Chapter Text
Hunter was dying. It's okay, he made his peace with death long ago, when he got that first scar. He wasn't afraid in the slightest, he would be better described as resigned.
He had hoped to go in a more peaceful way, but he was aware that wouldn't happen. He always knew he would go down fighting, that was his fate.
But he never thought that he would go down fighting his uncle, his CREATOR, his MURDERER.
Well, he should have known, especially after finding out he has been his murderer for the last dozen, if not hundreds of times he has come back to life.
Hunter (and wasn't that funny, to be named after the one thing that would end his life?) couldn't help but feel a twisted sort of happiness at the fact that Belos (or was it Philip?) would never get his brother back, no matter how many times he tried.
Oh, he almost forgot, his friends were here, watching him die. Watching as he bled out from the injury where the goop spikes had pierced his stomach and lung.
He was nauseous, but he no longer had a stomach to empty, so vomiting didn't make sense. Or at least that's what he thought, he was never allowed to be trained in healing magic, something about not taking the easy way out.
Luz was talking, crying. Willow was completely silent as her sobs made her frame shake. Gus was screaming. Even Amity (not Blight, never Blight) was shedding tears.
With all his remaining strength, he gripped Luz's hand tighter.
Then everything went black.