Chapter Text
“—So, my understanding of it is that all magic is retainable. Like, it can stay in one place, and it’s always being absorbed just by proximity to it. The trees around us, and trees like them, are a conduit of this retention.” 5up led the way down to the basement, checking every now and then to make sure Fundy was still following him.
“You know my magic books?” 5up continued, pausing in the stairwell for Fundy to nod, “—The ones I use to cast incantations? They’re most likely bounded paper from similar trees.—That’s just an example of retained magic. Someone wrote those spells a long time ago, and a part of them is still in that book. I use my own magic to wake that part of them up, and for whatever reason, that’s magic.”
“Well, that’s… a lot.” Fundy said, voice echoing down the hallway until it reached the doorway to the workshop. “I’ve never heard of that before.” His voice was wispy, like smoke over a fresh candle.
“I didn’t really know about it either until I traveled around a bit. Magic book making is banned in most countries because of its history. That being said, the ones I’ve come across have taught me a lot.
**
“You want to know how the heart cage works?” 5up asked, surprise coloring his voice as his eyes widened before settling back into his usual blank stare. He paused, carefully setting down his dish towel and the wet plate next to the full sink. The conversation replayed in his head again just to make sure he hadn’t misheard.
Fundy, who stood in front of him, nodded. His jaw was set, hands buried in the fabric of the green jacket which hung off of him like the branches of a willow tree, weighed down by the fists in his pockets. Morning light filtered in over the kitchen’s countertops, giving his figure a pale yellow glow.
“Why?” 5up turned to face him. “I thought you didn’t like…talking about them.”
Fundy scrunched together his reddish eyebrows.
“I don’t,” he eventually said, his voice a quiet timber which sunk into the room, “and I don’t need to know everything, I just need to know why it does what it does. I need to know because… because I want to keep you safe.”
Warmth settled under 5up’s cheeks, like smoke from a dull fire licking up his throat.
“Oh,” 5up paused, “yeah. I can do that.”
Fundy smiled and 5up could only stare.
He was glad he put down that plate.
*
The burnt and sour smell of machine oil sat calmly in 5up’s lungs, familiar like an old friend as he stepped into the basement. He exhaled, feeling the air leave him; Fundy walked only a step behind.
Candlelight made the stone walls glow a dull orange; metals holders affixed the tall waxy stocks were affixed to the walls. The candle’s wicks were enchanted to remain lit for hours as the wax recollected and cooled, only needing the initial burst of magic to be lit—an investment he had made early on to save money and energy on lighting.
As they approached, the flames in the backmost corner shifted to glow an almost white, casting their light further into the room.
A flick of 5up’s fingers and the curtain which had been surrounding the heart cage moved. Soft pink magical light hit his eyes, and he lifted his arm to dispel the surrounding barrier which kept the cage afloat.
In the dim light of the basement,
5up could hear Fundy’s breath catch, halted in his throat as the magic surrounding the cage burned brighter for a moment before disappearing completely. The cage, which had been floating harmlessly in the air for months, slowly lowered to the floor; the curve of its bottom molding itself flat to find purchase along the polished stone, latching its base to the ground. When it finally stopped adjusting itself, 5up lowered his arm.
Unlike the silver roots which peppered the witch’s basement, the cage was an unnatural ebony black. 5up could sense Fundy’s staring even without having to look over his shoulder.
“It’s possessed wood, a direct conduit for the End.” 5up said, stepping forward to collect the cage.
Fundy stepped up beside him, staying out of arms reach of the cage, but close enough that 5up could see how Fundy’s eyes widened when 5up reached out his hand.
“It’s fine, Fundy. It’s not on.” He said. The wood slithered against his palm, rough bark licking between his fingers as soon as he was without an inch of the cage.
Fundy flinched.
“But are you sure you should be touching it?” Fundy’s voice still shook, “It looks alive.”
“Oh, it’s alive for sure,” 5up said, “But it won’t hurt me. I promise. I just need to pick it up to show you how it works.”
Despite the cage’s small appearance, 5up’s hands dipped under its weight. The wood was rough and cold to the touch.
He carried the cage over to small empty table top—more of a stool than an actual workspace—and motioned for Fundy to follow him. As he set down the cage, the wood struggled to keep hold of his fingers. He flicked it off, and the cage settled against the stool.
“All of my magic comes from the End. Everything has energy, and witches use that energy to pull magic from one dimension to another,” 5up said, voice steady but calm, repeating the words he had been taught many times in lectures. “Once, there were portals that connected the dimensions, but over time regulations and crusades have dismantled all of them—well, most of them…We can’t be sure.” 5up said.
He felt along the back of the cage, fingers digging into the wood until they ghosted over a small notch in the wood.
“This cage is full of those enchantments. It takes the spark that lets me siphon magic from the End, and it keeps it. The older models ate the spark, since there’s no way to give it to someone else. But nowadays, kingdoms keep witch’s hearts—just in case.”
“In case what?” Fundy asked.
“In case they learn.”
**
“I win.” Fundy said, smile cresting his lips and victorious laughter bubbling in his throat.
He watched as 5up sputtered and flailed in the chair across from him, the shock encompassing his face and making his lungs squeeze out incomprehensible noises of half-thought out excuses. When 5up finally seemed to settle, hands resting on the dining room table, he leaned backwards and Fundy only watched, amused.
“There’s no winning in war. Sure there’s loss, and sure there’s victory, but there is no winning. There is only surviving, and what comes after.” 5up said, voice completely void of the panic clearly shown in his flicking eyes.
Fundy nodded slowly as if contemplating the implications of 5up’s words.
Then Fundy spoke, a cheerful lilt in his voice, “I still won though. My knight took your king.”
5up was back to sputtering.
“I wasn’t thinking straight—this is like the fiftieth game we’ve played today— you didn’t even have a plan —you tricked me—“
“I’d hardly call what I did a trick.”
“Well, fuck you !”
“—Is that a threat or a promise?” Fundy leaned forward coyly.
“…” 5up paused, face suddenly a ghastly amount of red with an expression between shock and disgust. “Fuck!” He said, eloquently.
Fundy took the well-earned opportunity to gloat.
“I finally beat you. I beat you. IbeatyouIbeatyouIbeatyou.!” Fundy’s excitement caused the table to shake, and the chess pieces next to the board clattered a bit as some of them toppled over. A couple of the leaflings in the room looked over in exasperation.
5up was too busy tracing the board over with his eyes again—likely analyzing where he had misstepped during their game—to reprimand Fundy, and Fundy took it upon himself to celebrate his very first victory as conservatively as possible. (Which was kinda hard to do when 5up was just sitting there, looking as sour as a lemon rubbed in limes. His face stuck in a pout which Fundy desperately wanted to reach over and rub off his face).
Speaking of which, when did 5up get so close? No, wait. When did Fundy stand up, was the better question. Because he was suddenly standing next to 5up, who’s face was still scrunched up in a look that told Fundy that he was still malding in his first defeat against the Hunter. And Fundy, who had at one point been sitting across from him, was instead standing by the witch’s side.
He put in hand on 5up’s shoulder, promising in his head to hold this moment over 5up forever. He’d save the real celebration for later though, because as soon as he had put his hand on 5up’s shoulder, the witch had snapped out of whatever thoughts had possessed him.
The witch huffed a bit, then looked up at Fundy. The hand he kept on 5up’s shoulder didn’t retreat, and the witch seemed to lean into it as 5up leered up at Fundy through his eyelashes, soul-sucking glare still on his face.
“Again.” Was all the witch said, and Fundy grinned.
“You’re on.”
Even if in the future, Fundy starting winning games against 5up 2:1, that following week, 5up would hold Fundy so tightly under his thumb that Fundy would blanch even just looking at a chess board.