willow didn’t answer, very pointedly not acknowledging Amity’s gaze.

“... Augustus!” Amity whirled, growing more indignant by the second, “ You’re the wannabe human expert! Would you talk some sense into her?”

“... I don’t know,” Gus began slowly; he brought a hand to his chin, “I mean, humans have repeatedly demonstrated that they’re capable of some pretty ingenious things, given time, and Luz clearly isn’t stupid; she had a whole classroom fooled, right? Even Hermonculus, who’s a real stickler for Abomination quality,” he turned, pointing at the Blight, “Heck, even you thought she was an Abomination for a while, right?”

The prodigious Abomination Witch sputtered, utterly shocked by the words pouring out of the young Illusionist’s mouth.

He gave a nervous smile, letting his hand fall, contritely spinning his fingers, “I just… I dunno… maybe it’s worth hearing her out?”

Slowly, Amity’s face warped from incredulity to indignant rage. She stalked forwards, “Okay, let’s get one thing straight right now,” she grabbed Gus by the collar of his hood, yanking him up and off his feet. He let out a yelp, nothing short of terrified as the Blight snarled, her face mere inches from his, “I was not outsmarted by a human!

“Put him down!”

“Miss Blight!”

Luz’s voice echoed alongside Bump’s; slowly, the Abomination prodigy turned to face the Principal, who had risen to his feet. A calm, but intense anger had taken over his posture and expression, eyes narrowed and jaw set.

“... I appreciate your efforts today, and that the events of the last few hours have been stressful for you as class representative,” he lectured, tone deliberately clipped, restrained, “But your frustrations and position do not give you the right to manhandle your fellow students. Your position demands not only greater skill, but greater self control. His comments and today’s overall events do not reflect on your character, but your actions right this moment most certainly do. Now put. Him. Down.

The mint haired girl’s breaths remained slow, harsh… but slowly began to recede into an equally furious tranquillity. Without another word, she set him down, turning away and walking back to stand beside Luz.

“... what’s so bad about getting tricked by a human?” the Latina asked, half to herself, half to Amity, eyes wide as she tried to understand something she had no explanation for.

All she got in response was another cold glare, Amity’s teeth grinding and her hands clenching into fists.

You,” she managed, “need to shut up. Right now.

“... now then. Back to the matter at hand,” Bump breathed, turning his attention to Willow once more, “I would like you to start from the beginning, Miss Park. Where exactly did you find the human?”

“... the forest, on the way out to Hexside from Bonesborough,” she answered reluctantly, “The one with all the everautumns?”

“When and how?”

“... it was after I’d run into Amity this morning, and we… discussed… my Abomination,” she recalled, “It’s actually a… little more accurate to say that Luz found me, just before school started. I initially assumed she was a Witch…”

Luz did her best to listen as Willow recalled the events of that morning, starting from the two stumbling across each other, albeit without mentioning the green-eyed girl’s tantrum with Plant Magic; their conversation, Willow’s assumption that the Latina had been using something called Soul Protect, and her eventual conclusion otherwise. But as Bump’s questions continued, she found herself increasingly distracted by a shadow moving across the floor; something that was moving back and forth beyond the windows behind her.

She squirmed, twisted, trying to crane her neck back over her shoulder so she could see beyond the glass - but all she got for her trouble was a faceful of Abomination goo, firmly sticking her face to the back of the chair.

“Agh-!” she pulled, trying to pull her face free, “Stupid… sticky… let go…!

“Oh, for Titan’s sake,” Amity whispered, rubbing at her brow before snapping her fingers; immediately, the Abomination receded from Luz’s face, allowing her to move her head freely, “There. Now will you please stop squirming so much? You’re so disruptive.”

“... sorry,” Luz murmured, “But there’s something moving around outside the window.”

“I’m sure,” the prodigy muttered, continuing to listen as Bump turned his attention to Gus.

“And you, Mister Porter,” the Principal inquired, “Miss Park claims that you didn’t know about the human when she first contacted you? You only found out about it upon your arrival?”

“... yeah,” Gus agreed, “I didn’t know there was a human involved until I actually got there. I thought she was a Witch with Soul Protect on, just like Willow did.”

“And you arrived not long before Miss Blight led me to you?”

“Five minutes ahead, tops,” he confirmed, “I didn’t have time to do much.”

“But you did attempt to assist Miss Park in hiding the human’s presence.”

“... I did,” Gus confirmed, “I just… I got caught up in the discovery, sir. I’m sorry.”

“... had you simply confessed from the beginning, I may have been able to justify letting you off as a mere witness, Mister Porter,” the Principal sighed, “As it is, however, I have no choice but to treat you as Miss Park’s accomplice in this matter.”

“... I understand, sir,” the young Illusionist’s head bowed, ears drooping slightly.

With that, Bump’s eyes moved to her, finally granting Luz his appraising stare - though his gaze bore none of the disappointment or warmth that he used to address his students. The way he looked at her was cold, detached - as though he was looking at an object rather than a person.

“... what is your name, human?” he finally deigned to ask.

“... Luz,” she said, not daring to break eye contact, “Luz Noceda.”

“I want you to give your version of events, Luz Noceda. In order, quickly, concisely, and with no unnecessary anecdotes or commentary.”

“... sure. I can do that,” she agreed, clearing her throat “It all started when I was on my way back from the beach; my teacher had-”

“Your teacher?” Bump interrupted, raising an eyebrow.

“Y-Yeah, my teacher,” Luz nodded.

Amity scoffed, but offered no comment; the Principal, on the other hand, seemed to be staring at her with a profoundly greater interest than before, eyes slightly narrowed as he silently gestured with his hand, indicating for her to continue.

“... I was on my way back from helping inspect a trash slug when I found Willow and Amity,” she recounted, “I watched them for a bit, and when Amity left, I started talking with Willow, and convinced her to let me help her with her Abomination? I took notes and carried stuff until lunch, and then I hid back in the cauldron until we reached that classroom, and… well, then you and Amity found us.”

“And who exactly is this teacher of yours?”

At this, Luz bit her lip, jaw tightening; she didn’t like how fixated he seemed on the subject. He hadn’t acknowledged anything else she’d said so far, his eyes so intense she couldn’t help but wonder if he was trying to read her mind.

Besides, she doubted the fact that she was apprenticing to a wanted criminal would earn her any favours.

“Luz Noceda?” he prompted, again using her full name, “Who is your teacher?”

“I…” she swallowed, “I’m learning how to use Magic… from…”

She trailed off; the shadow play on the floor had changed again, catching her eye and forcing her speech to stall to a halt as quickly as she had begun. The swift, indistinct shape had returned, but this time did not disappear from view; instead, it seemed to hover as it swelled, rapidly growing from an indecipherable dot to a far larger blot, almost an ink stain upon the tile floor.

“... human?” the Principal prompted, doing his best to maintain a patient tone.

“... sorry,” she managed, but she still couldn’t raise her gaze as the shadow grew, “... what is-?”

Before she could finish her question, the glass of the window behind her shattered.

Luz felt her eyes squeeze shut on reflex as the shards fell to the floor in a cascade of clear crystal; she felt several stick in her hair, heard them land in a cacophony of clicks and cracks around her as they scattered across the carpet and tile. She forced her eyes open…

And found herself staring at an all too familiar creature.

Eda’s small brown owl.

It wheeled about the room with a loud screech, talons outstretched as it swooped towards her, a faint glow surrounding each wickedly curved spike; the tanned teen thought the bird would be stuck fast for sure, but when it struck the Abomination keeping her bound, the purple construct immediately began to lose its shape, its eyes losing their green glow a fraction of a second before its face collapsed on itself. All at once, the whole body lost its definition and strength, if not its stickiness, letting Luz rise from the chair with a terrified energy she had never felt before.

Without a second glance, the owl spun, and swooped towards the Principal, who had already risen from his chair, eyes fierce and hands raised. Magical power crackled between his fingers as he conjured a snare before him, forming a wall of glowing threads - but the small bird proved too nimble, easily slipping through the last gap of the snare before it could fully form. It dived, digging its talons into the top of the Principal’s head.

There was an unholy shriek as the red was abruptly pulled up, as though something were crying out in pain; like a hood, the crimson skin was pulled up and away from Bump’s face, exposing a single eye of brown, the other shut by a painful-looking scar, the green eyes of his former mask revealed to be another creature in its entirety, clinging onto the elderly Witch for dear life. He raised his hand with a snarl, trying to fling the owl away-

And then Willow entered Luz’s view, eyes wide and panicked.

“Willow?!”

“We have to go, now!” the Park girl grabbed the tanned teen’s hand, pulling her up and out of the chair.

Amity, however, was already in motion, raising her hands to reanimate the Abomination, teeth bared and eyes sharp, gleaming with newfound frustration.

“Oh, no you don’t-!

Those were the only words the prodigy managed to get out before, entirely on panicked impulse, Luz hurled a heavy piece of sludge perfectly into her face.

Amity stumbled back with a strangled shout, startled and blind; her Magic faltered as she clawed at her face, trying to clear her vision of the purple muck. Before Luz could make any move to help pull the muck away from the prodigy’s face, Willow was already pulling her along, sprinting out the door and into the hall, the owl’s wingbeats swiftly overtaking them as it flew overhead.


The sky was finally beginning to show the darker hues of evening’s onset.

The lapping of the water at the edges of the canal and the distant sound of the crowds were the only things that broke the silence; lights began to fill the formerly dark windows of the buildings on every street and canal, white and orange glows cast across cobble and concrete and into the evening air; even now, in the distance, the distant lights cast by open shutters shone and shimmered in artificial constellations, as though it were some attempt to match the grandeur of the stars above - or perhaps, an attempt to entice them, to come down to join the innumerable lights and the crowds far below.

One could be fooled into thinking such a scheme might have worked, in a city like Venice - all the lights meant that no stars could be seen in the sky above, blotted out by the blinking bulbs, the shine of a whole nation in and of itself.

A predatory, grand illusion - one that failed to do anything but rob the sky of all its lights but the cackling moon, blinding the populace below to what was tangible and real.

The same trap, the same cage, that humans always seemed so eager to weave around themselves.

Medusa hovered amidst the gathering cloud cover from atop her broom, peering down amidst the hundreds of thousands of lights that winked to life across the city. Even through the skybound fog, she could clearly see the millions of human Souls all going about their business, completely oblivious to the reality around them; the very picture of complacency, not a single one of them capable of seeing the Souls around them, not a single one even slightly interested in growing in any way that truly mattered.

And yet, within each and every one of them laid the potential to be something more.

Each and every Soul was a spark, capable of growing into a much greater flame - a flame that could burn away the structures that held the world in stasis, and dispel the illusion that humans had trapped themselves in, and that the Reaper was all too content to maintain.

How those flames started was irrelevant.

As long as they raged beyond the control of anyone, and anything…

And really, it was so much easier to feed those sparks to a flame that was already burning.

Her eyes fixed upon Crona’s and Dainslief’s Souls, the paired glows like deep amethysts amidst the plethora of pale quartz that surrounded them; it wouldn’t be long, now, until they made it to the Chiesa. The experiment would soon begin in earnest - and with any luck at all, that would only be the beginning of something more.

It was then, however, that two other Souls caught her eye; she let their glow draw her gaze, eyes narrowed as she examined the distant pair…

And she had to fight to keep her jaw tightening from frustration.

One, stitched.

The other, bladed.

Both, gleaming with unusual power… but the bladed Soul in particular shone with a power she had only rarely encountered, the unmistakable shine of trapped, unharnessed Magic playing within the depths of its owner.

“... a Death Scythe,” she remarked, “That is unfortunate…”

There was only one rational explanation as to why a Death Scythe and a Meister would be here, and now.

She didn’t know how, but a connection must have been made between her experiments. Some commonality that drew the incidents together.

Whether it was a matter of the DWMA’s resourcefulness, or her own carelessness, was entirely irrelevant. The fact remained, her experiment now had witnesses - witnesses that would undoubtedly interlope and distort the results.

But it was too late to stop now. Crona was already on the move, and she had spent too long preparing for this experiment to call it off now.

She would simply have to make do.

She turned her gaze back to Crona as they wandered the streets, step by step getting closer to San Geremia.

All she could do now was observe, and prepare to intervene herself…


“So what’s the plan!?”

Willow’s mind swam as she struggled to register Luz’s shout over her own heartbeat, awash in her own panic as adrenaline pounded through her veins. She didn’t dare to look back to see what was happening, her eyes glued firmly forwards, only drifting upwards occasionally to stare at the small owl Palisman that was now flying overhead.

There was no one else in the halls at this point; lunch must have ended, and all the other students would have filed themselves nearly away to their classes. With any luck at all, they would be too distracted by whatever nightmares were unfolding in their classrooms to look out into the hall and notice them as they sped past.

“Don’t have one! Just winging it at this point!” the Witch managed between breaths, “All I know is that we can’t let them give you to Lady Clawthorne!”

“You mean that Lilith lady!?

“No time, just run!”

A third voice rang out over the pounding of their shoes on the tiles, “What do you want me to do!?”

Willow nearly tripped over her own feet, stumbling before shooting a look back over her shoulder, “Gus!?”

The dark skinned boy wasn’t far behind, managing a brave smile as he struggled to keep pace, “Hey, I’m already in trouble! May as well go all the way, right!?”

“... copies!” the bespectacled girl shouted, “Make copies of us and have them scatter!”

“Way ahead of you!”

A blue glow encompassed his hands as he pressed them together, murmuring under his breath; all at once, another two copies of the trio appeared, running alongside them briefly before turning and sprinting into other halls as they passed. He breathed, “That’s the best I can manage while we’re running!”

“That’s a big help regardless!” Luz flashed him a grin, her own breaths much, much deeper than either of the Witchlings’, “Now we just gotta follow the owl! Eda should be nearby!”

There it was again.

That name.

Willow knew it all slotted together somehow. That Palisman should have been the final piece of the puzzle, a puzzle that was unnerving her perhaps more than anything else about this situation. The young Witch knew, on some level, that it should have clicked, that something should have become clear the moment she heard that sentence, perhaps even the moment she had seen the owl.

But whether it was her focus on the task at hand or the panic flowing through her mind, she couldn’t find the answer.

All she could do was keep running.

At least, until the crimson started to spread through the halls.

Each line of brilliant red light shot out across the walls, floor and ceiling from point to point, circle to circle, like the lines connecting the stars made manifest; magical circles far too complex for Willow to read or interpret took shape across the stone and tile, all interconnected and gleaming with an almost malevolent shine.

“... lockdown!” she shouted, skidding to a halt and reaching out; she caught Luz by the arm just in time to halt her before a wall of crimson light formed from nowhere, inches from the human’s face.

She nearly collapsed, hands on her knees, struggling for breath between hacking coughs; without access to her Soul Wavelength, the human could only run for so long. The owl hovered overhead, letting out loud hooting noises as it tried to claw through the crimson wall, only managing to make faint scuffs before the light regenerated. Eventually, it fluttered down, landing atop the human’s head and going still, eyes closed - likely to communicate with its Witch.

“... we’re sealed in,” Gus sighed; when Willow looked back, he had a hand on the barrier behind them; every archway, every door, had the same transparent crimson light forming a solid wall, smooth as glass but harder than steel. He slumped back against it, rubbing his forehead, “My illusions might buy us some time, but… I don’t think we’re getting out of this...”

“... well… maybe there’s… still something...” Luz managed, almost falling backwards to the floor. She stared up at them from where she sat, “Is there… any way… to turn it off?...”

“Not from here,” the green-eyed Witchling crossed her arms, biting her nail, “Even if there were, you need to be a teacher to be able to access the system. You’d need something capable of nullifying Magic in order to shut it down from here, and even then…” she shook her head, “... I’m sorry, Luz.”

The tanned girl stared for a moment longer before shoving her hands in her pockets, frowning in thought. Then she blinked, pulling her hand out.

Willow paid her no mind, simply slumping back against the wall. She knew it would have been impossible from the moment they started running… but it felt like they had been so close. Like the Palisman should have been the exact break she needed to get Luz out of this place. Even now, it was hooting loudly, having hopped down onto Luz’s arm and pecking at whatever it was she now held in her hand - not that the Witchling could bring herself to look.

So close, yet so far.

It turned out the same way everything else did.

She couldn’t even break the rules right. She couldn’t even protect someone even more of a weakling than she herself was.

“... I’m only ever going to be Half-A-Witch… aren’t I?...” she asked, sliding down to sit on the floor, eyes half lidded as she stared into the empty air.

“... what about this?” the human’s tanned hand shoved something into Willow’s face.

Unable to even muster the energy to be startled, Willow reached up, accepting the small, weightless object from Luz, adjusting her glasses so she could see…

And froze.

In her hand sat a rose’s deadhead. 

But not the deadhead of just any old rose.

“You’re good at Plant Magic,” Luz insisted, “Maybe you can do something with that?”

“... Luz,” Willow slowly raised her gaze to meet the human’s, “Where did you get this?”

“Trash slug,” Luz stated casually, clearly not understanding Willow’s apprehension as she tilted her head, “Why?”

“What?” Gus perked up, scooting over across the floor on his knees to join the huddle, “Whatchagot?”

“... this is a cluster of fertilized seeds from a Maleficent’s Briarwood,” the Witchling spoke, her words slow, quiet.

At that, the dark-skinned boy’s eyes bulged in their sockets, staring down at the deadhead, “Mal’s Briarwood?... isn’t that… super illegal? Like, three centuries in the Conformatorium, illegal?”

“Wait, what?” Luz blinked, startled, “Three centuries? For a plant?

“This isn’t just any plant, Luz,” Willow cupped the deadhead with both hands, covering it as much as possible, “This plant is extremely dangerous. It’s parasitic; not only can it nullify spells, but it actively feeds on Magic. People have died trying to handle it, and there’s stories of one shrub of this stuff going unchecked and taking over whole forests and wiping out entire towns; that’s why the only ones cultivated are kept in specialized arboretums run by the Plant Coven.”

“... wait,” the human stared down at the seeds, “Are you telling me the forest of brambles keeping people away from Maleficent’s castle in the Sleeping Beauty fairy tale is a thing? A thing that exists?

“Are you kidding, there’s a dedicated section on Maleficent in the history books!” Gus insisted, “Are you telling me that humans think she didn’t exist!? And what do you mean by 'fairy tale!?'

“I-I mean, there’s the movies-”

Movies-!?

Willow forced herself to tune out the nonsensical babbling of her companions, still staring at the seeds in her hands. As soon as Luz had shown them to her, she should have burned them; she didn’t know where they had come from, but they were dangerous - vivid images had burned themselves into her mind of entire towns and ecosystems devastated by veritable forests of black brambles, draining the life out of everything they touched, and smothering everything they couldn’t drain with their sheer weight and volume, their twisting branches and roots strangling everything caught within, slowly tearing whatever was left to shreds as their innumerable thorns grew… all to feed those terrible flowers…

And yet, she found none of the usual fear she felt considering these cautionary tales.

Instead, there was a strange query. Almost a fascination.

She looked back up to the crimson barrier; if her query was right… if she could…

“... no time for doubt,” she murmured, pushing herself to her feet, “If we’re doing this, we gotta do it now.”

“... Willow?” Luz asked.

“... I’ve decided,” the Witchling girl declared, “I’m gonna try.”

“Willow-!” Gus sputtered, reaching out to grab her hand “That’s way more serious than just school rules!”

“So’s keeping a human from the Emperor’s Coven,” she smiled, “I’ve already broken every rule and at least five laws today. What’s one more?”

The boy in blue stared, incredulous, before finally settling back, lips pursed, eyes wide, and brows curling upwards, clearly uncertain of what he should do next. Eventually, he seemed to settle for wrapping his arms around himself, glancing nervously about the empty hallway.

A flood of guilt surged through her, spreading from her stomach and into the rest of her body, all the way out to her fingertips; he was in well over his head - they all were - in a situation he never asked to be involved in, one that had spiralled entirely out of control and was now likely impossible to salvage without anything short of a miracle.

Nonetheless, she closed her eyes, and reached out with her Soul to the dormant forces that slumbered in her open palms.

“Maleficent’s Briarwood relies on Magic to grow - that’s why it’s so difficult for most Witches to handle, even Plant Magic experts,” she began, “But we’re surrounded by plenty of Magic right now - so if I use the barriers to feed the plant…”

She could feel the tiny life dwelling within the seeds; it didn’t feel at all like the plants she was used to handling. Though each had some unique tone, from the cheerful, but hardy bone-grown calcti to her irritable and predatory flytraps (the merchant had insisted on calling them ‘babas,’ for whatever reason), they all had a familiar bearing; the bearing of something that took root, something that fed from the sun and soil and enriched the air with its presence. Not creatures, per se, but lives in their own right, their seeds very arguably a beginning to life itself.

These Briarwood seeds, however, didn’t feel like a beginning.

They didn’t even feel like seeds, really. Even in this form, Willow felt more like she was handling sparks than anything related to plant life, tiny, tiny flames that could very easily swell out of control if she didn’t handle them with care.

But if there was anything Willow was good at - anything at all - it was working with plants.

She stepped towards the barrier, holding the seeds as gingerly as she could as she gently flared her Soul, the green glow gently coaxing them from their dormancy.

They reacted with far more energy, and far more violence, than she anticipated.

The deadhead burst, ruptured entirely by black roots and brambles writhing in the palm of her hand; they latched onto her skin, making her wince as the tiny tendrils tried to dig into her flesh, still too small to do any damage, but rapidly swelling in size.

She hissed, hauling her Magic back and yanking up her sleeve, ripping the purple fabric as she forced it under the plant; immediately, its motions slowed, and the sensation on her skin had dulled to that of a mere scrape, not quite enough to hurt, but close enough that she was wary of the thing she held now.

“... okay,” she murmured, “Violent little guy, aren’t you?”

Giving a nervous swallow, she held the tiny Blackbriar up to the barrier; immediately, the black roots dug into the crimson wall, the plant doubling in size in a matter of seconds - and all the while, the barrier flickered, the roots of the plant tearing a large hole in its surface as they spread.

“Through here!” Willow urged, shifting the plant’s position to widen the hole as much as possible; without debate, Luz slipped through, the Palisman on her shoulder eying the plant warily. Gus, for his part, stepped forward reluctantly, doing his best to avoid any and all contact with the Briarwood.

Only when he was through did Willow follow suit, pulling away and tugging harder on her sleeve to pull it over her hand. Behind her, the barrier restored itself to its original strength, no longer being sapped by the hunger of the plant.

“... okay, so it’s working,” she pulled the plant away from the barrier, keeping a careful eye on it, “I think we have a way out.”

“How close are we to the exit?” the human queried.

“Just gotta get through to the atrium and it should be right there,” Gus stated, “But we should hurry. Bump’s looking for us and I bet other teachers will be too.”

Willow nodded, stepping forwards and continuing to work her way through the barriers one by one, the progress slow, but steady; but with each one they worked through, the plant in her hand continued to swell and grow. The first barrier alone had rendered it roughly the size of a small crystal ball, large enough that she could no longer comfortably carry it extended away from her body; after the third, its central mass had swelled larger than a grudgby ball, its bramble branches growing black leaves, all sharp and serrated like some demented mix of plant, jagged stone, and sharpened metal.

Thankfully, however, that brought them to the atrium.

Luz gawked at the sprawling architecture around her, visibly giddy despite the situation at hand; even as she kept close to her guides, it was clear she was absolutely fascinated by everything around her. If the circumstances weren’t so dire, Willow had no doubt she’d be touching everything around her, eagerly exploring every last nook and cranny. As it was, her eyes were darting all over the place, gleaming with fascination at even the simplest of things.

Nonetheless, Willow pushed forwards, making a beeline for the doorway that was now in view, “Over here. Come on.”

“I don’t think so.”

Amity’s voice sent a chill down Willow’s spine; she turned, just in time to see the Blight approaching the crimson barrier from the hall they had just emerged from. She passed through it as easily as if it were sunbeam from a window; for the first time in years, she seemed truly dishevelled and unkempt. Small smears of Abomination goo still clung to her face and hair, with only a few locks now still held in place by her hair band; the rest of it framed her face in a mass of green streaked with sticky purple. Her golden eyes gleamed with a smouldering anger, even as she visibly struggled and failed to keep it out of her expression and posture.

The human just stared, incredulous, “... how did you-!?”

“Class representative,” she snapped, cutting Luz’s question off before she could finish, “That means I have special responsibilities - one of those being that if a student is missing when the school goes into lockdown, it’s the class rep’s responsibility to find the missing student and bring them back to either the classroom or the muster point while the teacher takes care of the class. That means I can cross those barriers freely.”

Even as she spoke, her Soul was flaring; a series of Abominations marched out from the hall behind her or rose from the floor, spontaneously taking shape and life all their own. Each one towered over the green-haired girl, eyes glowing with purple light, each bearing the same furious glower as their mistress; there had to be at least half a dozen of them, way more than Willow had ever seen her use before.

“I’ll admit, you guys gave me a bit of a runaround with those Illusions,” she stopped to fire a glare at Gus, a glare that promised nothing short of agonizing retribution, “but I’m not letting any of you leave.”

Willow bit her lip, saying nothing; the plant in her hand writhed, as though it could sense the tension in the air. Her sleeve was no longer keeping the plant at bay; even now, she could feel the roots trying to dig into her skin, the briars wrapping around her wrist, thorns sharp as needles.

When Amity met her gaze, she pursed her lips; when she finally spoke again, it was carefully controlled, the bite she took with the human fading from her tone, “Principal Bump is already rounding up the faculty. Before long, a full twenty master Witches are going to be here. You can still choose to not make this any worse.”

An aggressive hoot echoed from the Palisman on Luz’s head; it held its wings out, eyes boring into the Witchling before her, the very picture of protective fury. Luz seemed torn between fight and flight, expression morphing back and forth between anger and terror, her whole body vibrating like it couldn’t whether it wanted to charge Amity or flee. And it only took one look at Gus to see the terror flashing in his eyes, and it how it rooted him to the spot. Even without seeing their Souls, their emotions were plain as day on their faces and in their postures.

Willow, however, didn’t feel any of these things.

She searched. She really did, a hand reaching for her stomach as though to claw through it, to search for the anger, for the fear, for the shame, even. She had broken more school rules than she could count, and now had even committed a crime against the Emperor. She should have felt something, anything - she could only imagine how long she would spend in the Conformatorium, even as a minor, having used the plant in her grasp.

And yet… all she found when she considered all of this was a wry chuckle, rising from her insides like the first bubble in a cauldron on the verge of boiling over.

Her dads were going to be so disappointed in her.

“... Willow?” Amity asked, “What’s so funny?”

“... I’ve broken every other rule today,” she repeated, feeling her own lips twist into a smile as she summoned her Soul’s Wavelength, “What’s one more?

She reared back with her hand, and hurled the blackbriar forwards; she felt the main body snap away from the branches and roots encircling her wrist, flung forwards all at once in a heap. 

Freed from her grasp and fed by her Magic, the Briarwood swiftly took root; the grasping tendrils burrowed through tile and stone and raked at the air, the writhing mass rapidly growing in size. No longer was it fighting her for control; in fact, it was as though it could sense that she now aimed to feed it, eagerly pulling forwards like a predator that had just found a jackelope’s burrow. Its branches lashed towards the Abominations closing around Amity, black coils cleaving cleanly through the sludge and sucking out the Magic within, dark leaves growing across its thickening branches as it greedily fed.

But she wasn’t done; Willow focused all her skill, all her being on the terrible black bud that had begun to form at its center. Even as the prodigy conjured flame to beat back the assault of dark thorns, the Briarwood was rearing its horrid form, the slowly blooming rose rising higher and higher into the air like a head on the neck of a gargantuan serpent with countless coils Before long it had filled up most of the atrium, taking up more than half the floor and its bud rising almost to the third floor, vines and thorns clinging to the balconies and banisters and the walls in a demented parody of a climbing plant, the tile and stone creaking under its weight.

She coaxed the black petals to split apart; under her careful urging, the bud matured and blossomed into something all too close to a Dragon’s maw with its endless jagged edges resembling teeth and patterns akin to eyes before swooping down to close around the largest Abomination, crushing it into paste. 

The Witchling took one final look at Amity; teeth grit, the class representative was conjuring all the fire she could, setting her own Abominations ablaze to counteract the black thorns that whipped at them and ate away at her Magic - and to her credit, it seemed to be working. Purple sparks and burns ate away at the black bark of the rapidly growing Black Dragon’s Rose, giving it pause. She was paying no heed to Willow anymore, to any of them, instead focused entirely on the monster in front of her, intent on stopping it, on burning it to nothing.

For the life of her, Willow didn’t know if Amity could win. A Maleficent’s Briarwood was not something to be taken lightly, by any means - far older Witches had fallen to them before, after all, experts in Plant Magic reduced to naught but nutrition for its roots.

But fed and guided by Magic or not, this one was still young, still yet to truly take root - and the Blight was capable, and kept constantly catching everyone off guard with what she could achieve.

And even if she couldn’t do it, undoubtedly, the teachers would be able to destroy it.

But that was fine. That was ideal, even.

That meant no one would get hurt.

That meant the Briarwood would only buy them time.

With that thought a comfort in her mind, Willow turned to urge her friends to make for the doors-

And found Luz staring, wide eyed and awed, at the battle unfolding before her. Jaw slack, hands loose, she seemed torn between applauding and rushing in, truly astounded by the spectacle lit by the golden glow of the sun through the skylight above. Moreover, she seemed completely oblivious to the danger, concerned wonder brimming in her face and very posture, conveying all the overjoyed screaming that she couldn’t seem to voice.

“Come on!” Gus snatched the human’s hand, pulling her along, “Let’s go!”

Luz stumbled, not wanting to look away, but obeyed; the three fell back to the front doors, the Magic sealing them entirely disrupted by the Briarwood's presence, pushing the heavy stone on its massive hinges until they finally swung open. As light streamed through the doorway, they burst out into the afternoon sun, all gasping for breath as the heavy stone gateway swung shut behind them, silencing the sounds of battle.

Willow slumped to the ground, shoulders heaving; her head was swimming all over again, sweat pouring down her face and sticking her clothes to her limbs. Everything ached, her head worst of all, throbbing away as the adrenaline and endorphins slowly began to fade from her body. They were out, and the forest wasn’t far - but after that, then what?... they couldn’t just go back inside. What were they supposed to do next?...

One look at Gus, and she could tell that he wasn’t feeling any better than she was, having flopped down onto the ground entirely and staring up at the sky blankly as if it were a test question he hadn’t had the chance to learn, much less properly study for.

She’d have to make it up to him… someday, at any rate. She wouldn’t be in any position to help anyone, for a while…

Finally, she looked to Luz.

The human had fixed her with an uncomfortably intense gaze; despite the fact that Luz couldn’t seem to see Souls, those brown eyes seemed to bore down right into Willow’s very being, a pair of chocolate drills that would not stop going until every single secret was laid bare.

“... Luz?...” the Park girl asked, hesitant.

At first, the tanned teen said nothing, only continuing to stare. Eventually, however, she pointed back through the doors, all but shrieking a disbelieving demand, tinged with exuberant rage, “‘Half-a-Witch Willow!?’

She couldn’t help but wince at the nickname, “Look, Luz, that’s not-!”

No!” the human snapped, raising her arms in an X, “No no no no, no! There is no way you are ‘Half-a-Witch Willow after what you just did!

The bespectacled girl blinked, startled all over again by the lanky teen’s behaviour, by her vehemence; Luz was grinning again, grinning with a familiar, manic glee gleaming in her eyes, “You are not half a Witch! You-!” she let out a strangled growl, running her hands through her hair with a joyous fury before pointing once again, “After all that!? You’re Witch-and-a-Half Willow!

… once again, the human had her entirely taken aback. She stared at Luz, unable to find the words as the words cycled through her mind, all of her unease and doubt wiped away to reveal an entirely blank page - one that was swiftly being filled with the human’s messy scrawl. The words repeating themselves over and over again, the outrage and vindication mixing to create pure catharsis - all of it flooding her mind with an author’s audible ink that quickly drowned out everything else. Even her own breathing seemed lost amidst it all, disappearing beneath the waves of word and sound that crashed and echoed together within the confines of her skull.

Witch-and-a-Half…

She was so stunned, so distracted, that she only barely noticed the Palisman’s sudden, loud hoot, head twisting round to face the edge of the grounds. It spread its wings, and flapped, taking off towards the distant fence that marked the edge of Hexside’s property. 

“... we’re almost there!” Luz got to her feet, reaching down; Willow felt herself pulled upright. She threw her arms out to regain her balance, as well as her bearings as the tanned girl tugged the young Illusionist off the ground as well. She grinned, gesturing for them to follow as she ran down the cobblestone, “Come on!”

The young Park started forwards, eyes tracing the marble terraces as they descended towards the forest on the other side of the wall; her eyes shot past the human, towards the gate, to the figure that she was only now catching proper sight of-

And Willow came to a sudden halt, her heart all but stopping dead in her chest.

The woman was tall - very tall, her brow halfway up the border wall even without the feathery mane of hair that sprang up and back from her head, patterned grey glimmering almost silver in the mid-noon sun. Her golden eyes shone with intent, narrow and focused, the same shade as the single fang sticking out of her thick red lips, and the jewel set in the center of her collarbone, a tattered red dress faintly flitting in what scant breeze there was.

And as if she didn’t already cut an imposing figure, her Soul Wavelength crackled in the air, humming with all the furious anxiousness of lightning about to strike; each pulse was controlled, but powerful, and now that Willow had finally found it, it was threatening to knock her off her feet every time it washed over her, thrumming with enough force that she could feel the vibrations in her bones. Her gold-hued Soul itself was nothing short of massive, seeming to take up the whole of her vision despite still being well over fifty feet away - restrained, and yet… so overwhelmingly strong…

The familiar owl Palisman on the tip of her wooden staff completed the picture, and all at once, the young Park knew where she had seen it, where she had heard that name - across hundreds, maybe even thousands of wanted posters, scattered even in the residential areas of Bonesborough. The central figure of countless cautionary tales and ghost stories from across the entirety of the Boiling Isles, and even beyond; the single most wanted Witch in the entirety of the Empire.

The Arcane Trickster, who stole a Dragon’s egg and gold and laughed as cities burned in her wake.

The Wild Witch of the Witherwood, a criminal and icon for all those who shunned the Nine Covens.

The Last Apprentice of Baba Yaga.

The Wayward Clawthorne.

The greatest living traitor to the Empire and everything it stood for.

Liar. Cheat. Thief.

Murderer.

She could hear Gus’ breaths beside her, hear his hesitant backward steps; she couldn’t look away from the figure, but she didn’t need to see him to know that he was trembling every bit as much as she was. He struggled to speak, swallowing spit before managing a whimper, “... you’re seeing this… right, Willow?...”

“... yeah,” she nodded, “Yeah I am.”

Luz, on the other hand, ran on, oblivious to the monstrous thing she was approaching, “Eda!”

The woman gave no answer, eyes flicking back and forth between the human, the Witchlings, and the building; her grip on her staff tightened, and another stab of fear shot through Willow’s stomachs as their eyes met…

“Eda!” Luz called again “Eda, we have to-!”

Finally, the girl realized her friends were no longer behind her; she slowed, coming to a halt, turning to face them. She looked each of them in the eyes, the confusion in her expression only growing as she saw the fear that had paralyzed them in place, “... guys?... what’s wrong?”

“... Luz,” Willow managed, finally managing to meet the human’s gaze, “You didn’t say anything about the Owl Lady.

Luz blinked, her confusion only seeming to grow. She opened her mouth to speak-

But pain lanced through Willow’s wrist before anything more could be said.

The Witchling fell to her knees with a yelp, grasping at her arm; Gus’ and Luz’s panicked calls were drowned out by the sensation as she looked down, staring at what was becoming of her hand and wrist. The branches that had remained around her wrist were writhing once more, still alive even after being severed from the main plant; thorns and roots were burrowing into her skin, seeking out Magic, seeking out life. She could see the black jagged lines spreading under her skin, and nightmares came to her mind unbidden - bodies left withered husks, crumbling to dust under the weight of the plant as it grew, horrid and parasitic…

The price paid by all who dabbled with Maleficent’s Briarwood without the proper care or skill.

Gus and Luz were already in motion, gripping onto the black brambles with both hands, heedless of the razor sharp thorns, and pulling with every ounce of strength they had. She could hear them speaking, but their words were indistinct behind the rapidly worsening pain; Willow had to screw her eyes shut, every muscle in her body clenching to keep herself from screaming. She fell backwards, curling in on herself as the noise and the pain blended together…

“Both of you, back away.”

“But Eda-!”

Now.

She only had a moment to process the words before the pain was supplanted by heat. She could feel a flare around her wrist, searing her skin before it descended beneath the surface, seeming to chase after the roots that bore through her arm. It hurt, but it was an entirely different pain from that of the burrowing brambles; this was fire. Literal flame, searing her like hot metal - but it did not spread. If anything, it gently faded, still hot, still burning… but…

She opened her eyes, fumbling for her glasses; the Owl Lady stood over her, golden eyes narrowed and arms crossed. To each side, Gus and Luz stared down, eyes wide; Gus’ with shock, Luz’s with awe, and both with visible relief.

“Show me your wrist,” she commanded.

Willow swallowed, and obeyed, taking the chance to examine her arm for herself; her sleeve had been seared away, edged with black around her elbow. A burn wrapped around the entirety of her wrist, bright crimson lines and faint bubbles in her flesh standing out angrily from her pale skin. Ashes dusted her skin and clothes as well, before being gently blown away in the breeze.

The woman remained silent for a long moment before finally giving a curt nod, “Looks like I got all of it. As long as you take care of that burn, you should be fine.”

The Witchling looked down at her burn again, turning her arm over. She swallowed again, then finally asked, “... did… did you just-?”

“Burned away the Briarwood,” the elder Witch interrupted, “I managed to get it all before it got any deeper than your skin - though you’re still going to need a Healer to deal with that burn,” the slightest hint of a smile worked its way onto the Owl Lady’s lips, “You’re a brave kid - not many Witches would weigh their options and choose to use Maleficent’s Briarwood.”

Willow ran her fingers along the crimson lightning that flared on her skin, wincing at the contact and heat; even so, she opened her mouth, a hesitant thank you about to pass her lips-

Only for an aurora of brilliant azure to cascade down upon the Witch.

The searing heat forced Willow to throw her arms up, flinching away from the incandescent inferno; the flames completely obscured the Owl Lady from view, and Luz’s terrified scream echoed in the green-eyed girl’s ears…

But the Witch’s Soul did not falter. In fact, her Wavelength barely even shifted, taking on a cadence of casual irritation at the interruption. A golden glow emanated from within the flames, outshining their brilliance as the barrier expanded, forcing the inferno to dissipate. The Owl Lady hadn’t even been scratched, not a single burn or sear present across the entirety of her form; all of her former cheer was gone, replaced with a half-lidded glare and a downturned lip, gazing past Willow towards the school.

“Miss Park and Mister Porter.”

The familiar voice echoed like thunder across the courtyard; another Soul Wavelength entered Willow’s vision even before she craned her neck to look to the source of the voice and flame.

Principal Bump stood on the final steps leading up to Hexside’s doors; his usual red hood was missing, exposing his long black hair and brown eye, the other bearing a scar that arced down from his brow, and nearly reached his cheekbone, his glare directed directly towards the Owl Lady. In one hand, he held his staff, a small crimson demon perched atop its black length, and in the other, Magic brewed in more of that gleaming, aurora-like fire, some spell the young Park couldn’t identify - but she could feel its power, emanating through his Soul Wavelength.

It was the first time she was seeing his Soul in any way other than its usual gentle calm; its power brought to bear, the teal-green glow was every bit as intense as that of the woman at the other end of Hexside’s grounds, bearing a furious menace; like a dog with its hackles raised, his Soul roiled with power, a clear display of warning.

“Both of you,” he ordered, “Get behind me.”

For a long moment, no one moved; the Owl Lady’s attention had shifted almost entirely onto Bump now, the two Witchlings in front of her forgotten. Luz stood stock still, her gaze shifting back and forth between Willow, Gus, and the Principal, her previous relief and cheer washed away by sudden dread.

It was Gus who finally made the first move; he knelt, gripping Willow’s good arm and pulling her to her feet. He looked at her imploringly, eyes filled with terror, “Come on.

“Gus-” she started to protest.

“Willow, please!” he begged, “This has gone completely out of control, we didn’t know we were going to run into the Owl Lady!

She stared at Gus for a long moment before looking to Luz; the human’s expression was still one of confusion, desperate hope shining in her brown eyes, hope tinged with fear.

A fear Willow herself knew all too well, reading her Soul.

Not fear for the situation itself, but a fear of abandonment.

Not even of being alone, but of being left behind.

She’d felt it, time and time again over the years; it was one of the biggest reasons she’d hated the old nickname she’d been burdened with seemingly from the start.

… and yet…

“... I’m sorry,” Willow murmured, “I can’t. This is going too far.”

At once, Luz’s expression crumbled. The hope turned to crushing disappointment, the fear giving way to sorrow. Nonetheless, the human wiped her eyes, putting on a brave smile that didn’t match her Soul, “Don’t be. I’m the one who should be sorry. I didn’t think it would go like… this.

“... neither of us did,” Willow chuckled ruefully, before turning away, letting Gus lead her back up the steps.

Bump did not relax even for an instant until the both of them were behind him; but even as the shockwaves of his Soul Wavelength eased off somewhat, his eye remained firmly fixed upon the Owl Lady, expression grim.

“Edalyn Clawthorne,” he began, the name rolling off his tongue with a disdain that was entirely incongruous with the respect that he’d addressed Countess Clawthorne with.

“Hieronymus Bump,” she stated in turn, “Still enjoying life as an imperialist stooge?”

“Disrespectful as always I see,” the Principal growled, “And you’re still finding new ways to disappoint me; kidnapping a human is low, even for you.

“I’m not kidnapped!” Luz snapped, indignant rage suddenly flooding her expression and Soul.

Luz,” the Owl Lady’s tone was one of warning; the human fell silent again, anger replaced with a writhing anxiety.

“I’m assuming you’re the one who brought her to the Isles,” Bump continued, “With your sudden arrival, it’s the only thing that makes any sense.”

“Sorry if you got all excited, thinking a portal had opened,” a smug smirk spread across Edalyn’s lips, “The kid just wandered off and got herself all wrapped up in your little peon academy. Moreover, she’s mine; within the description of the law, that puts her firmly out of the Emperor’s Coven’s jurisdiction. All this in mind, I’d say calling the Emperor’s Coven would be a waste of everyone’s time, don’t you?”

“Spoken as if you weren’t a wanted criminal - or that you are in any way an ideal owner,” the Principal scoffed, “I’m sure that the Emperor’s Coven will be more than happy to see you again.”

“They’ll just have to do without,” the smile did not fade from the criminal’s face, “After all, you don’t actually want this fight. If you did, you’d have hit me with everything you had, rather than holding back to protect your students.”

At this, Bump seemed to have no retort; he merely maintained his stance.

With those words, the Owl Lady turned on her heel, “Come along, Luz.”

Luz’s eyes locked with Willow’s, staring for a moment before turning to follow the grey-haired woman-

“Luz Noceda.”

It wasn’t the name that stopped the tanned teen in her tracks, at least, not from what Willow could tell; it was Bump’s tone. His voice had softened a touch, bearing a concern that he had never addressed her with before. When the human turned to face him again, he continued, voice grave, “If you go with her, you will not find any safe haven on the Isles. The Owl Lady does not have your best interests in mind.”

She stared at him, surprised; questions were forming behind her eyes, but none of them seemed to be able to make it past her lips, her mouth working without sound. The Owl Lady had come to a halt herself, looking back over her shoulder at the girl, and at the Principal.

He did not extinguish the spell in his hand, but he did let his posture shift, the protective aggression draining from his stance; he continued, voice growing softer, “Edalyn does not guarantee your safety, Luz Noceda. You may lose your freedom for a time in the care of the Emperor’s Coven, but I promise you - Lady Lilith Clawthorne will treat you kindly, ensure your safety, and if at all possible, see to it that you are returned home.”

More confusion filled Luz’s Soul, making its energy ever more erratic. Rather than being convinced of anything Bump had to say, each word only seemed to make her more anxiously inquisitive, questions upon questions bubbling up in her mind-

Only for the abruptly stern voice of the red-clad Witch to break her free from whatever racing bird of thought had carried her away, “Luz.”

The human snapped out of her perplexed trance, shaking her head; her eyes drifted from Bump, to Gus, and finally to Willow, before turning away, breaking into a run to catch up to the Owl Lady.

“... we’re going home,” the criminal declared, holding out her staff; the owl’s wings unfurled, and the pair silently mounted the floating Palisman. 

Luz had only barely wrapped her arms around the Owl Lady’s waist before they sped off into the treeline; almost immediately, Willow lost track of them both, their Souls disappearing in the thicket, though whether it was because of the forest itself, or because of the distance, she couldn’t tell.

Principal Bump let out a slow, tired sigh, his grip on his staff loosening, the spell in his free hand fading; all at once, the power exuded by his Soul seemed to dissipate, leaving behind a husk of its former self. His Palisman unscrewed itself from his staff with what Willow could only assume was a concerned mewl, crawling up his arm and sitting on his shoulder, reaching out to pat him on the cheek.

He managed a slight smile, reaching up to stroke the small devil, “There, there, Frewin. I’m alright. It’s alright.”

The horned creature let out another whining sound, but the pats on its forehead seemed to placate it, however slightly. After a moment, it climbed up to Bump’s head, opening its mouth wide to swallow his hair, his scalp, his brow, all the way down over his eyes and the bridge of his nose; it settled down atop the nape of his neck and shoulders, green eyes flickering slightly before finally returning to its standard movement, the Principal regaining his usual visage, if not his usual air.

“... I didn’t realize that was a Palisman,” Gus managed.

“Frewin remains on my head to repair my eyesight, Mister Porter,” he explained, a hand rising to his left eye, “Unfortunately, this is one condition Magic has never been able to fully heal - at least not in the Isles, not that I’m aware of.”

“... what about beyond the Isles?” Willow ventured.

“Perhaps. But that would be a long, arduous, perilous journey to heal something that I have already long since come to terms with,” he folded his hands behind his back, “If it were so simple as a damaged or missing eye, the Healing Coven would have restored it long ago. But this wound itself is Magical in nature - and undoing it is a task I am not currently interested in pursuing.”

The Park nodded, staring down at her burns again, turning over her arm back and forth…

“... Miss Park,” he straightened, attempting to regain some air of authority, “Did you know that the human was in the care of the Owl Lady?”

“... no,” she shook her head, “She mentioned the name ‘Eda,’ and said she was her teacher, but I didn’t make the connection even after I saw the Palisman. It wasn’t until I saw the Owl Lady properly that I finally realized who Luz was talking about.”

“I see,” he closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose, “It seems this situation is truly more baffling for all of us than I had considered.”

“You can say that again,” Gus slumped against the stone wall, hands pressed to his eyes, “I’m exhausted after all that…”

“... I want the both of you to make your way down to the infirmary, immediately,” he stated, “Get yourselves checked for injuries, and for curses. I don’t believe Edalyn is in the habit of putting curses on children, but I also didn’t believe her to be one to kidnap humans, either.”

Willow blinked, “Wait, we’re not in trouble?”

“Oh, you most certainly are,” the Palisman’s dark green eyes narrowed, its master’s tone growing decidedly disapproving, “As remarkable of a display as that was, Miss Park - and it was quite remarkable, I don’t know why your fathers put you in the Abomination Track instead of the Plant Track when that is so clearly where your interests and skills lie - you still employed the use of Maleficent’s Briarwood, and the both of you,” he shot a glare at Gus, who whimpered and wilted under those eyes, “aided in the escape of a human. Although the situation is delicate and more complicated than I had initially foreseen, and I would rather not have either of you expelled in light of that, there is only so much I will be able to do - especially with Lady Clawthorne on her way here within the segment.”

Silence reigned for a long moment; Gus looked like he wanted to slip into a hole in the ground and fall forever if it meant escaping the Principal’s glower, hands raised defensively and eyes wide with frozen terror.

The bespectacled Witchling, however, felt steel in her bones, fire in her stomach; ignoring the pain, she crossed her arms, letting her eyes narrow as she met Bump’s glare with one of her own, saying nothing, but refusing to back down.

He gave no indication one way or the other as to whether he approved of the gesture or not. Instead, he sighed, turning back to the doors, “But that will have to wait. In the meantime, please - go ensure that you are unharmed.”

“... y-yeah, sure!” the young Illusionist nodded, grabbing the would-be Abomination Witch’s hand, “Come on, Willow!”

“... what about the Briarwood?” she asked, “What happened to that?”

“... I burned it to ash,” the Principal stated, “Miss Blight put up a valiant effort and kept the situation contained until I arrived. Currently, she is doing a head-count of her class to ensure everyone is accounted for.”

A sigh of relief that Willow hadn’t realized she’d been holding in escaped her, a hand settling over her chest, “... thank you, sir. It wasn’t my intention to hurt anyone.”

“Intentions and results are often two very different things, Miss Park,” he warned gravely, “... now go.”

“... yes sir.”

With that, the two followed him through the doors, and set off through the halls, heedless of the clamour behind each of the doors.

But all the while, Willow couldn’t take her eyes off her burn.

Nor could she get the new name she’d been given out of her head.

The one given to her by her newest friend.

“... ‘Witch-and-a-Half Willow’…”


The building was huge. 

Towering over Crona dozens of times over, its white marble stood starkly out against the darkening sky and the clouds that were drifting in on the distant wind. It gleamed in the light of the cackling moon, which stared down with its eternal grin, bleed seeping out from its ever-bared teeth.

They crept forwards, trying very hard not to let their eyes wander up towards the domed roof, and then up towards the moon; they kept their gaze firmly on the door, the constant, low droning emanating from within the building already sending chills down their spine; the noise was as bad as the chill breeze that nipped at them through their clothes, and they didn’t know how to deal with either.

Even so, they slipped through the archway, and pushed through the door, the heavy black wood swinging inwards. Even as the volume of the droning noise increased, they let out a breath of quiet relief as warmth finally washed over them; their shivering waned as they entered the building, eyes sweeping the central room.

The ceiling arched well overhead; the night sky streamed in through what windows were present, pure shadow seeming to swallow what light there was. People filled the wooden benches on either side of the room, all murmuring over the constant groaning that emanated throughout the chamber. At the end of the room, up a small set of stairs, a man in white read aloud to the crowd, his words lost upon Crona as their eyes swept about, suddenly frozen…

‘Ten…’ Ragnarok counted, his voice a hiss in the child’s mind, ‘twenty… thirty…’

With every count he made, the sword grew more and more excited; they could feel it, their blood physically heating in their veins with the Demon Sword’s eagerness.

“... young man?”

The voices had ceased; the man in white had noticed them, eyes wide with concern.

Crona didn’t answer, now frozen in place.

‘... sixty… seventy…’

“Young man, are you alright?” the man pressed; the whole room was now staring at them, a curious murmur rising throughout the room.

‘... eighty three.

Ragnarok’s voice was filled with excited glee; he was writhing now, only barely restraining himself from just ripping free from Crona’s skin in a flood of black…

What are you waiting for, Crona?

Lady Medusa’s voice echoed now in Crona’s mind, drowning out the words of the man and the crowd around them.

They clutched their arms tighter, trying and failing to bite down on a whimper.

You know what you have to do,” Lady Medusa intoned.

“... I don’t know how to deal with this,” the child finally managed, “There’s so many… they’re all staring at me…”

You do what you came to do; you kill them. You feed,” she reminded, “You feed as much as you want. Until you’re satisfied. However much you need.

All at once, blinding pain shot through the back of Crona’s head; it didn’t so much spread as much as it echoed, bouncing back and forth inside their skull, amplifying with each passing fraction of a second until the child couldn’t tell if it was entirely internal or if their scream had risen to match it. They clutched at their head, fingers digging into their scalp…

And all at once it stopped.

Not in the sense that the pain ceased; the pain was still very much present.

It was simply stopped. Frozen. A sensation trapped in a severed split second, suspended into the seconds that followed.

… and Crona began to laugh.

A high, shrill laugh that rose from their throat in a babbling brook, swiftly rising into a hysterical giggling.

Only when the giggling finally faded into nothing, did the child speak again.

“... Ragnarok is going to eat you all,” they managed. The pain shot through their body as their skin split, but there was no hesitation, and much like the pain in their skull, it seemed suspended; not distant, but irrelevant.

The black blood seeped from their palm, quickly solidifying into warm black iron; it extended, becoming a rod, and then a long, dark blade as Crona’s Soul flared, running the man in white through. As he choked, coughing the same crimson that stained his garments, the blade gleamed with rivulets of liquid in the light of the candles, the lightbulbs above bursting one by one as the child’s Wavelength washed over the room, and everyone in it, weighing them down as the screaming began.

“Don’t you know?” they snickered as the crowd rose from the benches unsteadily, stumbling over each and themselves to get to the exit, “The doors only open one way."

Notes:

Sorry for the wait on this one, guys. The next one is also going to be substantial, so there's gonna be a wait on that too, especially since I'm in school again. Classes are taking up a good chunk of my time now.

However! Please take solace in the fact that the next chapters are heavily Soul Eater! So we'll be seeing a lot of Soul, Maka, Spirit, Stein, Crona, and a certain someone~! I hope you look forwards to that!

Thanks for giving this a read, everyone, and thank you so much for your patience and understanding with me. Let me know what you think! I hope you all enjoyed the twenty fourth chapter of Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance!

Chapter 25: Lessons Learned, the Hard Way

Notes:

Sorry for the wait on this one. Couple of things have been kicking my ass lately - both school, and... well.

I'd like to dedicate this chapter to a friend of mine, who for the sake of their family's privacy shall be named Red. They suddenly and unexpectedly died on March 30th, which is part of why this chapter is later than I'd have liked - as it is I've been pounding away at this for... well over a week and just finished this a few minutes ago.

I miss you, Red. You were a great source of enthusiasm in my life, even if I didn't know you as well as I'd have liked. I dedicate this chapter to you, my friend.

... without further ado, let us begin.

I do not own Soul Eater or Owl House.

If I did... well, I wouldn't be sure which devil to pick between Disney and Cartoon Network. Maybe Adult Swim?...

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

“IT’S NOT FAIR!!!

The childish, whining tantrum stood in harsh contrast to the guttural scream it manifested from; each word was punctuated by another swing of that oversized knife, its chipped edge gleaming in the moon’s golden light with every wild swipe and stab.

Each and every one, however, was easy for Maka to read.

Their sheer power mattered little to the Meister as she ducked, weaved and parried, the brute’s pure might not enough to so much as scratch her on its own. Even with his speed, the brute’s movements were easy to read, making evasion an easy task, despite having her back to the canal.

“IT’S NOT FAIR AT ALL!” Sonson roared again, the paper bag on his head doing nothing to muffle his deep, warbling wails, “YOU DWMA BRATS GET TO KILL AS MUCH AS YOU WAN’!”

A heavy downward swipe forced the grey-haired girl to leap back with a flip that was a tad less graceful than she’d have liked, evading the knife as it plunged into the stone; where metal should have snapped and skittered across the cobbles, the blade instead sank into the solid rock and concrete with disconcerting ease, gleaming with its weilder’s maddened Wavelength, every bit as vicious as it was erratic.

She took the instant of reprieve she had to breathe before Sonson pulled the knife free, descending upon her with another howl, “WHY CAN’T I KILL AS MUCH AS I WAN’!? WHY!? WHAT’S THE DIFFERENCE, HUH!?”

She didn’t answer; even if she weren’t too focused on trying to keep that blade well and away from her body, she knew that the Emerald Lake Killer was too far gone for any rational argument to reach. Instead, she breathed, raising the steel staff of her Weapon and shoving forwards.

The blunt, but thin tip slammed into Sonson’s solar plexus with all the speed and force of an artillery shell; the Meister felt as much as she heard the air as it was forced out of his lungs in a single, involuntary burst, part of the madman’s abdomen tearing under the blow. Had she aimed higher, she may well have shattered his ribs, perhaps even broken his spleen in its entirety.

Nonetheless, it was enough; he doubled over, bloodshot eyes bulging through the cutouts of his paper bag mask, hands clutching desperately at his stomach as his knife fell to the ground, fumbling to grab the offending steel in his stomach even though Maka had long since pulled it far out of his reach. His eyes darted back and forth, trying to keep their focus on the girl-

But she was already circling, Soul’s edge spinning in her grasp and arcing down across the back of his neck.

Sonson’s muscle and bone did nothing to stop it.

The Weapon’s blade wheeled down to rest gently on the bare brick and cobble floor, Sonson’s head tumbling down as if to follow suit; the body swayed only briefly, clutching at its bloody, spraying stump before all at once unravelling into hundreds of strips, all black as night. As if his whole form were naught but a tapestry, or a bandage wrapped around empty air, he came undone, the dark strips unwinding into thousands upon thousands of black strings, and then to nothing - leaving behind only the pulsating red flame of a Kishin Egg Soul.

“... well, that’s that.”

All at once, Maka felt her body relax at the sound of Soul’s voice, her grip loosening; in a flash of white light, he was standing beside her, hands in his pockets with his usual lazy smile, “Job well done as always, right Maka?”

“It was a little more luck based than I’d’ve liked,” she admitted, though she felt her lips stretch to match his cocky gin, “We’re lucky he attacked us rather than forcing us to search up and down the canal. Even though it didn’t make any sense for him to do that…”

“Kishin Egg,” he reminded, striding up to the floating flame and reaching out, “How often do these guys use any sort of tangible logic?”

“Surprisingly often,” she noted, crossing her arms, “You know Madness itself isn’t specifically correlated with actual mental conditions. Having a condition or having difficulty with logic doesn’t make you a monster, and being a monster doesn’t mean there’s something wrong with you or that you can’t think rationally.”

“True, true,” he conceded, idly bouncing the Kishin Egg in palm; despite the fact that his fingers had clearly wrapped around it, its flame-like form seemed to behave more like a gas than anything solid. Tongues of crimson combust licked harmlessly at his hand, and rather than any solid surface beneath the flame, it almost seemed to float between his fingers, like a mist that had formed into a ball and, against all laws of physics, refused to dissipate into the air around it; despite its translucency, despite its apparent lack of solid form, it even bulged when the Weapon squeezed it, as though he were holding a marshmallow or a lump of uncooked cookie dough.

And like a child shameless in his inability to wait for it to be properly baked, Soul wasted no time in stretching his mouth as far as he could, and shoving the Kishin Egg in whole, chewing as loudly and as messily as he could as he licked his fingers.

Despite herself, the disgusting display brought a smile to Maka’s lips, “You sure enjoy those, huh?”

“Damn right,” he managed around his meal, a noticeable bulge forming in his throat as he finally swallowed; it disappeared as quickly as it had formed, the Weapon letting out a satisfied sigh, “Believe it or not, it was these things that really helped me realize how much I actually love eating.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. They don’t taste like much, but they all have this… texture?” he gestured, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve, “They’re all different, but they have a lot of chew to ‘em.”

She pulled out her notebook and pen, letting a coy playfulness bleed into her tone, “Well, maybe I’ll have to eat it the next time we go on collection.”

“Do it on your own time, Maka, not when you’re making me into a Death Scythe,” the Weapon snickered, swaggering over to stand beside her, “Besides, you’re a Meister. Would you even be able to eat a Kishin Egg Soul?”

“I don’t see why not. It’s not like there’s a ton of difference between Weapons and Meisters-”

She stopped, blinking.

“Maka?”

She turned on her heel without an answer, eyes going unfocused as her gaze swept across the Venice skyline.

She couldn’t tell anything about the individual Souls; under any other circumstances, they would have been lost, dozens amidst millions within the swirling sea of Souls that was present within this city alone, especially as far away as these ones in particular were.

But it wasn’t their presence that she noticed.

It was their rapidly dwindling number. One after the other, the Souls were vanishing, disappearing into the shadowy ether faster than she could count them.

“Maka, is something wrong?”

Soul’s question did nothing to distract her. She simply stared, something between dread, fear, and horrified curiosity forming at the base of her stomach as the mass vanishing continued to unfold before her eyes.

Within seconds, the Souls were gone.

All but two.

Two Souls that gleamed crimson in the distant shadows.

A Weapon, and a Meister.

“... we might not be done yet tonight, Soul,” she murmured, reaching out to take his hand, sending him the chilling vision she had just seen.

Immediately, she felt his own unease; though it didn’t appear on his face, she could feel the ripples of apprehension in his being as he stared out over the water, towards the distant pair of Souls that stood where less than thirty seconds prior, there had been many.

He let out a slow exhale, “North side of the city… we’ll have to cross the river.”

“We can’t just let this happen, Soul,” she tightened her grip, hoping it would reassure them both, “We’re DWMA Students. Dozens of Souls just disappeared right in front of us, and there’s a Weapon and a Meister in the same area. Regardless of what’s going on, we have an obligation to step in.”

He nodded, “Then we’ll have to be quick. Let’s get a move on.”

The pair immediately rushed down the street, hoping they reached the two Souls before they could disappear as well into the night…


Not so much as a single word had been spoken since they had left Hexside.

The ride on the Witch’s staff hadn’t been anything like the ones before. Even the flight to the Conformatorium, as intimidating as the prospect had been, had carried with it an air of excitement, anticipation, an adventure unfolding by the second as the skies darkened and the prison’s dizzying spires and colossal walls came into view, the surrounding landscape diseased, decaying and cursed, its cracks and crags overrun with infected, reeking rivers of poison and pus. Despite the foreboding visage, the frigid chill of the air and the foetid stench of rot that emanated from the very earth, Luz hadn’t been able to deny a certain excitement that had only grown the closer she had gotten to that horrible place - even after learning just what kind of nightmares were held within its halls.

This, however, had no such exhilaration.

The silence between them was thick, heavy, a tangible tension that strangled all the words in Luz’s throat before they could fully form. Although the anticipation of her mentor’s anger was slowly driving her crazy, the teen had not been able to bring herself to break it, instead quietly clinging to Eda’s body the entire way back into the forest.

As for the Witch herself, Eda was entirely devoid of cheer, having made absolutely no attempt to break the uncomfortable quiet between them, or even meet the girl’s gaze. She kept herself firmly forwards, each breath slow and steady, but lacking the casual ease that seemed so characteristic to the Owl Lady.

Even after they touched down in the forest, the One Woman Parliament hadn’t said anything. She’d simply set off, staff in hand, striding with a beat that was oddly mechanical, keeping time over the dirt and the roots.

Luz, meanwhile, was doing her best to keep pace, one arm hanging limply at her side, the other clutching at her elbow. Her whole body ached; her feet were numb, protesting with every step, and although Eda had taken a moment to heal her bruises when they’d landed, her wrist and the back of her head throbbed painfully to the rhythm of her heartbeat, making her bite her lip to keep herself from whimpering every time she jostled her arm or moved her head too much. With the energy of the day’s events slowly draining away, the only thing keeping her awake at this point was the slow churning of her stomach, as fear and guilt marinated together at the very base of her being.

The darkening shadows of the trees around them did nothing to ease it as they lengthened against the backdrop of the sun as it slowly dipped towards the horizon. Already, the very edge of the sky was beginning to darken, the golds giving way to a deeper orange, tinged with pink right above the edge where the sky met the sea beyond the trees, or what little she could occasionally glimpse of it as she followed Eda through the thickets.

The wonder these forests normally held for Luz had withered away in a miasma of menace, the branches arched and sharp like talons. Though there was no breeze, they seemed to move in the corner of her eyes, reaching out from the shadows to drag her away into the dark.

And so, she redoubled her pace, trying to keep as close to the Owl Lady as her own anxiety would allow, trying not to let the shadows pull her eyes away from the Witch’s back.

Thankfully, it was still light enough that she could recognize the sudden orange gleam that cut through the trees for what it was; the shine of light through the Owl House’s windows. The weathered stone tower and the sloping roof stood stark against the surrounding forest, the cliffside grove entirely silent save for the faint lapping of the waves far below.

Despite her anxiousness, Luz couldn’t hold back the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, her whole body sagging with sudden relief.

Eda, however, didn’t stop. She kept her pace even as she entered the clearing, not pausing for so much as a second.

“Heeeeyyyyyy, guuuuuuuuuyyyyyys!”

Hooty’s voice rose into the evening ambience in a shriek that was as cheery as it was shrill, marble-like eyes gleaming as his neck stretched out, his face seeming to hover alongside them as they approached, “You’re back!”

“... hey, Hooty,” the girl forced a smile, trying to raise her arm to wave, wincing slightly at the sharper ache.

“Boy, am I glad to see you, Luz!” the owl-faced creature shouted, the pep never fading from his high pitched voice, “You had us all really worried there, going off all on your own!”

Immediately, her smile warped into a grimace. What cheer she had managed to summon shrivelled in her chest as her eyes fell to the ground, chewing at her lip before she could stop herself.

“No time, Hooty,” despite the Owl Lady’s tone, Luz was grateful for her interruption, “I need to check on your wards, now. We might need to move.”

“Already?” Hooty’s head tilted, his own “smile” vanishing into immediate protest, “But we’ve only been here for-!”

“I know. Look, I don’t think we’re going to have to leave the Bonesborough area,” Eda assured, “I still have business to take care of here. But I’d at least like to be safe instead of sorry.”

“Alright, alright,” the Demon conceded, the door of the house swinging open on its own, “Just get inside!”

Neither of them needed to be told twice; as much as the girl was following her mentor, she was equally drawn to the Owl House by the prospect of warmth and her sleeping bag, resisting the urge to try and push past the Witch so she could get out of the evening air faster.

As soon as she was through the door, she felt her knees buckle as warmth and relief washed over her in equal measure. She stumbled, catching herself on the wall, the light of the room dancing and flickering with the flames in the fireplace, all the other lights in the room having gone dim.

“LUZ!”

She heard the scampering before she caught King’s small form; he skittered across the rug and hardwood from wherever he’d been hiding, little claws scrabbling for purchase before he finally reached her. He clambered up her leg, onto her hip, and up her back, finally coming to rest on one of her shoulders, glaring furiously through purple eyes.

Again, she tried to force her smile, “Hey, King…”

He worked his stubby claws into her shoulder with his free paw, the other clutching his stuffed rabbit with the strained gentleness that could only be maintained by an angry child clutching at their security blanket. His eyes gleamed in the firelight, the growl in his throat strangled, as if a dozen separate sentences were trying to escape his throat all at once, trampling over one another in a single continuous sound.

Rrrrrrrgh! I’ll have you know that I wasn’t worried! At all!” he finally snapped, the angry relief in his tone betraying his words, “But do you have any idea how hard it is to find a halfway decent minion!? You had Francois worried sick!

He shoved his plush bunny into her cheek, the toy’s cloth surface standing in harsh contrast to the bunny’s button eye that was gently digging into her skin, “APOLOGISE TO FRANCOIS!”

At this, she was torn between the laughter that wanted to bubble up in her throat and the fresh wave of guilt that was now crashing against the rest of the emotions that were already swirling in her stomach. She felt her face warp and twist of its own accord, forced to split the difference between a smile and a grimace as she reached up to gently pet the bunny’s head, “I’m sorry, Francois. I won’t worry you like that again.”

“You promise?” King’s eyes narrowed.

“I promise,” she reiterated, still perfectly content to act as though it were the plush toy she was speaking to rather than the diminutive Demon.

He stared at her for another long moment before giving a huff, closing his eyes and looking away. Clearly, he wasn’t fully placated, but he seemed to have calmed a little, his manic energy having settled however slightly, “Well… then good!” he pulled the rabbit back, instead jabbing a small claw into her cheek, “You’d better remember, though! I’m gonna hold you to that!”

He hopped down from her shoulder, landing on the back of the worn couch, and ultimately settling on the far cushion with his plushy; even as Luz wandered over to the fireplace, she could now see Eda, who had drawn all the curtains and, had the golden glow of her eyes and hands not indicated otherwise, would have appeared to be staring off into nothing. A series of circles of gleaming runes and sigils had appeared on the floor and in the air around her, gently spinning in place as the Owl Lady’s hands flexed and gestured, causing some sigils to grow in size and brilliance, and others to dim, shrink or even disappear entirely in their dismissal.

Even now, she hadn’t yet broken the silence that was still building between them.

“... you’re mad.”

Luz hadn’t even realised she’d spoken the words until she saw that the Owl Lady’s hands had gone still, and heard the long, slow sigh that accompanied the slump of the Witch’s shoulders.

“... well, I’m not going to pretend I’m particularly pleased with you,” Eda finally stated, continuing to work with the sigils before her.

Slowly, the teen rounded the couch, coming to sit more or less across from where the grey-haired woman stood. Her hands clasped each other in her lap, jaw tensing, lips twisting as she tried to find where to start…

Ultimately, she just sighed, hands going limp as she leaned forwards on her knees, gaze falling to the floor, “... I’m sorry…”

For a long time, Eda didn’t answer, the golden glow not giving so much as a flicker. Only when she gave a somewhat satisfied nod did it finally fade away, the Witch’s eyes falling closed. A heavy sigh escaped the elder woman as she waved her hand, her staff drifting off to some unknown corner elsewhere in the house as a chair was drawn up behind her, letting her sit down without so much as a backward glance. Her eyes slowly drifted back open, her gaze finally falling upon the teenager.

“... I don’t want to be angry with you, Luz,” she began, tone kept carefully neutral as her arms folded over her chest, legs crossing before going almost unnaturally still, one finger tapping against the pale skin of her bicep, “Really, I don’t. What’s done is done - getting angry isn’t going to change what happened, and it’s definitely not going to fix anything, either.”

It took every ounce of effort Luz could muster to not squirm under Eda’s gaze. Those gleaming eyes pierced through her, fixing her in place with the same paralyzing ease that they had when the girl had first stumbled through the portal; her hands slid from her legs to the cushions as she fought to keep herself still, as though that would somehow let her hide from those rings of frigid gold that, in the Witch’s current reservation, seemed more judgemental, more predatory, than they ever had before.

“... but by the same token,” her teacher finally continued, “I do have to say that you’ve made quite a mess. The Conformatorium, that was one thing - I’ll grant that it wasn’t small by any means, but it was premeditated. I knew what we were getting ourselves into, and it was far enough away from here that I wasn’t concerned about being tracked. Appearing on Hexside’s school grounds to claim a lost human, however, is definitely going to get people looking for me. For us. All of us.”

The Witch gestured to King, who was still seated at the other end of the couch, quiet, but attentive. Again, that heavy, uncomfortable silence settled across Luz’s shoulders, seeming to seep in through her mouth and nose, a miasma that coagulated in her throat with every breath she took. She broke from Eda’s gaze once again, eyes falling to the floor as her shame redoubled.

“... I want to be fair here. And I need to decide what exactly is going to happen next. That means I have to know a few things, alright?”

The girl gave a nod, eyes still fixed on the rug beneath her feet.

“Luz. Look at me.”

Reluctantly, Luz obeyed; while Eda’s eyes were sharp as ever, something in her expression had softened, if only slightly.

“... I need you to tell me what exactly happened in Hexside,” the Witch instructed, “I think I already have a pretty good idea, but I need to make sure I’m not missing anything important.”

“... okay,” she murmured, voice quiet as she tried to force her throat to cooperate. She swallowed, licking her lips as she searched for the words, hands once again clasped, “... I was… pretending to be Willow’s Abomination.”

A harsh snort escaped the Owl Lady, her lips twitching up into a hint of a smile, “I could tell that much from the goop that’s stuck to you.”

The teen had to bite down on a laugh. Instead, she forced herself to continue, “Things… went well until about noon. Or, whenever lunch is here… Willow brought Gus in to try and get me out of Hexside… but then, that’s when Amity showed up with the Principal.”

“Which is how you got dragged off to Bump’s office.”

Again, Luz nodded, “Yeah… I got stuck to a chair, and Bump tried to get in contact with the… the Imperial Coven?”

“The Emperor’s Coven,” Eda corrected, “Figures he’d do that first. Bastard’s a real stickler for protocol. Sounds like I got there just in time.”

“... how exactly… do you know him?” the girl queried, daring for a moment to allow her curiosity to win out over her anxiety.

“Old teacher of mine,” a hand rose in a dismissive wave, “Ancient history. No real point in dredging it up now.”

“But-”

“Don’t you ‘but’ me, kiddo,” the hand fell again, along with the Witch’s tone, “It’s not important and I’m not in the mood. What happened next?”

The teen flinched, her curiosity firmly quashed by the look in Eda’s eyes. She hunched, eyes falling back to the floor as she searched for the words to continue, “... he… he spoke with someone he called… Lilith?”

This time, there was no answer - but the Owl Lady didn’t have to speak for the air to chill. Despite the fire barely ten feet from where she sat, a shudder passed over Luz’s body, only her fingers on her skin confirming that frost hadn’t spread across her body. Eda’s eyes were wide, her lips drawn in a thin line and her entire body having gone unnaturally still, looking for all the world like she had simply been stopped - as if her personal time stood stock still, a split second stretched out too far, too long, into the moments that followed.

“... black hair?” Luz ventured, trying to take her mind off the shivers that had overtaken her, “Deep voice?... very… proper sounding?”

“You’re sure?” Eda interrupted, unwinding all at once; her hands slammed down on her knees, her whole torso pulled forwards, her heels planted firmly against the floor as if she wanted to spring up and forwards in a lunge and sink her teeth into Luz like an animal, “You are absolutely sure he called her Lilith?”

“H-He also called her L-Lady Clawthorne,” the human stammered, spurred on by the bone-pale woman’s entire shift in demeanour, “H-He was surpri-ised t-to hear from- from her. He said she was supposed to be in Capital-”

“Cavitol,” the Witch corrected, but it seemed more on impulse than a conscious motion, every last ounce of her attention on her apprentice.

“-b-but apparently she’s in Boneborough,” Luz finished, never slowing down despite the interruption, “B… by her own request?...”

Eda’s eyes lost all focus. She seemed to be staring through the girl rather than at her now, her pupils making tiny, but rapid movements back and forth as they drifted away from Luz’s eyes, down, then up, left, then right. Her fingers flexed on her knees, talons digging into the fabric of her torn dress and leggings.

“... fuck,” she hissed, rising to her feet, eyes staring at nothing as she started to walk. Back and forth across the carpet she paced, one hand on her elbow, the other digging its talons into her temple. The intensity of the fire rose with the elderly Witch’s vehemence, snapping and crackling with each hissing breath and curse that escaped her lips, “Fucking Blood, Bone and Marrow,” her hand trembled as her fingers curled into a fist one by one against her scalp, “Titan… Damn it!

Like lightning, her fist slammed into the wall, the impact reverberating through the wood and stone, causing all the furniture and fixtures in the room to slightly jump. Luz let out a yelp as she was tossed by the physical thunder, forced to steady herself by throwing her arms out to the tattered cushions, and then flinching and scooting away as the hearth’s flames flared, scorching the stone of the mantlepiece black and viciously devouring the wood beneath the iron cauldron. The cauldron itself had taken on a dark orange hue with the heat, almost completely obscured by the leaping flames that surrounded it. Eda had both hands pressed to her temples now, slender fingers sliding through her hair and across her scalp as she paced. The candles amidst the room were burning wildly on their wicks, devouring the wax with an anxious hunger, the room slowly filling with a heavy haze of smoke…

“... Eda?” the tanned teen slowly rose to her feet, eyes fixed upon the Owl Lady.

The elder woman didn’t answer. She took slow, but shuddering breaths, one hand still clenched in a fist against the now cracked wall, the fingers of the other arched into claws against her skull as her whole body stilled once again, eyes screwed shut and lips pressed firmly together into a thin line. Slowly, however, they began to settle and smooth, slowly pulling her hands away from her scalp and the brick in a controlled, deliberate motion. The flames about the room dimmed, losing none of their intensity, but having been brought firmly to heel, even the fireplace taking on a singular focus.

“... Luz.”

“Y-Yes?” Luz squeaked, all but snapping to attention, back ramrod straight and hands firmly at her sides.

“Whatever you do, you do not leave the house until I tell you otherwise,” Eda’s tone had settled, but it had lost none of its edge, leaving Luz unsure as to whether it was a warning, or a threat.

Either way, the girl knew better than to argue. Instead, she swallowed, “... okay. May I… may I ask why?”

“Later,” Eda stated, voice clipped as she finally turned to face them, expression grim, eyes landing on the diminutive Demon at the teen’s side, “King, that goes for you too. No excursions, no wandering off without my say-so.”

“... Eda, what’s going on?” King started, finally rising to his feet; an unusual twinge of concern had entered the miniscule monarch’s voice, eyes wide beneath his skull as he stared up at the Owl Lady.

“Later, King.”

“You can’t just brush us off like that!” he snapped, pensive anxiety swiftly igniting into rage, “Something’s got you freaked out, and that’s freaking Luz out!” he pointed at the human, glaring up at the silver-haired Witch; despite herself, Luz couldn’t bring herself to complain about being used as a scapegoat for the Demon’s own mounting fear as he scrambled up onto her shoulder, glowering, “You-!”

Listen to me.

The words came out in a hiss, Eda’s gaze once again sharpening into a withering glare; King swayed on Luz’s shoulder, all fire gone as he nearly lost his grip, forcing Luz to raise her hands to catch him.

“... I don’t have answers for you right now,” the one-woman parliament began, words curt, clipped, and sharp, “For either of you. Right now, we might be in more danger than I had realized, and I am not in the right mindset to explain how or why.”

“... how much danger are we in?” Luz spoke up, finally managing to force words past the dryness in her throat.

“... depending on what I can find out over the next few days?” the Witch debated, the harsh hiss finally fading from her voice as she rubbed her temple, “We might need to leave Bonesborough.”

The girl blinked, “... but… but your clients-”

“I’ll figure things out,” Eda interrupted, the assurance offhand, “This isn’t the first time I’ve left this town on short notice. Hopefully it won’t come to that, but if it does, then I have some arrangements to make.

“In the meantime,” the elderly vixen looked to the human and Demon once again, “For now, Luz, just go back to your room. I know I promised to teach you Magic tonight, but there’s things I have to look into, and they can’t wait.”

She turned away again, starting towards the door. She held out both hands, a cloak floating into her left, Owlbert floating into her right, throwing on the cloak with gusto.

“W-Wait a second!” Luz rose to her feet, moving to follow.

“Later, Luz.”

“Eda, please! ” the girl begged, “I-... I’m scared… I just… I need to know…”

The Witch paused, fingers wrapped around the doorknob. After a moment, she sighed, defeated, but did not turn around, “... one question. Then to your room.”

“... is… Lilith…” Luz stammered, lips and mouth dry, “... is she really that dangerous?”

At this, Eda went ramrod straight… and then sagged, seeming to age ten years in a matter of seconds, even beneath a heavy red cloak. All at once, the tension seemed to drain from her body - not so much relaxing as simply going slack, shoulders sagging, head hung and fingers going loose as all the wind left her body in a single dry, exhausted breath. 

“... you know how I’m the most powerful Witch on the Boiling Isles, kiddo?”

“... yeah?”

“... Lilith is a damn, damn close second. Close enough that I don’t want to push my luck with her, especially since she has something I don’t,” the Witch confessed, “So yes. She is that dangerous. I don’t think she’d go out of her way to hurt you, but…”

“... she said she was going to come to pick me up personally,” Luz murmured.

“... wish you’d brought that up sooner,” Eda muttered, taking in a breath, “I need to make sure we weren’t followed.”

“... would she hurt Willow and Gus?”

A harsh snort, “Doubt it. She’s never liked hurting kids; I doubt that much has changed.”

“But you just said-”

“You’re a human, Luz. You’re a special case here,” finally, the Witch opened the door, “Now go get yourself cleaned up, then go to your room and try to get some rest; I might not be back for a while.”

With that, Eda slipped out into the night, disappearing into the shadows faster than Luz could even hope to follow. Hooty’s door slammed shut behind her, echoing in the silence of the house as the candles and fireplace finally began to die down, casting the room in darker, deeper shadows.

“... Luz?” King asked, still perched firmly on her shoulder.

“... King… have you ever seen her like that before?” the tanned teen asked.

“... not like that, ” the Demon admitted, gesturing vaguely towards the door, “We’ve moved before, sure, but she’s never been this…” he flicked his claws, as if physically groping for the right word, “... twitchy.”

“That’s one way of putting it, I guess,” Luz licked her lips, turning back towards the stairwell, “... are you worried?”

“Pfff,” he snorted, turning up his nose and closing his eyes in a petulant display of denial, “I’m never worried! I’m the mighty Ragnarök, after all - the King of Demons!”

“Is that what that means?” the girl cocked an eyebrow, starting up towards her room, “I thought that Ragnarök was the end of the world in Norse Myth.”

“It may as well be!” he clambered up atop her head, seeking a higher vantage point from which to display his grandeur, “The Ragnarök is the most powerful Demon of all, earning their title through war and conquest against their rivals, devouring the Souls of all who cross them until they stand undisputed as the strongest!”

As King continued his grand speech, Luz slowly made her way up the stairs; though she did her best to listen, she found herself continually drawn back to the day’s events.

To Amity’s glare, the wounded pride that had permeated every one of her actions. To the Principal’s cold eyes, the way he’d looked at Luz like she wasn’t even a person.

To Willow’s concern, and how the young Witch had gone so far out of her way to protect her. To Gus’ fear, getting wrapped up in something he never asked to be involved in.

And now to Eda. How she’d faced off with the Principal; how she’d saved Willow; and now, she’d sped off into the night, doing who knew what else.

All to protect her. All because she’d wandered off instead of going straight back to the Owl House. 

“... today was supposed to be a good day,” she murmured under her breath, hoping King wouldn’t notice as they finally reached her bedroom door.


The silence of the night was chilling.

Even considering how many of the tourists had slipped away from the Venice’s streets and canals as the sun had slipped beneath the horizon, there should still have been a decent number of people out and about. In the distance, the lights of the city danced upon the waves, but the sound was distant, so distant Soul had to strain his ears to catch even the slightest hint of noise.

The Chiesa dei Santi Geremia, however, was both completely dark, and completely silent, despite the relatively early evening hour.

No lights shone from the windows. No music or melody or muffled sermon emanated from within.

Even the front lights had gone out, plunging the whole building into darkness, beyond the ambient light of the surrounding buildings.

“... are they still here, Maka?” he asked, glancing at her.

“... yeah,” she nodded, eyes unfocused as they swept over the building, unease bleeding through her very posture, hands clenched into fists at her sides, “They’re still here. They haven’t moved at all…”

“... what do you think we’re dealing with, here?”

“I dunno,” the Meister murmured, “I can’t really tell for sure what’s happened here. Just… one moment, there were dozens of Souls here… the next… there were only these two. I can tell that there’s a Weapon and a Meister, but beyond that…”

Soul let out a low hum, eyes narrowed as he turned his eyes back to the doors, “Well, we won’t know until we get in there.”

His partner didn’t answer, eyes still fixed firmly forwards.

“... having second thoughts?” the Weapon queried.

“No. I just…” she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, “The closer I get to those Souls… the less I want to go in there. Something’s wrong here, Soul - I can feel it.”

“... do you want to go get Stein and the idiot?”

This time, the grey-haired girl paused. She bit at her lip, chewing anxiously before finally letting her eyes refocus, shaking her head, “No. We don’t even know where they are; the longer we stand around out here, the more likely those Souls in there are going to make a break for it. By the time we get Stein and Death Scythe, they might not be here anymore.”

“... then there’s no point in just standing here.”

To her credit, the only hesitation Maka showed was a single, shaky exhale before she started towards the heavy black doors. Slowly, she ran a gloved hand along the center, before pushing the doors inwards.

Her harsh gasp, followed by her backwards stagger should have told Soul all he needed to know; she had her hands firmly clasped over her mouth as if to stifle a scream, eyes wide and unblinking with absolute horror, unable to look away from whatever it was that laid within.

Nonetheless, the Weapon took to her side, peering into the shadows with a grimace.

The first thing that hit him was the familiar scent of iron; it hung in the air with a stronger presence than he’d ever smelled before, making him wrinkle his nose in disgust as his eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness.

The second thing he noticed were the bodies.

Several had been piled right inside the door; slumped against the wall or even against the doors themselves. A severed hand still clung to one of the door handles, hanging limply from its fingers, almost in a sick mockery of how close whoever it had belonged to had been to escape. Still further in, more bodies lined the tile; run through, cut in two, hacked to pieces - and those were the ones still recognizable as human. Several were too badly maimed to have any distinguishing features beyond their clothes, having been thrown or smashed like ragdolls into the now damaged marble pillars or the splintered pews that had been roughly shoved aside or overturned. Men, women, children, elderly - dozens of victims, no single one like the others that surrounded them aside from the unifying features of mutilation and bloodstains.

And in the center of it all, stood a slight, spindly figure.

They were smothered by the black dress that they wore, featureless save the cufflinks at the end of their sleeves that covered their wrists and most of their hands, and the high white collar that almost reached their chin; their body was impossible to make out under the fabric, thin as it was, with only their head and hands exposed. A mop of wavy pink hair hung about their head in a somewhat tangled mess, just reaching the bottom of their ears and messily chopped above their brow, leaving their bangs cut in a straight line across their forehead, save for a few stray hairs that escaped the cut, as if scissors had roughly been taken to their hair against their will.

But it was their face that fixed Soul firmly in place; the kid couldn’t have been much older than he was. The pale pallor of a poltergeist peered not at the Weapon and Meister pair, but somewhere far, far away, eyes unfocused as they rapidly shot from one spot to another. They didn’t even seem particularly aware of their surroundings, swaying back and forth in place, a buoy in some current only they could perceive.

“... Maka?” he whispered.

“... so many…” she murmured, eyes darting from one corpse to the next.

“Maka,” Soul urged, his eyes shooting to her, “They’re all by themselves. What the Hell happened to their Weapon?”

The question was as much to gently nudge his Meister back into focus as it was a genuine query; after a moment, Maka’s eyes went unfocused once more, tracing the Wavelengths of their Souls before abruptly snapping back into focus.

“... they’re both here,” she began, tone and eyes hardening, “Standing right in front of us.”

Soul set his jaw, but he knew better than to question Maka’s ability to sense the Souls of those around her at this point; he turned his gaze back to the lone living figure within the chiesa, lips pursed…

Only to find that those pale eyes were now staring right at them.

“... you see?” they asked, voice light and quiet; were it not for the cavernous echo of the church, the white-haired Weapon doubted he’d have heard it at all, “The doors. They only open one way.”

“... who are you?” Maka demanded, stepping forwards into the church, “Did you do this?”

The black-clad child didn’t answer; they simply stopped their swaying, one arm clutching at the other as they continued to stare, utterly unblinking, seeming utterly perplexed by Maka’s presence.

“Answer me!” Maka reached out her hand; almost on reflex, Soul transformed, his Scythe body spinning in Maka’s hands before being levelled at the child, “I can see that you’re a Meister and that you have your Weapon with you somewhere! If you’re with one of the DWMA branches, then you need to identify yourselves and your campus right now!

The figure whimpered, seeming to shrink in on themselves, “... I don’t know what you’re talking about…”

“Look around!” the grey-haired girl snapped, “All these bodies and not a single Soul to be found! And you’ve been here since it happened!”

The figure blinked; slowly, their eyes traced the room, seeing, but not fully comprehending the grisly scene that surrounded them. All the while, Soul took note of the room, doing his best to commit every detail he could to memory; the ceilings were high and vaulted, domed as one got further to each “wing,” with the highest dome being dead in the center of the chiesa. The windows’ panes had all been broken let light stream in from the night sky beyond, though it did precious little to illuminate the interior, all the candles having blown out and every lightbulb in the building that he could see having been shattered. The overturned pews, the smashed altar at the end, the broken cross - it seemed that nothing survived the rampage that had occurred earlier.

Finally, those eyes settled on them, the figure giving a confused tilt of the head, like a beaten dog that didn’t understand why they were being scolded, “... but she said to eat as many as I wanted to. If she says there’s nothing wrong with it, then… then I don’t see anything wrong with it.”

Maka’s grip on Soul’s staff tightened; he could feel her anger growing, felt her teeth slat and her whole body tense with a furious energy. Cautiously, he sent a pulse of calm up through her hands; almost immediately, it settled into her bones, and a long, slow breath escaped her lungs as the tension flooded out of her, replaced with a calm, crystal focus, the anger present, but pushed firmly down into the depths of her stomach.

She opened her mouth to speak again-

And then something tore itself out of the pink-haired figure’s back.

They didn’t scream; they didn’t so much as flinch as the black fluid didn’t so much as leak as it did rip and tear its way out of their skin, seeping through the black dress, rising higher and higher into an ever larger torrent of inky blackness. The liquid caught the shine of the moonlight seeping through the window, glinting ominously before abruptly beginning to congeal, thick, bulging muscles taking shape under a thin film - water balloons attempting to mimic human anatomy, each muscle that formed in the monstrously massive torso nothing short of hideously bulbous, heavy spiked belts of grey steel forming on its wrists and shoulder. White gloved hands flexed at the end of each grotesque arm, and on its disproportionately small head, a pair of white orbs formed on either side of a pale X, each marked with a smaller X of their own, mimicking the countenance of a cartoon character’s dead eyes, but bearing an unmistakably malicious focus that had instantly fixed upon the Scythe and his Meister.

... takin’ your sweet time with these ones, aren’t you, Crona?

The hulking figure’s voice was somewhere between the harsh hiss of vented steam and the heavy grinding of the engine that it turned; despite its facsimile of a masculine form, Soul couldn’t bring himself to call the monster anything other than an ‘it.’ It reached down with a heavy hand, starting to clap its host’s head about the temple, “ What’s the matter with you? There’s two more Souls right in front of us and you’re not gonna feed me either of ‘em? What, you think my stomach’s full already?

“No!” ‘Crona’ reached up, weakly trying to bat the assaulting hand back, “You know I don’t know how to deal with girls! Especially when they’re loud and pushy!”

Oh, I see how it is, ” a twisted edge entered the mild echo of the dark figure, “ You thought you could get me into a food coma so you could have a main course for yourself!”

“No, I-!”

Before Crona could protest any further, the clapping turned into a crushing strike, its gunshot-like crack echoing in the chiesa’s high hall. The pink-haired Meister stumbled, clutching at their head, and the hideous creature wrapped a balloon-like arm around their neck in a vicious headlock, the other hand reaching up to grind its knuckles into the child’s scalp.

Here’s a reminder for ya; I’m the one who eats the Souls, ” it snarled, heedless of its victim’s struggles to get free, “You’re the one that gets them ready for me! You understand how that works!?

“Stop it!” Crona cried, “I’ve had enough, Ragnarök! Let go already or I won’t feed you anymore!”

“That’s enough! ” Maka sank into her stance, raising Soul high; for a moment, the creature and the child stopped, their attention drawn to the Scythe Meister as she snarled, teeth bared, “I don’t know who you are or what’s going on, and frankly, I don’t care! Our duty as Weapons and Meisters is to protect people, not reap their Souls for power! As students of the DWMA, it falls to Soul and I to make sure you don’t hurt anyone else!”

‘... you sure about this, Maka?’ Soul asked, eyes narrowed.

‘No,’ she confessed, ‘No I’m not. But we can’t just let these two run free, Soul - who knows how many people they’ll kill if they get away?’

‘Right…’ Soul breathed, then sent out his Wavelength, feeling a grin spread across his ‘face’ as Maka bounced it right back, “I’d surrender if I were you. If not… well, your Souls are ours’.”

... hmph. Promises, promises, ” ‘Ragnarök’ snorted, but nonetheless it pulled its hands away from Crona’s neck and head. It reared up, staring down at Maka and Soul with a renewed hunger, “ Tell you what, you can make it up to me by killing these two and feeding them to me. What’d’ya say, Crona? I’ll even let you sleep through the night tomorrow if you do.

“... you’re lying…” Crona murmured meekly, but did not protest; instead, the monster’s hulking body lost its shape and composure, returning to an inky black flood that swiftly sank into the pink-haired child’s thin back. 

Then they held out their hand; a long, black scar that the Scythe hadn’t noticed before spanned Crona’s entire palm, freshly scabbed despite its horribly dark colour. The scabs then split open, sending flecks of metallic, congealed ink to the floor, a stream of black spewing out of his hand and quickly solidifying into gleaming onyx metal; before long, a Sword, far too large and heavy for Crona’s thin body or weak stance to properly wield sat in their hands, a long white strip etched into its fuller, its handle wrapped in white fabric and the guard and pommel being simple blocks of spiked, grey steel.

‘... well, I guess that answers what that… thing is,’ Soul intoned, unable to resist a shudder that ran through him even as a steel blade.

‘Do not let your guard down,’ Maka urged, ‘That is not a normal weapon!’

As if on cue, Crona did not so much rush forwards as they were dragged forwards. Ragarök’s heavy blade seemed to move entirely of its own accord, independent of its Meister’s will, not so much swung as it was pulling on Crona’s arms like some sort of demented, out of control hound on a leash too short for the child to manage.

Even with that handicap though, the two were fast, the sword sparking on the tile as it arced up from below.

Without so much as a word, Maka swung; Soul’s blade caught Ragnarök’s before the upwards arc could be completed. Instead, the sword plunged into the stonework beneath their feet, sinking into the floor with disconcerting ease and nearly doubling Crona over entirely.

Before the Sword Meister could react, the Scythe Meister was already in motion, her momentum carrying her; the punch caught Crona full in the jaw, forcing them to stagger back, and then the strike with the back of Soul’s blade sent them spinning as it caught them on the wrist, hoping to break their grip on the Sword entirely. They reeled, but never once let go of Ragnarök’s hilt, clinging to it as if their very life depended on maintaining their hold on the Weapon.

Nonetheless, Maka kept swinging; by now, Crona seemed to have regained their faculties, dodging back from the first downwards swipe.

Straight backwards, as the Scythe Meister had hoped. 

‘Got 'em!’

Soul grinned at Maka’s grim satisfaction as she used the momentum to spring completely up and off the floor overtop of the black-clad child’s head, flipping and driving her knee down into the back of Crona’s head. The Sword Meister crumpled to the floor in a heap, and Maka swung down with a mighty cry, “YOU’RE MINE!”

The sound of metal upon metal rang out. Soul’s blade stopped dead in the air, unable to move so much as a centimeter further.

And yet, Ragnarok’s blade had not moved. It still sat in Crona’s hand where they had fallen to the ground, face in the broken tile.

No; rather, the very tip of Soul’s blade had stopped dead in the pink-haired child’s skin.

“... what…?”

“Maka!” the Weapon urged, “Move!”

She immediately reacted, pulling Soul free and leaping back as the Sword once again dragged Crona’s body across the floor in a swipe that would have taken off at least one of her feet; she came to a stop atop one of the broken pews; Soul could feel her confusion, the sudden stroke of fear that had struck her when what should have been the finishing blow had in fact failed to finish anything.

He was feeling the exact same thing - and it was only exacerbated by the tip of his blade. It had bent, slightly, dulled as if it had been driven full force into solid iron; rather than red, the liquid that dripped from the tip of the Scythe’s edge was a shining, metallic black.

Slowly, Crona pushed themselves to their feet, staring at Maka with a disconcertingly blank look, as if nothing had happened whatsoever.

“... oh, no,” they murmured, “Not with a stroke like that…”

“...b… black blood?” Maka managed past the shock

“Yes,” they confirmed, as though the question had not been rhetorical; they reached behind their back, and their hand came away stained dark; they flexed, the material causing their fingers to stick together briefly before coming apart, “My blood is black.”

Without so much as another word, they went on the offensive once again, swinging wildly for Maka; she leaped back, eyes jumping back and forth between the Sword and its wielder.

‘... the way that thing came out of them earlier,’ Soul started, ‘Maka, is that thing their blood!?

‘It’s the only thing I can think of that makes any sense; we got through their skin, but got stopped dead after that!’ her grip on Soul tightened, raising him to parry a strike that otherwise would have run her through, retaliating with a kick that sprung her back and well out of Crona’s reach; but they were already upon her again, forcing her to duck, Ragnarök’s blade lodging in the stone pillar beside them, ‘Like it formed an armour underneath somehow! If Ragnarök is flowing through their whole body, then-!’

‘Then there’s not a whole lot we can do to hurt either of them, not without something like Black Star’s Soul Wavelength to do some internal damage!’ the Scythe cursed, turning his gaze to his Meister, ‘The only other thing I can think of is Witch Hunter!’

‘We can’t do that now, Soul! If we have another Resonance Overload, they’ll just kill us both outright!’

‘Not seeing a whole lot of other options, Maka! If we can’t fight, then we need to run!’

“I don’t know what to do,” Crona mumbled, once again spinning after another of the Scythe Meister’s parries, “I don’t know what to do about girls that fight like this! None of the others fought like this, they just ran!”

Abruptly, they came to a stop; they cocked their head, as if they had heard something.

Then they began to giggle, a vicious grin splitting open their face.

“... all I have to do is kill her?... I didn’t realize that,” they muttered, eyes darting about the room, “But maybe I can play with her hair first. Just for a little while,” then those eyes snapped back onto Maka, a new, mad gleam shining in their dark depths, “The doors here open inwards. They only open one way…!”

They raised the Sword again; a pair of crimson lips sprouted on the black blade like a rapidly blooming rose, grinning and exposing slates of iron grey mimicking human teeth - but there were too many, and they were far too sharp. Even as a Weapon, Soul could feel their Wavelengths, erratic, but rising together as one as the mouth opened-

And let out an earsplitting scream.

He felt Maka flinch under the sound, some horrid mix of a human’s screech and the squeal of metal upon metal. The chiesa, built deliberately to echo music and voice alike, only served to amplify the power of the scream as it rose in both pitch and volume, so loud and horrid it seemed to be drilling into Soul’s very skull. It was everything he could do not to revert to human form and slam his hands over his ears, and as it was he could already hear the telltale whine of tinnitus over the howling…

And then the black jaws nearly closed on them both.

‘Maka!’

‘I know!’

She threw the Scythe’s handle forwards in a desperate block against the construct of sound and metal, a veritable dragon’s skull of black iron that threatened to chew them both into paste if it caught them in its horrid, jagged jaws; just as quickly as it had appeared, however, Crona was closing in, their movements more confident, no longer being dragged by their Sword as they had been before. They thrust upwards, forcing the Meister to block with with her Scythe-

And Ragnarök was still screaming.

He may as well have been used to fend off a buzz saw; the pain flashed through Soul’s mind an instant before he could properly react, blood pouring down his shoulder in the blackness and down his staff in Maka’s hands. He couldn’t stop the scream that rose from his mouth this time-

Soul!

He felt, more than saw, Maka’s kick, driving Crona back with all the viciousness and strength she could muster. He breathed, trying to regain his wind, pain lancing through him with each breath he took, each beat of his heart as blood continued to pour down his body in both the realm of reality and the shadows of his weapon form.

He couldn’t stop it; he knew his pain would be pulsing out of his body, and then up into Maka’s hands, through her bones and into her very Soul. She felt every last ounce of pain pulsing through him in the here and now - and in turn, he felt the newfound, visceral fear that tinged her Wavelength, the sudden understanding of just how much danger they were in.

‘Are you okay, Soul!?’ there was a new desperation in her tone now.

‘Stay focused!’ he cursed, ‘I am your Weapon, Maka! That means it’s my job to protect you! Do not let that Sword touch you!’

‘But-!’

‘They’re coming, idiot, MOVE!

She obeyed; but Soul could tell even from the first dodge that Maka had lost all of her former momentum. Her movements were swift, but lacked all their normal grace and flow; her sidesteps and flips were gone, instead replaced with the constant backwards movement that had been beaten out of her in the first month of their training.

‘Maka!’

“Shut UP! ” she demanded, no longer bothering with their mental link, “I’m not going to put you at further risk! We have to retreat!”

“Then make an opening!” he shouted back, “They’re not just gonna let us run!”

I’d certainly love to see you try,” Ragnarök’s voice was filled with equal parts greed and bloodlust, the voice of a glutton eager to taste its next meal.

Crona just giggled madly, continuing to slice and stab at empty air in their attempts to kill her-

And then Maka’s back hit the door.

On impulse, she threw herself against it, hoping to burst through it or break it down.

It did neither. It held firm, wood, stone and metal holding firm against even Maka’s considerable strength as a Meister.

“Open UP!” she shouted, trying to shoulder through.

“That’s not going to work, you know?”

Ragnarök’s blade was already raised  as Crona’s matter-of-fact tone echoed around them. 

“You need to pay attention to the things other people say. The doors only open one way - they open inward.

He felt her fear - not just of dying, but of losing him. Losing her friend. Her partner.

He felt that fear harden into resolve.

He felt her fingers loosen, and a fresh wave of terror overcame him as Maka did the unthinkable.

The one thing a Meister is trained to never, ever do.

Rather than raise her Scythe to meet the falling Sword, she threw Soul to the side, raising her arms to defend in his place - unwilling to risk his life for her’s.

And Soul felt his heart stop, and the world around him slow to a complete and utter crawl.

MAKA!

The black Sword fell.

Soul couldn’t have stopped himself if he tried.

He threw himself to his feet in front of his Meister, arms splayed.

The blade tore through him.

Maka screamed, raw and bloody, “ SOUL!!!

And everything went black.


Soul collapsed backwards into Maka’s arms.

Everything else seemed to just disappear - the chiesa, the blood, the bodies, even Crona as they stood over her, they all vanished as she stared at the red that spread across her partner’s yellow jacket. It seeped from his ears, from his mouth, from his shoulder, but most of all from the horrific gash in his chest that ran from his left shoulder to the right side of his abdomen. She could see the flesh, the bone, and it was all she could do to cradle him in one arm, and helplessly paw with her free hand, trying to hold the wound closed and only succeeding in staining her glove a dark crimson.

She knew first-aid. How did that go again?

First-aid for lacerations; rinse the wound and apply pressure.

But this isn’t just a laceration - she could see his bones, his severed collarbone and ribs and sternum and he was bleeding, he was bleeding too much, there was so much blood-

“Soul,” she mumbled, voice hoarse, throat dry - she could barely even hear herself, “Soul, wake up. I need you to wake up.”

He gave no answer.

“If you don’t wake up you’ll die,” she managed, “Y-You’re losing way too much blood, I need you to wake up!

Still, her partner said nothing, instead laying silently in her arms.

“Soul, please! ” she wailed, the reality of the situation hitting her with all the force of a freight train. She pulled him close, hoping vainly that the pressure of her embrace could somehow stop the blood, hold the wound closed - anything to keep him alive, keep him with her, her sobs breaking free from her chest in racking spasms, “I-I’m begging you, Soul! You-! You promised you wouldn’t walk out on me! Y-You PROMISED! Please don’t leave! PLEASE!!!

This time, she did receive a response.

The heavy shift of metal.

She looked up, saw Crona, saw the heavy Sword slowly rise once again. Their crimson Souls gleamed in the dark of the chiesa like paired candles, erratic and sparking, but nonetheless in terrifying sync, the Madness as palpable in their Wavelengths as it was in their grins. She could feel it tugging at her mind, trying to unravel her, to pull and pull and pull away until there was absolutely nothing left of it…

Her mind went blank.

She had nothing. No moves left to play, beyond shield Soul’s broken body with her own.

It was over.

She couldn’t do anything but flinch, hunching down over her partner’s body as the pink-haired Meister brought the Sword down.

The heavy sound of metal on metal reached her ears once more.

She wasn’t even sure where the figure had come from; clad in a heavy dark cloak, they now stood between her and the swordsman, their figure and face obscured by their garb.

“... well. So much for ‘no playing the hero.’”

She couldn’t quite tell how old they were from the voice - high, but masculine, tinged with annoyance as the figure rubbed at his forehead under his hood. Then he glanced down at her over his shoulder.

A single tuft of blond hair escaped the depths of his hood, hanging over a golden Carnivale mask that spread over his forehead and dipped over his nose, vaguely resembling some sort of bird with its feathered brow and beaked nose, exposing his mouth and the scar on the bottom of his jaw. She could have sworn she saw a lilac eye in the shadows of its eyeholes, but the colour was gone as soon as it had come, leaving her uncertain as to whether she’d seen it at all.

But that wasn’t what had her attention.

She’d let her eyes go unfocused, using her Soul to see his...

His Soul was a brilliant gold, tinged with gentle purples that brought a sunset to mind. It shone, compressed and focused, carefully reserved…

“... there’s another one,” Crona whined with all the petulance of a frustrated six year old, “Stop it! Just stop getting in my way and let me kill you!”

“I don’t think so.”

With a grunt, he parried Ragnarök’s heavy blade, letting it crash into the tile floor and retaliating with a vicious kick to Crona’s stomach, Soul pulsing on contact.

The shockwave of their Soul Wavelength was enough to throw Maka backwards, and she hadn’t even been the newcomer’s target. She heard Crona choke for a brief instant before they were hurled back across the chiesa, their body smashing down atop the damaged altar. Slowly, they pushed themselves back up with a pained groan, glaring back with a maddened glower, smile gone.

“... too late to back out now. Titan damn it all,” the figure sighed, leaning on a large staff in his hand, tipped with a wing and a glowing crimson crystal. It emanated its own Wavelength, but it didn’t feel like a Weapon - in fact, its Wavelength felt like nothing the Scythe Meister had ever faced before, pulsing with a brilliant vermillion strength.

“Ah, well. Guess I’d better just make the best of it.”

Notes:

... as solemn of a note that I started this posted chapter on? You gotta admit, that ending is hype. I've been sitting on that particular cliffhanger for MONTHS.

NEXT TIME: Crona and Ragnarök vs. The Golden Guard! Place your bets, everyone, because this battle is going to be a SCORCHER!... at least until Stein and Spirit show up! And that's not spoilers, they're in the city, they can sense Souls, you KNOW they're gonna show up. But until then I get to show just what these fighters can REALLY do!

We're also starting to get a bit into the realities of Eda's life as a criminal. It ain't all deals and glamour - sometimes, you need to know when to cut your losses... regardless of whether it's a town, or your apprentice. So that'll be interesting for when we circle back to Eda and Luz, though I admit, that might take a chapter or two.

Thank you for your patience, everyone, and I'm so sorry this took so long.

Please be sure to leave your thoughts below! I hope you all enjoyed the twenty fifth chapter of Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance!

Chapter 26: Black Blood and Gleaming Gold

Notes:

Sorry for not posting much this summer. A lot's been going on on my end, family wise, school wise, and just personal wise. It's a bit of a mess, but I hope this chapter makes up for it. Hope you enjoy!

AS A HEADS UP FOR EVERYONE: I re-did the ending for this chapter and posted those edits as of September 20, 2023. I decided it needed a bit of a rework to give future moments a bit more impact, and to emphasize some aspects of Eda's thought process - partway ruthlessness, partway arrogance, partway objective mercy. I hope you guys like it.

I do not own Soul Eater or Owl House.

If I did, I'd almost certainly have a fixed deadline for these chapters.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

He hadn’t intended to intervene.

The staff’s low hum stood in stark contrast to the high pitched ringing of Dainslief’s blade, a grounding sound and sensation in his palm as the Golden Guard stood between the pink-haired Meister and their quarry; the grey-haired child knelt over her bleeding, broken Weapon, staring up at him through wide, imploring green eyes, their Souls only barely developed beyond the pale blue spheres that marked them as humans, bearing hints and colour and shape that would grow more defined as they grew in strength and bond.

Despite himself, the Witchling couldn’t help the grimace that spread across his lips as he looked away. Chiding chastisements streamed through his mind, a flood of frustrations rising in his chest too quickly for him to identify which ones spurred him to berate the brats behind him - they were young, sure, but anyone with a halfway developed Soul could see what kind of monster they were up against - and which ones were directed at himself.

They only grew more prominent when the girl, caught somewhere between shock and confusion, stammered out a question, “W… who… who are you…?”

He didn’t answer.

He was too preoccupied with the sudden incoming lunge, Dainslief suddenly inches from his face, mouth open and howling with enough volume to make his ears sting.

The Golden Guard didn’t even flinch. Despite his frustrations, he quashed his initial instinct to sidestep, to let the blade simply sail past his side so he could grab the wielder’s arm for all manner of holds, submissions or breaks; doing so ran the risk of allowing the Demon Swordsman to feed the Palisman Blade two more Souls.

He absolutely could not let that happen. Dainslief was already contaminated, possibly beyond any hope of repair - and beyond that, both it and its wielder were already amidst the throes of a terrible, murderous Madness, one that would only get worse if left unchecked.

If there was anything that the Reaper was right about, it was that another Kishin absolutely could not come into being.

Instead, he spun the staff in his hands, deftly hooking the eagle’s wing under the Sword Meister’s wrist and yanking it upwards; the malnourished child let loose a startled yelp, eyes wide and staring with all momentum lost, the Sword’s scream coming to an abrupt stop as their Resonance was interrupted. The Guard wasted no time in shifting closer, driving his heel into the back of the Meister’s knee; they immediately toppled, the heavy sword in their hand doing nothing to assist their broken sense of balance… and before they hit the ground, he struck again, driving his palm into their solar plexus.

On impact, he let his Soul pulse, ‘Soul Force!’

He saw as much as he felt his own Wavelength, sunset gold tinged with purple, rippling down his arm and into his hand in a wave of pure physical force.

He felt the hardened shell under the thin fabric and thinner skin fracture and give under the impact.

And then the Demon Swordsman was hurled backwards with another screech that seemed more startled than pained, flipping and rolling back across the floor before finally skidding to a halt before the altar.

The Guard knew, however, that blow wouldn’t be nearly enough.

After all, his heel and palm now ached from their respective impacts with the Meister’s skin. And moreover he could feel their combined Wavelength.

It was far more powerful than anything a human of that age should have been capable of, even with the help of an ancient Palisman.

The pale Swordsman groaned as they slowly pushed themselves up, coughing and turning their manic, suddenly fearful gaze back on the masked teen, “... nobody’s ever hit me like that before…”

You’re takin’ too long again, Crona!” Dainslief’s horrid voice echoed through the chamber, sneering, “Pull yourself together and feed me those Souls already!

They grimaced, but slowly stood, shifting their weight from foot to foot, trying to resettle their balance.

“... they can still stand after that?...” the grey-haired girl managed, a fresh wave of fear causing her words to waver.

He ground his teeth, “What were you expecting? This isn’t exactly a fresh Kishin Egg; that thing is a bona-fide Demon Sword.”

“... a… Demon Sword?” she stammered.

“The foetal stage of a Weapon-type Kishin!” he snapped, “Didn’t the DWMA at least teach you that much!?”

“... foetal stage…?” she asked, “... so that thing’s… the next level of development?...”

The snark that threatened to fly from his tongue was cut off before it could fully form by that same shrill scream, this time loud enough to make him flinch.

“Ragnarök…” the Swordsman plunged Dainslief into the already scarred tile and concrete, sending a wave of force rippling through the stone, “ Screech Alpha! ” 

The Golden Guard was forced to redouble his stance at the tremble that ran through the stone and marble beneath his feet, even before the fangs of black iron rose to meet him; dredged from the earth and surrounding constructs and likely from the very blood of the Demon Swordsman themselves and shaped by their grotesque Wavelength. Empty eyes stared listlessly above an equally empty abyss, rimmed by irregular teeth in a grotesque mockery of a skull. Its wide yawn only served to amplify the initial burst, and a lesser Witch would have buckled, even an instant of physical weakness enough to allow the jaws to snap shut around them-

But the Guard was no lesser Witch.

He raised his staff, feeling the Magic in its gleaming red jewel pulse and roil, a veritable bolt of lightning fighting to break free from its prison. He felt its sear on his Soul as he reached out to it with his Wavelength, the staff practically a red hot iron rod in hands, but he held firm, driving its tip down into the iron skull as he recalled the very basics of the Construction Coven’s Magic.

On contact with the metal, the spell immediately took effect; the crystalline lattice of the brittle black iron, conjured and held together only by a maddened Wavelength, began to crumble, the forehead cracking and caving in entirely before the entire skull splintered into slivers, exposing the deep blue eyes of the Demon Swordsman - their approach from directly behind their iron bulwark entirely exposed, expression utterly uncomprehending as to what precisely had just occurred. 

Despite himself, the Golden Guard smirked.

There was always something gratifying about completely baffling an opponent.

He tightened his grip, using his Wavelength to further guide the staff’s Magic. The splinters of iron disintegrated further, the arcane flow grinding them from slivers to powder; the iron dust then danced through the air, forming into long, thin, and perfectly sharp needles, then enlarging into heavy iron stakes before being launched forwards with incredible force, too close, too fast and too many for the Swordsman or the Sword to reliably counter.

He could tell it wasn’t enough to cause significant damage; the tip of each stake blunted and bent on contact with the Swordsman’s body or blade, unable to inflict anything beyond superficial wounds. But each impact bought breathing room, forcing the Swordsman further and further back with each strike to their shoulders, their hips, their chest, until one finally caught them under the jaw; they stumbled back with a startled yelp, then a scream of confused terror as the final six struck them all at once, hurling them back across the bloody temple once again, collapsing in a heap on the floor.

But they wouldn’t stay down long.

And he couldn’t waste any more time.

“... that’s… that’s not…” the Scythe Meister stammered, disbelief in her voice, “... no way… are you a…?”

The Emperor’s young champion ignored her question. Instead, he took a step forward, spinning the staff in his fingers trying to keep his tone neutral as he issued an order to the girl behind him, “You two are in the way. Take your Weapon and leave.”

To the Scythe Meister’s credit, she didn’t pursue her prior question. Her actual response, however, did nothing to improve his impression of her, “I… I can’t! Soul is losing way too much blood! If I move him, he might die!”

The Guard grit his teeth, resisting the rising urge to turn and glare her down, although he could not keep the bite out of his words, “And if you stay here, the both of you will die.”

Immediately, he heard teeth click painfully against teeth as the girl’s mouth fell shut, her protests abruptly drowned by her terror.

The Guard did not look back, but he did allow himself to settle, “I can’t fight them with everything I have with you two here. You’re in my way.” 

“But-!”

“No buts! You don’t have time for this! Take your Weapon and get him to a Healer!” he snapped, finally craning his neck to glare down at her, “Or do you want whatever equivalent you humans have to the El-Melloi Award!?”

The girl jolted in place, his words finally seeming to have the desired effect. She scrambled for purchase on the filthy tiles, pushing her hands under her Weapon’s torso and carefully lifting, pulling the crumpled, hideously dressed boy up and onto her shoulder, heedless of the blood that would undoubtedly stain her long, ragged trenchcoat. She rose to her feet, her green eyes meeting his briefly before turning tail and pulling the door open with all her might, speeding out into the night beyond and letting the heavy wood slam shut behind her.

The Guard released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, finally turning his attention back to the remaining Meister and the Demon Sword.

Dammit, Crona! They’re gettin’ away!

The Demon Swordsman had pushed themselves up again, weakly reaching up to bat away the giant white hands that were driving their knuckles into the child’s temples; a pair of white eyes sneered down, the fury in its voice palpable in every word, “You just cost me a meal, you stupid wimp! If we don’t catch them, I’m gonna stick needles under your fingernails!

“Stop it, Ragnarök!” they whined, “I’ve never fought a Witch like this before! I don’t know how to deal with floaty spikes and glowing red rocks!”

The Guard made absolutely no effort to remind them of his presence. Instead, he breathed, and closed in, the staff’s Magic surrounding him like a cloak that carried him forwards all at once in a motion so quick it was almost a teleport. Before he was even in position, he had begun his swing, Soul poised to pulse in tandem with the impact of the staff upon the simpering child’s skull-

But the ring of honed steel, and the ache that ran up through his hands, completely interrupted his motion; he only had a fraction of a second to see the Demon Swordsman complete their parry, flinging him away with another pulse of their discordant Wavelength. Their eyes were fixed on him now, and he heard the parasitic giant behind them sneer before pulling itself back under their skin, smothering its wielder’s Soul under its own. 

And yet, as the child pushed back, their power redoubled, Wavelengths resonating and beginning to rise; before the Imperial could even touch the ground, they were on the attack, leaping up and cleaving down with unnatural speed, the Sword once again screaming - this time directly in his face.

No time to conjure a spell.

No time to try and dodge.

No two ways around it.

This was going to hurt.

That thought in mind, he raised his staff again to block, pain lancing up his arms upon contact with the Sword; the next thing he knew, his back had hit the floor, jagged gravel all but embedded into his skin even through his thick cloak and shirt. His head swam, his arms ached, he could feel the blood trickling from his nose and hear the painful ringing in his ears. A thousand different parts groaned and ached with protest as he forced himself to move, flipping back and up onto his feet over his shoulder before he’d lost any sort of momentum, forcing his eyes to fix upon his target even as they throbbed in tandem with the rest of his body.

“... okay, I’ll admit it,” he muttered, “This might be harder than I thought.”

“I don’t know how to deal with you,” the Swordsman whined, the crazed, murderous, terrified glint in their eyes never fading, “Just stop it! Stop not dying! People are easier to deal with when they’re dead!”

“Sorry,” the Emperor’s Young Hand scoffed, then straightened, widening his stance and holding his staff at the ready, “But I’m not dying to give you some peace of mind.”

With that, he threw himself forwards, already conjuring his next spell.


Even with the cold night air practically searing frost into her lungs, Maka could still feel them burning.

Her body had long since gone numb as she ran through Venice’s streets; all around her, people were laughing, cursing, crying, and everything in between, paying her little if any heed as she shoved her way through the crowds. Her legs had lost all feeling from the effort of running, her shoulders ached under Soul’s weight, and she could feel her shirt and coat sticking to her back as his blood continued to seep into her clothes.

But she didn’t stop.

She didn’t even consider stopping. Not even to catch her breath or adjust her grip on her unconscious partner.

The only thing that she could think of was getting him to safety.

Anywhere would do, as long as it was far away from that horrible little monster, and the black sword that they carried.

“-a-!”

A hospital. That was what she needed, right this second.

“-ka-!”

She briefly let go of Soul’s arm, violently digging in her pocket for her phone; she pulled it out, eyes scouring the now bloody screen as she clicked it on, struggling to keep Soul slung across her shoulders as she ignored the myriad of missed calls in favour of the emergency call screen. What was Italy’s emergency number again?

“Maka!”

The voice finally snapped her out of her trance as a pair of hands gently, but firmly, clutched her shoulders; she found herself staring into eyes of brilliant electric blue, the mop of red that accompanied them reminding her too much of the blood…

“Maka, you need to breathe,” the voice instructed, the hands keeping her from twisting out of their grip, “Come on. Breathe with me. In… out… in…”

Wordlessly, the grey-haired girl obeyed, captivated by the words as they gave her something else to focus on, something else to cling to. She hadn’t realised she had been hyperventilating; already, she could feel the fog from her mind clearing, the world around her coming back into proper focus. She kept staring into those electric blue eyes, and slowly, her words came back to her horribly dry mouth.

“... Papa…?” she managed, voice wavering.

“It’s me, Maka,” he nodded, “I’m here. I’m right here.”

The dark, searing flood of resentment that should have overwhelmed her the moment she recognized him never came. Instead, the young Meister felt her whole body go weak with relief, only barely able to keep herself standing, and Soul’s weight on her shoulders redoubling as if he were turning to solid lead. Her exhausted Wavelength no longer fed her muscles with the effortless strength and stamina they were so accustomed to, and she could feel herself starting to buckle under the strain.

But even so, she kept her grip on her partner, refusing to let him go - some irrational part of her believing that if she clung hard enough, she could keep Soul firmly anchored from drifting away from his body. She could practically feel something tugging at him, trying to pull him from her grasp…

“... you gotta let go of him, sweetie.”

“... no,” she tightened her painfully numb fingers as best she could, “If I let go, he’ll…”

“You need to let go,” Papa gently repeated, “Stein can’t exactly treat him while he’s on your back, now can he?”

It was only then that she registered the doctor’s presence; indeed, he was the one tugging on Soul. He gave her that practiced, gentle smile, “It’s alright, Maka. You’ve done well. You can let go of him now.”

It took a moment for the stitched man’s words to fully register; but slowly, she managed to loosen the grip of her fingers just enough for Stein to coax Soul free, laying her partner down on the cobblestone street. She felt her stomach churn as the doctor began peeling away the ruined coat and shirt, examining the damage…

“Maka,” the Death Scythe prompted, gently guiding her attention back to him; she had to force her eyes to meet his rather than drift back down to the maimed, unconscious boy behind her, even as he spoke again, “I need you to tell me what happened.”

“I…” she swallowed the dust in her mouth, forcing the words out one by one, “... I… saw dozens of human Souls, in the Chiesi… Santi Geremia. They all just… disappeared. There were only two left. We went to investigate, and…” she couldn’t help but clutch her own arms, trying and failing to stop her own trembling, “... there were so many bodies… they were all dead, and… that… that…”

“... a Meister and a Weapon, right?” the red-headed Scythe queried.

The younger Meister bit her lip, “A Meister, but… the Weapon was… it was their blood, ” she shook her head, still disbelieving, “I don’t know how, but… that Weapon was part of them. And they were strong - way too strong, we kept up at first, but… normally, Soul and I can cut through steel no problem, but nothing we did worked! They overwhelmed us entirely, and every time we clashed, Soul got more and more wounded! We tried to fall back, but…!”

Again, she had to fight the impulse to turn back to her partner. Instead, she clenched her hands tighter around her elbows, “... it’s my fault… it’s my fault he’s…”

“... you did the best you could, Maka,” he did not smile. The Death Scythe simply kept his tone even, his voice comforting as he patted her shoulder, “Soul is alive because of you. He protected you - that’s his job as a Weapon. And you got him out of there. It’s not your fault that he’s in this condition.”

“But I…” she sniffed, unable to get the image of Soul shooting up from the floor, arms splayed protectively as he took the blow meant for her…

Then she stiffened.

“... he’s still in there,” she murmured.

“Maka?”

“The boy in the gold mask!” she reached out, grabbing Papa’s suit by the collar, only distantly aware that her voice was rising into a scream, “He’s the only reason we got out alive! He’s still in there with those monsters, all by himself! He needs help!

At that, his expression hardened as he looked to the doctor, eyes sharp like knives, “Stein? How is he?”

For the first time, the preteen was allowed to look; the whole of Soul’s upper body was wrapped in thick white bandages that somehow weren’t stained all the way through yet. His breaths came in slight, shallow huffs, the blood from his nose, eyes and ears gently wiped away, his jacket discarded entirely, instead laying silently on the stitched man’s lab coat, Stein himself still kneeling at his side, expression grim.

“I’ve managed to stabilize him, and stop the worst of the bleeding,” he started, adjusting his glasses, “But Soul needs medical attention as soon as possible. Medical attention most doctors can’t give him - he’s got several severely damaged organs, a split ribcage, sternum and collarbone, and he’s lost a significant amount of blood. He’ll need multiple simultaneous operations to make it through the night - his Soul Wavelength is the only reason these wounds didn’t outright kill him.”

“Will he last long enough for you to treat him?” Papa asked.

“With this first aid? He’ll last half an hour on the outside - maybe an hour if he’s taken to a hospital and given a blood transfusion,” Stein turned his attention to Maka, “You know Italy’s emergency number?”

“Wh…” she forced herself to swallow again, “Y… yes. One one two.”

“Call them. Tell them the address. Give them your ID, tell them it’s a DWMA related emergency and that you need an ambulance. Provided they’re not overwhelmed, they’ll send one immediately.”

“... and if they are?” she managed, “Overwhelmed?”

“Worse comes to worst, search the nearest emergency center and carry Soul there yourself; it’ll at least buy him time. We’ll catch up with you afterwards, and hopefully I’ll have an actual operating theatre to work with,” Stein rose to his feet, dusting off his hands on his pants before turning to his own Partner, “Spirit?”

“I know.”

She hadn’t even seen him transform; one second, Papa was there. The next, he’d been replaced entirely by a spinning sliver of midnight, the black blade catching the light of the street shops and windows around them before Stein reached out to grip the cross-shaped haft, stopping the massive Scythe in place, its razor’s edge only visible because of the light glinting off it.

Briefly, Maka saw those cyan eyes again, her father’s face staring at her in place of her own reflection.

We’ll be back soon, Maka,” he promised, “You just stay safe, alright?

Wordlessly, she nodded.

As soon as she had, the Death Scythe and his Meister were gone in a pulse of Soul Wavelength that made Maka flinch, her eyes only barely able to chase their shared Wavelengths as they dashed down the street from whence she came.

Hands shaking, she pulled off her gloves, and picked up her phone, only barely aware of the spectators that were starting to gather around her.

She could only stew in the reality that all she could do for Soul in this moment was type three numbers into a keypad.


He could feel the pain getting worse.

Every joint in the Witchling’s body was ratcheting every time he moved, like all the muscle and cartilage and connective tissue had been scraped away, bone grinding on bone as he rapidly stepped through every defence and evasion he had practiced in the Emperor’s Coven. His lungs were the bellows of a furnace, somehow letting him force his muscles and tendons to move; his muscles burned, his bones ached, and every vein in his body throbbed with each of his heartbeats.

Nonetheless, he pushed through it; sheer focus formed a thick miasma at the forefront of his mind that dulled the pain enough for him to ignore it, though it did nothing to dull the quiet terror building in his chest that he kept firmly shoved into the pit of his stomach. He fought to keep his Soul Wavelength steady, to keep its pulse even throughout his body to maintain as much of his strength and stamina as possible.

The Demon Sword had already shredded most of his cloak; his mask was only barely staying on, at times proving more of a hindrance than a help, its beak having been severed entirely; he had small cuts all across his body from strikes only barely parried or dodged, blood seeping into his clothes and sticking to his skin and only making each movement he made more difficult.

And all the while, the Swordsman still wasn’t giving an inch.

They swung as he was halfway through his backspring, closing the distance and trying to disembowel him, Dainslief’s blade screaming as it arced up towards him.

Again he parried with the staff, the sear of Magic travelling from his hands to his spine to his feet, to finally form footholds in the air surrounding his boots; with his newfound purchase, he twisted, smashing the Sword aside before letting the staff’s Magic carry him away in another flash-step, once again aiming to smash both the staff and his Wavelength into the child’s skull like a club.

And once again, the Sword dragged itself up of its own accord, dominating and contorting its wielder’s body to achieve movements the meek Meister simply was not capable of on their own. He could see the veins in their hand and wrist violently throb as the staff and the Demonic Weapon collided, their neck craning to look at him only after the impact.

They broke the clash with yet another violent swing, the force launching the Witch up and away towards the roof. Gracefully, he flipped back, coming to a halt midair as he invoked the staff’s Magic once more.

“Ragnarök,” the Mad child murmured; immediately, the sword in their hands began to warp, enlarging with their Wavelength. The blade took on an entirely new shape as they swung, the edge transforming into yet another ghastly skull, “Screech Beta!

It was a sloppy movement, to be sure. But it was a fast one, accompanied by yet more of that horrible screaming.

That was the worst part; even beyond the physical pain of constantly being battered with the sound - with enough force that he could feel it leaving yet more aches in his bones and muscles because of the temple’s acoustics and his proximity - the Guard could feel the Madness Wavelength tinged within it, chewing away at the corners of his mind with a thousand tiny, rabid maws and making it all the more difficult to focus.

But focus the Witchling did.

Instinct took over as he dodged the first swing, keeping his eyes travelling back and forth across the length of the blade, between the Meister and the skull at the end of their Weapon. It stretched and warped, seeming to chase him as much as the child swung for him, a serpent on a sword hilt, jaws snapping closed just short of his heels every time.

But those twisted teeth never made contact; he bobbed, weaved, rose and dove through the storm of strikes, spinning amidst the artificial wind that whipped him with every passing second.

The Demon Swordsman was strong, there was no doubt about that.

But raw strength was all they had. There was no finesse to anything they did, only wild flailing and a fundamentally frightened ferocity, occasionally reinforced by the puppetry of their own Weapon. They probably hadn’t even been taught anything beyond the very basics of proper swordplay, as they could barely hold the sword right, much less maintain any sort of proper duelling stance.

All the Guard had to do was lay the bait.

He zoomed to the far end of the temple, hovering over the broken visage of the crucifix…

As he predicted, the pink-haired child swung too deep, stumbling forwards with the movement and only barely staying steady.

But it was enough.

The skull’s movement was clumsy, slower than the ones before.

Slow enough for the Emperor’s protege to dismount, swing-

And smash his staff into the black iron.

Disperse!

It was more a reminder for himself than any need to declare the spell, keeping himself steady as the staff’s Magic burned; like before, the iron disintegrated under the staff’s influence, crumbling into pieces…

… no, not pieces…

… droplets?

Bloody Needle!

The Guard’s heart skipped a beat as he realized his mistake too late; unlike before, he hadn’t been able to disrupt the paired Madness Wavelengths of the Weapon and Meister that had been interwoven into the shaped iron. The resulting black droplets immediately sharpened into needle-thin spikes, each locked onto him with an eye and driving their sharpened tips towards him.

He only barely managed to dodge the first barrage, but he could still feel the sting as they tore through his clothes and into his skin, leaving razor-thin cuts behind with each one and adding to the myriad of wounds that were already criss-crossing his body.

But still, they came. Thousands of black droplets, swiftly sharpening, swiftly closing in, all of them aimed to pierce his body at every point…

And behind this great wall of iron needles was the Demon Swordsman, eyes cold and lips downturned, the mouth of the Sword curling into a horrid bared grin…

And the Witch reacted.

Magic flared through his whole body as he plunged forwards into the needles; it formed first into a shell, then into an outwards wave, breaking through the torrent of sharpened iron and scattering it to the corners of the temple; a few still managed to pierce the wave and into his skin, blood trickling down his cheek from a fresh tear, but he pushed on, rapidly closing the distance between himself and the now shocked Meister.

They made a panicked swing as soon as he was within reach; he deftly parried, using their own momentum to throw them to the side, driving his elbow into their back just under their ribs in the same motion. They staggered forwards, then spun, turning their momentum into a stab, trying to plunge Dainslief through his chest.

He caught the Palisman Blade’s tip on the wing of his staff; he shoved it down into the dirt, then reached out, snaking his arm around one of the Swordsman’s, their Weapon locked under his armpit and his hand on their shoulder, ready to drive his arm up and snap their limb at the elbow-

And then he let out a scream as his arm was pierced; a dozen black needles had run themselves through his forearm and bicep, sticking out of his sleeve and dying the fabric an ever darker red.

Doesn’t feel too good, does it!?” the Demon Sword cried with sadistic glee, those red lips twisting with every word as it turned to liquid, sinking back beneath its wielder’s skin before erupting out of their other hand like a steel geyser.

“Just die already! It’ll be easier to deal with you that way!” They cried, driving the Sword up, trying to run him through-

Only to cry out in shock and pain, nearly dropping the Sword entirely as the Golden Guard completed his manoeuvre, yanking up with his perforated arm and pulsing his Soul Wavelength with every ounce of force he could muster.

Even with the Demon Sword’s black blood reinforcing the Swordsman’s arm and the needles that had pierced his own, the Witch’s line of force was perfect; he felt the bones in the child’s elbow snap before he heard them, and a dark, roiling blaze of satisfaction flooded him as they fell to their knees. He reached out, gripping their hair in his free hand.

“Too bad for you,” his voice was a low, furious hiss as he glared down into their watery eyes, “I’ve always preferred doing things the hard way.”

With that, he drove his knee into their face with a vicious vindictiveness he knew hadn’t been present before, the needles in his arm only serving to keep the pink-haired child in place as the tide shifted. Once, twice, thrice more he drove his knee up and into his opponent, Wavelength pulsing on every contact, the ache in his bones redoubling with every blow.

The fifth time, however, the Meister coughed, then choked - the sole warning the Guard had before Dainslief’s blade erupted from their mouth. A fresh wave of pain erupted through his stomach as the blade slashed open his side, making him stagger as another scream caused the wound to rip and tear.

But he did not let go. Instead, he drove his knee up once more, this time into the child’s chin, making their teeth clash with the metal of their Sword and dislodging it from his side, allowing him to drive it down into the stone.

Only when he felt the sword and needles retract did he finally release his grip - raising his foot and driving his heel into their throat in one final, vicious kick that sent them sprawling across the floor. The young Swordsman gasped for breath, caught somewhere between trying to push themselves back up, and clutch at their neck and face, black blood pooling from their nose and lips and dripping from their chin, one eye already horribly swollen…

The Witch, however, did not halt his assault.

Gripping his staff in both hands, the Golden Guard once again drove its tip into the floor; the ground beneath his feet immediately liquified, stone and soil and glass and tile flowing as easily as water and as quickly as rapids.

The first strike was not intended to further maim; only to wind, a pillar rising and slamming into the Swordsman’s stomach to keep them from regaining their breath.

The second was to sweep them up, layers of earth binding their arms to their sides and encasing their Weapon in stone, finally silencing its infernal screaming.

The third was to further tighten the grip of the bindings, more and more material wrapping around them in an ever spiralling prison that rose around them like shifting sands, sucking them down inch by inch.

“What are you doing!?” they would have screamed if it weren’t all they could do to wheeze, “It’s too tight! I don’t know how to deal with-!”

“I should’ve just done this from the beginning,” the Guard ignored their ramblings as he raised his staff, the stone at the tip gleaming a bloody crimson, “Even a monster like you needs to breathe!

With that, the earth and stone raised once more, wrapping around their mouth and nose before enclosing around their head entirely like the petals of a phoenix-lily closing into a bud amidst its own flames; the last thing he saw of the Swordsman were those terrified blue eyes, before those too were hidden from view, the coffin coming to a complete and utter close.

“... and by the way,” he managed, “I’ve felt worse.

It took a moment for the pain and exhaustion to finally hit the Witchling. He staggered, the only thing keeping him from falling entirely being his grip on the staff. The throb throughout his entire body rose to a fever pitch; he could barely think past the agony as the fog of focus faded from his mind, and was left to swim amidst jumbled thoughts. His vision blurred, he clutched at his side, and he stumbled over a broken pew as he tried to step forwards, looking for a wall, a pillar - anything to catch his weight.

He finally found it against a broken section of wall, leaning his shoulder against it.

“... losing too much blood,” he murmured, “Or used too much Magic… can barely… I… Titan… okay… just…”

He forced himself to take a breath, tried to force his thoughts back into order. His weakened Wavelength called upon the staff again, and the faint blue glow of the Healing Coven washed over him, soothing his wounds and slowly knitting them back together.

“... just gotta wait for the brat to suffocate, then I can take the Sword. That’s… that’s all I gotta… all I gotta do… mission accomplished-”

The stone cracked.

He felt the vibrations in the floor before he heard the high pitch whine that was leaking through the hairline fractures in the prison he’d created.

He could only stare, his mind grinding to a halt as the stone, the tile and the concrete began to break away, layer after layer reduced to another coating of pebbles and dust. The whine rose to a screech as it began to tumble away, and then finally, it all shattered, crumbling to what remained of the temple floor and exposing its occupants.

Dainslief only stopped screaming when the last of the stones hit the floor, teeth finally slating closed and taking a moment to breathe; the Demon Swordsman that wielded it idly tested the motion of their broken arm, wincing with every flex.

“... you’ve gotta… be kidding me,” the Guard managed, “Just what… does it take… to put you down!?

“My arm wants to bend the wrong way,” the Mad Meister whined, seeming completely oblivious to the Witchling now, “Arms don’t bend like that… they’re only supposed to bend one way. I don’t know how to deal with it bending the wrong way…”

I’ve fixed it, Crona,” Dainslief hissed, “I’m holding the bones together for you and keeping the swelling down so you can move it. Now what do you say?

“It hurts-!”

No!” a massive hand clapped the child upside the head again, the giant forming once more, “You say ‘Thank you very much, Ragnarök! Now I can feed you that pathetic weakling Witch!’ Say it, Crona! Say ‘thank you!’

“Okay! Okay! Thank you, Ragnarök-!”

No, say it like you mean it! ‘Thank you very much, Ragnarök!’

The two began to squabble again, the Meister meekly trying to fend off their own Weapon; before the Witch’s eyes, their synergy began to waver, their Wavelengths coming apart, their Resonance failing, the single great Madness they formed prior now splitting into two…

It was now or never.

Despite the pain, despite the exhaustion, he pushed himself to his full height once more. The staff burned in his hands, so hot he was sure it was searing his gloves to his palms. But even so, he called upon the Magic that wasn’t his, cloaking himself in it once more, and rushed, hand outstretched.

If he could just reach them-!

The giant’s eyes turned to fix on him.

They were just out of reach.

A gigantic hand clenched, rose, fell-

And the doors smashed open.

The ink giant let out a roar of outrage as its hand fell to the floor, completely severed.

The Meister stared blankly, as if completely unable to comprehend what was unfolding.

And the Witch himself had come to a complete halt, staring in numb horror at the cross-shaped haft and black blade that had interposed itself between them, and the sheer magnitude of the Soul Wavelength that it emanated - a brilliant blue, most certainly human, but unmistakably tinged with a Witch’s Magic.

The Soul Wavelength of what he could only assume was a Death Scythe.


He hadn’t been prepared for the magnitude of the massacre.

Granted, he never had been; no matter how many collections Spirit had gone on, with Stein or Makoto, he’d never been able to fully compartmentalize, to separate his feelings from his job as a Weapon. He brought his emotions into his work, whether he wanted to or not - and those emotions were almost always somewhere between sympathy for the grief brought by the lives that were lost, and furious outrage towards the ones who had taken them in the first place.

But even considering that, the mere sight of the bodies, having been swept to the side amidst the skirmishes, was almost enough to stagger his mind entirely; although it was sadly easy for Kishin Eggs to devour many, many victims if they went undetected for long enough, it was rare that they went on such brazen killing sprees. From the undesired glance the Death Scythe took, he was assaulted with the visage of dozens of Soulless bodies, twisted and vivisected and broken, the familiar tang of blood and the reek of dawning decay only confirming that they were far, far too late.

To his right, a maimed boy knelt, soaked in his own blood and gasping for breath, clutching the crimson-jeweled staff in his hands like it was a lifeline. His thick grey cloak was shredded, his odd dark clothes perforated with dozens of holes and exposing sickly pale skin that was lined with just as many open cuts and wounds, his birdlike mask missing its beak and askew on his brow beneath a mop of messy, pale-blond hair.

To his left, stood the Demon Sword.

The towering mass of black that extended from the diminutive child’s back was howling, not from any actual pain, but from fury. Its severed hand had already regenerated, and the Death Scythe could feel its Madness washing over him in a tide, threatening to pull his mind into the abyss with its chaotic undertow.

Damn little PRICK!” it retreated back beneath its Meister’s skin, the mouth on the black sword throwing itself open in a scream; Spirit winced, even as his Soul Wavelength rose in pitch to defend him from the sheer noise. The child was dragged forward and down by their arm, the Sword looking to cleave clean through his own blade, “I’LL SWALLOW YOUR SOUL!"

This, however, wasn’t Spirit’s first showdown against a Demon Weapon. He had already gotten a feel for the Demon Sword’s Wavelength from the screaming alone - a reckless tactic that would gradually tear at anyone who didn’t know how to alter the frequency of their own Soul Wavelength to match another’s… but to anyone who was experienced in such things, it was a dead giveaway as to the precise frequency one needed to completely cancel out the enemy’s attacks.

Despite how much the primary Death Scythe disliked working with Stein, he had to admit - he’d picked up some handy tricks from his old Meister.

Their blades clashed; on impact, Spirit unleashed his Soul Wavelength, a precise countercurrent to stand against the Demon Sword’s reckless flood. The vibrations that were intended to utterly maim him came to a halt, the Demonic Weapon choking, unable to maintain its scream, its Meister stumbling forwards with no way to stop themselves.

Face-first into Stein’s open palm, fingers curled into claws, small bolts of lightning playing between them as he flared his Soul Wavelength.

Soul Force.

The violence of the burst was entirely at odds with the cold calm of the Doctor. The pink-haired child was suspended in midair for a brief moment, eyes wide between Stein’s fingers, before they were hurled violently back across the room with enough force to partially embed them in the far wall. They stared blankly from where they lay, halfway sunk into the marble and wood…

I don’t suppose that got them,” Spirit mused, even though he already knew the answer.

“No,” Stein’s voice was cool as ever, “They’ve already taken quite a beating, and I doubt the Meister will be able to handle much more,” he glanced back over his shoulder, glasses glinting in the light as he looked upon the boy behind the Death Scythe, “This one must be quite the capable fighter to have lasted this long and inflicted this much damage.”

He seemed to flinch, trying to shuffle back and gain some distance. But the instant he tried to rise to his feet, he let out a painful wheeze, nearly collapsing entirely.

Hey, easy,” Spirit changed his tone, trying to soothe the pale blond back into a state of calm, “We’re not gonna hurt you. We’re here to help.

“That remains to be seen, Spirit,” Stein stated.

Well, sorry for not wanting to scare children,” the Death Scythe snapped, turning his glare upon his partner.

“That’s no ordinary child you’re looking at. Take a look at his Soul.”

He snorted, but obeyed, refocusing his eyes to peer at the boy’s Soul…

And felt his heart nearly leap into his throat.

If he didn’t know any better, he would have assumed the child was a Two Star Meister at the very least; the golds and purples that made up his Soul were more vibrant and robust than most DWMA students in their final year, much less students that should have only been halfway through their training. Despite his wounds, the intensity of his Wavelength bore incredible focus - it was fearful, yes, but focused nonetheless, his attention almost entirely fixed upon the Death Scythe…

But what got Spirit’s attention the most was the boy’s staff.

Not only was there no Soul within, but the entire thing was absolutely steeped in Magic. It poured off the staff in waves like the warning lamp of a lighthouse, shining crimson in the dark and pouring up through the boy’s palms…

... you’re a Sorcerer,” Spirit finally realized, his eyes wide from where he peered from his dark inner world.

As soon as those words left the Death Scythe’s mouth, the boy bristled; his Soul abruptly flared with rage, rage that swallowed his fear almost entirely. He tried to rise again, only halted by his wounds, but that did nothing to halt the violence and venom in his voice as he spat, “Call me that again and I’ll break you over my knee and hurl what’s left of you into the Boiling Sea!”

The redhead blinked, startled, and Stein gave an unreadable smile, idly adjusting his glasses as he let out a low chuckle, “Well, now… it’s not very often that word gets a rise like that. Like it’s an insult. I wonder where you got that from.”

Again, the boy flinched, as though realizing he’d made some sort of mistake. He shrank back, his anger swiftly replaced with equal parts terror and frustration, his Wavelength turning on itself…

But before anything more could be said, the Demon Sword stirred once more.

Limb by limb, the Swordsman pulled themselves from the wall, falling into a slump when their feet finally touched the floor. Slowly, they pulled themselves up to their full height, tightening their grip on the Sword; the pinks and purples of their Soul struggled under the mass of their Weapon’s, a hulking shape of black that encased them entirely in a thick, swampy mire, bristling with blades and a heavy white X through the center…

And all the while, a dark serpent coiled around them both, its length crackling like lightning as it glared into his eyes, hood unfurled and flicking its tongue with an almost bored curiosity.

“... as I was saying. The Meister may have taken significant damage, but that Demon Sword isn’t going to stop until it’s fully incapacitated; with how their Souls are imbalanced, the Weapon won’t let them stop until it has what it wants,” Stein frowned, “And the longer that takes, the more likely it is that someone else is going to end up dead.”

What the Hell do you think you’re doing, Crona!?” the voice of the sword again, echoing with ever-growing rage, a pair of dark arms grabbing the child’s skull and pulling at a bloody cheek, “Standing there all limp, staring off into space, taking stupid hits like that! If you don’t get your scrawny ass into gear, I’m gonna start feeding you spiders in your sleep again!

“No!” they wheezed, “I don’t want to swallow spiders! They’ll spin webs in my stomach and my food will get stuck in there! I don’t know how to deal with that!”

Spirit glanced up at his partner, lips pursed as the Doctor reached out, gripping the iron staff and pulling his blade free from the floor; already, he could feel Stein’s casual calm, his focus on the battle before them rather than the situation at hand, ‘So, we’ll have to end this quickly then.’

A wry smile from the Meister, the thought bouncing back, ‘We’ll need an opening.’

‘Then let’s make one.’

Just KILL THEM ALREADY!!!” the Demon Sword howled. One last heavy strike from the inky arms before they vanished back under the black dress, and the Swordsman rushed forwards, gripping the Sword with both hands and swinging it with every ounce of might their damaged body could muster.

Stein’s hand, however, was deft as ever.

He barely had to lift Spirit in order to catch the Sword’s blade, trapping it between his own blade and the top of the cross.

He yanked upwards, pulling the child up and off their feet entirely; he raised his hand, ready to strike-

Only for the surrounding pools of black to writhe.

‘Stein!’ Spirit urged, pulsing his Wavelength protectively through his partner an instant before the attack could land.

Dozens of black needles erupted, from every pool and droplet of black that dotted the chiesa; they closed in from every direction, forcing Stein to break contact with the Sword, to leap back. But even with the Meister’s speed, even with the Death Scythe reinforcing every part of his body to increase his reaction time, the strength of his launch and the durability of his skin, it wasn’t enough to avoid every needle.

Sharp flashes of physical pain emanated from Stein and into him as the black liquid blades tore through his shirt and skin, as immediate and vivid as if the wounds were his own. He felt something flare in the depths of Stein’s own Soul, something familiar, stoked by the pain and rapidly rising to the surface as his Wavelength started to grow more and more erratic. He felt Stein’s lips stretch into a grin as his curiosity grew, warped, twisted-

‘Hey.’

At his word, at the pulse of his Wavelength, the curiosity, the desire, the emotion all halted halfway through welling up in his partner’s chest, a bubble in a pot about to boil that had spontaneously frozen.

‘... settle down, Stein. You gotta keep it together,’ Spirit reminded gently, reaching out tentatively with another pulse, ‘Remember what we’re here for.’

… a long moment passed before his partner’s Soul acquiesced, the curiosity settling once more into the back of Stein’s mind, like an oddly well behaved tiger - but a tiger nonetheless. The Doctor’s focus was still firmly on the Demon Sword and its Meister, the grin settling into a grimace and the vicious violence in his eyes settling from a wildfire to a tightly controlled torch. Finally, he let out a long, slow breath that Spirit hadn’t realized Stein had been holding, his heartbeat finally starting to slow again.

And all the while, Stein hadn’t stopped moving; he’d still been dodging the needles through that entire exchange, his movements briefly threatening to become wild before settling back into practiced calm.

‘... using their own spilled blood as a weapon,’ Spirit fumed, ‘This is part of why I hate Demon Swords. There’s always some sort of catch or trick with them!’

‘Weren’t you the one telling me to settle down a moment ago, Spirit?’ the amusement in Stein’s thought was palpable.

‘You know that’s not the same!’ the Death Scythe snapped, though he could feel the smile pulling at the edges of his lips.

‘Whatever you say. Are you ready?’

He felt the experimental pulse from his Meister; had he been in human form, Spirit’s breath would have hitched, his heartbeat redoubling its pace.

He had known this was coming. But even through all the hours he had spent with Stein over the course of the past week, the prospect of performing a Soul Resonance with Stein hadn’t gotten any easier. 

It was one thing to have Stein hold him, the familiar loose, but firm grip that tightened with every swing amidst a Basic Resonance… but a proper Soul Resonance was something else entirely. Something with an entirely different meaning; performing a Soul Resonance meant letting someone in, meant letting your Soul blend with someone else’s; experiences became shared, and the line between where one Soul and and the other began began to blur. 

Doing that with Stein again… the prospect made his stomach churn.

On the other hand, it wasn’t as though he had another option.

They had to stop the Demon Sword, here and now, before it became a Kishin.

That meant he had to put his personal feelings aside.

‘... as I’ll ever be,’ the Weapon took a ‘breath,’ then bounced the pulse back in affirmation. 

Affirmation that they were, indeed, partners again.

Immediately, the Wavelength began to bounce back and forth between them in a deliberate back and forth flow. The world seemed to slow as Stein finally came to a halt, the bloody needles closing in around them, the Demon Swordsman finally having regained their footing, their own Wavelengths flaring.

But that didn’t feel concerning; if anything, the prospect of seeing more of what the Demon Sword could do was an enticing prospect. The way the blood flowed and sharpened, the way the sword itself emanated that piercing noise, it was all so exceedingly fascinating; the temptation to just rip the Sword out of the child’s hands was growing. He wanted to examine it, to test its weight and balance, to clamp its mouth open and count its teeth and cut into its blade to peer at its grain and see how it had been constructed, to dissect -

Stein’s feelings, blending with his.

It had been so long since he’d felt these impulses that it had taken him a moment to recognize them, a moment that had almost been enough to overwhelm him. He steeled himself, then pushed back, once again gentle but firm as he brought his own emotions and values to bear.

His concern for his daughter.

His fear for Soul’s life.

His protectiveness of the boy behind them, Sorcerer or no.

His determination to protect people, to save lives, even at personal cost.

The fierce curiosity retreated - not so much vanishing as it did simply shift aside, giving his emotions room to sit. Suddenly, he was seeing the Demon Sword, the Swordsman, the black blood and the chiesa from two distinct points of view, his lower position from the blade, and Stein’s own eyes; he was running through Wavelength calculations he couldn’t hope to do on his own even with a calculator, much less this quickly as the needles closed in. Spirit saw what Stein wanted to conjure, and despite himself, he felt himself grin.

No words were spoken as their Wavelengths finally became one.

No words were needed, after all.

He felt Stein’s muscles burn as they spun the Death Scythe.

He knew Stein felt the impact of the steel against the stone floor as he plunged the tip of Spirit’s haft into the floor.

From the both of them, a wave of white erupted, a physical manifestation of their paired Wavelength.

‘Experimental Spirit Body!’

The whitish grey mass was practically a balloon filled with molasses in how it moved; it exploded briefly in size until it towered over the Weapon and Meister, its translucent white body flowing and warping with every subtle movement. The needles bounced off the gigantic screws that stuck out of its form, or pierced its surface and came to a halt, unable to truly reach the pair.

Finally finished that technique?

Of course not. Research is never truly finished.

But it worked.

Of course it worked. I have you to thank for that.

So how is it still experimental now that you know it works?

How can it be improved?

That is a fair point-

Screech Alpha!

Snapped out of their reverie by the Demon Swordsman’s wail, they looked up just in time to see the giant skull closing the distance, jaws thrown wide. It bit deeply into the fleshy defence, tearing through it like marshmallow, getting closer with each fraction of a second that passed…

You still know what to do?

Break through.

Together, they redoubled their Wavelengths.

Together, they tore through, emerging from the safety of the ectoplasm.

His blade gleamed, losing its physical shape, expanding into something altogether more jagged as Stein leaped. He felt stitches run through his form, Wavelength on Wavelength, his blade sharpening to its finest point.

‘Witch Hunter!’

His blade made contact with the iron skull.

And iron parted as easily as water.

Stein kept his grip steady as they rushed forwards, cleaving through the black metal.

CRONA, MOVE!!!” the sword urged, finally seeming to recognize the threat and trying to force its wielder to dodge.

But the child had no time to react as the Death Scythe’s blade severed the skull entirely, and the pair loomed before them.

They could only stare, uncomprehending, as Stein’s hand smashed into their chest, this time bearing both of their Soul Wavelengths.

‘Resonant Soul Force: Reverberation!’

The reaction was far, far more violent this time; Spirit could feel several of the child’s ribs shatter under the force of their shared blow. The armour-like quality of their blood dissipated, along with the sword, turning to liquid in the child’s hands as they were taken entirely off their feet, and hurled back across the chiesa. They landed in a crumpled heap, their body twisted and broken on the floor, a puppet with its strings cut left in the corner of some horrific carnival. Their Soul Wavelength sputtered, no longer in sync with the Sword’s…

And the Rejection commenced.


Her eyes fell half lidded as Crona’s and Dainslief’s Wavelength flickered, and then exploded in an erratic storm; even without the serpent she had planted in them, she could hear the paired screaming of the Demon Sword and its Meister as their Souls Rejected each other, forcibly trying to escape from one another of their own accord, regardless of the wishes of their owners.

Even through the chiesa’s walls, she could see the black spikes bursting through Crona’s skin and swaddling dress by the dozens, lifting them up and off the ground or piercing through the wood and stone and marble with wild, uncontrollable violence. They struggled to grab at the spikes, to regain control, only to be pierced again and again for their troubles as Dainslief’s face and body bulged and bubbled both in and out of their skin, trying and failing to break free from the prison of flesh that held it.

But of course, there was nowhere for either of them to go, body or Soul; Dainslief had long since been melted down, and there was no separating Sword from Meister at this point.

“It seems I’ve found their limit. Such a shame,” she mused, taking the time to properly finish each letter in her stack of papers, “But I suppose that was the most I could ever expect from Crona and Dainslief in the short term. I will have to punish them later.”

‘Venice, July 7th, 2020.

‘Souls devoured: 83.

‘Subject and Palisman have experienced another case of Soul Rejection. Although they faced a Golden Guard of the Emperor’s Coven (something to investigate further), and then a Death Scythe and Doctor Franken Stein in combat, this finding is not promising. Development of Demon Sword is within predicted parameters and will continue to be monitored, but will no longer be my primary project.

‘Madness Wavelength Experiment Results: Failure. I am abandoning this project. Perhaps I will return to it at a later date, but for now, the Subject and Palisman are incapable of developing the Madness Wavelength necessary to become a Kishin. I will need to consider other avenues.’

“Oh, well,” she sighed, concluding her notes for the evening before gazing back down at the ruined church, “Soul Protect, Release.”


The Soul Wavelength was like an eruption.

It was enough to knock Maka completely out of her chair in the waiting room, her whole body going numb as she stared blankly at the floor from where she knelt on her hands and knees. It washed over her in a tidal wave, an utterly oppressive force that she could only recognize by its pulse, so disconcertingly like the heartbeat of some unfathomably massive giant.

Signorina? Stai bene?

She looked up, eyes wide as she struggled to focus on the nurse, to process the Italian.

“Miss?” the nurse tried again, brown eyes wide, “Are you alright?”

“I…” she swallowed, then accepted the woman’s hand, letting her pull the Meister to her feet, “... I need some air.”

She received no further questions as she rushed outside and into the street.

It was like a second moon had risen into the sky, shining a baleful purple against the midnight blue sky, hovering over Venice in a beacon of malignance. Somehow, it seemed to writhe in place, a distant hissing ringing in her ears with every pulse of its Wavelength, putting the entire city under its oppressive pressure, so much so that Maka had to find a wall to lean on in order to stay standing.

She had never felt such a powerful, malicious Soul before.

Nor had she felt the secondary Wavelength that underscored the first, not as immediately obvious, but significantly more powerful, a riptide that threatened to take her off her feet entirely every time it washed over her.

But she knew what it was.

Magic.

“... is that… is that a Witch?...” she murmured meekly, unable to so much as bring herself to blink, “... Mama and Papa… killed something like that?...

She knew, vaguely, that the people around her couldn’t see it, but her rational mind couldn’t process it; she couldn’t understand how everyone could just walk around with that monstrosity hovering overhead in a none-too-subtle death threat, suffocating everyone and everything that could perceive it. How could they not perceive that? How could they not feel that overwhelming power and malice? How could they just go about their nights and not even be aware of the monster that was now floating overhead?...

… but even if they could… what would they do about it?...

… what could she do about it?... she was a Meister, wasn’t she? Wasn’t it her job to kill these things? To protect people from them?

In the distance, she felt another, more familiar pair of Wavelengths flare. Stein and Papa’s Wavelengths rose in tandem, in challenge, and she felt a fleeting relief well up inside her…

But it wasn’t enough to completely assuage her fears.

“... what do I do…?” she asked, “... I’m a Meister… I’m a student of the DWMA… but I’m not strong enough to fight that…”

She got no response.

All she could do was stand and watch as the Soul Wavelengths of her teacher and father prepared to clash with the horror that hovered above them.


The Guard had finally managed to push himself to his feet, ready to mount his staff and fly, fly as far and as fast as he could away from this battle. Dainslief was beyond his reach, and beaten and exhausted as he was, there was no way he was any match for a Death Scythe - much less a Death Scythe with such a powerful Meister.

Beyond that, this mission now had far greater importance than the recovery of a lost Palisman Blade.

Someone was deliberately trying to make a Kishin.

He didn’t know who, he didn’t know why. But that was the only way that the sudden emergence of such a powerful Demon Sword could possibly make any sense.

He needed to escape, to return to the Boiling Isles, to tell the Emperor, to tell Lady Clawthorne - he’d even take Kikimora at this point. The Empire had to be warned.

The Witch’s sudden reveal had distracted the Meister and Death Scythe, forcing them to focus all of their attention on them…

His eyes locked on the Demon Swordsman.

They were beaten and broken, utterly unconscious.

One final opportunity. Proof of his claims - or at the very least, a way to end this.

All he needed to do was time it.

He mounted his staff, calling on its Magic-

Only for the air to fill with black arrows.

He hadn’t even sensed the Witch readying the Magic for a spell; whoever they were, they were fast, far too fast for him to predict. The arrows twisted and writhed in the air as they closed in, and he only barely had enough time to throw himself to the ground lest he be impaled. He felt several of his formerly closed wounds reopen on impact, the pain throughout his whole body redoubling all at once…

And that horrid technique shone again.

The Witch Hunter, jagged, stitched, and glowing a brilliant white-blue in the evening light.

It cleaved through the arrows right as they changed direction to run him through; looking up, he now saw the Meister swinging the Death Scythe with equal parts speed and precision, slicing through each and every one before they could even touch the pair. Arrow after arrow fell to the ground and disintegrated, severed from their source, before abruptly regrowing and closing in again, each trying to run them through…

Only to stop just as abruptly as they had begun.

The Witchling raised his head; a gargantuan serpent’s head extended from the Witch’s body, fading into scale-patterned ink as it rose back into the air. It held the Demon Swordsman in its jaws, the pink-haired figure quickly becoming less and less distinct, soon no more than a silhouette to join the figure on the broomstick framed against the golden grinning Moon.

With that, the Witch’s Soul slipped back into its Soul Protect, disappearing between one second and the next and only leaving two black figures against the backdrop of the night sky; the two all but vanished, speeding off into the darkness far too quickly for his eyes to keep up with.

Gone, without so much as a hint as to where…

“... well. That’s unfortunate,” the Meister huffed, releasing his grip on the Scythe.

“It really is,” the Death Scythe grunted, returning to human form with a grimace, “We shouldn’t have gotten distracted by the Witch. I’m no fan of killing kids, but… we should’ve ended that when we had the chance.”

“It’s alright; it’s likely we’ll get another chance soon,” the stitched man tapped the side of his head, “I can’t quite speak for the Witch, but I’ve memorized the Wavelengths of the Demon Sword and its Meister. With some luck, we’ll be able to properly track them now.”

“I suppose that’s a win.”

With that, the Death Scythe finally turned to the Witchling; slowly, he stepped forwards.

Immediately, the Golden Guard was on the defensive, raising his staff and rising to one knee despite his wounds, hoping he sounded more fierce than afraid, “Stay away!

“Hey, hey, hey,” the red-headed man raised his hands, as if to show he were unarmed - for all that was worth from a Weapon, “Easy. I’m not gonna hurt you.”

He grit his teeth, trying to call upon Magic, any Magic at all-

“Don’t bother.”

Now the stitched one was behind the Death Scythe, idly adjusting the screw that was sticking out of his skull. He stared down, eyes cold, detached where the Weapon’s were warm and concerned.

“... I can tell from looking at you that you’ve got no cards left to play,” he intoned, “That staff of yours is powerful, but it responds to your Soul Wavelength and takes a toll on you physically. Right now, you can barely keep your Wavelength steady, and you’re so beaten up that trying to cast any sort of spell is liable to render you unconscious - if not worse.

The Guard said nothing, but he felt his jaw set. He glared up from behind his mask, unwilling to say anything that the two men before him could use to their advantage.

“... you need medical attention. And you need it now,” clickclickclickclick, clickclickclickclick - the sound of that screw was almost as bad as the sensation of their Soul Resonance, “Luckily, you have a doctor right in front of you. I have a patient that’s in need of more pressing treatment, but at the very least I can help you with the worst of the damage on the way.”

Still, he said nothing, biting his tongue - the moment he said anything, it would be monumentally more difficult to remain silent.

“... you have a choice here,” the screw finally stopped, and the man gave a facsimile of a smile, “It’s just a matter of the easy way, or the hard way.”

Stein,” the Death Scythe scolded, glaring at his Meister.

“We can’t exactly just let him roam free, Spirit,” ‘Stein’ noted, “He’s not a normal kid. We can’t just let a soldier run around unchecked - that puts everyone he comes across in significant danger.”

“I know, but you don’t have to threaten him!”

“It’s the only thing he’s going to respond to from us,” he took out a small white stick, lighting the end; he seemed to breathe through it for a long moment, the cinders at the end searing their way up the length, ash scattering in the faint ocean breeze before he finally exhaled a cloud of smoke.

“... so. You’re exhausted. You’re wounded. And you have nowhere to go. You can either be reasonable - give us your staff, and come along with us for the moment…” the grey-haired Meister placed a hand on his chest… then gestured out towards the city, “Or, you can take your chances.”

For a long moment, the only sound was the gentle breeze.

The clammy man’s hand fell, sliding back into his pocket, “So what’s it gonna be?”

If his jaw wasn’t already in pain from the battle, it certainly was now from how tightly he was clenching it.

Nonetheless, he forced it to loosen, letting out a sigh, and holding out the staff without a word.

“... there,” the Death Scythe started, voice low and quiet. He smiled, kneeling, reaching out, “That wasn’t so bad, was it-?”

As soon as he touched the staff, the Guard flared his Wavelength.

“Spirit-!” the Meister called, but it was too late.

An explosion of crimson lightning hurled the Death Scythe back, but the Witchling couldn’t see where the Weapon landed; his head was swimming, his vision blurred and mind a fog as the borrowed Magic took its toll. Nonetheless, he tried to push himself up, tried to rise to his feet-

Only for a swift strike to the back of his neck to send him crumpling back down.

The Golden Guard was unconscious before he hit the ground.


Spirit let out a pained groan from where he lay on the cobbles.

That burst of Magic hadn’t been particularly powerful, but it still hurt; he could feel the burn marks on his hands, as if he had gripped an iron rod fresh out of the forge, and he could smell burned hair and fabric in the air.

“I guess that means he chose the hard way.”

He ignored Stein as his partner loomed over him, the boy slung over one shoulder, the staff in his free hand. Instead, he stared up at the starless sky, expression as blank as he could possibly make it.

“... so. What have we learned?”

“No.”

“Come on, Spirit.”

“No. I’m not playing this game with you, Stein.”

A distinctly amused smile crept across the Doctor’s face as he adjusted his glasses, “You seemed to like it plenty when you did it to me.”

That was always to teach you a lesson,” the Death Scythe insisted petulantly.

“And this isn’t?”

“Screw you.”

“Sorry, Spirit,” he tapped the screw on the side of his head, “You’re a bit late for that.”

The Weapon groaned, dragging the backs of his hands down his face, “I don’t suppose you have some aloe vera?”

“Not for people who don’t play the game.”

Fine,” he snapped, “‘Don’t recklessly approach potential enemies who offer you their weapons.’ Happy?”

“Very,” Stein finally knelt, gripping him by the shoulders and pulling him up.

He grunted as he steadied himself, then looked at the boy that now lay unconscious on his partner’s shoulder; his mask had been dislodged, exposing a face that was startlingly young, even considering his voice and the blood that had dried on his cheek and forehead. Dark circles had formed around his eyes in clear signs of insomnia, and between his open lips, an open space suggested a missing tooth, though how or why, he couldn’t tell.

“... he can’t be much older than Luz,” Spirit murmured.

“And yet, he’s got all the hallmarks of a soldier,” Stein’s smile faded, “Vicious to the last. I don’t think he expects to wake up.”

The Death Scythe sighed, then looked at his partner, “So. Hospital?”

“Call your daughter. We need to know where she’s taken Soul,” the Doctor’s lips were drawn thin, “Right now, he’s the priority. We’ve taken longer here than I would have liked as it is. The sooner I get to him, the greater his chances are.”

He nodded, taking out his phone and dialling without another word, ignoring the pain of the burns in his hands.

Papa?

“It’s me, Maka. Where are you?”

"S-SAEM Provincia,” his daughter managed, “They sent an ambulance… they still won’t let me see him.

“Okay,” Spirit started, “You did good, sweetie. It’s gonna be okay. I promise.”

... Papa?... was that… a Witch’s Soul?...

“... we’ll talk when I get there, okay?” he managed, unsure of the real question that lay beneath the query, “Just stay put. Stein will get to work as soon as we get there.”

... okay.

With that, the line went dead.

He pocketed his phone, “We need to go.”

Wordlessly, his partner nodded.

They set off, rushing through the streets of Venice.


Lilith knew where she was.

That was the sole pervading thought that had through the Owl Lady’s mind through the entire night, and continued to plague her thoughts as dawn broke over the Boiling Sea beyond the Toes, racing through the forest around her home and Bonesborough.

She’d rushed through the forest, checking the glamours that kept the Owl House hidden.

Lilith knew. 

She’d checked the wards that kept her from being scried.

Lilith knew. 

Even the runic barriers that physically protected her home.

Lilith knew. Despite all her precautions, her sister somehow knew where she was.

She was already in Bonesborough, and she was here for her.

Eda came to a halt at the edge of the cliff, breathing deep of the salty sea spray, eyes closed as she rocked back and forth on her heels, trying to steady her thoughts.

The particulars of how Lilith knew were not important; it wasn’t the first time someone had taken information to the Emperor’s Coven regarding her location. Whether it was a bitter rival or customer, or someone who thought they could get a reward for assisting in her capture, rats were an unavoidable risk no matter where she went - almost more of an inevitability, really.

Besides, it wasn’t as though she had been particularly low profile in her recent activities. Far from it, her flea market stand had attracted a decent amount of attention, and her attack on the Conformatorium had undoubtedly reached the ears of the Emperor’s Coven mere moments after it had begun. In a way, she was lucky to have escaped before any of them had been mustered.

She knew better than anyone else just what even the weakest Witches in the Emperor’s Coven were capable of, after all.

But she had been careful; she had made sure to make her appearances in multiple cities and strongholds at once over the past several years, setting traps, making feints, all in hopes of throwing off the Coven as to her precise location. She liked where she had settled down, and didn’t much feel like moving now.

Now, though, her feelings on the matter may have been rendered entirely moot.

After all, Nevermore Countess Lilith Clawthorne was the Head of the Emperor’s Coven. 

The most powerful Witch in Belos’ armies, and the highest ranking noble in the entirety of the Boiling Isles.

There were precious few reasons for her to come to Bonesborough herself - certainly not to make a personal appearance to collect a stray human or personally oversee a Covention. No, her sister would only be in the city if she had a reason to make an extended stay.

And the Wild Witches of Bonesborough had been hunted down a long time ago.

“... Titan Damn it, Lily,” the Witch whispered, the words dissipating into the wind, “Why can’t you just let this go?...”

The only silver linings to this that the one-woman Parliament could think of were that Lilith’s presence might disrupt the local nobility - honestly, if there was anyone who deserved to be stuck catering to the Countess’ meticulous obsession with order and propriety, it was Darius Plagueherald - and that Luz had, through her own misfortune and missteps, managed to warn her that Lilith was here.

“... and of course, that’s the other issue, isn’t it?” she sighed, turning away from the rising sun as the light began to sting her eyes.

On the one hand, the human’s escapade in Hexside had landed them in a colossal amount of trouble. At the very least, she would have to reschedule deliveries, pickups, heists, virtually everything in the foreseeable future, and lay low in the Bonesborough area. Perhaps making an appearance in Dermicity or in the Ankle Archipelago might draw some attention away long enough for things to settle down…

But Lilith was smarter than that. With her leading the investigation, it was almost certain that more drastic measures would have to be taken - possibly even uprooting entirely and moving up to the Knee or the Talon Mountains, or if worse truly came to worst, leaving the Isles entirely. And that was the last thing that Eda currently wanted.

… on the other hand, though… Luz’s misadventure was the only reason Eda even knew Lilith had arrived in Bonesborough. Yes, there would be significantly tighter security in the city as the Emperor’s Coven tightened the net, but that was preferable to any possibility of Lilith somehow getting the better of her, of a surprise assault she couldn’t do anything about. In a strange turn of events, the only reason Eda had any warning that her sister had arrived was because the Latina had gotten distracted, and wandered off.

But none of that changed that Luz was now in significantly more danger than she had been before.

It wasn’t as though the child was particularly hard to pick out, even in the strange crowds of the City of Bones. She stuck out like a sore thumb, in both the human world and the Demonic Realm - and worse, she was now identifiable as the Owl Lady’s property.

Property that would no doubt be confiscated if she were spotted by Imperial Guards or whoever wanted to make a few snails off a human’s captivity.

The silver vixen wasn’t certain what the Emperor’s Coven did with humans - especially not with the Emperor’s firm ban on the trade of humans for slavery, sacrifice or ingredients. But the fact that any that weren’t registered were shipped off to the Cavitol told her more than enough about what it might mean.

The amount of danger Luz was in would only grow with every day she spent in the Boiling Isles.

Really, the smart thing to do would be to get it over with, to send her home and remove her memories. At this point, it would be as much for her own safety as it would be for Eda’s, for King’s, even for Hooty’s and Owlbert’s…

… and yet… the idea of forcing the human back through that door…

“... Damn it…” she rubbed her itching eyes, gritting her teeth, “... why is this so much harder than it should be?...”

A gentle hoot from her staff; the tiny claws of her Palisman dug into her skin as he hopped up the length of her arm, coming to a rest on her shoulder.

“... you don’t want her to go, do you, Owlbert?” she asked, finally looking down, lips pursed.

A bob of the head was all she needed to see his affirmation.

“... well, she can’t stay. I knew going in how this was going to end,” she mused, looking back out over the sea, “I didn’t take her in to teach her. I took her in on a whim - so I could have an extra hand for a couple weeks until whatever lie she’s spun for the people on that scroll-box of her’s unravels. And she’s proven to be more trouble than she’s worth.”

The noise that the Palisman made that time was more on an annoyed croon. He set his whole body, sinking into his place on her shoulder with what looked almost like a raised eyebrow.

“Well, what do you want me to say?” the Witch snapped, an annoyed note creeping into her tone, “That I meant what I said? That I was genuine when I said that I was going to teach her how to be a Witch?”

The annoyance in Owlbert’s posture rapidly built into frustration, his former comforting stare dampening into a glower.

“It was a lie,” she hissed, “I conned her into working for me, Owlbert. It may have been spur-of-the-moment, and it may have been because I’m fond of her, but how I felt then and how I feel now don’t change anything.” 

The hoot that the owl let out this time was insistent, his wings flaring as he tried to accentuate his point.

So what if I taught her the basics of Soul Wavelength!?” she was yelling now, her frustration and anger bubbling to the surface, “You know that doesn’t mean anything when she can’t learn Magic!”

Silence; a long moment passed before she finally managed to get a hold of herself. She looked out across the sea again, before closing her eyes, lips drawn thin across her face.

‘Well… maybe, that’s because humans haven’t had the chance to try, Luz’s voice rang in her ears; it was harmonizing with the pangs of shame and guilt, reverberating in Eda’s gut like bells in an echo chamber. She sighed, leaning against a tree and bringing a hand to her forehead, staring at the ground.

“... that isn’t how it works. You don’t become a Witch,” she admitted, voice bitter, “You’re either born with Magic, or you’re not. The closest thing that she will ever have is maybe, maybe, becoming a Sorcerer, but that isn’t the same thing. Sorcerers don’t have innate Magic; they just know how to use Magical tools. That’s not…”

A sympathetic croon; she felt Owlbert press himself into her neck, but she could still feel the chastisement underneath the gesture.

“... you’re right, Owlbert,” the Owl Lady sighed, pushing off the tree, “... I am scared. Scared for her. This world is just… Luz doesn’t understand what kind of danger she’s in here. It was only dumb luck that kept her out of Lilith’s hands yesterday.”

 A querious hoot, this one accompanied by a tilt of the head.

“I know I can protect her,” she huffed, “My strength isn’t the problem. I have so much to do now after what happened at Hexside, and I don’t know if I can be there for Luz all the time as things stand. I already have my hands full ensuring our safety.”

Owlbert’s head tilted the other way as his eyes narrowed, the expression bordering on accusatory.

“Normally, I’d agree with you - one more resident wouldn’t be much trouble. But you know what kind of trouble Luz would inevitably stir up,” she slung the staff up onto her free shoulder, lips pursed once more, “She’s not an idle person. She’d want to help if I let her stay. And moreover, she’s both naive and very easily distracted; I can’t leave her to her own devices. What if she wanders off again?”

He shook out his feathers, then gave another hoot as he adjusted his position on her shoulder.

She gave a bitter, snorting laugh, “Even if I were to teach her Soul Wavelength, she wouldn’t be skilled enough to actually use it for anything, Owlbert. I’d need to teach her how to fight, how to run - so many things on top of what I already have to do now.”

A more insistent croon this time, pressing his forehead into her jaw again to try to emphasize what he was telling her.

“... ‘I’m her teacher,’ huh?”

Another hoot of affirmation.

“It’s my job to teach her these things to begin with?”

One final hoot.

She shifted her weight foot to foot, eyes closing; she stared into the dark of her own eyelids for a long moment, grip on her staff tightening, jaw set almost painfully tight…

“... no,” she shook her head, “No. I can’t do this to her.”

He pecked at her cheek, letting out a curious hoot.

She brushed him back, “She can’t stay with us forever, Owlbert. Even if she wants to stay once she works out that she can’t learn Magic, even if I teach her to protect herself, what’s she going to do in this world? Keep playing apprentice? Live out the rest of her life as the Owl Lady’s human pet?

He gave a furious screech, flapping up onto her head and painfully pecking at her brow; she hissed, raising her hand and trying to pull him away, only to find the Palisman biting her finger with everything he had.

“Will you stop!?” she shouted, grabbing him and pulling him down to look her in the eye, her grip gentle, but firmly enclosing around his wings. She opened her mouth, then stopped, forcing herself to close her eyes and breathe for another long moment before finally opening her eyes again, addressing her Palisman with a carefully controlled tone. 

“I don’t like this any more than you do,” the Witch started, “I don’t want to send Luz home. I don’t want to take away her memories. But what else are we supposed to do? Luz is in danger here. She has no future here.”

A spitting hiss from Owlbert made his feelings all-too clear, but she didn’t stop. She kept going, keeping her voice as even as possible, “The best she could hope for is whatever I can pay her for her work. Outside of me, she has no allies here. No one else is going to treat her fairly. They’ll either give her to the Emperor’s Coven, sell her into slavery, or use her for whatever ritual they need a live sacrifice for. And what if she’s taken to the mainland? You think a Witch Order member will treat her any better?”

He bit her thumb, glaring up at her another accusatory hoot.

“I know I’m catastrophizing,” she let her voice soften a touch, “But you need to understand my point; Luz doesn’t have a life to look forward to in this world. Just more danger and more monsters treating her like an animal or a slave,” she looked away, “She’ll be safer, and more likely to make something of herself if she just goes home. It’ll be better for her.”

He didn’t answer. He just kept glaring, eyes sharp with silent rage.

“... besides,” she finally managed a smile, looking back at him, “... don’t you think a goodbye now… will be easier than a goodbye in a hundred years?... if she even lives that long?...”

… at this, Owlbert’s eyes fell, his whole body seeming to deflate as his anger vanished. A croon of acknowledgement echoed from him, and his whole body went limp in her grasp.

“... I know it hurts,” she relaxed her grip, releasing him so that he could instead perch on her fingers, “But we can’t pretend that she’s something she’s not. We can’t just consider ourselves here; we can’t give her what she needs.”

A brief pause passed before the Palisman looked back up at her, eyes gleaming; a more sorrowful hoot emanated from him this time in one final query, one final attempt to get her to reconsider.

Eda’s smile faded, slightly, “You know how Luz will feel about this, Owlbert. She won’t want to leave either. She’s stubborn; she’ll dig in her heels and try and try and try. But… this isn’t about how any of us feel. We can’t just keep her here for the sake of sparing our feelings.”

He remained silent for a moment before looking her in the eyes once more, giving one final hoot - a condition he was now insisting on.

A long moment passed before the Owl Lady let out a final sigh, managing to maintain a wry smile, “Alright. I promise. If it’ll give you some peace of mind for her… I’ll teach her how to use her Soul Wavelength before I send her home. I’ll help her unlock it, and I’ll run her through the basics.”

An accepting croon, the Palisman’s eyes gleaming.

“But that’s it,” the Witch warned, “After that she has to go. We can’t-”

She was interrupted by the distant roll of thunder.

She scanned the horizon; in her exhaustion, somehow, she hadn’t noticed the gathering clouds that were now hovering over the sea, the steam rising and condensing into a storm. She could already see the long strikes of lightning that arced down from the dark, heavy clouds and pierced the roiling waters, and the dark, thick fog that was the telltale sign of rainfall.

Owlbert let out a distressed screech, rapidly flapping down her arm to attach himself back to her staff, twisting in place until he was firmly locked in place and unfurling his wings. The winds were starting to pick up, and they carried with them a familiar, almost painful heat with them as the mist-like steam washed up from the shore.

“... oooooh, Blood, Bone and Marrow,” she hissed, mounting her staff and quickly rising into the air, “That's just what I needed.

Boiling rain.

Notes:

Forty. Seven. Pages. Almost forty eight.

I just kept finding more scenes to add to this. If I'd gotten one more in, this monster almost certainly would have been fifty pages, but as it is, it's almost 15,000 words. That's almost twice as long as my rough goal for these chapters.

All I can say is that I hope you enjoyed the battles! Lots of fighting happening in this one as Hunter and Crona battle it out, and then Crona even manages to hold their own decently well (or as well as they can, at least) against Spirit and Stein! This was a LOT of fun to write.

And... yeah, I think with how I ended this chapter, you know what's coming next for Luz.

As a final side note... would anyone be interested in helping with the Owls and Souls TV Tropes page? If so, please let me know, and I'll direct you to the main guy who manages the page. I'm sure he'd appreciate a helping hand or two to help expand and clean.

AS A HEADS UP FOR EVERYONE: I re-did the ending for this chapter and posted those edits as of September 20, 2023. I decided it needed a bit of a rework to give future moments a bit more impact, and to emphasize some aspects of Eda's thought process - partway ruthlessness, partway arrogance, partway objective mercy. I hope you guys liked it.

Thanks for giving this a read, everyone, and thank you so much for your patience and understanding with me. I hope you enjoyed the twenty sixth chapter of Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance!

Chapter 27: Half-Truths, False Assurances

Notes:

Hey. So, just as a quick heads up, a couple things in my personal life are looking a bit shaky for the next little while. I'm gonna be fine either way, I think I can get all this sorted out, but I just wanted to let you know there may be some delay in updates for a bit (what else is new, amiright?). Suffice to say, I'm having a somewhat frustrating start to my year.

But I'm gonna keep at this, because I love this story and I've been wanting to get to this mini-arc for a WHILE.

Anyways. To the story!

I do not own Soul Eater or the Owl House.

If I did, I'd probably have had the characters fight a Dragon at some point.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

She couldn’t take the ticking anymore.

Maka rocked back and forth in her chair, knees drawn up to her chest and staring silently at the doors. She had to fight the urge to look back up at the clock, her mind too addled to analogue its hands into any sort of recognizable time. The constant ticking of the smallest hand, normally so quiet, was an all but deafening, rhythmic beat that constantly and consistently hammered home just how powerless she actually was.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Instead, she waited, fighting the urge to approach the nurse and again ask the question she had been refused at least a dozen times tonight.

She knew she wouldn’t be allowed to see Soul.

After all, when Papa and Stein had finally arrived, they had firmly refused to allow her to watch the surgery.

Rationally, she could understand why; they didn’t want to make her feel any worse than she already did.

Even knowing this, however, she couldn’t bring herself to care; she just wanted to see her partner, to look at him and know he was somehow still breathing, no matter how much it would hurt.

Nonetheless, she hadn’t protested, knowing it wouldn’t do any good. Instead, she had sat down in the chair closest to the door that she could find, and wrapped herself in the blanket she had been given when her trenchcoat and gloves had been swept away by the staff for cleaning, clutching the edges more tightly than she’d ever want to admit to… if she weren’t so frightened of feeling those horrible Wavelengths again.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

Since then, Maka had seen neither hide nor hair of Stein. The Doctor had swept away as soon as he had been informed that an operating theatre was available and that Soul was ready for surgery. 

As for Papa…

He sat beside her, elbows on his knees and silently wringing his hands together as he stared pensively into the open space before him. She couldn’t sense his Soul at the moment - she was too tired to register more than the basic thrum of his Wavelength - but she could still feel his fear from the incessant bounce of his heel and the way he couldn’t seem to keep himself from glancing at her for more than a few seconds, his eyes always snapping back to her every time she so much as shifted.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

“... would you like me to go get your book?” he queried quietly.

The young Meister just shook her head.

“... sorry,” Papa sighed, looking away, “I just…”

He trailed off, unsure of what to say - and for once, Maka couldn’t bring herself to blame him for it.

What could he say, really?

“... I know… I’ve been…” she could hear his lips twist, see his grimace pull his whole face thin even as she never took her eyes off the door, “... I’ve been a terrible father. You have… every right to be angry with me. So if you want me to just… shut up and leave you alone, I will. But… I’d at least like to make sure you’re…”

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

“... okay?” she finally croaked, her voice the hoarse creak of a rusty gate swinging on some abandoned fence a million miles away.

“... no. Not okay,” he closed his eyes, shaking his head.

She couldn’t even bring herself to bristle at the certainty in his voice, much less summon any sort of anger; she just mounted her chin on her knees, eyes dropping to the floor, her response automatic, “... ‘m fine…”

“Maka.”

Even exhausted as she was, the preteen had to perk up at the strange scolding that had filled Papa’s tone; the redhead’s cerulean eyes were piercing, his expression grave as he stared at her, hands clasped together so tight she could see his knuckles going white, his whole arms trembling with the effort he was making to keep them still.

“... I’ve seen this happen before,” he confessed, “And believe me; you are not fine. You’ve been through… so much tonight. I don’t know who you’re putting this tough act for, but… you don’t have to pretend you’re okay. Not to me.”

“... who said I was pretending?” Maka muttered, finally feeling some of her old anger stoke itself to life as she pointedly forced her gaze back down to the tile.

The Death Scythe’s only recourse was silence; he settled back in his chair, and she could hear the defeat in the exhale that followed.

Somehow, it only made her feel worse; the brief surge of rage was undercut by another flood of raw guilt, though whether it was from her dismissal of him or another step in the cycle, she couldn’t begin to guess.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

“... is it…”

“Hm?”

She hadn’t even realized she had spoken; despite herself, the grey-haired preteen couldn’t bring herself to stop the question from tumbling out, slowly turning her green eyes back up on her Papa, “... is it… always this bad?... when things… go wrong?...”

She hadn’t thought it was possible for his expression to grow any more grim than it was; and yet, his lips pulled into a line so thin she could barely pick them apart from the rest of his skin, his eyes suddenly seeming far, far away as he leaned forwards again, staring off into the same unknowable nothing that she had been mere moments ago as he debated his answer. 

Finally, he seemed to settle, eyes closing, “... it’s… usually worse.”

“... worse?...” the word felt hollow, somehow - she couldn’t imagine how things could possibly have gone even more poorly than they had…

“... usually, there’s no one like Stein around to immediately patch everyone up; it takes years of medical training for field first-aid to make a noticeable difference when something goes wrong like this,” Death’s Weapon began, “In most cases, they have to last until they can get access to a specialist, or back to one of the DWMA’s campuses. And that’s when there’s survivors. When a target proves too much for a Weapon and Meister pair, or for a full team… if the pair or team don’t immediately and effectively retreat, it usually ends with the death of the entire squad. Even if you successfully escape, there are no guarantees for anyone who’s wounded. It’s… rare that people survive cases like this.”

He turned to face her once again, a solemn sympathy drawing shadows to the corners of his eyes and downturned lip, “I don’t want to scare you, Maka, but… you and Soul were extremely lucky tonight.”

“... lucky…” the Meister turned away again, letting her knees go, staring down at her hands; the image of the pink haired child and the looming shadow of black blood and molten metal behind them, of Soul laying broken and dying in her arms was stuck in her mind. So many ways that fight could have gone so much worse, so many ways they could have died if that boy hadn’t intervened…

A shudder ran down her spine, and she wrapped her arms around her stomach, fighting down the rising horror and nausea, “... this can’t be what lucky looks like…”

For a long moment, silence reigned between them, Maka left entirely unable to break it despite the surge of emotions rushing through her stomach. There was so much she was struggling and failing to stifle, so much she was struggling and failing to piece together, her physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion forcing her into a frustrating limbo that left her too exhausted to properly process any of her emotions, much less force the questions she wanted to ask into words, but too awake and aware to drift away, leaving her fear and frustration to sear in her chest like burning coals that she physically could not release.

And all the while, the clock was still ticking.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

The sound of the door swinging open only stoked them as she looked up from the floor, her whole body tensing as she hoped against hope for the sight of her partner.

What she saw instead was Stein.

The scientist’s face was utterly emotionless, a marble bust of picture-perfect neutrality as he stepped out into the room, grey-green eyes pensive and unfocused as he toyed with the screw in his skull, back and forth with its distinctive clicks, as if searching for the perfect frequency on a radio. He dug in his pocket, pulling out a box of cigarettes-

And somehow, Papa was on his feet before Maka had even been able to move, reaching out and snatching them.

“Seriously, Stein?” he hissed, “This is a hospital!

“And I just finished one of the most intensive surgeries I’ve ever had the pleasure of performing,” the Doctor deadpanned, “I think I’m clear for one cigarette.”

“Not indoors, you’re not,” the Death Scythe huffed, pocketing the package, “Seriously, where do you even keep all these?”

“That’s for me to know, Spirit,” a hint of a smile crept across the elder Meister’s face.

Before they could continue, the grey-haired girl forced herself to her feet; she padded up, only peripherally aware that she was still clinging to the blanket even as it trailed across the floor behind her. She was gasping for breath again, her vision blurring, but she forced the words out regardless, “P… Professor Stein…?”

“... what are you still doing here, Maka?” the stitched man inquired, “I can tell from looking at you that you’re exhausted. You need rest.”

“S… Soul,” she insisted, “Is… is he…?”

The Professor blinked; all at once, his expression softened, the slight smile he had before returning, “ Now I see. Well, you’ll be happy to know that the surgeries were all successful.”

The Meister felt her eyes widen, everything coming into clearer focus, “Really? He’s going to be okay!?”

“I stitched his lung, stomach-” Stein’s words came to an abrupt halt as his red-headed partner jabbed him in the ribs with his elbow, shooting a glare up at him; without so much as a word of protest, he sighed, “Long story short, Maka, Soul is going to make a full recovery-”

She could barely hear the rest of his sentence over the flood of relief that roared in her ears and crashed down into her stomach. Once again, the panicked energy that had been holding her up drained away, leaving her feeling numb and hollow as she staggered, trying to keep herself standing-

Only for an arm to catch her, keeping her from crashing to the floor.

“... you need rest,” the redhead reiterated, steadying her, “Do you have somewhere to stay the night?”

“H… hotel… can’t… remember the name,” she managed, “… all-you-can-eat pasta… surprise for… Soul…”

The Death Scythe nodded, “I’ll take you-”

“Spirit,” Stein’s interruption was unusually stern, “... remember we need someone to look after our guest. And I need to look after Soul.”

“... guest…?” Maka asked.

“Stein,” Papa protested, “I can’t just leave Maka-”

“Maka will be fine,” the Doctor insisted, adjusting his glasses, “You’re a Death Scythe, Spirit. You know what the priority is right now.”

Those cyan eyes dipped back down towards her, suddenly seeming as lost as Maka felt; she didn’t know what they were talking about, but she could tell that whatever it was, it was important.

She pushed her father’s arms away, managing to smile up at him, “... I’ll be okay. You… go do what you need to. Alright?”

“... alright,” he finally conceded. He stepped away, digging into his pocket and pulling out his phone; even as he strode into the hall, she could see him tracing out the numbers for Lord Death’s mirror into the touch screen, but he was around the corner and gone before she could hear a word of their conversation.

“... I’m not going to make you leave the hospital,” Stein started, pulling out yet another package of cigarettes, “But I am going to insist that you at least get some sleep, even if it’s here in the lobby.”

“... no,” Maka shook her head, “You’re right, Professor; staying here isn’t going to do me or Soul any good.”

“I’m glad to hear you’re being sensible about this,” he pulled a cigarette from the box-

-only to find half the box falling to the floor, the cardboard and every cigarette inside split cleanly down the middle.

Stein stared blankly at the severed cigarette in his fingers before turning to the door; Papa leaned out from behind the door-frame, meeting his eyes with a silent, baleful glare for a long moment before disappearing once again.

“... when did he-?...” the student asked.

“Probably when he took the first box from me,” the scientist mused, unable to suppress a smirk.

“... it’s weird,” she confessed, “I never thought I’d see him so… serious.”

He raised an eyebrow, “Personally, I find Spirit to be one of the most serious people I’ve ever met.”

“Really?”

That smirk only continued to grow, “I’ll be the first to admit you get more from your mother than you do from Spirit, Maka. But make no mistake - you’ve inherited more from your father than you realize.”

The preteen snorted, but made no further comment. Instead, she looked up at her teacher, biting her lip for a moment.

“Something wrong?”

“... nothing you can fix,” she murmured, “But… before I go… can I see him?”

The stitched Professor shook his head, “I’m sorry, Maka. But the fact of the matter is, you’re just going to have to wait; I’ve gotten Soul away from the wolf, but he’s not out of the woods yet. I need to keep a close eye on him, and there’s nothing that you can realistically do to help at the moment. 

“Besides, if I let you see him now, you’re not going to want to leave.”

“... yes, Professor,” she nodded, though she failed to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

“... I’ll let you know as soon as he regains consciousness,” Stein assured, “But in the meantime, please - get some rest.”

With that, he turned, and walked back through the doors, leaving her all alone in the lobby. 

All alone, save for the ticking of the clock.

Tick Tick. Tick. Tick.

She started out into the hall, eager to get away from the noise before it could drive her mad; it was a relief to get away from the one-to-one rhythm, but the silence brought an entirely new weight of its own as she arranged a taxi, and struggled to make sense of the hospital maps and find her way back to the entrance. 

Rather than putting her phone away when she was finished, though, she began scrolling through her contact list, one name at a time, the motion aimless as the relief faded back into her seemingly perpetual unease.

It was strange. She’d thought that knowing Soul was recovering would push all her worries to the back of her mind…

Instead, it was simply one fear that was assuaged.

The others all continued to hang over her, a series of guillotine blades over her neck.

The boy in gold, and whatever had happened to him.

The Witch, and its horrifically powerful Soul Wavelength.

… and worst of all, the child, and the Demon Sword that they held in their hands, the mere memory of their Madness enough to make her squirm…

She shook her head, trying to return her attention to the list.

Her finger hovered over Papa’s - Death Scythe’s - contact. Briefly, she stared, debating whether or not to reinstate the block…

“... no,” she whispered, “Don’t be stupid… you need him right now. Now isn’t the time to be bitter…”

She scrolled further, stopped.

Mama.

Surely, she would know something, could say something…

“... she’s in China,” Maka murmured, “Too early…”

She couldn’t wake Mama up just because she was feeling lost.

Again, she scrolled down.

‘Noceda.’

… the grey-haired girl didn’t know why she stopped there. She didn’t know why her finger hovered over the contact, why she had to stop herself from pressing it…

It wasn’t like Luz would understand. She could barely make friends on her best day - what would she know about a year-long partner?...

She looked at the clock again.

The seconds passed slowly, far too slowly.

Her finger fell.

She felt her heart skip a beat as the screen went dark, as the phone rang…

But she couldn’t bring herself to hit the end button.

She just sat.

Waiting. 

Hoping.

For what, though, she couldn’t be sure…


… just that the wait was almost certainly worse than whatever she was waiting for.

The light of the clouds beyond the glass filtered in through the gold-tinged glass in a sickly, muted yellow. The cloud cover was so thick that not so much as a trace of the Boiling Isles’ purple sky was visible; it was impossible to tell where the sun was behind the thick, cloying cloak, so thick it shrouded the whole forest in increasingly dark shadows, the gold of the clouds coagulating into an ochre that reminded her far too much of mustard gas for her liking. The distant roll of thunder crashed down like a wave, though no lightning could be seen from her window.

“... looks like it’s gonna rain,” Luz murmured, wrinkling her nose at the stench and the wave of unnatural warmth that swept in on the breeze; she’d been expecting to open the window and find an unpleasant, but much needed chill. 

Instead, an uncomfortable heat flooded the room the instant she pushed out the stained glass frame, one that absolutely did not feel like it belonged in the temperate coastline and forest that surrounded the Owl House. It was the wet, heavy heat of what she could only assume was a swamp, turning the constant stench that permeated the air into an inescapable rotting reek, not at all helped by the brine that seeped into her mouth, her nose, even into her eyes and pores. She could almost feel the uncomfortably warm water condensing on contact with her skin, the sheer humidity of the air lining her lungs, mouth and throat with thin streams with every breath she took…

“Luz, close the window!”

The Latina only halfway registered the pup’s words; the diminutive Demon rushed into the room, the floorboards only slightly creaking under his negligible weight as he leaped for the windowsill. He scrabbled haphazardly, pushing himself up and out and desperately reaching for the window’s handle, trying to pull it back in.

“... sorry, King,” she murmured, reaching out and pulling the window closed; almost immediately, the humidity and heat dissipated, bringing a wave of cool relief into the room, “I just… wanted some fresh air.”

“Fresh air!?” he snapped, staring up at her with a judgemental glower, “You’re not gonna get any of that during a rainstorm!”

“We do in the human world,” she protested, though her words rang oddly hollow in her ears.

“I’m sure,” the tiny tyrant huffed, then forced himself to breathe. He straightened his posture, claws clasped behind his back in his failed attempt to summon an air of authority that was completely at odds with his adorable visage, “Anyways, I have new orders for you, my faithful human minion!”

“... King, I… I gotta be honest with you,” the teen sighed. She slumped against the wall, letting her gaze drift back out into the oncoming storm, “I’m… really not in the mood.”

“You worried about Eda?”

“... yeah,” Luz confessed, “She still hasn’t made it back yet…”

He stuck his tongue out towards the horizon, blowing a raspberry with every ounce of force his little lungs could muster, “Don’t be. That crone can handle anything the Isles throw at her. Hell, maybe getting stuck in the rain for a while’ll do her some good.”

“You think?” she glanced at him, trying to understand where exactly his confidence was coming from.

“Luz, I’ve lived with Eda for ten years. This isn’t the first time she’s gone off on her own for a while,” he crossed his arms, nodding sagely, “Usually, she doesn’t even give any warning, and I’ve been left all on my own for like a week!”

“Not aaaaaaaallllll on your ooooooowwwwwwwnnn! ” Hooty’s high pitch drawl signalled his approach, his face now hovering just outside the window, perched on a tube that seemed caught somewhere between solid wood and the soft, boneless flesh of a demonic caterpillar. He opened his mouth, a veritable brook of babblement about to bubble forth from his beak-

Only for King to firmly pull the drapes closed, eliciting a muffled “Heeeeey!” from the living carving.

“Loudmouthed door carving,” he muttered, then cleared his throat, “Human Minion Luz!” he turned to face Luz once more, puffing out his chest with his eyes closed.

The Latina struggled to bring a smile to her lips, “Yes, King?”

“Francois has brought it to my attention that your morale has dropped to an all-time low!” the pup began to pace along the length of the window sill, marching three or four steps before turning on his heel and marching back the other way, tail wagging eagerly, “As my only other semi-competent minion, your morale is important for two reasons! The first being that it affects the morale of your junior minions! The second being that it affects your performance!”

At this, the teen managed a smirk, an eyebrow climbing her forehead, “I thought I was your ‘junior-most’ minion?” she leaned in, eyes narrow, her voice full of conspiratorial mischief, “Have I been promoted?

Sssssh! ” a tiny claw raised to the front of King’s bone snout as his eyes snapped open wide and his fur stood on end, attempted grandeur replaced with whispered panic, “The others don’t know yet! You’re my second-best minion despite being so new, but if your inferiors found out you were promoted first, they’d mutiny!”

Someone’s been reading his Evil Overlord handbook,” she snickered, a mote of genuine joy sparking in her chest, “‘Never discuss promotions where others might hear them.’”

“Pfff. I’m the King of Demons, not some mere Overlord,” he stuck up his nose, crossing his arms, “Besides, that’s just common sense. Anyone who needs that in their handbook isn’t fit to have minions!

“But I digress,” he raised a claw once again, “I have also noticed two other things that need immediate correction. Eda has not been holding up her end of the bargain to teach you Magic, and your education is lacking in one particular area!”

“It is?” she settled back, curiosity piqued despite her unease.

“It is!” he shouted, “As such, I have decided that today is the day we rectify all of these issues!”

He hopped down from the windowsill, padding over to the door, “Come along, Human Minion Luz! I have prepared a crash-course in the most important knowledge you’ll need to survive and thrive in the Boiling Isles!”

The Latina teen did her best to keep her smile in place; she could see through his ruse easily enough, passing his own concern off on Francois and hiding his attempts to cheer her up behind his role as a tyrant.

It wasn’t as though she didn’t appreciate his efforts. But between her screwups yesterday, unsure of what was going to happen with the Owl House, unsure even of what was going to happen to Willow and Gus, with no way to check in on them…

It made her wish that there were some way to connect a phone to a scroll.

Nonetheless, she moved to stand-

And felt her phone start to ring.

She came to a halt, blinking before pulling it from her pocket and staring at the lit up screen.

‘Lil Sis Maka.

“Luz?”

“... gimme a sec, King,” Luz sat back down, “I…”

“Someone from the human realm calling you again?” he asked.

“... yeah.”

He huffed, but ultimately did not protest. Instead, he crossed his arms, “... can I stick around and listen?”

“Sure thing,” Luz nodded, “Just… try not to make too much noise, okay?”

“I will make all the noise I want!” King declared, even as he padded back and sat himself down on her sleeping bag.

“Little goober,” she snorted, a real smile breaking out across her lips before she looked back down at her phone. She breathed in, out…

And hit the green button.

... Maka?” she started, trying to keep her anxiousness out of her tone.

... Luz.” 

The Latina couldn’t help but blink at the equal parts exhaustion and relief that seemed to echo from the other end of the line; Maka’s voice was hoarse and hollow, somehow hammering home just how far flung they really were from each other, two oceans and a whole world away, “... you sound tired.

“... I am tired,” Luz admitted, letting out a slight chuckle, “Didn’t get much sleep.”

Something wrong?

The tanned teen sighed, leaning back against the wall, a hard thunk ringing out as her skull rocked back against the wooden window frame, “It’s… been a rough night. I screwed up. Eda went out last night, and… well… she still hasn’t come back.”

... well, she can’t have gone far,” Maka started, “She has to stay on camp grounds, right?"

“She likes to wander off. And…” unsure of what to say, the elder sibling huffed again, pressing her hand to her forehead, “Like I said, I… I screwed up, Maka. I screwed up bad. Eda said she had to take care of some things, but… she shouldn’t have been gone this long…”

... I’m sorry, Luz,” the younger girl murmured, sounding strangely distant - not unsympathetic, but somehow drained, exhausted by something the Latina could only guess at, “I wish I knew what to say…

“... you don’t sound too good yourself,” Luz tried to force a smile, to add some chipper cheer back into her voice in hopes that it would do something to reassure her little sister, “Don’t tell me you’re not enjoying Venicia?

The silence on the other end of the line spoke volumes on its own; slowly, it smothered what little joy the teen had managed to kindle in her stomach, growing instead to a newfound anxiety that swelled with each passing second.

“... Maka?” she prompted.

A shuddering breath was all she got in response.

“... Maka, what’s wrong?”

"... I’m sorry, Luz,” Maka finally managed; somehow she seemed even quieter than before, “I just… I don’t even know where to start.

“... did… did your hunt go…?”

... no. We… we got Sonson.

The elder girl let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. She settled back against the window frame once again, hands relaxing slightly, “... okay… so… if it’s not that, then…”

For another long, agonizing moment, the only sound was that of Maka’s breath; she seemed to be steadying herself, each one slow and deep.

... I just… wanted to let you know we’re okay.

At this, Luz couldn’t help but blink; of all the things she was expecting to hear, that hadn’t been one of them.

“... are you sure?” the teen asked, her eyes drifting to the picture of Maka that she’d spliced into her family photo, “You sound…”

Tired. Yeah,” a mirthless chuckle echoed over the line, the Latina almost able to see the thin line drawn across her younger sister’s face, “... I’m exhausted. A lot happened tonight. But, we’re… we pulled through… and… I wanted to make sure you know. Since I forgot, last time…

“Hey,” Luz felt her own lips curling up, a spark reignited, “What happened last time is no big deal. I’d be thrown for a loop too if one of my teachers turned themselves into a zombie. And besides… you’re letting me know now, right?”

... I guess,” Maka conceded, voice small and faraway all over again, “I just… didn’t want you to worry, is all.

“... you said a lot happened,” Luz started, “... you wanna talk about it?”

... not right now. Maybe later,” the Meister managed, “For now, I… I think I need to sleep.

“Should I leave you to it, then?”

... yeah.

“Okay,” she smiled, hoping her optimism would carry to her little sibling, “Say hi to Soul for me?”

... yeah. I will. Once he wakes up.

“Goodnight, Maka. I love you.”

G’night, Luz.

With that, the call went dead.

Luz sighed, pocketing the phone and letting her eyes fall closed, the back of her head drifting back against the wood with a dull thunk, a slight, stinging pain rippling through her scalp on impact. Already, she could feel the small spark of cheer in her chest starting to fade, a flitting light atop the heavy weight in her chest…

“... Luz?”

“... I’m okay, King,” she began, answering the question so he wouldn’t have to think of a way to ask. She opened her eyes again, managing a smile as she got to her feet, hands folded behind her back as she leaned over the Demon, “So, what’s this crash course you’ve got for me?”

At this, his eyes lit up, the purple gleaming with delight as he scrambled to his feet, scampering back out the door, “Follow me!”

She could hear his claws scrabbling across the floorboards, quickly losing sight of him as he rounded the corner and shot down the stairs like a bullet; nonetheless, she padded down after him, one hand in her pocket, the other on the railing as she pondered just what he had planned for her.

When she finally entered the foyer, King was standing near the door, having repurposed a nearby chest as a stand for whatever was beneath the heavy red cloth he had draped over its bulky frame. His tail wagged uncontrollably from where he sat beneath the cover, his high pitched grunts the only evidence of his last minute adjustments before he shoved his way back out, eyes wide as he threw on a circular hat big enough to cover the entirety of his horns and dip down over his eyes, the dark tassel slipping down the side of his head.

He shoved it back with a snarl of exaggerated annoyance - but as soon as his eyes landed on Luz, he stilled, then closed his eyes and cleared his throat, the twitching of his tail being the only sign of his excitement behind his attempt at a dignified facade.

“Human Minion Luz!” the Demon declared, raising the pen in his hand to point at her, its pink plastic gem glowing in the fireplace’s firelight, “You have served me for only a short while, but you have served well thus far! Since you’ve displayed that you have no intention of leaving, it falls to me to educate you in the most important things you’ll need in order to survive in the Boiling Isles!” he set the pen’s tip on the floor, almost leaning on it like a cane, “I hope you’re taking notes, because this is a one-time course! I will not be repeating any of this material!”

“I think I have a solution for that,” the girl bit down on a snicker as she sat down cross legged in front of the young creature, pulling out her phone once more.

“... Luz, what’re you doing?” he asked, his tone of annoyance rising to hide the slightest note of distress at the prospect of being ignored in favour of the purple box.

“I’m taking a video,” the teen explained, turning the box so he could see the screen, “See here? When I hit the red button, my phone’ll record what you say and show, so I can watch and listen later.”

“Ooooh,” the pup’s distress immediately gave way to amazement, “Just like a scroll!”

“Exactly like a scroll!” Luz nodded.

“Very well, then,” he raised his claw, head raised, “Immortalize my words, Human Luz! Immortalize them so you might study them for the rest of your days!”

“Way ahead of ya, King,” she grinned, then hit the button, “Alright, it’s recording!”

“Good!” King folded his paws behind his back, “Back to the matter at hand; it’s time for you to learn about the most important thing about the Boiling Isles! Prepare yourself, for-!”

He reached up, and yanked down the red cloth, exposing the corkboard.

It was completely covered in pictures; they ranged the gambit from hasty scribbles out to painstakingly detailed murals. Pages torn entirely from their books, their ragged edges still visible in places, joined dog-eared photos and stained sticky notes, taped and tacked wherever they could fit and competing for space all across the board they shared. The display was as exuberant as it was haphazard, the images all but literally tripping over each other in a chaotic flurry of information.

But what truly got Luz’s attention was what each one contained.

It was a paper Pandemonium - a papyric parade of cryptic creatures that immediately put the girl in a strange sense of awe. Gangly humanoids with no face to speak of, only pale heads and torsos clad in black; winged serpents that coiled around swords, their mouths thrown wide to expose dagger-like fangs; long kraken’s tendrils connecting to an exposed brain, a sharp beak at the center of the writhing mass; feathered men with the heads of birds and the tails of serpents, compound eyes shimmering in the light; emaciated women with too many limbs and bloated abdomens, their ragged black hair failing to conceal oversized mouths with spider’s fangs; winged beasts with the heads of humans, lions, eagles and bulls all at once; and a great myriad more all added to the chaotic diorama that was now on display.

-Demonology one-oh-one!” King concluded, pointing up at the title emblazoned up in the top right corner.

Luz only felt her smile grow, tactfully deciding to ignore the extra letters he had put in the big bold DEMONOLOLOGY 101. However, when her eyes locked on one of the figures, she couldn’t help her skepticism, “I gotta admit, I’m still not sure I buy the whole ‘giraffes are Demons’ thing.”

“They are excellent actors, Luz; don’t be fooled by their ‘I’m a big stupid herbivore with a neck that’s too long’ act,” the pup grimaced, “Their heinousness delves into depravity even I didn’t consider on my worst days as a tyrant!”

“... what about dolphins?”

“Dolphins?” he tilted his head, his eyes alight with surprised confusion, “What’s so bad about dolphins?”

“... IIIII think that’s a discussion for another day,” the Latina decided, keeping her smile firmly in place even as the evils of dolphinkind flashed through her mind, “We’re getting a little sidetracked.”

“Right, right. Starting from the beginning!” he cleared his throat, then held up his pen again, pointing it up to the figures, “Demons have existed for as long as the Demonic Realms themselves! We’re among the oldest and most diverse creature groups alive, with some of our fossil records going back billions of years!”

He pointed eagerly to what looked like a cavern; it took Luz several seconds to register that the “pillars” that lined the cavern’s edge were in fact the smooth insides of a ribcage, not dissimilar from the Boiling Isles themselves, albeit on a presumably far smaller scale.

“Suffice to say, Demons have been around for a lot longer than humans and Witches, forming back when the Realms were little more than primordial soup!” he held up a scrawl of what looked like a bunch of particularly Demonic amoebas, “Initially we fed on the raw spiritual energy of our surroundings, but as we grew bigger and bigger,” he the pup threw up his paws higher with each ‘bigger’ for emphasis, “that ceased to be enough for us! So we had to turn to another method entirely!”

“You started eating Souls, right?” the girl asked, curious.

“Luuuuuz!” King whined, loud and petulant.

“Sorry! Sorry!” she waved, trying to backpedal.

“Just… let me do the lecturing, please?” he stuck a claw in the air, “Raise your hand if you have any questions!”

“I promise, King. I’m sorry,” Luz nodded, cycling with her hand for him to continue.

Thank you,” the diminutive Demon acknowledged, then faked a cough, “As we grew bigger and more powerful, we had to turn to more concentrated sources of spiritual energy to survive, grow and evolve; as you might have previously guessed, the most convenient and abundant of those sources were Souls!”

Eagerly, he pointed to another picture; on this one was an illustration of a pair of dinosaur-like Demons locked in combat, the jaws of the theropod-like beast with too many legs locked firmly around the shield-like crest of the other, which struggled to impale its foe with the many horns that jutted out from its brow, beak open in a soundless shriek.

“While some settled for feeding on smaller Souls, the most powerful Demons did battle with each other in order to devour their rivals and take their power for themselves!” he cycled through pictures, mostly murals or tapestries that depicted larger and larger monsters; a chimera’s leonine and serpentine heads biting into the flesh of a manticore as it retaliated with its spiked tail; a whale with teeth that were too large and too sharp to be any that Luz knew, tearing into the tentacles of a gargantuan kraken, their battle tossing a helpless ship about the waves; and an unfathomably massive serpent wrapping its coils around a wolf whose howl drove the wind, tearing through its scales with its claws and teeth even as their battle devastated the mountains and oceans around them.

“The most powerful of these Demons would eventually rise to become Kings - the most powerful Demons of their time, feared and envied by all!” King finally indicated an emblem of a mighty black Dragon, surrounded by vivid orange flames and dozens of tiny blue lights that all streamed up towards its open maw, its gemstone-like eyes shining in the hearth’s firelight; the tiny pup was practically vibrating at this point, his fervour and passion so ferocious that his voice was rising to the closest thing he could have to a roar, “Their names echo through history as examples for any Demon worth their salt to live up to; the mighty Ragnarök-!”

He stopped, startled, as the Latina raised her hand, then let out a sigh, the wind firmly taken out of his sails, “Yes, Luz?”

Caught somewhere between remorse for cutting off his passionate speech, and relief that he hadn’t spontaneously combusted from sheer excitement, Luz asked, “So, question… why do Demons eat Souls? Is that just a dietary thing, like you actually need it, or…?”

“Oh!” King’s eyes lit up again, tearing open one of the books, responding to its warning growl with a snarl of his own before it finally settled, “Well, here’s the thing, Luz! A Demon’s physical biology is a lot more in-tune with its Soul than animals, Humans or even Witches!”

The skull-faced child propped up the book as best he could against the corkboard, the page open to a diagram of a small Demon surrounded by six significantly larger ones, arrows pointing out from the center figure. The tiny raptor seemed capable of growing into any number of things, from a theropod with a bony crest that could easily smash through stone, to a more sauropod-like creature that had several trees and small mountains growing out of its back, to a bird that cloaked itself in clouds and rain, lightning dancing between its talons.

“As you can see here, depending on what a Demon wants to become, they change and evolve as they age and eat! And the heavy concentrations of spiritual energy contained in Souls help induce and maintain rapid growths in the Demon’s Soul, which translates directly into the Demon’s physical abilities and strength!” he explained, pointing to each of the forms, “There’s always some hint of the Demon’s original form in the end, but this is why we’re so varied!”

The Latina fought to hold back her grimace. She opened her mouth to speak, her next question at the ready-

Only for her words to be completely drowned out by the deafening roll of thunder directly overhead, sending her sprawling to the floor with a terrified yelp.

It took Luz a moment to register her own heartbeat pounding in her chest; phone laying on the floor several inches away from her hands and the room spinning. So focused had she been on King’s lecture that she hadn’t realized how dark it had grown outside, the grey-greens of the overcast sky and forest having deepened to a near pitch black under the roiling clouds. They utterly smothered the sky above in a churning sea of thick boiling tar, the treescape only illuminated by the brief flashes of white from the occasional lightning strike. A thick curtain of steam rose from the earth as the rain pelted down, immediately causing what few flowers had managed to grow in the cliffside clearing to wither and die where they stood. 

“... what?...” she managed, voice tinged with amazed shock.

“... looks like this is gonna be a rougher storm than I thought,” King murmured, up on the tips of his toes so he could peer through the glass, the raindrops violently pelting the window.

The girl pushed herself up with a grunt, snatching up her phone and approaching the window as it was shrouded in a thick cloud of liquid fog. She reached out, trying to wipe away the condensation-

“Luz-!”

King’s warning came too late; Luz pulled her hand back with a gasping hiss of pain, her palm screaming with the all-too familiar sear that came from touching a pot handle left over a burning stove. 

“Owowowow!” She stared down at her palm for a long moment as the angry red shine spread across her skin, making her clench her hand in vain hopes of subduing the sear, “¡Eso duele!... What was that?...

“It’s raining, Luz!” King crossed his stubby arms, glaring up at her, “What were you expecting to happen?”

“... I was expecting it to be cold,” Luz bit down on a whimper, turning her gaze back outside.

Cold?” the Demon blinked, clearly boggled by the idea.

Before he could press the issue, though, a familiar golden light shot into the clearing, visible even through the mist and the fog on the windows. It soared back and forth over the cliff, hovering for a moment before growing brighter and brighter, a small star in the midst of the storm…

Then the light washed over everything, briefly blinding Luz to the world around her. 

She blinked, trying to clear her eyes, and she heard King sigh.

“Looks like Eda’s back.”

“What’d she just do?” she asked, managing to turn off her phone’s camera between throbs of pain.

The Demon waved, dismissive, “Probably put up a barrier around the house to keep the rain from doing too much damage,” he hopped back up to his board, “Can we get back to our lesson now?”

“... in a second, King,” the Latina pushed away from the wall, starting towards the door.

“But Luuuuz!” he desperately motioned towards the myriad of pictures, “We only just got started!”

“I just wanna make sure Eda’s okay,” Luz assured, smiling, “Afterwards, we’ll get right back to it.”

“You’re sure?” he pressed, tail twitching anxiously.

“She’s been gone since yesterday; she’s been awake for over twenty four hours now,” she reasoned, “Eda’s gotta be exhausted by now, right?”

“... alright,” he acquiesced, “But once she’s asleep, it’s back to class!”

“Back to class,” she agreed, then finally pulled open the door.

For a moment, Luz thought that somehow the Owl Lady had managed to banish the storm entirely, but another strike of lightning quickly dispelled that thought; instead, a golden shell extended around the entirety of the Owl House, gleaming with runes and magical circles all across its surface. Rain pelted against its surface and flowed down in a continuous river, pooling around its edge and casting yet more steam into the air, completely obscuring the surrounding sky from view.

Eda herself stood in the middle of the clearing, stepping gracefully through the rising steam like a ghost from the fog. Remarkably, she was entirely dry, her eyes narrowed as she weaved around the boiling - boiling!? - puddles that remained in the mud, making her way up towards the door.

“Eda!” the human raised her hand to wave, then stopped, remembering the mood the Witch had been in when she had left…

Hooty, on the other hand, either didn’t remember, or didn’t care.

“About time!” the tubular Demon called, craning his neck around the open door to glower at the pale woman as she reached the door, “That rain was getting close to my precious stucco!”

“Can it, Hooty,” the Witch growled, finally close enough for the light of the house to illuminate the deep lines etched into her face, the deep circles around her eyes, “I am not in the mood.”

“Okay, okay, jeez!” he retreated back into the wood, “Just get inside, before you catch a fever!”

This time, Eda didn’t answer. Instead, she strode through the doorway, releasing her grip on her staff, which floated off and up the stairs to the second floor. She ran a hand through her long silver hair, letting out a breath through her nose, before turning to face the human and the Demon.

“... Eda?” Luz prompted, concern once again blooming in her chest.

“... feeling any better, Luz?” the pale woman queried, her lips quirking into an echo of her devil-may-care smile.

“I should be asking you that,” the girl resisted the urge to reach up to cup the Witch’s face, “You look exhausted.

The one-woman parliament chuckled, rounding the room to stand by the hearth, a log floating into her hand so she could toss it into the flame, “This isn’t the first all-nighter I’ve pulled, kid. I don’t feel great, but I’ll pull through just fine.”

“Even with that barrier?” the girl pressed, once again turning her gaze outside.

“She just said she’ll be fine, Luz,” King huffed, clearly not as concerned for the Witch’s well-being as the human, “Now come on! We can get back to the lesson!”

Eda glanced back over her shoulder, briefly surveying the makeshift board and stage the pup had constructed before shaking her head, “Sorry, King. Your Demonology course is going to have to wait for a while.”

“What!?” Luz could have sworn that she heard a hint of panic amidst the tiny terror’s unwelcome surprise, his hackles rising across his shoulders and the back of his neck.

“I need Luz for something,” the silver vixen stated offhandedly, “And it’s not something that can be wrapped up in a few minutes. In fact, I suspect this is gonna take at least a few days.”

“Wait, what?” the human blinked, startled, turning to face the Owl Lady entirely.

King stood, silent for a long moment before shock gave way to anger. He stomped to the edge of the chest, tail flailing and his fur bristling with rage, nearly choking on his own dismay, “But we just got started!

“Then it’ll be easy for you to catch up to where you left off,” she added one more log to the fire before patting her hands on her dress.

“... Eda,” Luz began, hoping to defuse the diminutive Demon’s tantrum before it could begin; she could tell from his posture and the emotion in his voice that this was nothing like the comical outbursts that resulted from broken pencils and toppled toys, his distress at the prospect of having this lesson stolen from him very, very real, “I understand that this is important, but I already promised King that I’d listen to his lesson. And, well, this is important too; he’s teaching me about Demons. If I’m gonna be staying here for a while, I should know about them too, right? Not just Witches?”

At this, the woman paused, seeming to be giving the prospect some genuine thought.

“... can’t it wait for an hour or two?” the Latina ventured, “I promise, I’ll come looking for you as soon as we’re finished the lesson.”

A deep breath, and a long sigh emanated from Eda’s form as she turned to face the two, empathetic, but firm, “Sorry, you two. But this can’t wait, not after the Hexside incident.” 

The Witch stared pointedly at Luz for a long moment, causing the teen to shrink in on herself, guilt and shame washing over her all over again. Satisfied that her point had been made, Eda continued, “The sooner we get this done, the safer we’ll all be. Right now, that’s far more important than a Demonology lesson.”

Again, anger gave way to shock, and shock back to anger; King’s whole body trembled, his claws clenching into fists. His words seemed to catch on each other and on his breaths as they tried to escape his throat, resulting in a retching growl that failed to turn into any sort of roar or scream. His furious glare failed to hide the tears that were welling up in the corners of his eyes. Beside himself with rage, he jumped down and sprinted across the room, vanishing around the corner, the only proof of his presence being the creaks of the floorboards under his weight as he raced up the stairs.

Luz started forwards, trying to follow, “King-!”

“Leave him be.”

The girl stopped, turning to face her mentor; Eda’s eyes were fixed on the fire again, lips pursed.

“Eda, I can’t just-!” Luz motioned helplessly to where King had disappeared around the corner, “He was so excited for this!”

“... I know. But we need to spend our time wisely for now,” the Witch didn’t look away from the hearth, “He knows that. There’ll be time for his lesson once things have settled down; right now, he needs to be left alone. He’ll calm down on his own.”

The mocha teen’s gaze turned back to the stairway, the candles flickering; in the wake of the storm and the barrier, the whole of the Owl House had been shrouded in shadow, the candlelight and the light of the fireplace warm, but limited, the darkness seeming to gather in the corners and long, deep shades playing across the walls. She licked her lips, and then turned back to the Owl Lady, one arm clutching the other.

“... alright,” she started, “What is it that you need my help with?”

Finally, Eda’s attention broke away from the fireplace entirely, turning to face her apprentice; her golden eyes sharpened, and in an instant, Luz saw all of the exhaustion drain from the woman all at once, her cocky, foxy guile firmly reasserting itself over whatever else she might have been feeling.

“We’re going to be jump-starting your training,” her lips parted, showing off her gleaming white teeth, “I hope you’re ready, Luz; we’re going to get you in touch with your Soul Wavelength.”

Notes:

Translation of Luz's Spanish:

¡Eso duele!"

"That hurts!"

Translation, as always, is done by the wonderful maho_kat on Archive of Our Own!

Sorry that this chapter was significantly shorter than the last one and was mostly setup. I feel like I needed to address where Luz and Maka currently stand before getting into the nitty gritty of the coming chapters.

But you all know what's coming. And believe you me, this is gonna be fun.

Thanks for giving this a read, everyone, and thank you so much for your patience and understanding with me. I hope you enjoyed the twenty seventh chapter of Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance!

Chapter 28: Mindful Musings, Restless Rhythm

Notes:

I do not own Soul Eater or Owl House.

If I did... maybe this would be a comic instead of a novelization.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

She had been getting used to living by candlelight.

Although it turned out that Eda did in fact have a generator in her basement (one that she had rigged to run entirely off of ambient Magic, no less), most of the house hadn’t been constructed with electricity in mind. Even beyond its sheer age, the Owl Lady had built her abode from the Magic of the Boiling Isles; most of the light came from the massive windows. During the evenings - or intense storms, as the case may be - daylight was replaced by the many candles that either sat on high dedicated shelves that wrapped around the corners of several of the rooms, or were nestled into the various candelabrum that hung suspended from the ceiling on heavy iron chains or standing on equally heavy iron stands like lamps. They were all practically dripping with wax, both melted and melting, their innumerable soft glows supplemented in the living room by the maw-like hearth, and in the kitchen by the fires of the massive cast-iron wood stove, giving the entire house a dim, but warm and rustic atmosphere, even amidst the dark clouds and rolling thunder of the storm beyond the windows.

Even with all that in mind, however, the sheer number of candles her mentor had brought into the living room since her sudden declaration seemed to verge on overkill.

The coffee table that had once sat in the center of the room had been shoved firmly against the wall. Candles of dark red and purple had been set on nearly every surface, some even floating in the air as Eda etched a circle onto the surface of the leather mat she’d set in the table’s place. Many of them were already lit, the heady scents of incense wafting on lazy plumes of smoke; a smothering haze was swiftly filling the room, forcing the girl to occasionally blink back tears.

“Sooo… Eda,” Luz began, grimacing at the very taste of the air, “What’s with all the candles?”

“Part of an old Witch technique,” the Witch grunted, seeming utterly at ease with the mingling myriad of miasmas, “It’s meant to help you get in touch with your Soul Wavelength.”

“What, like a meditation thing?” the human leaned forwards, poking one of the floating candles; it shifted slightly, then floated back into place as soon as she pulled away, gently anchored in place by an unseen force.

“Something like that.”

“Isn’t that supposed to be with… weaker incense, though?” she waved a hand in front of her face, trying in vain to gain a gasp of fresh air as she turned back to face her mentor, “I feel like I’m gonna suffocate in here…”

“You got any sort of swimsuit, Luz?”

Luz blinked, caught entirely off-guard by the query; curiosity quelled discomfort almost entirely as she approached, trying to peer over Eda’s shoulder to see what she was making, “No… summer camp wasn’t supposed to have any kind of pool. Why?”

“Hm,” the Owl Lady did not look up from the circle; it was a strange series of waves and runes, an ink painting that almost resembled a whirlpool, edged by a series of five candles that seemed to be the origin for most of its lines “Well, I guess we’ll just have to make do.”

“Make do?” the mocha-skinned youth reached down to touch the dark etching - only to find her wrist gripped by Eda’s bone white fingers, the mischief in the Witch’s smile doing little to hide the stern warning in her gaze.

“This won’t be your standard meditation, Luz,” the one-woman parliament’s talons relaxed, letting the teen pull her hand back as those golden eyes dipped back down, the ink swirling again of its own accord, an animation of calligraphy, “These candles are infused with a ton of Magic from the materials they were made from, which is being released as they burn; this takes some of the burden off of me for the spell I’m going to cast, since most of that released, ambient Magic will be feeding directly into either me or the spell itself. Either way, it makes my part in this easier.”

“Makes what easier?” the girl asked, a slight edge of frustration seeping into her tone.

“All in good time, my apprentice,” the ink finally stopped; seeming satisfied with the resulting array, Eda turned to face Luz, hand outstretched and expectant, “Box.”

Again, Luz blinked, “Box?”

“Your purple scroll-box,” the Witch prompted, “You aren’t gonna need it.”

“Oh, my phone,” the girl murmured, brown eyes dropping to her pocket; she dug for a second, then handed it to her mentor.

The Owl Lady nodded, slipping the phone into some unseen pocket before gesturing, “Now step into the circle for me.”

The tanned teen glanced down, biting her lip; the swirls of the ink stretched about six feet across from end to end. None of the candles had been lit, but the shadows playing across the circle seemed to mix with the blackness, adding to the illusion of a maelstrom pulling everything it touched down into the dark…

Nonetheless, she took a breath, and stepped in.

Nothing happened.

A long second passed before Luz finally let out the breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, a hand going to her chest as her heartbeat dropped back down to a more standard rhythm; she turned to face the Witch again, hands set on her hips, “So, what now?”

“Now?” Eda raised a hand, fingers poised to snap, “Don’t hold your breath.”

Sparks flew from the Witch’s fingers, as if they had been flint to steel; the tiny flames danced around Luz to each of the candles that surrounded her, granting each of them their own warmth and glow. Already, a strange hum seemed to fill the air, sending a chill down the girl’s spine and sending a shudder through her whole body as Eda lowered her hands to her waist, palms up and eyes closed…

Then the ink beneath her feet began to swirl and deepen, seeming to grow more solid; the distant, disconcerting sound of water began to fill the room, forcing her to search the room for its source. Eda’s eyes snapped back open, and with a sharp breath, her cupped hands shot upwards, as if to lift a cup from a basin…

And then metaphor became reality.

Luz felt her heart skip a beat as the ink spiral turned pitch black; liquid darkness rushed up to meet her from the floor, a dark whirlpool that swept her up and off her feet entirely. She only had a split second to scream before she plunged into the black, the current carrying her up and away to shadows unknown.


She couldn’t see; the water blocked all light.

She couldn’t hear; the water brought nothing but silence.

But most concerning of all, she couldn’t breathe. No matter how hard she thrashed, no matter how hard she stroked, she couldn’t breach the surface. Her lungs burned as she kicked and pulled and pushed, trying to kick up and out of the abyss-

‘Breathe.’

All at once, she stopped struggling, her panic severed by the echoing word in her mind.

For a split second, she could have sworn she had heard Eda.

But there was no one else here…

‘You need to breathe.’

That time, she’d definitely heard it.

But she couldn’t bring herself to take a breath; there was no air, only water. If she let out what little air was left in her lungs, if she tried to find air down here, then surely she would-

‘You won’t drown, Luz. I promise. Just take a breath.’

Her lungs were burning from the exertion of holding her breath, and her body was screaming at her to hold it, to fight and cling to every last scrap of oxygen she had. The Witch’s promise did little to soothe the primal fear that was now writhing in Luz’s stomach, trying to keep its claws sunk deep into her mind, to keep her fighting for her life…

‘Nice and deep, kiddo. In…’

Despite the screaming fear, the girl forced herself to stop thrashing. Muscle fought against muscle as she curled in on herself, forcing her lips to part bit by bit, letting the water seep past her teeth and tongue…

The last ounce of air escaped her in a bubble that she felt rush past her face and into the unknown depths; she coughed as water shot down her throat, filling her lungs and making her struggle all over again. For a brief moment, she was certain she was dead, drifting off into an endless sleep…

… but then… she found the water slipping back out.

She opened her eyes; there was still nothing but darkness all around, so deep she couldn’t even see her own hands in front of her. But with every breath she took, her heartbeat began to slow; through some bizarre trick, the water was slipping in and out of her lungs as smoothly and naturally as air, as if she had been meant to breathe it all along. Slow, deep breaths washed away the panic, a strange serenity taking its place as she floated, equal parts relieved and perplexed by her situation.

‘There ya go. In and out, nice and easy.’

Luz opened her mouth to speak, only to find herself coughing again; it seemed making words from water was a more difficult task than she’d initially anticipated.

‘Easy, kiddo. You won’t be able to talk normally in there; try sending me a thought.’

She tried to lick her lips, an uncomfortable sensation under the water, before trying, ‘... does this mean I can breathe underwater, now?’

The Owl Lady let loose an echoing chuckle in her mind, ‘Not quite. That’s just part of the spell. Sorry, Luz.’

‘Aw,’ the girl pouted, Yo quiero respirar bajo el agua…  

¿Nada te bajonea por mucho, cierto?

Considerame una optimista, the youth smirked, trying to bury just how frightened she had been, ‘... not entirely sure where I am, though. What is this, Eda?’

‘Ever heard of a sensory deprivation tank?’

‘Oh, yeeeaaah,’ Luz felt her face light up, ‘Those little pools you float in, right? Total darkness, total silence?’

‘That’s the idea,’ Eda confirmed, ‘It’s an old technique that was developed to help young Witches who were having trouble with their Soul Wavelength get a better hold on it, although I find it even helps me every now and again. An environment with no distractions, leaving you alone with your thoughts and your Wavelength.’

‘Okay, I think I see where this is going,’ the girl cupped her chin, ‘Is this supposed to help me focus on finding my Soul Wavelength?’

She sensed an affirmative ‘nod’ from the elder woman, ‘Normally, getting in touch with one’s Soul Wavelength is a bit of a lengthy process. It can take months for a person to find it. Distractions can make the process take even longer; but in an environment where there are no distractions, I’m hoping we can streamline the process to about a week.’

‘A week? if Luz could have blinked, she would have, ‘Is that possible?

‘Depends on a couple of factors. Including, but not limited to, how quickly you get started.’

The girl snorted at the friendly barb, but smiled nonetheless, ‘Alright, alright… but I’m not gonna be spending a full week here, right?’

‘No. But you will be spending most of your free time in here until you’ve found your Soul Wavelength,’ the teen could almost see the silver-haired vixen crossing her arms, ‘ This isn’t something that we can put off. The sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get on with you learning to see Souls, and then actually learning some Magic.’

‘... okay,’ she tried to pull her body into a sitting position as best she could, ‘But what if something goes wrong?’

‘I’ll be monitoring you the whole time, Luz; if something goes wrong, I’ll know,’ the sense of a gentle smile tinged the Owl Lady’s words, ‘In the meantime, you won’t be hearing from me. You settle in and focus on your breathing; that’s where you’ll want to start.’

With that, Eda’s presence simply vanished from her mind.

Finally, Luz settled for crossing her legs; she tried to swallow a wad of spit to ease the anxiety that was now growing in her gut, and instead coughed on water again for her trouble. 

There was no up or down in the abyss. No hot or cold, no sound, no light, not even a sense of gravity she could use to orient herself; all she had was the water, suspending her in total darkness. In such utter shadow, it was hard not to imagine herself having just accidentally stepped out of a spacecraft, drifting off into the endless void beyond the atmosphere, hurtling through the universe with no way to stop, and no way to breathe…

But she was breathing.

And she wasn’t without a lifeline.

With that thought in mind, she placed her hands in her lap, closed her eyes, and tried to focus, calling to mind her sister’s lessons…


“So, how’s our guest doing?”

Spirit’s eyes rose to meet his partner’s as Stein stepped into the room; the lackadaisical smile was accompanied by half-lidded eyes, a hand once again adjusting the screw, a sound that the Weapon was beginning to grow accustomed to, whether he wanted to or not.

He let his gaze fall back down to the unconscious Sorcerer, who still lay silent after three full days, “Well, he still hasn’t woken up…”

The boy’s entire body had been bandaged, white fabric wrapped tightly around each of his limbs, around his neck and torso beneath the hospital gown, and even his forehead - both by the hospital’s doctors, and by Stein when he had finally deemed that he could step away from Soul for an hour without risking the younger Weapon’s life. Although apparently he’d never been in critical condition as the student had, the soldier’s wounds had still been a grisly sight; without his daughter’s presence to keep him occupied, Spirit had no choice but to join his partner as an additional layer of security in case the Sorcerer awoke, his body too damaged to risk the use of any sort of narcotics to ensure he stayed unconscious.

Thankfully, it had never come to that, but that didn’t stop the grimace that ran down the Death Scythe’s spine at the memory; Stein picking bits of broken glass, shattered tile and splintered wood out of the boy’s back, before washing wounds all across his body and stitching them shut; the horrid cracking sounds as the Doctor ensured that fractured limbs were properly set before applying the splints; the insertion of an IV drip into his arm, the clear concoction at the top slowly dripping down the long tube; the burn scars on the teen’s palms and fingers when the bandages had been unwrapped, both old and new, speaking to possible years of trying to handle the Magic in his staff…

Even after all that, with the child seeming to have been completely immobilized, he’d been strapped down to a stretcher rather than left as he was. If Spirit hadn’t known any better, he would have likened it to some medieval torture device, the boy shackled to the mobile bed by cuffs and leather, every limb bound to keep him firmly in place and his staff locked firmly in a case that was now in the redhead’s quarters for the flight home…

It was hard to believe it was all both for the blond’s safety, as well as the safety of everyone around him.

After all, he was more than likely to react violently when he woke up, no matter how much pain he was in - and even with all the bandages and bindings, they wouldn’t necessarily be enough.

A Soul as strong as his was hard to bind, after all.

“Well, let’s hope he stays that way until we reach the Academy,” the lab coat-clad Professor stated, sinking into a nearby chair and sliding open the window, “I have enough on my plate managing Soul at the moment without him causing a stir.”

Torn between keeping his partner’s gaze and watching the sleeping teen, Spirit settled for staring out across the cloud cover; with how fast the plane was going, it had been a near constant sunset for over half an hour, the light bouncing off the rolling grey seas and dying them a gentle orange.

“... you’re sure they’re both stable enough to move?” he finally asked, cyan eyes drifting to grey, “I know this is a state-of-the-art plane and all, but…”

“They’re as stable as they’re getting, Spirit,” the smile on his partner’s face faded; finally, his hand fell from the screw to his chin as he settled on one of the chair’s limbs, “Believe me, this isn’t ideal. If it weren’t for their Soul Wavelengths, I doubt we’d have been able to move either of them for at least three more weeks, even with Death Scythe Marie pulling some strings with Italy’s government to get us a plane.

“But we can’t afford to wait any longer; we’ll be better equipped to accommodate our guest at the Academy, and more importantly, there’s tools at my lab and in the Academy’s medical wing that I simply don’t have in a standard operating theatre.” 

This time, Death’s Weapon didn’t bother to stop him as Stein pulled out a carton, lighting a cigarette and taking a long, slow breath; he was too preoccupied with the implications of his partner’s words, his jaw setting and his brow creasing into a deep frown, “... so… there is more to Soul’s wound than you were letting on, before.”

“I appreciate you not bringing that up with Maka,” the Doctor smiled again, holding out the box and the lighter as an offering, “It certainly made reassuring her easier.”

“I suspected as much,” Spirit admitted, accepting the carton, but not the lighter, eliciting a chuckle from the grey-haired man, “Demon Swords always have some sort of trick up their sleeves; you think you’ve got them all figured out, and then, bam,” he slammed his fist into his palm, “something else blindsides you. Telling Maka about a potentially cursed wound wouldn’t have helped ease her nerves at all.”

The stitched Professor pursed his lips, eyes narrowing in thought, “‘Cursed’ is the wrong word.”

A raised eyebrow from the red-headed Weapon, “Is it?”

“Honestly, I’d say it’s more of an infection,” slowly, Stein straightened, elbows set on his knees, hands set in front of his chest, fingers outstretched, “It’s not like the wound is refusing to heal, or anything like that. Typically when you see cursed wounds, the curse is intended to prevent the wound from healing, or make the wound itself deadly regardless of its actual severity. In the case of the former, the target is either crippled due to improper healing, or dies due to infection or blood loss or what have you; in the latter case, it almost invariably ends in a grisly death. Unless, of course, the curse can be broken before it can take full effect.”

“But that’s not the case here,” Spirit pressed.

“No. Over the past couple of days, Soul’s muscles, bones and organs have begun to knit back together; the damage is grievous, certainly, but nothing seems to be impeding the actual healing process,” those clammy fingers interlocked as he spoke, knitting into one another until Stein’s hands were clasped tightly together, a display of a healing cut, “It seemed unusually straightforward compared to the work of other Demon Swords I’ve read about, though admittedly I haven’t had the chance to take a more recent look at the records.”

“The Gáe Bolg comes to mind,” the Death Scythe shuddered, “One cut and your whole body just fills with thorns from the inside out…”

“As well as its ability to flip cause and effect,” a wry smile from the Doctor as he stared into the open air, “I would love an opportunity to experiment on that Spear…”

“Your point, Stein?” the redhead prompted, lips twisting with his discomfort.

“My point, Spirit,” those cold eyes regained their focus, “Is that while there doesn’t appear to be anything wrong with Soul’s wound, I’ve found something else that’s altogether more concerning.” 

“Well, don’t leave me in suspense,” the Death Scythe leaned forward in his seat, “What is it?”

Stein sighed, taking another long drag of the cigarette; the embers had almost reached his fingers, though if he noticed, he didn’t seem to care, “A certain percentage of Soul’s red blood cells appear to have turned black.”

At this, Spirit blinked, “Black?

“Not enough to overtly change the colour of his blood - right now, it’s still clearly red,” the doctor assured, “And these black blood cells appear to be operating as normal red blood cells would, carrying oxygen and nutrients throughout his body - but it’s still a troubling development, considering what we saw from the Demon Sword.”

“Isn’t it possible that these black blood cells are carryovers from the Demon Sword?” the Death Scythe queried, “That was a nasty slash, and red blood cells can last for weeks in the body; if the sword was made from that kid’s blood, and these black blood cells operate identically to red blood cells, then-”

“I considered that already, but that simply can’t be the case,” the Doctor interrupted, tone grim, “If that were the case, Soul’s immune system should have destroyed them all by now; going off the samples I collected from the Chiesa, the black blood’s shapeshifting properties appear to have gone completely inert without a Soul Wavelength to direct them, meaning they wouldn’t be able to operate within his body independently. Moreover, the Demon Swordsman’s blood type is entirely different from Soul’s, and that slash shouldn’t have transmitted that much black blood in the first place.”

“Even considering the wound’s size?”

Especially considering its size, and how fast that sword must have gone through him for the cut to have gone all the way through,” Stein shook his head, “The only conclusion I can draw is that Soul’s body is producing these black blood cells; and if that’s the case, the most reasonable explanation is that he’s been cursed. In order to confirm it, I need to run more tests, and if I’m right, that will mean even more tests to try and predict the effects the black blood will have on him - his Soul Wavelength, his Weapon form, everything. And not only do I not have the means to conduct those tests in a normal hospital…”

“... the fact that all this came from a Demon Sword means this is all going to be classified straight to Hell,” Spirit finished, leaning back in his chair and bringing his hands to his eyes, “Jesus fucking Christ…

“Been a while since I’ve heard you swear, Spirit.”

“Lay off, Stein,” the black-clad Weapon dragged his hands down his face, “It’s been a long time since I’ve had an assignment this stressful.”

A bemused eyebrow ascended the Doctor’s forehead, “You saying your time with Lord Death has made you rusty?”

“Like Hell it has,” the Death Scythe muttered, then sighed, “Why couldn’t it just be a Witch?”

“If it makes you feel any better, a Witch is involved, like we predicted.”

“It really doesn’t.”

Stein helplessly splayed his hands, “In which case, I can’t help you, Spirit; I’m not qualified to be a therapist.”

Spirit’s eyes narrowed, “Wasn’t one of your majors in psychology?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean therapy is what my studies were geared towards.”

“Fair enough,” the Scythe muttered again, then sobered, “How long have you been awake for, Stein?”

“... I was about to ask you that,” that wry smile again as the stitched man adjusted his glasses, “I’ve been awake for… ninety hours?”

The redhead’s frown only deepened, “We’re supposed to be operating in shifts, Stein.”

Stein just shrugged, “We don’t have that luxury right now. Soul’s condition can take a turn at any moment. I can’t afford to sleep until we’re back at the Academy, and Soul is in Doctor Gorgon’s equally capable hands.”

“What am I, chopped liver?” 

“Don’t you have a noted dislike for the kid?” that infuriating smirk only grew, “Besides, you’re an administrator, Spirit, not a doctor.”

At this, Spirit couldn’t muster a response, only managing a weak, gurgling growl before slumping back in his chair, defeated.

“How long have you been awake, Spirit?”

“Nowhere near as long as you,” he rubbed the back of his head, “Maybe eighteen?”

A flat look, “You look like you’re pushing thirty.”

Death’s Weapon glowered at his partner, “Well, maybe if we’d stuck to the shift system like I’d suggested…

Again, that wry smile, “Why don’t you go get some sleep, Spirit?”

The aggression drained from him all at once; he leaned forwards on his elbows, lips pulled into a thin, solemn line, “... you’re sure you can look after them both on your own? Even considering your Soul Wavelength, you’re pushing it; you’re gonna start having microsleeps soon, Wavelength or not.”

“I had no idea you cared so much,” Stein chuckled, “I’ll be fine; it’s gonna be a long flight, but Doctor Gorgon already knows we’re coming. As soon as we reach Death City, Soul and our guest will be transferred to her care, and I’ll be able to get some sleep,” the smile faded into a more serious neutrality, “If you get some sleep now, you’ll be able to help everyone better once we’re back in Death City.”

“... alright,” Spirit slowly pushed himself up and out of the chair; he stepped forwards, his whole body suddenly feeling heavy, before stopping in front of the door, “... you’ll let me know if they wake up?”

“Why the interest?” there was no barb; only genuine curiosity.

“... those boys put their lives on the line for my daughter,” the Death Scythe glanced back at the boy strapped to his bed, silently breathing, “I admit, I don’t like Soul much. He’s a smug little smartass who’s too cocky for his own good.”

“Like you were?”

The redhead ignored the teasing barb, “And I don’t know where the Sorcerer is from or why he protected them; I don’t doubt he had his own reasons for it.”

He turned his attention back to Stein, managing a small smile, “... but that doesn’t change that they saved her. Risked their lives for her. That’s something most adults would struggle to do, much less kids. No matter how much I dislike Soul, no matter what was going through the Sorcerer’s head… I need to respect that.”

A long moment of silence passed before another smile graced his partner’s lips, “You just keep finding ways to surprise me… alright, Spirit. I’ll let you know.”

“Thank you, Stein.”

With that, he pulled open the door, and stepped out into the plane’s cramped hallway.


She thought she’d known what it meant to be alone.

Ever since Luz was little, she’d understood that there was a divide between herself and her peers. An intangible barrier that burnt prospective bonds to nothing before they could even form; a bottomless chasm that she could not cross on her own, and that those around her more often than not refused to even attempt to bridge. Even those that made the attempt seldom succeeded, unable or unwilling to follow her leaps in logic, or satisfy her hyperfixations for more than a few minutes. They were driven away by anything ranging from frustration to fear, or they simply found her to be an amusing animal to abuse and abandon at their whim.

She knew what it was like to be bullied. 

She knew what it was to be left behind.

But this wasn’t even remotely close; Luz knew that Eda was still there. At this point, she fully trusted the Witch not to abandon her.

No, this was a different experience altogether.

As it turned out, there was a critical difference between being truly lonely, and being truly alone.

The complete absence of light and sound was a bizarre enough experience on its own; the only thing the girl could do in that regard was be grateful she wasn’t afraid of the dark. While it was difficult to avoid picturing herself sinking ever deeper into an ocean of infinite depth towards whatever nightmares might be down there, or helplessly spinning into the endless emptiness beyond the atmosphere with no way to stop herself, at the very least there was some comfort in knowing that the Owl Lady was keeping hold of her lifeline, ready to pull her out the instant that something went wrong.

But that wasn’t enough to curb the other anxieties that arose in the dark.

Luz hadn’t been aware just how much she relied on external stimuli. Even on the days where she was alone in the house with nowhere to go and no one to see, there was at least something to do; books to read, games to play, paper and pens to draw any number of vistas or characters or creatures, or lose herself in written words and written worlds of her own creation. Videos, podcasts, movies, music, anything to fill the silence and keep her mind occupied, to keep the anxiety and loneliness at bay, and then move onto the next, right up until she was too tired to think anymore and fell into depths of slumber.

In this abyss, there was none of that.

There were no books or controllers for her hands to grip. No animation or text for her eyes to drink in. No sounds or music to take her away in their rhythm and melody. Not even any ground for her to walk on. Even her phone had been taken away, her pockets empty, her fingers twitching for something, anything to hold and fidget with to take the edge away. Even her sense of time seemed to be slipping away; she could count the individual seconds all she liked, but that didn’t make it any easier to tell how long she’d been in here. For all she knew, it could have been hours, or even days, leaving her longing for some kind of clock so she could at least tell the time - but there was nothing.

Nothing but Luz, and her thoughts.

Utter solitude.

Truly alone.

She’d curled around herself, knees hugged to her chest, unable to tell if her eyes were open or closed anymore. Each breath came slowly, the water harder to pull in and push out of her lungs than air - and though it kept her calm in a strange sort of way, it made her thoughts that much harder to escape.

She just couldn’t stop. Memories flooded back to her, replacing sight and sound with phantoms of the past whether she wanted them or not, entwined with the foetid fantasies she’d conjured against her will, dark dreams of what people really thought of her, born of shame and fear.

The blond crossed her arms, blue eyes narrowed, ‘ Why are you even here? You know they’ll never give you a part-’

Her mother rubbed at her forehead, exhausted and exasperated over the messy scrawl on the paperwork, ‘Mija, please. I know you’re trying to help, but-’

A ripple of disgust across the boy’s face as he held the card she’d put hours of work into between his fingers, as if she’d handed him a dead animal, ‘What makes you think I’d go out with you-!?

A jeer from a child in the neighbourhood, ‘If your dad loves you so much, then where is he-?’

One of her group partners rolled her eyes, adjusting her glasses, ‘We’ve seen your work, and we don’t want your help. Just shut up and take the free grade-’

A chuckle from a clique as she dug through her locker, ‘I don’t think even her mother likes her-’

The voices and people continued to mount; she clamped her eyes shut and her hands over her ears, but it did nothing to stop them. The ridicule came from the confines of her skull, seeming to grow louder and louder in the echo chamber of bone and brain matter. 

‘Seriously, Noceda? This book’s for children-

‘Would it kill you to be normal for once-?’

‘What do you think this is, show-and-tell? Grow up-’

‘What is wrong with you-!?’

It all began to blend into an unintelligible cacophony; one by one, the figures began to blend and meld, morphing into more distinguishable, more recognisable silhouettes.

… Mami.

… Papi.

… Maka.

One by one, their mouths opened in her mind’s eye, ready to add their derision to the discord-

‘STOP IT!’

Luz gasped for breath, hands falling from her head once again; the maelstrom of sound and shadow in her mind dissipated at her own internal scream, leaving her breathless in the dark once more.

She slumped, insofar as she could slump while floating, her whole body just going limp. The girl brought a hand up to her forehead, a low groan escaping her throat.

'...¿esto nunca lo voy a poder descubrir, verdad?...'

No con esa actitud.

She blinked, straightening; sitting up as best she could manage, she cocked her head, as if she could actually hear the voice, ‘Eda?’

‘Right here, kiddo,’ the wry voice of the Owl Lady was a relief, after the nightmarish shadow play her mind had just performed, ‘You doin’ okay?’

‘... not really,’ the girl admitted, curling in on herself again; with her mentor’s voice refocusing her, it was easier to center herself, to remember how long she’d been at this. 

The past two days - two whole days - of trying had left her floundering and flailing impotently amidst the storms in her stomach and skull, and brought her no closer to her Soul Wavelength than she had been before - only struggling to get any sort of purchase whatsoever against her own mind. She hugged her knees to her chest, helplessness awash in her stomach, ‘... I think I underestimated how hard this was gonna be.’

‘Being alone with your thoughts is always hard, the first few times around. This is only your third try, Luz,’ the Witch seemed to nod sagely, ‘It’s easy to get lost in there, with nothing to guide you.’

Luz glanced up, trying to meet Eda’s invisible gaze, ‘You said kids do this?’

‘When they’re having trouble getting in touch with their Wavelengths for the first time. Granted, my take on this spell might be a touch old-fashioned.’

‘Define “old-fashioned,”’ the girl managed a wry smile.

‘Rooted in old Magic, and maybe a touch cruel,’ there was a playful ruefulness to the Witch’s tone, ‘I admit, I threw you headfirst into the deep end with this one.’

The tanned teen sighed, idly kicking her legs, ‘So… does this mean I’m done for the day?’

‘If you want. Alternatively, we could try something a little different with this spell.’

Despite herself, Luz felt her curiosity pique, her spine straightening at the prospect of something new, ‘Something different?’

‘I had it in my head that you’d pick up on this a little more yourself. But, I’m starting to see that was a mistake on my part as your teacher,’ the pale woman began, ‘So, if you’d like, you can stay in there for a little longer, and I can try to guide you through how this is actually supposed to work.’

Her head tilted, lips pulling into a smile as she processed the words, ‘A guided meditation!? With the Owl Lady!?’

‘Don’t get too excited, Luz,’ the Owl Lady warned, ‘This won’t be as exciting as you think. It’s still gonna be a lot of sitting around in the dark. The main difference from before is that I’m gonna be instructing you.’ 

‘Hey, I like listening to you,’ the chocolate child chastised, ‘You make learning fun.

‘We’ll see if you still feel that way in a few minutes,’ despite the words, the girl could still hear the Owl Lady’s smirk, ‘Now, sit down, cross your legs, hands in your lap; get as comfortable as you can.’

Wordlessly, Luz obeyed, pulling herself once again into as close of a meditation pose as she could manage without anything to actually sit on.

‘Eyes closed or half lidded, whichever is more comfortable.’

Her eyes fluttered closed; not screwed shut as they had been before, but merely, gently, closed.

‘Are you ready to begin, Luz?’

‘... yeah,’ she nodded, ‘Let’s do this.’

‘... we’re going to be focusing on your breath. Each one is going to be long and slow - for the first few, I’ll let you know when to inhale, and when to exhale. In…’

Again, she obeyed; her lungs filled, and once again, she couldn’t help but marvel at the fact that she was breathing water rather than air.

‘... out.’

The command came far later than the girl had been expecting; nonetheless, she obeyed, letting her lungs empty into the dark around her once more.

‘Your breath is the focus here. That’s the only thing I want you to focus on right now. Nothing else to trouble your mind. Just in, and out. Breathe in.’

Like a bellows, she took in the breath; but all the same, Luz couldn’t stop the question, ‘How is this supposed to get me in touch with my Soul Wavelength? I’ve… heard that meditation helps, but… I don’t know how or why.’

‘Don’t worry about your Soul Wavelength. That’s not what we’re focusing on right now. Breathe out.’

Again, the breath slipped into the surrounding water.

‘Breathe in.’

The water flowed in.

‘Breathe out.’

The water flowed out.

In.

And out.

In.

And out.

Luz slipped into the slow, slow rhythm of the breath, following Eda’s instruction as closely as she could. A newfound focus was flowing over her as she breathed, an odd tranquility that she’d felt something close to a few times before…

But it was a fleeting focus; it didn’t take long for her mind to wander.

Maka’s lessons echoed in her mind, urging her to search for something that she didn’t know how to look for; she shifted, lips twisting, trying to follow a map of spoken words through a filter of memory that just wasn’t intuitive to her no matter how she tried to follow them…

‘... you’re getting distracted.’

Were it not for the amused tone in the Owl Lady’s voice, the mocha-skinned girl absolutely would have choked; as it was, she had to stifle a gasp. She hadn’t realized how distracted she’d gotten, her breath forgotten entirely and her posture completely abandoned.

‘S-Sorry,’ Luz mumbled mentally, settling back into position as best as she could.

‘Don’t apologize. Getting distracted is part of the process; when you notice it, all you have to do is start over. Now, breathe in.’

Again, she obeyed, ‘But… how do I stop it? Isn’t meditation just… stopping thinking so you can focus super hard on one thing?’

‘Of course not. Meditation is about being present - being truly there in the world, free from all the little distractions that take you out of the moment,’ Eda’s smile was palpable in her explanation, ‘That doesn’t mean you just stop thinking. It means that you’re mindful of your thoughts, and you don’t let them carry you away.’

‘Carry me away?’

‘Think of your thoughts like clouds, Luz. You don’t need to chase every one that enters your head; just watch it, examine it, and then let it pass by.’

Luz couldn’t help biting her lip, ‘But what if I end up chasing them again? What if I get distracted?’

‘Then just come back to the breath when you’re ready,’ the Witch reminded warmly, ‘It’s as simple as that.’

‘... this is way less frustrating than when I tried this with my sister,’ the youth murmured, sinking back into the breath once more, ‘She had all these steps I needed to follow…’

‘One thing at a time; that’s the best way. Breathe in.’

It didn’t take long for all sense of time to slip away once more.

But it was different from before; where alone, the dark and silence brought a distressing chase through her own mind, where Luz couldn’t tell if she was the pursuer or the pursued, the Owl Lady’s guidance brought her into something far closer to a tranquil trance. Every now and again, she would find herself chasing her thoughts once again, but every time, she could bring herself gently back to the breath, where everything began.

It wasn’t exciting, no.

But it was peaceful. Soothing, even, her former swirl of anxieties almost entirely forgotten.

… and then, she felt something else.

‘... okay. I think that’s enough for now,’ Eda began, ‘You ready to come out, Luz?’

For a moment, she thought it was just her heartbeat; after all, she enjoyed the sensation of her heart pounding in her chest, in her ears and hands and throat as she threw herself into whatever activity was in front of her, all too eager to get in on the excitement.

‘... Luz?’

… but that didn’t make any sense. It couldn’t be her heartbeat.

After all… her heart had slowed to a pace she never thought it could reach, much less one she’d be able to enjoy.

‘... Luz, you haven’t fallen asleep in there, have you?’

‘... I feel something…’ Luz whispered.

‘... what does it feel like?’ the Witch’s tone had changed, a stern edge entering her voice.

‘Like…’ the tanned teen struggled for the words; she was unable to resist the urge to physically reach out, the sensation seeming to guide her forwards, ‘... like a rhythm… I… I’ve never felt this before, but… it feels… it feels so familiar…

Do not chase it.’

Eda’s words had shifted from instruction to command so quickly Luz nearly fell forwards entirely; she could almost feel the silver vixen’s talons on her shoulders, keeping her firmly in place.

‘If you chase it, you won’t be able to catch it,’ the Witch warned, ‘Focus on your breath. Let it come to you. Slowly, now; breathe in…’

Despite the urge to somehow chase after the sensation, Luz obeyed; she pulled herself back, hands set in her lap as she took another breath.

With every cycle of the in and out of her lungs, the rhythm grew a little bit stronger. It went from a gentle tingle on her skin, to a pulse in her muscles, to a beat in her bones. It wasn’t as though she was getting closer to it, or it was getting closer to her; deep down, some part of her knew it had always been there, giving off this beat that she knew so well.

She felt like a dog on a chain, wanting to tear off after it with every fibre of her being.

But she kept her pace. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, she let the rhythm come to her…

Until the light made her flinch, forcing her to open her eyes.

Floating before her in the dark was a small blue orb; it bobbed up and down in the water like a fishing lure, its surface utterly featureless, save for the wispy tail on top that waved back and forth like a single tongue of flame. It couldn’t have been any bigger than her fist, but despite its small size…

It was, without a doubt, the source of the rhythm that she’d been feeling. The familiar pulse that was now so strong it felt like it was vibrating her whole skeleton, making her heart race with equal parts curiosity, excitement, and awe.

‘... it’s alright, Luz,’ Eda assured, ‘Go on.’

‘... is this…?’ the girl reached out, both hands gently cupping the small orb; it bounced slightly in her palms, soft to the touch. The rhythm didn’t slow, nor did it weaken; instead, it seemed to steady, somehow, settling into her skin, muscle, sinew and bone.

It was thought.  

It was emotion.  

It was intent.

It was a rhythm that she had always known, and would never forget, a second heartbeat that would pound under her skin for the rest of her life.

... my Soul… tears welled up in her eyes, spilling into the water as she gave a hiccuping sob, her joy completely overwhelming her.

‘That’s right, Luz. Your Soul,’ the sudden exhaustion in the Owl Lady’s voice did nothing to hide her quiet pride and joy, ‘You’ve found your Soul Wavelength.’

Luz clutched her Soul to her chest with everything she had, letting her own Wavelength crash over her in waves of relief and joy, washing away the silent, stubborn fears from her heart like mud in the rain. Each pulse confirmed that this was real - not some wistful daydream for her to sketch out on paper or write about in a journal, but real progress, real proof that her efforts were paying off, real evidence that she understood what she’d taught.

Everything Eda had been teaching her for the last three days.

Everything Maka had tried to teach her for over a month.

‘... a Sound Soul… dwells within a Sound Mind… and a Sound Body…!’

Notes:

Translation for Luz's and Eda's Spanish:

Yo quiero respirar bajo el agua…

‘I wanna breathe underwater…’

---

¿Nada te bajonea por mucho, cierto?

‘Nothin’ gets you down long, does it?’

---

'Considerame una optimista.'

‘Call me an optimist.’

---

'...¿esto nunca lo voy a poder descubrir, verdad?...'

‘... I’m never gonna figure this out, am I?...’

---

No con esa actitud.

‘Not with that attitude.’

---

Translations as always are done by the wonderful maho_kat on Archive of Our Own! Everyone, please be sure to thank her for all the work she puts into helping this fic! Without her I'd be stuck using Google Translate!

Sorry for the wait for this chapter. I wanted to hold off on posting anything more until I had the Boiling Rain mini-arc actually completed. That hasn't quite panned out, as I have another... chapter and a half to go, I think? But I hope with the pace I've set I can maybe get this wrapped up in a couple weeks. I intend to post the next chapter a week from now, and then the one following it a week after, and so on until this mini-arc is completed.

Now let's hope I can actually keep that promise this time, eh? I hope you're ready to have some FUN!

Thanks for giving this a read, everyone, and thank you so much for your patience and understanding with me. I hope you enjoyed the twenty eighth chapter of Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance!

Chapter 29: Seeds of Deceit, Sprouting Doubts

Notes:

I do not own Soul Eater or Owl House.

If I did... oh, who the Hell am I kidding? I'd have been just as broken up by the finale if I did. Possibly moreso.

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

Luz tumbled out of the dark.

One moment, she was suspended in the abyss that she’d spent the last… God knew how many hours sitting in, breathing water in hopes of finding her Soul Wavelength - she had her Soul Wavelength now! - and the next, she was breaching the surface, the warm air nothing short of frigid on her skin. She was caught between blinking blearily through the bright orange haze that nearly blinded her from all sides, choking on air as her body convulsed, violently trying to expel the water from her lungs, and throwing her arms blindly forwards as gravity suddenly reclaimed its control over her weight.

This time, however, she managed to catch herself on her hands and knees rather than sprawling face first on the floor, violently coughing water onto the rug and gasping for breath; her lungs spasmed, trying to transition back from water to air, and once again she found herself wondering if this was how a fish felt upon being pulled up and out of its river on the end of a hook, shivering, cold, and struggling to breathe.

However, the sensations, no matter how unpleasant, couldn’t dampen her spirits.

“... I… I did it…” she managed, pushing herself up onto her knees and staring at her palms; she could still feel her Wavelength coursing through her body, its pulse so obvious now that all she could do was wonder how she ever could have missed it before, “I did it…!”

She heard the Owl Lady chuckle from above; the apprentice followed the sound, and found the Witch standing beside a pitch black orb of water floating in the center of the room, King perched on her shoulder. It rippled and jostled like a small scale ocean, countless waves dancing back and forth across its surface, but it couldn’t have been any more than six or seven feet across; big, certainly, but not the fathomless depths that Luz could have sworn she’d been swept up in.

“That you did, kiddo,” Eda acknowledged, flicking her wrist; all at once, the water on Luz’s skin, in her clothes and hair, and that had spilled into the rug began to pull away, rising up in small streams and droplets before rejoining the greater whole of the pitch black orb, “In three days, at that.”

Three. Days,” King repeated, incredulous; he hopped down from Eda’s shoulder as she strode towards the front door, the orb floating behind her, wide eyes darting back and forth between the water and the girl, “How in the name of Black Dragon Nidhögg did you manage to do that in three days!?

“Well… I had some help,” she admitted, pushing herself up and to her feet, “Eda did walk me through it on the third day…”

“Yeah, but that shouldn’t have been enough!” he threw his arms wide, “Even with guidance, it should’ve taken you at least a week!”

“Maybe I’m just lucky?”

Before the pup could respond, a thunderous crack rolled through the sky above, making the girl’s heart leap into her throat; she staggered over to the window as feeling slowly began to return to her legs, staring out into the darkness beyond.

“... it’s still raining?” the brunette murmured, the sky seeming completely unchanged from the first time she’d entered the water.

“Yep,” King clambered up onto her shoulder, staring out with her, “Hasn’t stopped even once. Doesn’t look like it’s gonna stop anytime soon, either.”

“Okay, seriously, what is up with this weather?” Luz asked, “I get that this is a coastal area, but storms for this long? And the rain burns?

“That’s because we don’t usually have weather like the human realm does, Luz.”

The apprentice turned to see her teacher once more, patting off her hands as she closed the door, smirking, “While it tends to vary a bit depending on where specifically you are in the Demonic Realms, the Boiling Isles don’t have rain or fog like you’d expect; we have plagues.

Luz blinked, “Plagues? Like… biblical plagues?”

“The whole shebang and more; there’s whole sections of each of the Nine Covens dedicated to dealing with them - the Oracle Coven especially gets paid out the nose for trying to predict them,” the vixen grinned, “Boiling rain, you’ve already learned about the hard way.”

The girl grimaced, rubbing her hands together; by now, the burn was already completely gone thanks to Eda’s healing Magic, but that didn’t make remembering the sensation any less uncomfortable.

“Beyond that, we have gorenadoes, shale hail, acid sleet, firestorms, meteor storms - those are always fun - ashen snow, scarlet rot, mustard mist, glass-gas, scalding fog…” the silver-haired woman had nearly run out of fingers to list things with, “You name it, we’ve probably had it at some point.”

“... and you never have any ordinary rain or snow?” Luz queried.

“Only places you’ll find that are naturally cold places, like the Ribs, the Knee, the Talon Mountains, or what’s left of the Sternum,” the Witch crossed her arms, stepping over to stand beside Luz, staring out into the storm, “The meltdown from those high-elevation places are what feed a lot of the Boiling Isles’ ecosystems, actually, though most of the plant life here has evolved specifically to handle the harsh conditions.”

“... it’s a wonder that anything survives out here,” the tanned teen stated, resisting the urge to reach out and put her palm on the glass, despite the golden barrier that still stood, shielding the house from the rain.

“There’s a reason you humans consider ‘mythical creatures’ to be so dangerous,” King’s smug tone was accompanied by a knowing glance, and she was sure a smirk was present under that skull. Then he frowned, clutching his chin, “Although admittedly there’s not a whole lot that stands up to a painbow.”

Painbow?

“It’s like a rainbow, but it turns you inside out if you look at it without some serious eye protection,” Eda crossed her arms, eyes narrowed in distinct annoyance, “Even I’m not sure how that works. It’s like the sky just decides it hates everyone for a few hours once the storm’s gone, grabbing anyone that looks at it and rippin’ ‘em a new one.” 

“Okay, now you have to be messing with me,” Luz set her hands on her hips, mock glaring up at the Owl Lady.

“Sure, disregard your mentor’s lessons; see where it gets you,” the woman’s tone was utterly deadpan as she turned away, beginning to put her living room back together, “If I were you, I wouldn’t look at the sky for a day after the rain stops, just to be safe. One layer of glass is not gonna save you from a painbow, and they’re called painbows for a reason.

Completely unable to tell if her teacher was being serious or carrying on with what had to be a joke, Luz watched as the mat was lifted out of place and swept clean of ink and candles, the table being set back into place in the center of the room, the myriad of candles being extinguished one by one; eventually she stepped forwards, clearing her throat, “So… what now? I can feel my Soul Wavelength, so… what next?”

“Do you even have to ask?” King crowed, gripping her head and trying to twist it towards the stairwell, “Now we can get back to my lesson!”

“King,” Eda’s voice was low and warning again, craning her neck so a sole golden eye was visible.

“Eda, come ooooonnnn!” the tiny tyrant whined, “Luz just unlocked her Soul Wavelength! In three days! Doesn’t that put her ahead of the game?”

“It does. But that doesn’t mean we can afford to slow down,” she set the cauldron firmly back in place over the flames, then turned to face them, “Now that she’s unlocked it, she has to learn how to use it. Quickly. I want to have her able to shape and apply her Soul Wavelength, and see other Souls, as soon as feasibly possible.”

Just as he had before, King bristled, a furious gleam in his eyes as he dug into Luz’s shoulder; he seemed ready to launch himself at the Owl Lady, his whole body tense, a spring ready to uncoil at the slightest provocation…

“... you said that was enough for today, right?”

Luz’s voice broke the tense silence, as well as the staredown between the Demon and the Witch; both had their attention firmly fixed on her now, King blinking, the Owl Lady raising an eyebrow.

“Before,” the chocolate-eyed girl spoke quickly, eyes fixed on the one-woman parliament, “Right before I found my Wavelength. You said that was enough for today?... doesn’t that mean we should… I dunno… break for now? Pick up tomorrow?”

For a long moment, Eda said nothing, arms folded over her stomach and expression unreadable. Slowly, though, a smile broke out over her ruby lips, and she let out a chuckle, “Clever kid, aren’t you?”

The teen beamed, “I’m learning from the best, aren’t I?”

“... King,” the woman glanced at the pup, “You took your board upstairs like I asked?”

“Yes,” he muttered angrily, “And my books.”

“I helped!” came Hooty’s muffled voice from beyond the door, making King stifle a curse.

“Good,” she gestured, “Then head on up. Luz and I need to have a chat, and then I’ll send her up after you.”

“... you promise?” he narrowed his eyes, distrusting.

“I promise; this won’t take much more than a few minutes at most,” she jabbed a thumb, “Now head on up.”

“... I’m holding you to that,” the diminutive Demon declared, then finally hopped down from the girl’s shoulder; he stopped at the threshold, pointing at Luz, “I hope you’re ready, Luz! This is going to be a VERY important lesson!”

With that, he was gone, the clicking of his claws on the hardwood disappearing into the distance.

Chuckling, Luz, folded her hands behind her back, curiously meeting Eda’s gaze as the Witch sat down on the couch, crossing her legs.

“Sooo… what is it you want to talk about?” the girl asked, curious.

“When were you going to tell me that you have ties to the DWMA?”

For a long moment, Luz wasn’t sure she’d heard the question right; shock ran through her in an explosion, its fires rising up from her guts along the length of her spine and into her throat, before the fallout of dread began to sink back down into her stomach, eyes wide and fixed on the Witch.

All of the cheer and humour had drained from the woman’s face and posture; her eyes were sharp, cold, and appraising; whatever emotions were behind those predatory golden eyes, the child couldn’t see them, her talon-like nails tapping on the fabric of the couch. The rest of her body was utterly motionless; despite the ease of her posture, Luz was distinctly aware that Eda could be on her feet in an instant, and there was nothing the girl could do if the woman decided she was a threat. 

With a single sentence, Eda had ceased to be her mentor.

Staring at her was the Witch. The Owl Lady. 

A woman with a lot of power who now had every reason to consider her a threat. 

The teen’s mind swam, struggling to force her lips to form words, “... h… how…?”

“You didn’t exactly work very hard to hide it,” Eda began, “I suspected something was up from the moment you started catching on in our initial lesson. You said it yourself - Soul Wavelength isn’t generally taught in the human realm. There’s only one place that you could reliably learn it from… and yet, you picked up on it very quickly - as if you already had a basic understanding of the mechanics, and the lesson was just refinement for you.

“These sessions have only made those suspicions stronger; you mentioned lessons from your sister, which I would assume were to help you with your Soul Wavelength,” the Witch raised a hand, gesturing towards Luz, “Which explains how you managed to find your Soul Wavelength so quickly; even among Witches, three days to find one’s Soul Wavelength is practically unheard of. 

“You might have been using flawed instructions, but you were already trying. Which is the most important aspect of unlocking Soul Wavelength,” The hand fell, Eda’s eyes narrowing, “What really clinched it, though, was that mantra of yours.”

Luz was struggling just to keep her breath under control; she couldn’t break away from those eyes, run through by their piercing glare all over again with every point that the Witch made. 

“‘A Sound Soul dwells within a Sound Mind, and a Sound Body,’” the silver owl intoned, enunciating each word slowly, as if she were invoking a spell just by speaking them, a spell more powerful than anything Luz had seen her cast so far; a chill ran down the youth’s spine, and she couldn’t suppress a shudder before the Owl Lady continued, “The mantra itself is older than the Academy - much, much older - but the Reaper took it for his own and practically made it into his signature. That in mind, I sincerely doubt you heard it from any Witch, in the Isles or in the human realm…” she raised a single finger, as if to demonstrate her point, “... and among humans, there’s only one group you possibly could have picked it up from.”

Silence. The brunette couldn’t bring herself to make so much as a sound. Every response she came up with felt like a lie, a desperate deception crafted to buy herself a few extra seconds; even if they weren’t, her throat was constricting on itself, terror’s venom rushing up from her stomach and into her windpipe, leaving her with just barely enough room to breathe. It was all Luz could do to keep herself from hyperventilating, but even then her mind was racing, rapidly painting in the vibrant oranges and purples of the Boiling Isles all the horrible fates that could befall her in an instant if the Witch so pleased.

She wouldn’t even need Magic for most of them; it would take no effort to shove the girl back into the fire, to snap her neck, to drag her outside and leave her to the mercy of the boiling rains. Each vision was more horrid than the last, and there was no doubt in the teen’s mind that for every one she involuntarily conjured, there were a thousand more ways the Owl could do away with her that were worse than she could imagine.

“... that being said,” there was no change in Eda’s expression - her tone, however, had softened, if only by a single note, “I can also tell that you aren’t a proper student.”

Somehow, that was enough to halt the parading fantasies of death in Luz’s mind; slowly, the severity seemed to drain from the Witch’s face. Frigid judgement gave way to something akin to pity, brows creased, eyes narrow, but soft, and the set slipping from her jaw.

“For everything you know, there’s another three or four things that you aren’t even aware of - things that the Academy should have taught you already,” she continued, “That, and they should have at least put you through your paces with your Soul Wavelength if you were… but you didn’t even have it unlocked. Which, considering what I noted before, means your connection is… familial?”

“... my dad and my sister,” Luz finally managed, the ash in her mouth finally beginning to crumble, “They’re… with the DWMA.”

“But you’re not.”

The teen shook her head, breaking her gaze away from the Owl Lady’s stare, eyes falling to the floor as one arm clutched the other, “No.”

Eda’s arms slipped down from the shoulders of the couch, settling in her lap, “You weren’t allowed.”

“... no,” Luz repeated, more quietly this time, “I wasn’t. Mami… she wants a normal life, for me.”

“... is that why you wanted to become a Witch?”

“... partly?” even to the child, the word felt more like a question than an answer, “I just… I wanted…”

“... a place to belong?” the Witch ventured, “Something to call your own?”

Slowly, Luz nodded - though she knew it wasn’t nearly that simple.

Nonetheless, Eda seemed to accept the explanation; the pale woman let out a deep breath, closing her eyes as she pinched the bridge of her nose. An exasperated smile slowly spread across her lips, her hand pulling away to drape across the couch’s cushions again, genuine warmth spreading through her once again, “You sure like to get yourself wrapped up in some serious messes, don’t you, kid?”

“... it’s one of the few things I’ve ever been good at,” the girl murmured, lips curling into a rueful smile of her own.

“... I get it, Luz.”

The declaration caught the teen off guard, forcing her to blink, eyes rising up to meet those golden orbs once more.

“Better than you think,” Eda assured, leaning forwards, elbows on knees, fingers interlocked in the open air, “I know what it’s like to want something for yourself. Especially when someone close to you has something that you wish you could have.”

“... you have a sister?” Luz asked.

“... we don’t get along,” the magus’ eyes fell, “Haven’t had a proper conversation with her in… centuries, now.”

“... I can’t imagine not talking that long with my sister,” the chocolate child stepped closer, then sat down beside the Owl Lady, idly staring into the hearth.

“Then why are you here?”

The question wasn’t hostile; when the apprentice met the Witch’s eyes, they were filled with a curious concern.

“... I wanna be a Witch,” Luz said simply, “Like you…”

“And I’m an enemy of the DWMA,” Eda stated, “If you become a Witch like me… wouldn’t that make you their enemy too?”

“Just by virtue of being a Witch?” the tanned teen asked, eyes wide.

“The Reaper hates Magic, Luz,” the elder woman snorted, staring into the fireplace, “He may spare the occasional child or weakling Witch, but make no mistake. He loathes Magic, and everything to do with it. If you’re a Witch, you are, and always will be, an enemy of the Reaper and his little cabal. 

“And if you become a Witch?” those golden eyes set upon her again, those ruby red lips drawn tight and thin, “... you’ll be making enemies of everyone who follows him. Your family included.”

Once again, Luz found her eyes falling to the floor, staring at the rug. She bit her lip, barely noticing the dead skin peeling away with her teeth over the roiling in her stomach, anxiety and fear surging and clashing with conflicted anger.

“... I’m not trying to dissuade you, Luz,” the Witch began, setting a hand on Luz’s shoulder, slipping the phone back into her grip, “And I’m not going to throw you out. At the very least, I’d like to teach you how to use your Soul Wavelength properly. But you need to seriously consider what you actually want. Especially considering what you already have.”

Before the girl knew it, she’d opened her phone’s photos, staring down the most recent pictures she’d taken over the course of June; her parents stared back by the dozens, eyes of chocolate and cyan mingling with warm smiles and laughter. All of a sudden they seemed so long ago, and so far away…

The elder magus watched as Luz stared down at each picture in the automatic slideshow, shifting her weight back, “I can see that there are issues; if there weren’t, we probably wouldn’t be having this conversation…” those gold talons settled on the back of Luz’s hand, comforting “... but you seem very fond of your family.”

The Witch’s apprentice raised her head, finding her mentor’s eyes. 

“... is all this,” the red-clad caster then gestured to the room around them - the candles, the hearth, the dozens of oddities on the walls and shelves, all the things that had kept filling Luz with wonder up until a few minutes ago, “Is learning Magic… really worth giving them up?...”

“... I…” 

The girl found herself entirely at a loss for words. Nothing she could think of seemed reasonable; everything that came to mind all of a sudden felt somewhere between belligerent and ungrateful, her heart having dropped to the very pit of her stomach, once again lost and alone. She couldn’t keep her head up to see what was around her in the moment; her head kept dipping, drawn again and again to stare listlessly at the screen, unable to take her eyes away from the reality that was now confronting her…

“... I can see you need to think,” slowly, Eda rose to her feet, stretching before letting out a tired sigh, glancing down at her apprentice, “I’ll leave you alone. Just… try not to keep King waiting, okay?”

“... one spell.”

Once again, silence; it took Luz a moment to realize that she had spoken, raising her head from her phone’s screen to meet the Owl Lady’s eyes once more.

When she received no response, the teen repeated, “One spell. You said you wanted to teach me how to use my Soul Wavelength. Before I decide anything, I… I wanna learn one spell.”

The Witch’s face was stony, unreadable; she just stood there for a long moment, stock still, not so much as blinking as she stared down at her student.

“... please?...” Luz couldn’t quite keep the high, begging tone out of her voice, all too close to a child desperately begging for a toy. It was only now that she felt her hands had clasped together, fingers interlocked and raised almost to her chin…

She could only imagine how she must have looked. The only thing that was missing was to be on her knees.

Finally, though, Eda managed a smile, “... Wavelength first, Luz.”

“... Wavelength… first…?” the girl echoed.

“You need to be able to use your Soul Wavelength to be able to use Magic. If you can’t shape your Wavelength, you can’t cast a spell.”

“... you promise?”

“I promise,” the Witch turned on her heel, “I’ll teach you your first spell as soon as you understand how to shape your Wavelength.”

With that, the Owl Lady strode out of the room, leaving Luz alone to ponder.


A frustrated sigh escaped the Witch’s lips as the door swung firmly shut behind her. As soon as she was alone, her whole facade went to pieces; her shoulders slumped, her bones ached, and exhaustion was seeping into her very Soul.

As if being completely unable to shrug off Lilith’s looming proverbial presence from her mind weren’t enough, there was far too much that had been sapping her energy since the Hexside incident.

Even if she hadn’t been awake for far, far too long, she also hadn’t had the chance to recover from the shielding spells she’d hastily had to cast in order to protect herself from the rain during her hasty retreat from the shores of the Lower Kneecap. The massive barrier she’d cast to protect the house was only making matters worse with how much energy it demanded; there was a reason so many people elected to build their homes from the Titan’s bones rather than stone, wood or metal, as the boiling rains in particular had a tendency to strip the Magic from even the sturdiest protective wards over time, and the bones were the only thing that seemed outright immune to effects of the weather.

Normally, Eda was confident enough in her work that she wouldn’t have bothered with the barrier, instead trusting her wards to stand up to the rain. But as things stood, she needed to be as certain as possible of the house’s protection, and the best way to do that was with her own Magic - the barrier’s multiple golden layers both repelling the rain, and muting all Wavelengths within, completely hiding the Owl House from any and all prying eyes. 

But it was cold comfort, and far from the extent of her worries. King was bound and determined to make a nuisance of himself, checking at all hours of the day to see if Luz was ready for a break in hopes of teaching her about Demons. He was darting in and out of rooms constantly, bombarding the Witch with resentful glowers and pointed barbs that she had neither the energy nor the patience to suffer through at the moment.

And to top it all off was the human herself.

Compared to constant Charybdis of Magic that was the house’s barrier, the abyssal meditation spell was a drop in the bucket - but it required significantly more concentration for the Owl Lady to maintain. Completely blocking all sight and sound, maintaining a mental link to track her apprentice’s vitals and emotions, even making sure that Luz was able to breathe was another task to constantly maintain across the long hours of each session over the past three days. Despite everything that had just occurred, Eda was quietly glad to be done with the task of drawing out the girl’s Soul Wavelength, even if it meant moving on to more overt lessons that would undoubtedly be more mentally taxing for the both of them.

Which brought her back to her current dilemma.

She’d known, of course, that Luz had some connection to the DWMA. It was the only conclusion that made any sort of logical sense when she took the girl’s foresight and knowledge into account. Eda hadn’t taken it as a personal betrayal - that child couldn’t reasonably hope to betray anyone, and had almost certainly omitted the connection out of a genuine desire for companionship as much as anything else - but nonetheless had hoped that confirming her suspicions would be enough to harden her resolve.

It hadn’t.

If anything, getting an inkling into the particulars driving Luz’s desire for Magic only made the realities of the matter all the more cruel.

It was only natural that she would want something of her own, especially when someone she clearly loved and adored so dearly already had it.

“... how long has it been since I last slept?” the Witch finally asked, kicking off her heels.

Her answer came in the form of a hoot; Owlbert had perched himself at the base of the  window at the far end of the room, and was still staring out into the rain.

“... five days…” Edalyn let out an agonized groan, “Maintaining two separate spells on top of it…”

The magus didn’t so much lay as she did simply let herself fall into the bed of branches and brambles. She couldn’t bring herself to care as twigs, thorns and random baubles were tangled in her hair or scraped at her skin, staring up into the rafters with vision that was only getting progressively more blurry.

“... Titan… no wonder everything hurts…” she mumbled, raising an arm to cover her eyes.

The Palisman hooted again; though she couldn’t hear his wings, she could feel his presence as he flew about the room, perched above her on one of the rafters.

“That’s why I’m in here, Owlbert,” she huffed, “I’m trying to get some shut-eye while I can.”

A distinctly unimpressed croon.

“No, I am not just here to sulk.”

A hoot flat enough to perfectly balance a chessboard.

“Look, would you just lay off?” Eda shoved herself to the side, rolling over so she was facedown in her nest, “I’m tired. I want to sleep. I’m not in the mood to argue with you.”

There was a brief pause before Owlbert let out a hysterical screech; it took her a moment to process the sound, but when it finally clicked, her heart froze, sending rivers of icy dread coursing through her veins as her eyes shot open, and she reached for her neck.

A mane of feathers had begun to sprout from the Owl Lady’s skin, a thick muffler that ran from her chin to collarbone; in her exhaustion, she hadn’t even felt it begin to spread.

But she did feel what came next.

Eda had to bite down on a scream as the foreign Wavelength rocked her body from within; she could feel its figurative claws ripping away at her as it tried to break free from her control, tried to force its way out of the cage that kept it imprisoned, and as her insides twisted on themselves, stretching and rearranging to fit something else altogether. Organs she hadn’t been born with swelled and grew, squeezing her lungs against her ribcage and leaving her gasping for breath before her chest cavity finally began to expand; her dress threatened to rip and shred as her shoulders contorted, muscles tearing and reforming around the bones that were sprouting from her shoulder-blades, stretching her skin like elastic as the prickling itch of sprouting feathers spread across her skin.

And all the while that Wavelength, that horrid, pitch black Wavelength sent wave after crushing wave of pain crashing through her, fracturing bone and shredding muscle only to heal it again in an instant, molding and reshaping her body into something that better fit its own purposes. She could hear it scream as it slammed against her Soul, trying to force her back, force her out, to claim her body as its own vessel…

“Owlbert!” she gasped for air in a pitch that was not her own, struggling to speak around the extra teeth that were growing from her enlarging jaw, her new talons digging into her nest as her arms thickened and elongated...

She didn’t need to finish her request; he was already swooping down, a bottle in his talons, the golden liquid within bringing a wave of panicked hope as only a lifeline can. He landed in front of her without so much as a sound, plucking the cork from its neck and tossing it aside before scooting back out of her reach.

The Witch snatched it up in an instant, forcing herself onto her back, jaws thrown open wide and letting the liquid pour straight down her throat. She was well-accustomed to the taste by now, but even if she hadn’t been, the acidic sting on her tongue and the taste of bile and pus was nothing in the face of the sheer agony that was wracking the rest of her body.

As soon as it made contact, she felt herself convulse; she collapsed to the bottom of the nest, muscles spasming as all control was lost.

Her muscles shrank; her bones receded. Feathers fell from her skin in clumps, all too similar to discarded mange. The black Wavelength waned, giving her room to breathe-

And Eda smashed it with her own Wavelength with every ounce of force she could muster, forcing it down, down, down into the depths where it belonged; with every pulse, its struggling, scrabbling, and screeching grew more desperate, fighting with everything it had to get loose from her grip.

She didn’t relent. She just kept going, knowing this wouldn’t stop until one force won out over the other.

“Get… back… IN THERE!” she roared, redoubling the force of her Soul one final time.

The black Wavelength was finally forced all the way back; it sank back into the dark, one final scream echoing in her mind as the only evidence that it had ever been there… aside from the pain, at least. 

“... at least six broken ribs…” Eda managed between wheezes, spitting a mouthful of blood as it oozed from her split gums; she was so familiar with the resulting damage by now that she could identify more than half of her wounds by location and the severity of the pain alone, “Broken or displaced bones in both arms and legs… including the hands and feet… both shoulderblades splintered… at least four torn major muscles… at least my spine feels mostly okay this time… hips and elbows…” she grit her teeth as she tried to push herself up… only to fail, all four of her limbs giving out in painful protest and causing her to sink painfully back to the bottom of the nest, “... definitely dislocated…”

She could barely articulate her fingers, much less lift her arms; just trying to curl her hand brought unspeakable agony, forcing her to fight and flinch just to prop herself up against the edge of the nest…

“... Flourish and… fucking Decay…” the Owl Lady slumped back down as she cursed, “Can’t this at least heal me on its way out?...”

A negligible weight landed atop her head, Owlbert’s claws gently flexing as he tried to maintain his balance; his crooning was distinctly perturbed as he rubbed his head against her, clearly trying to tell if she was starting to recover.

Her body would heal, in time; it was one of the few genuine benefits of her condition. Already, the unpleasant sensation of muscle and bone pulling against each other as they tried to realign and knit themselves back together was tangible beneath the pain - the same process that snapped her body back together after clean cuts and rendered most of her wounds mere annoyances rather than genuine concerns.

In her current state, however, just letting herself heal would take far too much time. And time was not a luxury that Eda could currently afford.

“... elbows first,” she managed, “... after that, I can try to… manage the rest…”

Her instructions given, the tiny carving immediately set to work, hopping down to her right arm; immediately, he was surrounded by a faint blue glow, the telltale sign of Healing Magic, his small, but gentle Wavelength soothing her limb and eliciting a genuine sigh of relief from his partner.

She closed her eyes, flaring her own Soul…

Only to find herself being bitten for her troubles, the owl carving glaring up at her in warning.

The Clawthorne couldn’t bring herself to react. She just stared right back down at her Palisman, eyes half lidded, “I know… what you’re going to say… I don’t… want to hear it…”

He hooted his concerns anyways, flapping his wings to hop over her waist, and nestled in the crook of her other arm, setting to work once more.

“I know…” she hissed, partially from pain, partially from frustration.

Somehow, he raised an eyebrow, clearly conveying his doubt.

“I know, Owlbert,” she reiterated, even through the pain of breathing brought by damaged ribs and organs, “... I know using Magic… in this state… makes it worse. But what else am I supposed to do?... I can’t just leave all this to you… I’ve done this enough times… I can recover.”

The owl gave a belligerent headbutt against her hand - a motion that normally would have been harmless, but in this situation jostled her broken and dislodged bones, making her stifle another yelp of pain.

“... you did that on purpose…” the magus snarled, teeth bared, now having half a mind to stick the Palisman to his staff and stuff him in a closet once she could stand.

He met her baleful glare with one of his own, defiant even as he healed the Witch’s hand. Slowly, anger faded, and she leaned back against the edge of the nest with a sigh.

“... I know I was reckless…” Eda confessed, rubbing her fingers across the owl’s wooden feathers once she was sure she could do so without any pain, “... but it’s not like I’ve had a lot of options… this storm’s just… upended everything…”

His expression softened; but when he crooned again, his tone was still scolding as he perched himself on her fingers - a move clearly made to keep her from trying to heal herself on her own.

“‘No excuse not to sleep’…” she muttered, “... You say that like I’ve been avoiding it…”

The carving shook his head, seeming to know better than to argue; instead, he turned to a different topic, ruffling his feathers as he worked his way up her arm.

“You know I can’t drop the barrier right now…” she scolded, “It’s too important… right now, we’ve got nowhere to run… so our best option is to hide… and keep our hiding place safe...

The owl rotated his head almost all the way around to glance knowingly at the bottle, as if to indicate the alternative. He then turned back to face her, tilting his head quizzically.

“... look… none of this is ideal…” Eda began, “But if I heal myself right now… get some sleep… and take a little extra elixir… we can wait out the rest of this storm… that way, I’ll at least recover some of my energy…”

The Palisman frowned, clearly disapproving of the plan she’d laid out.

“It’s our safest option…” the Witch insisted, “I’m not putting all of us at risk… because of my problems…”

Owlbert’s stern hoot made it evident that he believed she’d already done just that.

“Owlbert, please…” she managed, trying to push herself into a sitting position once again, despite the pain, “... for King?… for Luz?…”

The wooden bird of prey continued to glower at her for a long moment, still firmly in disagreement with her chosen course of action. Nonetheless, he grudgingly returned to work, starting his way down her ribcage.

“... thank you, Owlbert…” the Owl Lady sighed, finally flaring her Soul and adding her own Wavelength to his efforts.

An aggrieved hoot.

“... fine… we’ll prioritize finding ingredients… once the storm’s over…”

With that, the two fell silent, slowly healing the Clawthorne’s broken body as the night and storm wore on…


It was rare for Death City to have rain.

Blair had expected that; given the city’s location, it would have been stranger if the city somehow received regular rainfall. With Nevada constituting the most southwestern state in the North American Midwest on the wrong side of the Rockies, Death City was a frying pan during the day, a freezer in the night, and painfully dry the whole way through - dry enough that the cat went through a whole water bottle each day.

It wasn’t wholly unpleasant, mind; the sunrises and sunsets were brilliant, and the fact that most of the city was underground meant there was remarkably little light pollution obscuring the stars, giving the cat an excellent view of the cosmos when the sky wasn’t overcast.

Which only served to make the storm all the more disconcerting.

Blair idly spun the wine in her glass as she stared out the window through the twisted streets; dark as it was already, the roads, buildings and the walls that wrapped around the entirety of the city were all obscured by the thick haze that clung to the cobblestones. She could barely see to the street below, and what she could see was rushing with small-scale rivers, the myriad of sewer grates not quite enough to handle the sheer amount of water that was being cast down from the heavens.

The only thing that was visible in the distance was the Academy itself, and that was in large part due to the light of its gargantuan candles, which remained lit even now, keeping the building’s towering silhouette profoundly visible against the storm clouds.

She let out an uneasy sigh, taking a swallow of the dark red liquid, “At least it’s not boiling…”

Blair reached out with her free hand, pushing her laptop open again. It took a moment to re-establish its connection to the apartment’s somewhat shoddy internet, reloading her email and messages. Once again, however, she found herself disappointed when the only thing she found was a text from Risa, letting her know that Chupacabra’s was closed for the evening and that she had the night off.

The free time did nothing to soothe her nerves. The pitter patter on the panes from the rain was only serving to make her restless - and with nowhere to go and no one to visit, she was stuck in Maka and Soul’s apartment, checking every few minutes for an update she was slowly realizing, with no small amount of dread, that she wasn’t going to receive.

“... I asked them for daily updates,” she said, setting the glass down as she stared at the last email they’d sent her, the curt message from the Scythe and Meister barely five words long, but enough to put her on edge - especially seeing as they’d managed to track down their target.

That had been nearly five days ago, now.

It was hard not to come to the natural conclusion that something had gone wrong.

Blair snapped her laptop back shut, shuddering; she truly wanted to believe that everything was fine, that the two had simply lost track of the time goofing off in Italy and forgotten to keep her updated… but that simply wasn’t like either of them. Even if Maka was still ill-at-ease with the Magical Cat’s presence in their daily lives, she was still too diligent to let an update slip out of spite or carelessness, and despite Soul’s indolent, carefree facade, she knew he cared too much about the people around him to just up and forget because he was having fun.

Even if it somehow had slipped their minds, they wouldn’t have forgotten for five days in a row.

Since the third day without an update, the temptation to hop on her pumpkin and speed off to Venice had bubbled away in the Black Forest Witch’s stomach, a cauldron of anxious concern that made it nearly impossible to keep herself in the moment.

Unfortunately, there was precious little to be done. Even if she left right this second, she likely wouldn’t reach Venice for a week without the help of the portals… and even then, those portals brought about their own dangers - dangers that she couldn’t afford to take lightly.

“... I wish I could get in touch with Spirit; maybe he has some idea of what’s going on…”

The only response she received was the endless percussion of the rain.

… no… there was something else now.

Her ears twitched, the sound of footsteps echoing just above the sound of the raindrops; slowly, the cat’s golden eyes drifted to the door at the end of the hall, which had remained closed since Soul and Maka had departed for their mission abroad.

It only took her a second to confirm that the footsteps were indeed in the hallway beyond - a single set, shuffling slowly across the hardwood as if to limit the amount of noise they were making, for fear of waking up the neighbours at such a late hour. Closer and closer they came, until they stopped right outside the door.

Blair didn’t move.

She simply flexed her fingers, setting down her wine glass and crossing her legs, waiting either for the knock, or for the attempted break in.

Neither came.

Instead, there was a metallic jingle, and the turn of the lock.

The Magical cat’s heart skipped a beat as light streamed in from the hall; the small, but unmistakable figure stumbled in, and closed the door behind them, once again plunging the apartment into near total darkness.

Blair was on her feet well before the silhouette could reach for the lightswitch. She approached, heart flooded with relief as she stopped dead in the middle of the hallway as the figure mechanically kicked off their shoes, and hung their signature, tattered coat up on the hook that had been hung on the sliding closet doors.

“Maka.”

The young Meister inclined her head, before slowly looking up; her green eyes stared, unseeing, for a long moment before she finally registered the cat’s presence, her response a nearly mute mumble, “... Blair…”

“... good evening, you,” the woman flashed her fangs, flouncing her curls as she leaned against the wall, “You had me worried.”

“... sorry…” Maka managed, her gaze falling back to the closet as she haphazardly shoved her shoes back in with her feet, “... things… kinda got away from us.”

“It’s alright,” the cat assured, swiftly picking up on the preteen’s mood and dropping her teasing tone entirely, “I just like to make sure you’re okay. That’s all.”

This time, the student didn’t respond. She just closed the closet door, and proceeded to stare into nothing, her hand latched onto the handle.

“... where’s Soul?” Blair glanced at the door, “Is he hanging out with Black Star tonight?”

The depth and speed of the breath was accompanied by a stiffening of the spine, Maka’s whole body seeming to convulse before she hunched; she curled in on herself, her grip on the closet door tightening and her free hand wrapping around her stomach. Her pigtails obscured her face from view, but Blair didn’t need to see her face to tell that something was wrong.

“... Maka?” she prompted, taking a step closer.

Still, the girl refused to speak; she just shook her head, her breaths deep, but shaky.

Slowly, the purple-haired cat reached down, cupping the pale girl’s chin; Maka didn’t fight as her face was angled back up towards the woman’s, her expression nothing short of haunted.

“... Maka,” Blair kept her voice as gentle as possible, but she wasn’t able to take the worry out of her tone, “Where’s Soul?”

“... hospital wing,” the girl fought to keep the crack out of her words, but even so they came out in a croak, “Won’t let me see him…”

With those six words, everything clicked. 

The lack of contact, Maka’s demeanour, Soul’s absence…

“Oh, Maka…” Blair reached out to wrap her arms around the girl’s shoulders, “I’m so sorr-”

Don’t.

The snap was a single harsh, cold note that hung in the air between them; Maka had stepped clear out of Blair’s reach, back nearly against the door and her hands raised as if to block the cat’s arms. Distress danced in the young girl’s eyes behind a mask of stern stone, failing to hide her swift breaths or suppress the tremble of terror that ran through her body - though terror of what, Blair couldn’t be sure.

“... just…” the preteen tried to muster some confidence, but the cat could only hear the frightened child underneath, “… just don’t...

“... okay,” the woman lowered her arms, keeping them just raised enough so Maka could see her empty hands, stepping back to the edge of the hallway, “I’m not going to do anything, Maka. I won’t do anything.”

Slowly, Maka’s breaths began to ease; her hands fell from their outstretched position, slowly clutching at her sides as those green eyes fell once more. She leaned back against the door, the fear draining from her posture and expression in favour of an exhausted listlessness, staring blankly at the floor.

“... I… don’t suppose you want to talk about it?” Blair ventured.

The girl shook her head.

“... would you like me to make you something?” the Magic cat offered, “I got baking chocolate the other day. Would you like some hot chocolate?”

“... no,” Maka managed, pushing up and away from the door, “Thanks, but no.”

“... alright,” the Black Forest feline shifted to the side, letting Maka pass by her and into the living room, “... do you… still have school in the morning?” 

Maka stopped in the second hallway leading to her and Soul’s rooms; she stood, silent, for a long moment, the only sound being that of her shuddering breaths.

Finally, though, she brought a hand to her forehead, sighing, “... mandatory rest days for the next little while… just as well. Homework’s probably piled up…”

“... I’ll take care of breakfast tomorrow,” the cat decided, “Hopefully the storm’ll clear up by morning. Maybe they’ll let us visit Soul?”

“... maybe…”

“... and I’m sure your friends are worried about you. Maybe-”

“Blair.”

At this, Maka’s tone had sharpened again; she craned her neck, the look in her eyes some attempt at a glare, but too tired, too anxious, to really pull it off.

“... please,” she started, “... I know you mean well, but please… just stop.

“... alright,” the cat nodded, “... just… let me know if you need anything. Okay?”

“... I’ll be fine,” the girl looked ahead again, head hung against her collarbone, “I just… need some sleep…” 

The resolute tone was forced - but Blair knew better than to argue.

Instead, she nodded.

“... okay. Goodnight Maka,” Blair wished, “I hope you sleep well.”

“... ‘night, Blair.”

With that, Maka padded away without another word, leaving the cat alone in the kitchen.

Slowly, the black-clad cat returned to her seat, boots clicking on the tile; she picked up her wine glass once again, swirling the dark red liquid out of habit before taking another idle sip. She was torn between following Maka to her room in cat form and trying to snuggle up alongside her in hopes that her purring presence would be of some comfort, and heading out into the rain to the Academy in hopes of finding Soul; however, she could hear that the girl had already curled herself up beneath the covers, and would not take kindly to any further interruptions to her night. And even if the Black Forest Witch were to go to the Academy, she couldn’t even begin to guess where Soul was, or what was so wrong with him that he couldn’t come home, and had Maka so thoroughly distraught.

“... what the Hell happened out there?...” Blair asked aloud, pressing her claws into her brow, leaning forwards on the table as a helpless frustration blossomed in her bosom. She was completely unable in the moment to do anything, anything at all, for either of these children that she had gotten so attached to over the course of a few short weeks.

Slowly, however, the cat settled back in her chair, emptying her glass entirely before letting out a deep, calming breath, tempering the flames of frustration back into embers. It wouldn’t do any good to drive herself in circles at this point - especially not when Maka needed her, whether the preteen wanted to acknowledge it or not. 

Whatever had happened in Venice, it could wait. Until Maka opened up on her own, or the Magical feline’s next meeting with Spirit when he inevitably returned to Chupacabra’s.

Until then, Blair could only hope that patience would prove itself a virtue.

Notes:

No Spanish to translate in this chapter, but all translation work in this story is done by maho_kat on Archive of Our Own! Please be sure to give her a great big thank you for all her hard work!

So that's this chapter down. And I managed to keep my Thursday promise this time! Maybe I'll actually be able to keep this up! Next chapter's not quite finished though, and this is shaping up to be a tricky arc. This chapter in particular gave me a little bit of trouble because I kept going back and forth over whether having this discussion between Luz and Eda now was a good idea. But honestly, it doesn't make a whole lot of sense for Eda to just let it sit, especially when she's actively trying to get Luz out of her house - this just makes it all the more abundant to the Owl Lady that doing so is for EVERYONE'S safety, not just Luz's. But, we all know it's just not gonna be that simple... heheheh.

... as a side note... I've finally seen the Owl House's final episodes.

... I know I rag a lot... about the limitations the Owl House faced under Disney? How it wasn't allowed to be as dark as Dana wanted, about how there was so much demand for Hexside shenanigans, about the cancellation of season 3 and the fight to get it back... but that doesn't mean I don't love this show. Because I do love it, with all my heart - and these three final episodes encapsulate perfectly, everything I love about it. They're nothing short of a collective masterpiece, and despite their limitations, are probably the three strongest episodes in the entire series.

Despite everything, the Owl House went out on the highest possible note that it could. I have so many feelings about the show and the finale in particular, and it's gonna take me a while to sort them all out, I think. Hell, I'm not ashamed to say I was crying on and off the whole night after finally finishing it all, especially considering how sad I am to know that it's over. But suffice to say, I think I can wrap it up in five easy words.

I love the Owl House.

And I hope I can continue to show that love in the days to come.

... hoo! Sorry about that. Didn't mean to let things get that heavy, but hey, sometimes that happens.

Thank you so much for giving this a read, everyone, as well as for your patience and understanding with me. Please be sure to leave your thoughts below! I hope you enjoyed the twenty ninth chapter of Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance!

Chapter 30: Brave Face, Foolish Front

Notes:

I do not own Owl House or Soul Eater.

If I did, I think the curse would be getting a lot more exploration. Which curse?... who knows?

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

The first thing he noticed was the aching.

It was embedded through the entirety of the Witchling’s body; it had been staked into his muscles, into his joints, into his very bones, deeply and painfully enough that he was more surprised that it hadn’t woken him sooner. Every breath came with a fresh spike of pain through his ribs, and despite the soft covers that surrounded and cradled him, they did nothing to actually alleviate any of the aches, his very heartbeat pounding away at the pitch walls of slumber, light flooding in as he slowly opened his eyes.

He groaned, clutching at his skull with one hand and propping himself up with an elbow; his vision swam, the light only serving to further disorient him. He didn’t remember his room in the palace being nearly this bright; and for that matter, where was the heartbeat, the familiar, omnipresent rhythm? His sense of touch was still uncomfortably acute, so it should have been there… had he been on a mission elsewhere in the Isles?...

“... hey, you. You’re finally awake.”

The voice was unfamiliar, but the Golden Guard could only muster a grimace. Blindly, he reached, groping for the bedside table that should have had his mask; why couldn’t he fully extend his arm? 

“Give me a moment,” he grunted, struggling to regain some measure of composure even amidst the drifting haze.

“Take all the time you need. You’re disoriented, and clearly need a moment to adjust,” the voice was gruff, masculine, but not unsympathetic, “I understand that. That’s the kind of man I was.”

Unable to find the mask, the boy gave up, forcing his eyes all the way open. Vision still swimming, he certainly didn’t recognize the room around him - all white walls illuminated by the orange glow of candlelight, with only a single window on the far wall that was totally dark, a heavy iron door near the far right corner of the room.

The only other figure in the room was a tall, muscular man sitting in a chair in the other corner with his arms crossed; long dark pants and a simple white shirt were accompanied by black braids and tattoos, and a white headband wrapped around his forehead.

But what got the Guard’s attention was the fact that the man was very clearly dead.

His skin had turned a dark blue, his lips pulled back in a snarl that didn’t seem voluntary, exposing slated white teeth; his eyes were milky, having gone totally white and blind. Despite the corpse having indicated his head as if to make eye contact, the eyes remained still, unmoving, creating an uncanny disconnect between the earnestness of the man’s body language and the utter vacancy in his actual eyes.

And yet, he very clearly still had his Soul - and a powerful one at that, bearing deep, earthy tones and a beat that the boy could only describe as patient, the steadiness of it oddly comforting despite the condition of its owner.

No mere skeleton or bound ghost.

A proper zombie - the product of some of the darkest Magics that the Emperor had forbidden while establishing the Titan’s Empire.

The Golden Guard shot a glare at the body, his voice a low, cold threat, “Your Witch better have a damn good reason for using necromancy instead of an Abomination.”

The corpse didn’t respond as the boy slid his legs out from under the covers, grimacing as his feet reached the floor; the padding was warm, but certainly not comfortable. It lacked the stability of wood, stone or bone, though it didn’t bother him nearly as much as not being able to remember how or why he was here.

“Full report,” he demanded, focusing his attention down as he attempted to stand.

“... you need to lie back down,” the zombie’s tone was equal parts warning and concern, “You’re still recovering; you’re not ready to stand yet.”

“Don’t you talk back to me,” the Witchling snapped, refocusing on the zombie, “I said ‘full report.’ Where are we, and-!?”

He tried to take a step-

Only for his legs to buckle beneath him, sending him careening towards the floor as the world twisted on itself. In an instant, the zombie was on his feet, arms outstretched; the cold, lifeless hands caught him before he could hit the ground, gripping him by the shoulders and gently pulling him back up.

“Easy,” the cadaver stated, rising to his full height as he dusted the boy off, “You’re still recovering from your fight with the Demon Sword. You-”

The rest of the zombie’s words were lost as the Golden Guard’s eyes snapped open; a sudden cold clarity washed over him with the flood of memory.

The starless nights in the city of Venice-

The massacre at the church-

The Meister and Weapon-

The Demon Sword-

The Witch-

The Death Scythe-

There was only one conclusion to draw.

He’d been taken prisoner by the DWMA, and this was his guard.

He didn’t even try to listen to the rest of the zombie’s speech.

Instead, the Witchling drove both hands up and out; his forearms smashed into the corpse’s, breaking the zombie’s grip and shattering the molds that he only now realized had been wrapped around his arms. Entirely on impulse, ignoring the pain and pressure each pace put on his body, the Guard’s left arm wrapped around the cadaver’s right, trapping it against his ribs; his right arm rose up past his face to his shoulder, fingers extended to replicate a blade, and he swung with all his might, his Soul Wavelength already pulsing down the length of his arm. 

He couldn’t muster Soul Force without jeopardizing his body further than it already was; the impact would jar his whole body and risk his bones and muscles.

But that wasn’t the only way to use one’s Soul Wavelength.

With remarkable speed, however, the corpse countered; he caught the Golden Guard’s arm at the wrist before he could complete his swing. The Witchling’s Wavelength bit into the blue skin like an actual blade, sinking into the hand and only coming to a halt when the Zombie ran his own Wavelength in a countercurrent through his bones, stopping Guard’s hand and Soul Wavelength mere centimeters away from the talking cadaver’s neck. 

The cadaver grunted, jaw somehow seeming to clench even tighter, “Breaking my grip and going straight for my head with absolutely no hesitation… with a technique as advanced as Soul Edge… at your age…” a note tinged his voice, though the youth couldn’t quite tell what it was, “I see why Stein warned me against undoing your restraints. You really are a soldier, aren’t you?”

The Guard offered no response. Instead, he raised a foot, a kick aimed for one of the zombie’s knees-

Only to find his other leg taken out from under him, his grip releasing and Wavelength lost as he spun face-first into the white blankets and mattress, the zombie promptly pinning him firmly against what he now realized must be the human equivalent to a healer’s recovery cot.

“Didn’t even notice that you ripped out your IV, did you?” he queried, “That needs to be treated. I’d rather you not get sick during your stay.”

Still, the blond boy gave no answer. Instead, he stilled, glaring up at his captor with cold fury, ready to make another move the instant he let his guard down…

“... look,” the blue body began, “I’ll be blunt. You’re wounded; you’re behind enemy lines; and you’ve been captured by your enemy. I’ve been in your position before, and believe me when I say that being belligerent is not going to help you in this situation. The harder you fight, the harder we’re going to have to keep you in here, and that’s not going to benefit anyone. Even if you did beat me, you’d then have nowhere to go.

“It doesn’t benefit you, because you by yourself cannot make us waste any significant portion of our resources. And it doesn’t benefit us, because we do not know who you are, or what your objectives may be; we can only make guesses based on your actions, and on your equipment.”

The Witchling grit his teeth, breaking his gaze. So they did take his staff…

“At the very least, even if you just feign cooperation, you have a lot more to gain here by taking it easy and not picking a fight the moment you wake up,” the corpse concluded, “All this in mind… can we at the very least agree to not try to kill each other?”

The Golden Guard said nothing; he hated to admit it, but the cadaver was right on every account. Blind resistance to the enemy wasn’t bravery - it was stupidity, opportunity squandered for the sake of worthless bravado.

The alternative, however, was the fine line that stood between necessary cooperation and further compromising his already precarious situation. The moment he directly contributed to a conversation, withholding information of any sort immediately became that much more difficult. Every word would make it significantly harder to stop talking, and give his opponents that much more to probe him with.

He absolutely could not risk letting the DWMA discover the Boiling Isles. Not even with all the portals shut.

… but he also couldn’t just do nothing. Someone was trying to make a Kishin.

He needed to be cautious, certainly, but he also needed to explore every available avenue to escape back to the Demon Realm. 

Finally, he met the cadaver’s eyes, and offered a stiff nod of assent.

Slowly, the weight and pressure pulled away, and those cold hands gently gripped him, helping him up and back onto the bed with a surprising lack of hostility, considering their earlier clash.

The young Witch was finally taking himself in; clad in a light blue sheet that ran from his collarbone down nearly to his feet, he suddenly felt the heat of the room around him even with the light fabric, the very air almost too warm to breathe. Underneath, he could feel that the whole of his body had been wrapped in bandages, right down to his wrists and ankles. Some of the bandages around his right wrist had been severed by his Wavelength, causing some of them to unravel, exposing both the pale skin and faint scars left behind from his clash with the Demon Sword. Blood was seeping down the length of his arm, likely from a re-opened wound, causing the bandages to stick uncomfortably to his skin and dyeing the fabric a deep red that probably should have been more distressing than it was.

The room, for that matter, seemed designed as much to keep him from harming himself as it was to keep him in; the walls, ceiling and floor were all coated in a thick layer of padding. In the corner, the only place where the padding gave way to tile, a sink and toilet had been set in place, along with a nozzle and a drain, but no form of bathtub; additionally, the far wall appeared to have a built-in mirror, though he hardly needed to guess that it was in fact a one-way window - there was no need for a mirror that large in a room like this otherwise. On the wall perpendicular to the window was a large armoured door, and in one of the corners of the ceiling, there was an odd contraption he could not immediately identify, though he could quickly guess its purpose - its glass eye was fixed firmly upon him, a red light blinking away and indicating some kind of activity.

Multiple layers of security and surveillance.

He had to fight down a grimace as he settled back against the pillows, gaze lingering a second too long on the broken, discarded molds that had been holding his arms in place - too flimsy to be restraints, they must have been some sort of horribly inefficient healing aid. 

How did humans live with the reality of having to spend weeks, months, or even years recovering from their wounds? Healing Magic may not be omnipotent, especially in the face of curses, but it certainly made life infinitely easier in countless ways…

“... so,” the zombie returned to his seat, dragging it closer before sitting down, “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to tell me your name?”

The Guard met those milky eyes with a glower, brow furrowed and jaw set.

“... alright. It’s only polite for me to introduce myself first; that’s the kind of man I was,” the dead man walking brought his hand to his chest, “My name is Sid Barret. I was an instructor at Death Weapon Meister Academy, and a Three Star Meister. You are currently in the custody of the DWMA.”

Slowly, the boy crossed his arms, eyes narrowing. He did his best to settle into a state of relative neutrality, but he couldn’t quite take all the aggression out of his posture, shoulders set forwards and brow angrily furrowed.

“... still nothing to say?... it’ll be easier for both of us if I at least know what to call you.”

The youth didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He just kept his gaze firmly fixed upon the cadaver.

“... suit yourself,” the corpse sighed, “I guess that means we’ll have to move on without it,” somehow, his expression seemed to harden, the set of his jaw and brow shifting ever so slightly, “What exactly were you doing in Venice, Italy?”

The Witchling said nothing.

“... considering your clash with the Demon Sword, I’m assuming that you’re not associated with it - or the Witch that carried it away,” the zombie extrapolated, “Additionally, although this isn’t relevant to the questioning, you saved the lives of two of my students; for that, you have my sincere thanks.”

The Golden Guard’s mind flashed back to the grey-haired girl and the pale Weapon she had been cradling; for a moment, he found himself studying the rigor-mortis ridden expression of the zombie, trying to discern his precise intentions in mentioning the two. 

A deliberate ploy, to garner goodwill?... somehow, the boy doubted it was that simple.

Nonetheless, he remained silent, refusing to allow his expression to so much as soften.

“... but by the same token,” again, that tone hardened, “that doesn’t mean your intentions are good. We don’t know precisely how much of the Demon Sword’s actions you witnessed. Were you present when the massacre occurred?”

This time, the blond boy had to bite down on the urge to protest his innocence. In all truth, the Guard had sensed the Madness Wavelength as soon as it had appeared, but had been unable to intervene in the bloodbath that had occurred in the moments after, Soul after Soul after Soul consumed by the Palisman Blade. By the time he’d finally traversed the rooftops, cursing his self-imposed restriction on flying all the while, there had been no one left to save.

No one but the Weapon and Meister that had arrived minutes after him.

Some small part of him was still cursing himself for getting involved. It really did seem that no blessing granted went without a curse.

Still, the Witchling maintained his silence. He simply stared at the corpse, unwilling to let anything beyond mild irritation colour his expression and posture.

“... I have to say, I was hoping you’d be a little bit more cooperative,” his interrogator started. He opened his mouth, as if to say more-

Only to be interrupted by the sound of the door opening.

“In all fairness, Sid, he has only just now regained consciousness.”

The voice alone, regardless of its gentle tone, was enough to make the boy’s skin prickle beneath the bandages; the woman strode into the room, clad in a long black dress covered by a white overcoat. It was all he could do to maintain his composure as his eyes traced the bob of dark gold hair, the long bangs that framed either side of her face braided together to fall down the center of her chest like a pendant. One hand was wrapped around a clipboard, her fingernails painted black with white arrows streaking down from her cuticles to their sharp tips, similar silver arrows wrapping around her waist in a belt. A warm smile graced her lips, but its warmth utterly failed to reach her golden eyes, her gaze nearly enough to force him to squirm all on its own.

One look was all he needed to know precisely who this was.

“He’s probably still in some amount of shock,” she stated, turning the page of her clipboard as if it were the most natural thing in the world. She fixed her gaze upon him, lips pulling into a wider smile, “Really, I’m surprised that you’re even capable of moving. But please, you really shouldn’t; as it is, we’re going to have to check to make sure you haven’t reopened any of your wounds, or inflicted further damage to your fractures.”

“Doctor Gorgon,” the zombie stated stupidly, confirming that he was completely unaware that he was in the same room as a Witch.

“Really, Sid,” she chided, her expression scolding as she turned to glare at him, “Undoing his restraints before he even woke up? Just what were you thinking?

The talking cadaver raised his hands, helpless, “He’s already in his cell and I thought it would reduce the overall damage; if he woke up restrained, he might very well have tried to force the issue with his Soul Wavelength, and if he did that, then any damage he would do to his body would be even worse than it is now!”

“Which is still a better outcome than the potential alternatives,” the hidden Witch countered cooly, “A re-killed teacher, and potentially worse, a powerful Sorcerer running amok about the campus. Besides, his struggles are precisely what the sedatives I gave you were for. You should have administered them the moment he tried to stand up.”

The zombie held her gaze for a long moment before his eyes dropped to the floor. All of his former energy seemed to have been sapped from him entirely, his tone and posture thoroughly chastised, “... I’m sorry, Doctor. I will defer to your judgement from now on.”

“Good,” she nodded, satisfied, before turning her gaze back to the boy in the bed. Her smile returned, a gesture of comfort that did nothing to hide the daggers in her eyes.

He nearly choked on his next breath, finally feeling his composure crack; he didn’t dare break his gaze away from those golden gold discs, unable to stop his trembling. He swallowed, debating whether to scream or to lunge; if he went for her now, he could potentially force her to break her Soul Protect, expose her. If he did that, then the chaos that followed would-

‘Don’t do anything stupid, Golden Guard.'

He stiffened at the sudden echo of the woman’s voice in his mind. There was a distinctly sadistic edge to her tone, a dark amusement that sank a stake of terror into his gut… but it was nothing compared to the realizations that she knew who he was, or that there was a link between them, a conduit that at the very least allowed her to directly transmit her thoughts to him.

Her Soul Protect was clearly still in place; looking at her, the Witch’s Soul gave off absolutely no hints of Magic, the dark purples seeming entirely innocuous despite the steady strength of her actual Wavelength. That alone spoke to the woman’s skill, that she could maintain that much strength and a Magical link without giving so much as a hint of her true nature, and it only made him all the more uneasy - especially since he couldn’t tell what precisely the link was supposed to do, or how strong it was.

Was she reading his thoughts? Or was it just an intimidation tactic?

All the while, she spoke gently, her tone entirely incongruous with the message she had sent, “I know that this has been a… difficult experience for you so far. But that doesn’t mean we can just throw caution to the wind; I can’t very well perform your checkup and whatever treatments you might need under the threat that you’ll take my head off if I make a wrong move, now, can I?”

The message came across loud and clear, the threat so thoroughly shrouded that the idiot carcass standing behind her likely thought it was an olive branch.

“I’m not going to insist on restraining or sedating you,” she continued, as if she were genuinely offering him some say in the matter, “Provided, of course, that you don’t attempt anything strenuous, or make any threats towards our staff. The moment either occurs, I will not hesitate to have you sedated. As it is, you should be confined to bed rest; you’re in no condition to be up and running around. Do you understand?”

The Golden Guard deliberately kept himself from swallowing, forcing himself to let his eyes drift briefly back to the zombie before landing on the elder Witch again.

She knew who he was.

Moreover, she had already cast a spell that allowed for some kind of mental communication, even through her Soul Protect - which implied she was either even more powerful than the reports he’d read on her had led him to believe, or she’d cast a spell on him while was unconscious, neither of which he particularly wanted to consider.

He was in the palm of her hand, and there was nothing that he could currently do about it - or at least, nothing that wouldn’t get him killed.

He couldn’t afford that. Not now.

He had to make it back alive. No matter the cost.

Finally, the boy gave another stiff nod of assent, hoping she couldn’t see the fear stirring in his Soul.

“... good,” she seemed to relax slightly, playing the part of a humble healer with an ease and grace that completely concealed her power and malice. She knelt, picking up one of the casts, “Then my first order of business is treating your wound - you really shouldn’t have ripped out that IV - and making sure you haven’t rebroken anything. If you’ll just lay back?”

Reluctantly, the Witchling obeyed, head sinking back into the pillow, though he could barely feel the pain past his anxiousness.

“Thank you,” the elder Witch reached past the bedframe, pressing a button. All at once, it contracted, narrowed, lowered,  the sound of whirring gears and parts beneath him as it was converted from a cot to a stretcher, parts of the frame rising up on either side to form railings - undoubtedly only there to keep a patient from slipping out of bed by accident, but to the Guard, it only served to turn the contraption into a cage. A sentiment that only swelled as she pulled the stretcher out from the wall, the wheels rolling across the padded floor with a disconcerting smoothness.

“Sid,” she addressed the zombie, “Would you be so kind as to join us?”

“Of course, Doctor Gorgon,” he agreed, still entirely under the impression that it was for her protection, “I would be happy to.”

The blue cadaver took hold of the bed, and wheeled it out of the armoured door behind the Witch, their footsteps echoing in the dark hallways. The Guard did his best to keep track of their location, but quickly found himself disoriented by both his physical discomfort and the path that they were taking, unable to commit all the twists and turns to memory through his pain and emotional nausea. They turned corner after corner, until he was suddenly blinded by a stream of light; a series of open windows set into the wall gave him his first good look at the world beyond his cell.

What he saw made his stomach twist itself into knots.

The sky was blue - a shade of blue he’d never seen before, so vibrant and brilliant that it made his eyes water just to look at it. The frankly horrifying visage of the sun let out heaving, silent laughs as it traced its path through the empty expanse, not a single cloud in sight. Below, the city sprawled in an endless maze of buildings and roads; practically everything seemed to be made of cobblestone, winding its way up the hill in more dead ends and back streets than he could count up towards the building he was currently in, waves of heat rising from the countless setts and seeming to distort the city, making it warp and dance like some sick Illusionist’s painting. It seemed to stretch on for miles, until finally, his eyes found the wall.

And more importantly, the desert beyond it.

The dunes stretched as far as the eye could see, waves of sand that rose and fell so painfully slowly they could have been frozen in time. Nothing ran across the grains, nothing flew to cast a shadow over the endless dust - as though every creature could look upon this place and know instinctively who it belonged to, and fled in fear for their lives.

“My apologies for the lack of windows in your cell,” the corpse started, “It’s a security measure. I’m sure that if you maintain good behaviour, we can move you to more hospitable accommodations.”

The boy didn’t respond. He was too busy staring out the open windows, across the city streets and distant deserts, mind racing like a brownie desperately trying to escape a cockatrice as he struggled to comprehend his current circumstances.

They were worse than he had dared to dream.

He had been detained by the DWMA.

He was in Death City - the beating heart of enemy territory.

And worst of all, he was currently in the care of Medusa Gorgon.


“So, you think you get it, Luz?”

The girl was sitting on the floor in the living room again, staring at the diagram in the book that King had set out before her. He had spent the evening prior going over every minute detail of Demonic evolution; the diminutive Demon had dozens of displays of the adaptations made by his kin.

There seemed to be no limit to what shape and powers a Demon could take; from wolves the could control the wind with their howls to Dragons breathing everything from fire to eerie blue light; from gargoyles that came to life at dusk and turned to stone with the sunrise, to sirens whose very voices were tinged with Magic, able to charm merely by speaking aloud; even buildings and ships weren’t exempt, terrifying constructs given life and an appetite for Souls. All these and far, far more, all entangled in an endless web of conflict as they struggled for power and supremacy within the Demonic Realms.

Now, Luz was looking over the same diagram that he had tried to show her a few days prior, filled with both the Demon at its base form, and its myriad of transformations - all reminding her very much of a certain game, the image of the electric mouse in her mind bringing a broad smile to her face.

“I think so,” the girl nodded, “A Demon’s Soul grows and changes as it eats and ages. That’s the gist of it, right?”

“Ooooh, neat rhyme!” King’s whole body seemed to bob with his excitement, “I’m gonna have to remember that, that’s catchy!”

She smiled, more than happy to see that her efforts were paying off, “But… I do have one question.”

“I am always happy to answer questions!” the tiny tyrant puffed out his chest, eyes closed,  “Ask away, my intrepid minion!”

“Okay,” Luz started, looking up at him from the diagram, “If Demons need Souls in order to grow and maintain their strength… then what about all the Demons living in Bonesborough? They can’t all be eating Souls all the time, can they?”

King’s eyes shot open, naked surprise shining in their depths as his pupils abruptly shrank, staring into open space in a daze. Although he hadn’t moved a muscle, his entire body language had shifted, going from entirely confident to utterly nonplussed in an instant.

“... King?” she prompted.

“... well…” his previously proud posture immediately began to crumble. He was visibly racing from one thought to the next, his claws clicking as he tapped them against each other and his eyes darting from place to place, object to object, as though they could provide him with some sort of answer.

“... everything alright, buddy?”

“... it’s not like…” he started, then stopped; she could almost see him biting his nonexistent lip, “... Demons… uh…”

“Demons don’t strictly need Souls in order to survive, Luz.”

Eda’s voice cut through the air, making King visibly stiffen and Luz turn in place to face her. The Witch’s face was alight with amusement, her smile wry as she set down the heavy wooden box in her arms down on the coffee table, etched with all sorts of runes that the apprentice couldn’t even begin to understand.

“King likes to style Demons as the kind of creatures that will happily prey upon anything or anyone that stumbles across their paths, either devouring their victims outright or luring them into dark deals - a Soul in exchange for power, which creates a Warlock,” the silver vixen noted, removing the lid and rooting through its contents, “And in all fairness, those more predatory Demons do still exist - particularly in territories controlled by the Witch Order. But they’re not quite so common in the Boiling Isles, where it’s fairly easy to find alternative sources of spiritual energy that are easier than active Soul hunting - especially with all of the Isles’ portals to the human realm closed.”

She raised an inkwell, inspecting it briefly before giving the chocolate child a mischievous side-eye, “Many of the Demons in Bonesborough subsist entirely on the city’s ambient spiritual energy - emitted by Witches, other Demons, and even the very land that the city has been built on.”

“Yeah, but they’re not nearly as powerful as the ones that actively hunt!” King shouted, clearly cross that he had been undercut by his caretaker. He held up a piece of paper, a hand-drawn - or claw-scribbled, rather - horse emblazoned upon it, multiple humanoid creatures impaled upon its singular horn, skulls trampled beneath its hooves and a Soul trapped in its teeth, “Just take a look at unicorns! Do you think they got this dangerous by sitting around letting Witches and other Demons pet them and feed them sulfur cubes!?”

“Unicorns eat people!?” Luz all but shrieked, pupils shrinking in utter horror as an integral part of her fantasy worldview shattered.

Oh, yeah,” the Demon grimaced, “Unicorns are real pieces of work, even by my standards. When I get my powers back, they’re getting banished straight to the human realm with the giraffes, where they belong.

“But,” the Owl Lady began, the smug amusement in her tone all too apparent, “for every Barghest, Baobhan Sith or Mélusine, there’s another few dozen Demons that prefer to either take it easy, or work within the established system.”

Weh!” King threw the paper to the floor, “We’ll see if you’re still laughing when you’re getting your insides pulled out by the Snaggleback! I’m sure he’s outside the barrier, just waiting for you to let your guard down!”

“In the boiling rain?” Eda smirked.

“His shell is unbreakable and invincible!” the pup crowed as he pulled up another book, flipping the pages to show what looked like a mix of chimpanzee, wolf and turtle, its misshapen multitude of teeth too large and too many to allow its canine-like jaws to close. Thick black tar stuck its spiked stone shell to its back, its human-like hands on each limb ending in wickedly sharp claws, contrasting with the pale pinks of its fur, “Boiling rain’s a mere annoyance in the face of its armour!”

“I’m sure,” the Witch chuckled.

“... so… Demons can eat Souls as a bigger, more efficient meal, but don’t need to?” Luz queried, hoping to interrupt the back and forth before the elder woman egged the fur baby on any further.

“To sum up: While King is right that most ‘civilian’ Demons, for want of a better term,” Eda sauntered over to King’s board, gesturing first to a smaller, more humanoid figure, albeit one with a beak, tail, and feathers for fingers, “will rarely ever be as powerful as ‘predatory’ Demons that actively prey upon other Souls, they can subsist upon and maintain their strength and shape with ambient spiritual energy. For these Demons, just interacting with Witches, each other, and Magic in general is enough.”

The next figure, however, was considerably more monstrous, with horns, wings and talons, and a second head, a veritable devil in eagle form, “‘Predatory’ Demons, while more powerful, struggle to maintain their strength in the long term if they can’t find consistent food sources. That’s a big part of why there’s so many stories of people selling their Souls to Demons for power; usually, Warlocks act as proxies that powerful Demons use to close in on potential feeding grounds. It’s not impossible for Demons to eke out this kind of life in the Isles, but there are many reasons most Demons simply choose the path of least resistance here - and it’s not like they can’t become powerful through more conventional means, either,” again, the bone-pale woman tapped the smaller figure, “They can still benefit from training and hard work in the same way as any Witch, and some of the most powerful Demons have never eaten a single Soul in their entire lives.”

“... gee, thanks, Eda,” King spat, all snide spite and frustration, “Way to completely take over my lesson.”

“Sorry, King,” the Witch sighed, stretching, “Needed to make sure you two were wrapping up. It’s time.”

“Time?” Luz asked.

“... time for your first real Magic lesson.”

… a day ago, the words would have been music to Luz’s ears. A rhymeless, rhythmless melody of triumph.

As it was, though, the main thing they did was bring her back to the conversation she’d had with her mentor the night before.

It seemed to hang over them in a heavy shroud, dimming the candles and their spirits in kind; Eda’s expression was as strained as the tanned teen’s faltering smile felt. The devil-may-care curl of her lip seemed forced, her eyes focused on something far, far away rather than what was directly in front of her, her movements mechanical as she pulled the paper and fountain pen from the box, a heavy book set off to the side. The red-clad woman’s movements were slow, sluggish, but very deliberate, taking an unusual care to ensure that everything was properly lined up rather than leaving the objects haphazardly strewn across the coffee table, her eyes narrowed almost to a squint…

Before Luz could ask, however, King had sighed, tossing his hat to the side.

“Alright. I’m out,” he muttered, all the belligerence seeming to have been sapped out of him.

“King?” the brunette asked.

“I’ll be waiting upstairs, Luz,” his tone was utterly resigned as he began to pad away, picking up Francois on his way to the stairwell.

“... King… please stay?”

He stopped, turning his head to face her; Luz couldn’t quite place the look in the tiny tyrant’s eyes, the purple discs wide and his fur slightly on end, as if he hadn’t expected her request.

She smiled, “I’d… like you to be here when I cast my first spell. Please?...”

For a long moment, King stood, silent; despite the mask-like nature of the skull, a thousand different emotions seemed to flood through his eyes and posture before he finally sighed, his posture seeming to slump, fur going flat against his shoulders, “... alright.” 

Clutching Francois tightly to his chest, he padded back into the living room, letting himself fall gently back into a sitting position on the floor, staring up at her.

The girl beamed in turn, before finally turning her gaze back up at her mentor.

“Come and sit, Luz,” Eda gestured, a chair floating in from another room with a flick of the wrist.

Her energy renewed, the brunette eagerly sat down across from the Witch, all but throwing herself onto the couch cushions. Although their conversation still lingered in the back of her mind, its connotations and consequences could wait, at the very least, until the lesson was over.

For now, all Luz wanted to do was learn.

“... alright,” the Owl Lady began, sitting down and clearing her throat with a false cough, “I’m sure you understand by now that Soul Wavelength and Magic are not the same thing. But, one is needed to control the other.”

“By shaping Soul Wavelength, right?” the girl recalled, “I’m guessing that by shaping their Soul Wavelength, a Witch can channel their Magic?”

“On the right track as usual, Luz,” the Witch gestured; like only a few nights ago, the various beakers and jars floated about the room, “There’s a couple of different ways to go about it, as well. But first, you need to understand what Magic actually is.”

As she spoke, two sets of beakers finally settled on the table on either side of the stack of paper. One was a massive, shell-like bowl, shallow at one lip but deep near the other, the water flowing inside back and forth like the waves lapping the shore at the bottom of the cliffs; the other, a beaker that was like an hourglass, a pair of glass spheres stacked on top of each other, each filled and flowing with liquid. Both were set over open flames, the candles gently flickering as they licked at the bottom of each glass.

Both sets, however, were differently coloured; the hourglass kept the blue and purple liquids separate from each other, save for the few tubes where one flowed into the other, the aquamarine at the bottom, the deep violet at the top. The glass shell, meanwhile, saw the two intermingle, but never fully mix, the currents flowing and crashing together, but still distinguishably separate forces.

“... so, Luz,” Eda quizzed, “Knowing what you know about Soul Wavelength and Magic, which of these setups would you say is a more accurate display of what Magic is and how it works?”

Luz clutched her chin, frowning as she studied each one, “The candle is still the Soul, right?”

“The candle is still the Soul,” the foxy elder confirmed, nodding, “That hasn’t changed.”

“Then I’m assuming the blue is the Soul Wavelength… and the purple is Magic,” Luz murmured, leaning in to get a better look at each; the swirls within the shell, and the gentle back and forth flow between the orbs of the hourglass. 

Everything on the other side of each was thoroughly distorted by the colours and the shape of the glass as she looked through them, Eda’s and King’s heads bloating to comical proportions and forcing the girl to stifle a laugh; but all the same, she did her best to keep her focus, quickly resettling, rubbing her chin in thought.

“... Magic is a product of a Witch’s Soul,” the Witch prompted.

“Just like Soul Wavelength,” the teen nodded, “But you also said it’s distinct from Soul Wavelength. I’m just trying to figure out how.

She glanced to her left, pulling her hand from her chin to point at the hourglass, “If it’s a reservoir of power, then this setup would be more accurate. Two separate reserves of energy for a Witch to draw on…” her finger fell as she frowned, “... but I don’t think that’s right.”

“And why not?” Eda asked, voice and expression neutral.

“Because that’s not how Soul Wavelength works,” Luz rubbed at her own arms, once again blown away by the sensation of her own Wavelength under her skin, “I can feel it, right now. Soul Wavelength isn’t some limited pool of energy that just sits in your gut that you can draw on. It’s not a battery - it’s… it’s a current, ” she raised her eyes to meet the Owl Lady’s, hands gesticulating as if she were spinning the water in a bathtub, “It’s constant, and it flows. Just because it’s at rest doesn’t mean it’s not doing anything - it’s like you said, it’s always putting out some kind of energy, some kind of ripple. Yeah, you can exhaust it, but it’s not like you run out of Soul if you do - it’s more like exhausting a muscle, right?”

“Clever kid,” for the first time since the lesson began, Eda’s lip began to quirk, a light note of amusement tingeing her tone, “But what does that have to do with Magic? They’re two separate things, aren’t they?”

“Yeah, but you’ve also said they’re fundamentally connected,” the chocolate child insisted, “If Magic really is that intertwined with Soul Wavelength, then it makes more sense for Magic to act like Soul Wavelength,” she pointed at the glass shell, the back and forth of the miniature blue and violet waves equal parts fascinating and soothing, “... not an expendable reservoir that can run dry… but a second current.

For a long moment, the Witch didn’t speak. But slowly, that smile widened, her tired wistfulness overtaken by pride and joy, “... I gotta say, Luz… I am never gonna get tired of watching you learn. You get a couple of clues, and you put the whole puzzle together so quickly. It’s a joy to see.”

Luz couldn’t quite suppress her squeal, bouncing in place and clapping her hands even as King let out a loud, derisive huff from where he sat, glowering at the Owl Lady; nonetheless, Eda sat up straighter in her chair, the flows growing more vibrant.

“You’re right about the similarities between Soul Wavelength and Magic,” she said, gesturing once again to the shell, “Magic is, for all intents and purposes, a second Soul Wavelength. In Witches and Demons, this secondary Wavelength can be directed by the Soul in a number of different ways to achieve a variety of effects - anything from warming your tea or bath to causing earthquakes, summoning storms, or animating plant life.”

“Like Willow with the Briarwood?”

“Precisely.”

Accentuating Luz’s point, her mentor held out a hand, a seed sprouting and rapidly growing to full bloom in her palm, brown roots winding around her hand and fingers as the stem and leaves stretched, and culminated in a bright red bloom - to the quiet relief of her student, who had half-expected Eda to use the actual Maleficent’s Briarwood seeds for the display.

Letting out the half breath that she held, however, Luz felt her brow crease, “But what about the Magic in the world around us? If it’s all a current, then why is it in… basically everything?”

“Think of that as the Soul Wavelength of the world, Luz,” the mischief was all too apparent in the crease of her brow and the crook of her grin, “While the Boiling Isles are known for having extremely potent Magic in particular, the Demonic Realms in their entirety are brimming with Magic - Magic that is ever flowing, and ever present,” she closed her hand as the plant in her palm began to wither, “That Magic even extended to the human world, once, before the portals were closed.”

“Witch history?” Luz scooted forwards until she was on the very edge of the couch, eyes wide and voice eager, “Witch history? Historia de la Brujeria?  

Ese no es nuestro enfoque en este momento, Luz,” Eda chuckled, picking up the fountain pen, “For now, let’s stay focused on your lesson.”

“Alriiiiight,” the girl did her best to sound long-suffering, but utterly failed to curb the enthusiasm in the word as she settled back, watching as her mentor took a piece of paper from the stack, and dipped the pen in the inkwell.

“For Witches and Demons, Magic is a fairly easy thing to direct; for the most basic of spellcasting, all we really need to do is concentrate on what we want, and it will generally occur,” the Witch casually snapped her fingers as she drew, sparks flying from her skin, “Levitating books or cups, basic pyromancy, the works. Though the stronger and better practiced you are, the easier those basic Magics become. Kind of like moving your body around.”

“Okay… but I’m not a Witch yet,” Luz started, “So how do I go about getting my own Magic?”

“We’ll get to that. But in the meantime, you’re going to learn about the four main methods of spellcasting,” Eda set the pen back in the inkwell, offering her diagram to Luz, “Concentration, Incantation, Evocation, and Foci.”

The paper had been divided into quarters by thick borders of ink, each bearing a different symbol, title, and figure performing a spell. 

Concentration was a simple swirling dot, with what appeared to be a child with a small flame centered on her forehead, and in her chest; Incantation was an open mouth, full lips wrapping around teeth and tongue, the robed woman below had her arms and head raised to the heavens, mouth wide as energy poured forth like smoke.

Evocation was somehow both more and less complex, the symbol merely an empty circle, but the woman stood before an intricate, circular sigil with symbols so finely detailed Luz was shocked Eda could draw it so easily with the fountain pen with no mistakes, especially with the rays of light that seemed to shoot forth from the sigil; and finally, Foci was a staff, represented by an old woman who held wand and staff aloft, frost fractals dancing about her form.

Luz couldn’t hold in her fascination, only refraining from snatching the parchment from the table for fear of smudging the still-wet ink, “Ooooooh…”

“Like these, don’t you?” Eda teased.

Love them,” Luz breathed, “I never knew you were so good at calligraphy!”

“It’s a skill.”

“So, is Concentration the way you cast all those basic spells you mentioned?” Luz glanced up, “The ones all Witches and Demons can use?”

“Mmmhm,” the red-clad woman nodded, “Concentration is the most basic method of spellcasting, and the first one the vast majority of Witches learn. It’s used mostly for party tricks and utility spells, since those are the Magics that are easiest to concentrate on, with no need for additional elements to shape spellcraft with.

“But that’s not to say Concentration Magic can’t be powerful; it’s just difficult to streamline more powerful and complex spells to the point where a Witch can cast them entirely by focusing their Magic,” Eda raised her hand again, conjuring a fireball into being, letting the sparks and smoke dance along her fingertips, the sparks and flames little more than coins rolling back and forth across her knuckles, “But with patience and practice, it is entirely possible to cast almost any spell with Concentration alone.” 

The fire went out, as easily as it had come into being, the Witch’s smile knowing, “The Witches that can cast such powerful spells just by focusing on them are among the most powerful beings alive.”

“Careful patting yourself on the back there, Eda,” King snarked from where he was scribbling on a piece of paper, “Too hard and you might slip a disc or something.”

“Even if I did, I could put it back with a thought,” she shot a glare down at the pup before leaning back in her chair, eyes closed, the very picture of self-satisfied pride, “I’ve worked hard to get where I am with my Magic; I have every right to brag.”

“Soooo, is that where we’re gonna start?” Luz asked, “Concentration?”

“Either Concentration or Foci,” the Witch reached forwards, tapping the old woman with the wand and staff.

“Foci?” the girl tilted her head, “Why Foci?”

“Because technically, it’s the oldest and easiest form of spellcasting that there is,” Eda slid the calligraphy aside, picking up the fountain pen again as she took another piece of paper, “Foci Magic relies on two things. The inherent Magic within an object, and the specific qualities that the object possesses. While most Witches consider Foci Magic to be archaic and largely obsolete, everyone who dabbles in potions and Magical items will tell you that it is a foundational artform - while Foci have been replaced by Incantation and Evocation for most active use, Foci still remain an integral part of any Magical infrastructure. Without them, most of the cities on the Boiling Isles wouldn’t even be able to operate.”

By the time she had finished, a fairly large circle had been etched out across nearly the whole surface of the page. Symbols that Luz hadn’t even seen before were etched out in some strange alchemical diagram, circles, sigils and words in languages utterly alien to her dominating the whole of the page as Eda finally set the pen back down.

“... but I thought Magic circles was Evocation’s whole thing,” the teen indicated the drawings again, confused.

“It is,” the elder magus confirmed, “But Evocation and Incantation are both heavily derived from Foci spellcasting; you could even argue they’re both subsets of it, in a sense. Magic tomes, Palismen, ritual circles and their ingredients, blessed dolls and cursed swords - even those candles I used to assist with the Abyssal Meditation are Foci.”

“Palismen?”

“Later.”

Eda proceeded to take an additional object out of the box, a heavy bar of dull grey metal, setting it in the center of the circle she had sketched. It was old, pieces of it flaking off even from the relatively gentle impact it had against the table.

“... is that… lead?” Luz reached out, reaching out to poke the bar.

“Yep. Though this stuff has innate Magic; that means we can draw power from it,” the Witch took the girl’s hands, setting on either side of the circle, golden eyes gleaming in the candlelight, “And with the circle directing that Magic…”

“... with the circle directing that Magic… where?... how?” the chocolate child pressed, eyes shooting back and forth between the lead bar and her teacher.

Eda just smiled, “Let’s find out. Pulse your Wavelength.”

Luz licked her lips, letting her eyes fall all the way back down to the bar, and the ink that encircled it. She felt her Wavelength under her skin, in her bones, and slowly, her fists began to clench. Every muscle in her body tightened as she tried to coax it out, to draw on the current flowing through her and direct it out through her palms…

“... relax,” the Witch said, placing her hands on top of her student’s, “It’s not a physical muscle. You’re not gonna get your Wavelength to do anything by tensing up like that.”

Despite the silver owl’s words, it was hard for Luz to release the tension she’d built in her body. She looked up, imploring, “Then… how?”

“Concentrate, and breathe,” Eda instructed, “This is something you’ve never used before; once you get used to it, you’ll be able to use your Wavelength without thinking. Until then, you’re gonna have to do it the hard, clumsy way; imagine the energy flowing through you, down your arms, out of your hands, and into the circle.”

The Witch’s apprentice obeyed, eyes drifting back down to the ink and metal. She breathed, deep, holding it for a moment before letting it go; the tension drained from her muscles, and calm washed over her.

“Breathe in… picture the flow in your mind…”

Air washed into her lungs.

“... and release.”

Luz had been expecting the breath.

She hadn’t been expecting the way her Wavelength reacted.

It poured up and out from her core, a veritable wave of energy that washed up through her stomach and bones, and then cascaded down from her shoulders, through her arms, and into her hands. The paper lightly fluttered with the force that shot out of her palms and fingers, a small concussive burst that lifted her hands off the table entirely.

That alone would have been enough to fill the girl with wonder, eyes sparkling as she stared down at her hands…

But her attention was quickly grabbed by the golden glow of the circle; it shone, black ink having turned entirely into the brilliance of a miniature dawn. Brighter and brighter it shone for a long few seconds, before it finally began to dim, fading away and leaving the ink behind.

And the lead bar…

… no. Not lead.

Not anymore.

“... gold,” she murmured, utterly thunderstruck.

“Gold,” Eda confirmed, chuckling as she pulled her hands away, “We used the ritual circle on the paper to direct the Magic inherent in the lead to transmute it into a different element entirely. Been meaning to get that converted for a while, actually - but counterfeiting with transmuted metal is such a pain in the ass,” she crossed her legs, beginning to tap through her fingers as if going through a list, “Even if you have the right coin press, you need to refine it so that Potioneers can’t find any traces of the original metal, and enchant it with powerful, but subtle illusions so that Oracle Magic can’t track its origins accurately…”

Luz was only half listening, awestruck at the gleaming metal. It shone with a polish that perfectly reflected the room around it, even as she picked up the bar and rocked it back and forth in her palm, pieces of it flaking off; it had actually shrunk to a fraction of its former size, and the girl distantly recalled that gold was significantly more dense than lead, the same weight ending up with a significantly different volume…

“... la alquimia es real,” she heard her voice rising into a delighted squeal, “La alquimia es real!

Pensé que te gustaría eso,” the one-woman parliament chuckled. She opened her mouth to speak again-

“Yeah, yeah, turning lead to gold with a minor ritual circle and a little bit of Soul Wavelength. Big whup.”

Luz jumped, startled not by the voice, but by the sheer bite behind it; she turned where she sat, staring down at the floor.

King was staring up at the Witch again, surrounded by a number of ghastly sketches of more Demons, arms crossed and his crayons worn down to stubs. He crossed his arms, eyes half lidded, “You’re really coming along there, Eda. Now why don’t you show Luz how to cast an actual Witch’s spell instead of some Sorcerer’s party trick?”

“... Sorcerer?” the youth echoed, letting her gaze sweep back and forth between Eda and King. She’d known King had been getting increasingly upset over the last few days, but the acid in his voice was beyond mere irritation at this point.

What it was about, she couldn’t be sure… but at the very least, Luz knew a fired shot when she heard one.

“Don’t worry about it, Luz,” Eda’s tone had taken on an edge of its own, sharp and warning as she briefly glared at the pup, “King’s just being a brat. More of a brat than usual, at least.”

“Oh, I’m being a brat?” the Demon got to his feet, his half lidded stare morphing into a glower to match his growl, “Me? When you’re the one who’s trying to avoid ripping off the bandaid?”

Yes. You are,” the Witch hissed, “No one is forcing you to stick around for this, King.”

“No one’s forcing you to tapdance around the real issue here,” he snapped, “Yet here you are, going so far out of your way to avoid it you could have gotten to Avalon by now!”

The Owl Lady seemed to bristle, her posture and expression shifting to something altogether more aggressive. She was ready to launch herself forwards, but for what, Luz couldn’t quite tell.

“... please stop fighting.”

Her voice came out a weak squeak; Luz was surprised to see both the Magus and the tiny tyrant blink, turning to face her, eyes wide and having gone utterly still.

“... please?” she repeated, “I-I don’t know what you’re fighting about, but… isn’t there any way that we can resolve it? Without getting angry?”

A long moment of silence passed before Eda and King finally glanced at each other; a whole conversation seemed to silently pass between them in an instant before their mutual aggression seemed to finally release its hold on them. The Witch let out a long, slow breath through her nose, the tension in her body not so much relaxing as it was simply drained away; King simply huffed, looking away to the far corner of the room as he sat back down, picking up Francois hugging the plush bunny to his chest. Anger had given way to listlessness, once again changing the entire room, the wonder of turning lead to gold entirely forgotten.

“... is something wrong?” Luz finally asked, setting the bar back down on the table, “Did… something happen?”

“... nothing’s happened, Luz,” the magus sighed, lips twisting into a grimace around her fang, “Just…”

“... just…?” the tanned teen prompted, motioning with her hand.

The Witch didn’t immediately answer. She just stared down at the gold, idly flexing her fingers, expression unreadable.

For a long moment, Luz could only hold her breath…

“... no two ways around it,” Eda finally declared; those golden eyes fixed upon her once more, the Witch’s lips trying to quirk back up into a smile - but it was tinged with a strange sadness, as if she didn’t want to take this next step, “... let’s move onto Evocation.”

There was no way Luz could have missed the sharp breath King took from where he sat; from the look she took, he was clinging to the plush even tighter than before, his eyes unable to settle between fixing uncomfortably upon her and darting about the room.

It stirred something in her gut; an anxiety that churned and sucked at her insides in an internalized mire. She swallowed, as if the spit would be enough to wash away the unease, but it simply disappeared the mud, not nearly enough to push it all away.

Nonetheless, as her teacher began setting aside the paper, the ink and pen, and the beakers, she cleared her throat, forcing herself to wade through, “... are you sure you’re up to this, Eda?”

“No point in putting this off any further, Luz,” the Owl Lady grunted, setting the box down on the floor as the beakers dismantled themselves, the multicoloured water flowing through the air into the cauldron in the hearth, “No time like the present.”

“... if you’re sure,” the girl acquiesced, settling back onto the couch.

Eda straightened, squaring her shoulders and closing her eyes; the only thing left on the table now was the piece of paper with the four methods, the Witches and symbols that represented them stark black against the light tan. When she opened her eyes again, she leaned forwards, tapping the empty circle, and the woman beneath it.

“Incantation and Evocation draw very heavily from the earliest forms of Foci spellcasting,” she traced her finger along the edge of the circle, “Different parts of the old rituals, you might say. Incantation uses a mix of bodily movement and vocal chants to help a Witch focus her Magic into spells; usually, the chants and movements are simple and fluid enough to be used for many different kinds of spells, but some spells are more complex and require more specific, less flexible Incantations.”

“Can you do Incantation spellcasting?” Luz questioned, hoping her curiosity could smother her concern, “I’ve never heard you chant.”

“Of course I can, Luz, what kind of pleb do you take me for?” Eda snorted, “I just don’t usually need to, and even when I can’t just use Concentration, I prefer Evocation over Incantations.”

“Which is what you want to get me started on,” the student stated.

“Yes. I personally find it more practical, if also a little bit more challenging,” again, she traced the ink circle, before letting her finger fall to the Witch etched beneath it, “Where Incantation uses a vocal and somatic medium to cast spells, Evocation uses ritual circles. These circles serve an identical purpose to Incantations, helping to shape a Witch’s Magic into specific spells. Different spells require different symbols and patterns to fill the circle, and the more powerful or complex a spell is, the larger and more complex the circle needs to be in turn.”

“But if you’re drawing the circles out, isn’t that just Foci spellcasting again?” the brunette tilted her head, an eyebrow raised despite herself.

“Not quite,” the silver-haired vixen shook her head, “Foci spellcasting isn’t just ritual circles; ritual circles are a type of Foci spellcasting, and Evocation doesn’t physically draw the circle onto a surface.”

Eda stood abruptly, the chair floating away behind her and Luz suddenly having to crane her neck to look up at her, “Evocation spellcasting can be done in two ways; either you can maintain the circle in your mind, which I like to do - although it’s tricky because you need to perfectly envision the circle or your Spell will go very wrong - or you can physically conjure the circle, like so.”

The Witch raised her right hand, index finger extended; gold light began to gleam at her fingertip, and as she traced the air, a gently curved line of gold brilliance was left behind. As easily as taking chalk to concrete, Eda’s fingertip left its mark hanging in the empty space, until finally, she reached where she had begun. A perfect circle hung in the air, shining brilliantly, Luz left staring in awe before it collapsed, warping and coalescing into a single point…

And a miniature star took its place.

Small enough to fit into the girl’s palm, a warm glow that cast its golden light about the room, bobbing gently in the air. Only now did Luz realize her mouth had been hanging open, her hands reaching out of their own accord - and much to her surprise, it descended, hovering between her open palms and casting its gentle warmth upon her, “Pretty…

“I’m glad you think so,” Eda stated, “The light spell is a very simple one. Normally I wouldn’t even need to think about it, but it serves nicely for a demonstration.”

“... you said that the circle had to have symbols and stuff inside,” the girl managed to force herself to glance up, “But I didn’t see anything in that circle. And I still don’t know how I’m gonna cast it if I don’t have my Magic yet.”

The Witch just smirked, “Maybe it was just too fast for your eyes to catch. As for your Magic…” she shrugged, “You’re a smart kid. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

“Cheater,” Luz muttered, managing a smile of her own before she released the light. She took out her phone, clicking on the camera, “Can you show me again?”

“Tryin’ ta get my secrets with the recorder on your little scroll-box?” the elder woman teased, eyes half lidded in clear amusement.

“Hey, if I can reference it later, it’s worth trying,” the youth hit record, “Besides, I wanna see if I can catch the full circle.”

“Alright, alright,” Eda chuckled, raising her hand again, fingertip glowing, “Last time, then you have to try it yourself. Ready?”

“Ready!” Luz nodded eagerly.

With that, the magus began to repeat her earlier motion, slowly dragging her finger through the air until she had once again completed that perfect golden circle. Luz studied her screen closely, trying to catch whatever internals might have manifested in the circle before it collapsed and formed into another light-

Only for the circle to instead waver, and flicker out.

“... Eda?” the girl frowned, staring at the woman through the camera, “Is that… supposed… to...”

She trailed off; the Witch had gone stock still, eyes wide and unfocused as she brought a hand to her mouth. Eda hunched over, shoulders shaking, chest heaving as she struggled to contain her sudden cough, each one wet and wracking, a horrible retching noise that seemed to tear at her throat.

“Eda?!” Luz was on her feet, recording forgotten; she closed the distance, trying to look her mentor in the eye.

The girl didn’t need her mother’s medical training to know that something was very, very wrong. 

In a split second, the woman seemed infinitely more haggard; thick, dark bags had formed under her eyes, and her complexion had gone from a strange, but healthy pale to an absolutely sickly pallor. The whites of her eyes were horribly bloodshot, and she was struggling to stay on her feet, reaching out to bat Luz away with one hand as she kept her mouth covered with the other, still trying to fight down her gasps and coughs.

“Eda, are you okay?!” Luz tried to fight her way past Eda’s hand, slipping her shoulders under the Witch’s arm to try and support her-

Only to find herself again being pushed away, the motion rough, but faltering. 

“... Eda?” the teen asked, her voice wavering.

King had clambered up onto her shoulder, eyes wide with fear and concern, but as soon as he saw her face his expression morphed into something altogether more ferocious.

Illusions!?” the tiny tyrant roared, his anger returned, though now it stemmed from an entirely different place of concern, “You’ve been hiding behind illusions on top of all the other spells you’ve been casting!?”

“What?!” the brown-eyed girl stared at the skull-capped child, shocked, before turning her attention back to her mentor, “Eda, is that true!?”

“... used… too much Magic,” the Witch managed between wheezes, voice muffled behind her palm, “... light spell… broke the auroch’s back…”

“... we gotta get you to bed,” Luz declared, once again trying to push under Eda’s arm, “Lesson’s over. Come on.”

“‘m fine!” 

Again, Eda pushed the girl away; Luz stumbled back, catching herself against the couch cushions on the other side of the room. The Witch clung to the top of the mantlepiece, gripping it so tightly the girl was surprised it didn’t crack under her strength.

“... ‘m fine,” she gasped, hand finally falling from her mouth“... jus’... jus’... tired…”

“... Eda… is that blood?” Luz pointed, staring openly at the red that was dripping from her teacher’s lips, a blatant contradiction to the magus’ claims.

Another breath, bloodshot eyes blank as Eda stared down at her soaked palm. She didn’t even blink, not seeming to fully register just what she was looking at…

Before all at once, she collapsed, her hand slipping from the mantlepiece and her legs giving way, leaving the Witch sprawled on the floor, eyes closed.

EDA!!!

Notes:

Translations for Luz's and Eda's Spanish:

"Historia de la Brujeria?"

"Witch history?"

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"Ese no es nuestro enfoque en este momento, Luz."

"Not the focus right now, Luz."

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"La alquimia es real!"

"Alchemy is real!"

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"Pensé que te gustaría eso."

"I thought you'd like that,"

 

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Translation work is, as always, done by maho_kat on Archive of Our Own. Please give her a huge hand, everyone! She always puts in a ton of work and is super patient with my sporadic posts and contact!

Finally, managed to get this banged out. Sorry for the wait, guys, I wanted to get this out last week, but this chapter ended up being longer than I thought. I doubt the next few are gonna be short by any means either; I know this is a huge cliffhanger, but please bear with me! I hope to get everything regarding the Boiling Rain arc done soon... God, it's weird to think this is turning into its own arc...

... also, I have just been notified of the passing of Akira Toriyama, creator of Dragon Ball and influence on anime, manga, video games, and a lot of pop-culture just in general. For all its faults, Dragon Ball was still a massive inspiration to me, so this... hits hard. Thank you, Toriyama; may you find your own little slice of heaven among the stars.

Thank you so much for giving this a read, everyone, as well as for your patience and understanding with me. Please be sure to leave your thoughts below! I hope you enjoyed the thirtieth chapter of Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance!