Hester didn't waste any time with the very obvious lock and chains on the door, it was a basement door, looking more like something meant for the dungeon—but he wasn't complaining. His sword cut through it easily, swinging it open and revealing the steps down below to the underground.

Alexander and Hester crept down the stone steps, shutting the door behind them as darkness swallowed the two men, silently letting their feet fall. Odin stayed hidden behind the growth of the forest and shadows, Hester knew Odin was as much of a pain in the side as Wilbur was sometimes, but he knew under circumstances Odin would behave.

Hester made it to the basement, little light came through the slit of windows but it was enough to not bump into anything.

The room they were in was small, rectangle shaped and had a door leading to a hallway. Dusty broken weapons layed untouched leaning on the side of the wall, crates and barrels dotted around the place and a shelf of miscellaneous items and a huge mahogany clock, bigger than Hester himself. The walls were bare with a very minimal structure: cobblestone walls and wooden support beams.

Alexander opened his mouth and whispered "How do we get up?" Hester without responding walked up to the shelf and pulled a seemingly random jar off of it, for a moment the wall shook before the shelf went inside of it pistons retracting to show a small squished ladder leading above.

Hester placed the jar on a barrel, as Alexander stared in slight awe at the contraption. "Made it myself, thank you." He whispered.

The two looked around the room, watching and ears straining to hear anything, the floor was too thick to hear any chatter—however that was preferable, Hester wanted the element of surprise to be on their side.

"I was expecting more of a dungeon." Alexander said quietly looking around the room.

"We kill all the people who are in our way." Hester replied coldly, there was no use for prisoners if all their people were already slaughtered.

Alexander hummed in agreement. It seemed bláze to the two of them, Hester almost forgot he was talking about people for a moment, he shook his head in slight disgust at his own words but continued looking around nevertheless.

"I need you to check that room, look out the window and see how many are out there." Of course "many" meant Wilbur's kidnappers (and Hester's family) Alexander stared for a moment then obediently walked away opening the door silently and disappearing through the hallway.

Hester sighed softly, if Alexander knew what his plan was, he wouldn't agree with it. -It's not lying per se- Hester thought as he opened each crate, after crate seeing the contents, stacked them in a messy pile -Just precaution- for what? Hester wasn't quite sure himself.

Crate after crate Hester constructed a small wall, digging through the shelf he found some twine attaching one side to the grandfather clock the other to one of the broken spears lying on the wall, more accurate term would have been a stick with one side that looks broken, but it would do, he just needed something light.

"What in the name of the Gods am I looking at?"

Hester spun around sword at the ready just to see Alexander arms crossed and brows furrowed. In Hester's haste a crate tipped and spilled its contents. Hester cursed under his breath.

Gunpowder,

Lots of gunpowder.

"How much time did you give us?" Alexander said without missing a beat. It was obvious to what Hester was planning; blow the place to smithereens and make sure it never rebuilds from its ruin.

"If I'm correct, the next time the bell strikes." Hester said, sounding uncertain of himself. The contraption was simple, once the bell had chimed the twine would be stretched too far, pulling the light spear and making all the crates fall at once, falling onto a lit candle resting on the floor. No one ever came down so no one would discover it early. The place would be eviscerated, nothing would remain.

When trying to kill a kingdom, you aim for the foundations.

"Where do you think they are keeping him?" Alexander whispered, grabbing the crate and setting it to its original position.

"No idea, mate." Hester smiled. Alexander smiled back.

They were so close.

Hester could feel it.

They slowly emerged from the ladder Hester first ears strained to hear anything—he gestured for Alexander to come up once he knew it was safe.

The two crept from one floor to another, only once bumping into another person when. "Angel?" His younger cousin looked at him in disbelief, Hester flinched and turned to see her gawking at him, Alexander was half hidden behind a door.

"You're back," His cousin whispered like if she was too loud he would disappear. She had long twin braids like snakes coiled around her, she was small around six or seven and had big blue eyes. All of Hester's family looked different, but they all had one thing to tie each other as family. They all had ink black wings.

Except for Wilbur.

Hester didn't know what to say, in one moment the world seemed to be still and then next he was suspended in the air free falling at a rapid pace. He didn't have time for this—literally Hester had no way to tell the time other than when the place exploded, and that was if it worked at all.

"Hello" Hester said, lamely, trying to make a smile, his voice was unrecognizable and his smile was strained.

"They said you would never come back." Her eyes didn't water, but her lip trembled subconsciously, they were not allowed to cry here.

"But yet here I am, funny isn't it mate?" Hester said, crouching down still being slightly taller than her but having the illusion of being equals.

"I need you to do me a favor." Hester said and hated the small giddy anticipation he felt. He needed to pull himself together, she nodded lips twitching into a small smile.

"I need you to not ruin the surprise." He said softly, putting a finger to his mouth. "I need you to stay quiet just for a little bit longer." His smile was genuine as she nodded and ran off giggling down the hall and away from him.

Hester turned back the smile gone from his face, instead an unreadable expression, anger, sadness and guilt to name a few. Alexander looked back from the shadows Hester couldn't see him, He couldn't tell if that was for the better or for the worse.

They walked up and down the corridors, keeping their speaking and footsteps to a minimum as not to attract anyone else. It was getting harder for Hester to focus knowing that his son was in arms reach but that he couldn't see him, he was tantalizingly close.

Hester found himself up the steps to the sleeping quarters, cursing himself all the while leading Alexander with him. They made it to another small corridor cramped with doors, at the end was a window that surrounded the whole wall, making it look like nothing was there at all.

Hester navigated around and found himself staring at his old bedroom door. Alexander didn't understand the significance of why Hester stopped and walked up to the window monitoring who was coming in and out.

Hester rested his hand on the cold metallic door handle; he did not turn it and sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. Reminiscing.

Family,

Such a big word for such a small thing.

However this was not even that, this place was filled with complete strangers not his family. None of these people were his family.

Where are you? Hester thought, he pushed back everything his family had taught him, the memories becoming a hazy blur of manipulation and chaos.

Where did they put you? He thought of every second spent here, every moment wasted and advice given, every story told and beating received. And finally, finally he knew where he was.

"Hester" Alexander said, a note of panic sizzling as he whispered.

Hester opened his eyes as Alexander pointed down to the training grounds. "They are all going in, we need to find Wilbur now." Hester watched as groups of different winged people flew or walked chatting and laughing, almost like friends.

"I know where they’re keeping him." Hester said rage burning in his veins and walked through the hallway down the steps, he heard voices but did not stop to see where or who they were.

He marched right up to two tall mahogany doors braced two hands against it and pushed. They did not move.

Hester turned to Alexander, keeping them shut.

"There are people there." Hester was about to throw Alexander off a balcony.

"So is Wilbur." Hester hissed eyes dilated like he was less human and more animal however the rage was beyond any mortal comprehension.

"We are timed Hester," Alexander asked grudgingly, letting go of the door before Hester could cut his one good arm off. Hester did not respond.

Hester swung the door open.

The chatter died as people noticed him, the words and laughter still echoed around the hall. The room had wooden walls and a stone floor, simple tables and chairs were placed, people sat at them though no one touched the food they were served.

The room was made in a way that reminded Hester of a prison, where everyone would eat at the rectangular tables as the 'leaders' sat on their own—like some sort of adult only table. He knew if he wanted his son, he would have to face them first.

Every single person in this room had midnight dark wings on their backs.

Except for one.

"Where is he?" Hester's voice reverbed around the silent dining hall, no one dated to speak or object as Hester slowly stepped forward weaving his way past people he once knew and people who once knew him.

"Angel wait." One whispers "Don't do this." Another said frantically—Hester didn't recognize the voice but knew they were not filled with the wisdom to know to not attract his attention.

"Where is he?" Hester repeated his voice being laced having nothing less than venomous, trying to make the words become poison and dig deep into their veins, killing them from the inside.

"What did you do?" Little of a question, most of a threat, Hester snarled his body woven like a coiled snake.

He hears the scrape of a chair pupils dilated and watches akin to the hunger of a rabid dog. He hated the way he recognized some of the people, some of the monsters that he used to know as his family, how naive he had been? To call these nameless people his family like it was a gift—an act of kindness.

His eyes wandered searching for a mop of brown hair, multiple people had brown hair, but none had his eyes, icy blue was the only colour Hester could find as his head scanned the room.

A smile crept over his features as he saw him.

Pushing back from the table walking behind another small boy, his Wilbur stared back, wide eyes blinking at him, peering behind a small boy like him.

Hester's smile widened as he saw his boy, a mop of brown swirly hair dust of freckles on his tan face and honey gold eyes. He was standing next to a boy around the same age, Hester didn't look but saw his own features in the boy's face, blonde hair, blue eyes and small wings. Hester didn't care all that much.

"Come Wilbur, it's ok," Hester whispered softly, sitting on his knees, his arms open wide reaching for him. For his Wilbur.

"There is no need to be in fear Wilbur." Hester said smiling, Wilbur did not move.

"Wilbur?" Hester's smile strained, Wilbur did not move, he took a step back, hiding behind the short blonde boy next to him.

". . .Wilbur. . ?"

His Wilbur,

His boy,

His son,

His world,

His everything,

Did. Not. Move.

Hester would rather have died, then ever see Wilbur look at him like that, would rather have withered away, let the ground that he was kneeling on swallow him whole, let his family tear him from limb to limb—or hell give Wilbur the knife to dig the wound deeper.

It would have been less painful, then this.

Bells began to chime anew.

There time was up, and he had failed.

"WILBUR" Hester moved without thinking, from pure instinct alone then anything close to thought, there was no thought; there was life and death, and Hester would die without a second of hesitation. But Wilbur, Wilbur would live, and he would make sure of it.

He threw himself to him, and wrapped his wings around him. Covering Hester's pride and joy, his world, from the blast he created, what his rage and hurt and fear created. He took it all.

Hester's head was over Wilbur's, his arm encircling him and wings over his entire body protecting both of them.

A searing flame and a violent burst of air was all that was left.

For a change the world really did end.

Wilbur felt alive.

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Art by SkyGoldDraws on Reddit
All written using Novelist
We're in the end game now, (I think I said that last chapter I'm so sleepy lol) only three more chapters after this!!! So close! Also, for anyone confused, the 'Wilbur felt alive' is from a deleted script which is where I got the motivation to make this and the character's name Wilbur, since, I thought he was cool. And on this moment Wilbur is more alive than his felt in a while.
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