After the incident. Hester woke up the next morning opening the wooden door to the small deck he found Alexander looking tense. Hester didn't ask, instead the two watched the trees sway as the sun flew up in the sky like a bird with wings.

Hester doesn't remember who broke the ice first, maybe Hester asked—or Alexander got tired of waiting either way it happened.

The world seemingly froze

As Alexander slowly put his hand digging in his pocket for a moment then pulling out a green envelope unbroken with a purple wax seal having the symbol of a dagger with two small detailed wings paralleling it, Hester silently stretched out his hand, hovering over the letter like a death omen—which in same cases it was.

"I don't understand."

Hester said simply confused by the audacity.

"You saw me throw it in the fire, you saw it crumple in the flames—how d-did this?"

Hester's lips were a thin line, as Alexander spoke.

"It was on the floor when I opened the door, I didn't want you to find it and panic this early."

Hester paused for a moment at the statement, he couldn't possibly express how thankful he was, Alexander thought of that, was so grateful he was even here now handing it to him.

"You didn't open it." Hester noted running his hand against the wax seal, it was perfectly shaped with no bumps or smudged wax.

"It wasn't mine to open, see?"

Alexander leaned over and slowly guided Hester's hands for the envelope to now be facing the opposite side, in elegant looping handwriting it said simply 'Angel' with no further clarification, it was in an almost identical colour to Hester's wings—black and gray shade like soot.

The next second, the whole envelope was the black shade of soot, as Hester stepped inside and threw it in the hearth.

This was going to be a long night.

Hester couldn't sleep that night, staring up like the roof would open up and let him float away into the sky, almost like he was expecting something—anticipation gripping at him, though the sky never opened and never showed its secrets.

The second day was taunting, the same cursed letter slipped under their door, Hester repeated the cycle from yesterday,and the day before that, the envelope was in the fire before Wilbur or Alexander could say anything. Burning away leaving a stain of black where it was originally, it seemed fitting for no matter what the reason Death never seems to purify or repair, unlike the stories she leaves marks everywhere she goes, marks of stains and unspeakable scars of nights.

For many, Death is seen as a promise, a promise of peace and tranquility for their end.

Hester wasn't foolish enough to believe in that anymore.

The third was mocking the letter in Hester's hands seemed to be alive, whispering his name to open it—then Alexander knocked the idea loose with a question.

“Tell me, is it a matter of pride that keeps you from going back? Or something else?“

Hester paused staying silent, he didn't really think it was pride, it was something close to it though—he just didn't want to say what it really was,

Betrayal.

What a horrible feeling, the feeling of the pit in his stomach yearned into something close to a gaping wound, one of much longer infliction—and much longer pain. Like a ravine stretching onwards, towards the sun and sea it was endless that ravine—branching into hundreds of different trenches over time, the original one being covered and almost indistinguishable from the rest.

But it was still there.

"It's more," Hester flounders for the right word then chooses "For safety." He murmured unconvincingly to either of them.

Alexander sighed from Hester's reply, his chest tightened and squeezed his lungs but he didn't try to shake off the feeling instead he continued watching the flames dance with the new found resource in the hearth.

The fourth seemed quieter, no longer felt like being tethered by a rope everytime he threw it in, more of the growl of a hungry dog, one that really had no teeth.

It was still annoying.

Still intolerable at moments

Knowing that a thin layer of paper prevented him from seeing the one person he dreamed of seeing for weeks on end—it was almost torturous.

The third was teasing. Hester tried to keep his mind away from the irony of this trap, something so simple yet so calculated, so easy yet so—"What are you reading?" Hester asked walking to Alexander, the remains of the envelope still being a pasty white in the flames, then it was engulfed by them, disappearing.

"A book about a man going crazy." Alexander said simply. Hester started to understand Alexander reads almost every type of book in the world, one genre he reads the most would be legends and folklore perhaps it was for Wilbur or simply because he enjoyed them, Hester didn't know.

"It is also about torture and ignorance," Alexander said absent mindly, Hester pauses.

"It's about a man's father receiving the same letter every single day, each day he gets more than the last, until he finally—"

Alexander pointedly shut his mouth.

The conversation ends there,

Hopefully it stays that way.

The thought was neutral between the two.

The fifth day was desperate, Alexander descended the ladder instead of finding Hester next to the fire ripping to shreds the envelope with the letter inside, he found him sitting on the sofa head held in his hands looking, defended. Alexander walked over, leaned in and asked quietly.

"Did she give up yet?"

To Alexander's utmost surprise he shook his head, Hester's golden hair falling like curtains hiding his face barely making his eyes visible as he looked up at Alexander and sighed.

"She sent two this time."

"So?" Alexander said more harshly than intended, Hester showed the second envelope—Alexander didn't really understand it, first or second—it was still going straight in the flames, either until she gives up or—

Hester flipped the letter showing the back, in elegant loopy handwriting, was simply the word 'God' on it. Alexander had never felt so disgusted and violated before in his life.

The idea made him scoff and snarl at the same time, Hester looking at him trying—and failing—to suffocate a laugh with whatever face Alexander was making, Alexander grabbed the letter weaving it in front of Hester's face like some unspoken threat, it failed and Hester tried to keep Alexander some of his pride as he covered his mouth with his hand. The days seem to fade away with Hester's laugh being comforting, seeming him finally release and relax in what feels like already too long for their short relationship.

Alexander stalked over to where there was already a fire going following exactly to what Hester had now quickly made his daily routine, ripping the letter into two—three—four small pieces throwing it in the flames and watch them be eaten by it, once they were nothing more but ash Alexander nodded seemingly to himself in that moment.

Then turning to Hester said boldly, "It is going to take a lot more to convince me to open that letter, like you opening yours first."

Hester sobered at the remark and looking at the remains of the note burning away in the flames, smiled and said truthfully.

"By how this is going? It probably won't be too long now."

Both didn't know how to respond to that.

But both knew it to be true.

The very next morning, Hester caved and opened the letter—he was going to wait for Alexander, but if he did, he would find any reason why not open it by then.

He didn't open it gently, he ripped it violently off, like trying to unsheathed a sword in the middle of a battle, the note being torn before he even got to it.

I hope you have been doing well Angle, I would be pleased to see you at the remains of the burnt pagoda as soon as dusk sets in, it would be advised that you only bring yourself to the occasion, if everything works out I hope to see you there.

Do not be in fear.

Hester felt the inked words on the page. He could already feel the burning warmth, the gentle care, and the genuine love—genuine? Hester thought, no, not genuine, just, convincing. The thought stinged slightly but Hester didn't bother to try and take it back—to him it was the truth and this time it wasn't clouded in some facade of make-believe.

Alexander shook his head sighing when he saw the letter and lack thereof fire like usual, “Are you sure about this?“ He said sitting down next to Hester ``Not at all.“ Hester replied dryly, fiddling with the loose parchment Alexander huffed at this obvious trap—or that Hester was going to willingly go through with it. “We don't have much of a choice, mate.“ Hester said quietly looking at Wilbur in front of both of them.

He still seemed so small, laying stomach to the floor drawing everything he sees, so precious so perfect in every single way. Maybe that was because Hester was technically his father, but he didn't care—either way if Wilbur was in danger, Hester would go to the ends of the world to save him.

Anything for his golden hearted son.

Hester sighed softly, relaxing more onto the sofa. "Wilbur." Hester started Wilbur perked up at his name being called, looking up from his drawing and started wide-eyed at Hester, anticipation growing. "Would you like to go for a walk?"

That's all he had to say.

And just like that,

All three of them were trotting through the snow, descending from the side of the mountain making it to the small clearing right before the tree line and river. The forest still had a cold desolate spot where a quaint cabin used to be. Hester didn't descend further—instead watching Wilbur run from one patch of flowers to another picking very specific flowers, grabbing a few blades of grass in the process by mistake, still he continued, then walked up to where Alexander and Hester were sitting and waited for something.

"Gods."

Alexander rolled his eyes as Hester turned his head, a teasing grin on his face, one Alexander had learnt meant trouble for him—and only him.

They toiled away there, sitting on the base of the mountain picking flowers before the sky became a bright orange with periwinkle ribbons. After Wilbur became tired his head bounced from side to side in a disfigured motion, one with no real pattern or reason behind it.

Alexander prompted a question, once Wilbur's eyes closed.

"Should we take him back?" Alexander asked not turning to see the boy in question but instead asking Hester.

"I think you should." Hester replied dually, slightly bothered that he wouldn't be there with Wilbur.

Alexander sighed "I was hoping you would forget," he said it to no one in particular, a dream he tried to speak into existence—it failed.

Hester got up from the dewy grass and paused looking at Wilbur next to Alexander, his head resting comfortably on his forearm, his face being shielded from the world as Alexander protected him from it.

"I know I shouldn't ask, but—"

"I promise."

Alexander said immediately he showed not even a hint of worry or bitterness over the promise, or even that Hester asked for anything more than what Alexander had bargained for. He cares for Wilbur, he knows he's clearly grown on Alexander like moss to a tree.

Flock,

It doesn't seem like such a small word anymore.

Hester allowed himself a bitter smile, as he looked to the charcoal remains of the forest, the black stain on all life there. In the simplest way to put it, a mark of death an imprint of life that was once there and will now never return.

Hester paused and stretched out his wings. If he was going there, he might as well make it fast. He heard Alexander behind him make a noise something between confusion and wonder, as Hester flew effortlessly and somewhat brandish took to the sky.

After what feels like a lifetime, he finally saw the stars.

Not just saw the stars but was with them, swimming in the endless possibilities of flight known as the sky. Hester thought he would never see them again, as foolish as the thought was—still his one true companion still here after so long, it almost felt unreal.

The easy part of flying is going up, the hard part is the fall.

Hester paused in the air for a moment, realizing he was going too far up, he would have to fall, or slowly descend back down. And so, he does, slowly and carefully letting the wind sweep over his wings, the breeze pushing him down as the wind tickles at his face.

Gently one foot at a time felt the floor then the second came and met solid ground as well. Looking up at the burnt cabin, the destroyed remains of something that was under the loosest definitions a home but was still a house, one that shielded him from the world and monsters, and for a short time Wilbur, the most precious thing Hester had ever had in his life, this same house had protected both of them. And it was gone.

Hester surveyed his surroundings for any threats, there really wasn't anything to worry about—other than getting jumped by hundreds of winged fighters—which seemed to be getting more likely the time he spends here. This was a trap, and Hester felt stupid walking into it, even more now thinking of just how much this time he has to lose.

He slowly walked behind the ruins of the house getting closer to the pagoda, wings folded and eyes lowered. Leaves and rotten flowers crunched under his heel, the air being filled with a musky decay making his eyes water—or maybe from fear.

This is stupid.

I'm being stupid, I should just go.

The thought came and Hester went with it. Stopping short from the rotten steps to the pagoda and instinctively opening his wings to take off.

He's a coward.

And he knows it, but why did this have to hurt so much? He was about to take to the sky when he heard it—heard her.

"Angel?" Hester paused and looked up.

Death stood at the entrance.

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Art by Blossom on X
I LOVE THIS CHAPTER!!! It's rare for me to like my writings this much lol but the NEXT chapter is my absolute favorite! Just trust me on this one, I feel like this is when the plot gets more interesting from now on, sorry it took so long lol hope you enjoy!
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