Chapter Text
All across what would one day become the state of Connecticut, a witch has been reported to have been spotted. All across the country, witch hunts have been made every now and then, but one particular town, Gravesfield, is nothing short of a constant scream for death. Nowhere else in the Americas has such hatred been seen before or since, witch hunters on the rise as the heretics flee for their lives. Through the madness, through the deceit and fear and despair, there rises one hero, one who seeks to pave a path toward righteousness.
Witch Hunter General Matthew Wittebane knows of the dangers of the world, how witches have been a thorn in the sides of everyone in town. Nothing but rumors have spread of a woman claiming they could cure plagues and mend wounds in mere seconds, the sights and claims of multiple passersby claiming such rumors to have hints of truth. It's toward the edge of town he finds the source of the hexes: two women, a human harbinger of the very witch everyone's mentioned. Such filth has gone unnoticed apparently for months, but rather than sell out the traitor and her she-beast, the figure's mother did the unthinkable. She had the chance to prove her innocence, to prove she was never a threat, and yet the mother has chosen the side of the witch. A family of traitors down to the last, and the Witch Hunter General knows what to do with traitors.
Unfortunately, while the specifics aren't precise even to this day, the reports are all the same: an execution for two women was carried out, but at the end of the day, the mother's daughter escaped with one of the guilty, the other becoming a mere roasted corpse for all to see. The villain's charred skeleton remains lost to time, likely broken down and scattered across the forest, maybe even chucked into a distant lake, never to be seen again. The only proof the family existed now, beyond such reports, is the statue in the middle of town depicting the traitors.
"...and that's what I wrote down!"
Philip is grinning ear-to-ear as he finishes his book report, only to watch Principal Hal and Caleb stare at him with a mixture of confusion and disgust. He holds in his hands the report itself in one hand and a fake torch in the other, on his head a wooden mask since his earliest years.
"For your book report?" Caleb asks gently, impressed by the detail but disturbed by the context.
"Of course!" the boy exclaims, holding up both the torch and the book report. "I even confirmed there's no known reports of there being any remains left."
"Your book report is why you're in here," Hal sighs, shaking his head at the sight of such a thing. "It's not what you studied you clearly did your homework; it's your word choice that's made everyone uneasy."
This again. Philip has heard the same thing over and over again, but it never changes the truth. He can accept that he's not among the popular students, he can accept he's not liked for flaunting his smarts, he can even accept he's made enemies from the board game club. What he doesn't understand, however, is how his view is wrong, and today is no different.
"So what's wrong with it?" the younger brother questions, crossing his arms. "The Gravesfield Witch Hunts are part of Gravesfield's history, people need to know the truth!"
The older brother tries to understand his sibling, crouching to eye-level before explaining in an attempt to negotiate, "You did your homework, you even confirmed there's no marked graves with pictures. But the content? You're calling Matthew a hero for murdering people. Phil, this is getting out of hand."
"Out of hand?! He's one of our ancestors! He kept Gravesfield safe from witches, and you think that's evil?!" the boy argues with growing rage, not getting why Caleb's not defending him. "Bro, you can't be serious!"
"He is. This is the 21st century, not the 17th, and you're calling what they did heroic. This propaganda can't go around," the principal explains further with exasperation, seeing Philip's not listening completely. "Look, you don't need to disregard your history, but you need to understand-"
"Times are changing. We talked about this three times already," Philip grumbles, crossing his arms. "But what am I supposed to write about now?"
"How things have changed over the years? No more witch trials, no such thing as witches, and we even added a plaque to that statue last year," the older Wittebane Brother proposes, hoping to compromise. "I can even point to where to look, alright?"
The enthusiast can see it, how Caleb's trying to appeal to his interests without spreading hate. He knows his big brother's trying to keep him out of trouble, all at the cost of their legacy, but if he really thinks this is for the best, perhaps trying this new approach out won't be so bad. He lets his report go, feeling his heart break knowing his efforts were for nothing, but he doesn't let it consume him, nodding to appeal to them.
"...I'll extend the deadline, but it's only because you're so close to becoming a sophomore," Hal states, his voice softening just a little. "You're a smart kid, I just want you to have a shot out there."
He knows he's smart, he's always known it since the day he's been able to read. However, if it means not being trapped in this school, he supposes the decline of witch hunts will be of good use, perhaps even acting as a way to spread the truth. However, the boy knows just spewing will only make his situation worse. He needs subtlety or to simply go with whatever the teacher or Hal thinks will work, nodding and biting his tongue as he's finally dismissed to go home. Caleb is proud his little brother's doing his homework, but the extent at which he takes on his route? Something needs to be done.
"Pip, we've been over this. You can't just say the Witch Hunters were heroes," he begins, walking him straight to the library. "You know what they did to people."
"What are you talking about? They kept Gravesfield from falling into chaos, they made sure everyone's safe!" the younger brother spits, growling at the thought that his idols could be evil. "You weren't there, Caleb."
"And neither were you. Aside from missing skeletons, we don't even know if magic is real," Caleb replies sternly, shaking his head at his insistence. "Once we learn magic is real, I'll gladly take into consideration whether or not the witch hunts were justified."
Both brothers get inside, but aside from keeping quiet to avoid problems, Philip knows Caleb's right. He doesn't want to believe it, he doesn't want to think magic should be able to exist, but that would mean witches as he understands them don't exist either. If there's no magic, then there's no need to fear something that never existed, but if there's never been witches, then what was all his research for? What did Matthew hunt down to begin with if not witches?
He has plenty of time to consider such things as his brother pats his shoulder, assuring him, “I think there’s a few books in the history section. Just a second.”
Just knowing his brother doesn't support his belief sparks something within him. He hates that Caleb doesn’t listen, but he does appreciate that he doesn’t want him to fail, even gathering a book or two to make his new book report a little easier to write down. Even if he doesn’t find anything, his brother even pointed toward what years to look for and when, assurance he doesn’t miss anything. Philip isn’t sure why he can’t just look up books that have what he need at first, something about how they’re apparently already here, but he’s certain the least he can do is look into what he found.
"Witch Hunting: The Dangers of Superstition"
"Why Witch Hunting's a Curse"
"The Danger of Witch Hunting, Both Literally and Figuratively"
Such books are all he finds about witches, or at least those when talking about witch hunts, always paired together with something detailing the past. Ever since the truth of his family's ancestor has been made public, Gravesfield's been trying to "atone" for many years, the only untouched thing being the statue. All it's got is a plaque, one he refuses to acknowledge, but even as he looks over the reports on Gravesfield, he feels himself grow sick.
"Gravesfield's History: Righting Wrongs"
"The Gravesfield Witch Hunts: the Past and the Future"
"Gravesfield's Greatest Shame: the Witch Hunts"
Even for a topic about something considered disturbing, the youngest Wittebane can't help but notice how overblown such details are. Not only does his hometown seek to "mend" their past, they want to prove the witch hunts were, are, and always will be crimes against their fellow man. The charts showing how each superstition built up into images of witches on broomsticks, the way fangs replace teeth, how there's not even confirmed proof witches were even burned at the stake. Even other ways of executing witches come about, each more painful than the last, including a persecuted man crushed to death by heavy rocks.
Philip can't help but realize just how brutal the witch hunts truly were. Many accounts suggest the witches were, in truth, doctors or those familiar with medicine, having developed more useful techniques than the time was familiar with. Several of the accused were indeed accused of something, but one thing stands out: the sheer brutality and fear everyone was at the time. They were willing to do anything to prove that someone was a witch, and with it, many lives were taken, and countless more homes were forever altered as a result. What bothers the boy the most is the assortment of depictions of men, women, and children dying in grisly manners, from hanging to impalement, just to ensure nobody was harmed.
'That's... a bit much,' he concludes, starting to understand his peers' sentiments. 'No wonder they thought Matthew was a monster, this is... brutal.'
It's the only word he can come up with. How else would the witch hunter enthusiast describe hunts with no clearly-justified cause? Medical reports, details on what did and didn't make sense, conclusions as to what certain cases of "magic" may have been that would've made sense, even claims that several "witches" ran just to survive, never to be seen again. Such claims forced him to make two lists, one supporting the existence of witches and one supporting that the witch hunts found even a single genuine witch.
Philip's horror grows the further he reads, at one point forced to turn away from what he thought was a decomposition chart. The only thing he read that supported witches? The most famous witch trial in Connecticut's history, but with no skeleton left behind, he can't even verify whether that witch even exists. Meanwhile, all the points against witch hunts continue to grow in number, culminating with him stating, to his dismay, that Matthew Wittebane might have been a madman after all.
'He's... a fraud?' the younger brother realizes with horror, his hands trembling as he writes the words down. 'That means my first report was...'
All he can do is fold up his first report and fold it into his pocket, proof of his original beliefs, only to continue staring at the proof he's collected. Nothing he can some up with can justify a hunt for someone or something that doesn't exist, especially when it cost countless lives in so little time, tearing up as he further accepts his devotion to his ancestor's cause was simply incorrect. All he's sure of is that with something this thorough, the many books on the subject around him, his graduation from freshman to sophomore has been secured, his brother's and principal's words coming off less as hogwash and more a warning. All that's left is to condense everything cleanly.
He's got the necessary books, heading straight for his home near the woods, remembering the witch hunting games he and Caleb played when he was younger. Philip recalls the many times he was the witch hunter while hunting his brother, the witch. He still has the mask in his room somewhere, tucked away for the day they can play again since he's got a second job. It sucks, at least in his mind, how the older brother won't pay much mind to his concerns, but overall he still makes sure his brother knows he's safe and loved, that he's still his priority.
'...Once I'm out of classes, maybe we can play again,' he rationalizes, only to remember the second job at the store. 'Once he gets a day off. It's stupid, but... at least it's something.'
Such hopes keep him going, slouching as he heads straight for bed, passing Caleb in the middle of a report for his first job. However, before he can reach his room, Caleb can't help but notice how his brother seems down, more so than usual.
"Hey Pip, everything alright?" he asks gently, wanting to be sure Philip's alright.
"...Caleb, did it hurt knowing Matthew might've been crazy?" the boy wonders openly, not wanting to be alone. "I mean, you stopped believing it."
"Yeah, it... wasn't fun. I really thought we came from a long line of Witch Hunters, but everything suggests they were all lunatics who couldn't accept what they didn't understand," Caleb confirms, blunt but sincere, remembering the day he learned the truth as well. "On the bright side, it's better to know the truth than to live a lie. It means we can choose our own future, not have to live up to some twisted legacy."
It makes sense to the boy the more he thinks about it. If witches aren't real, it's possible to find something else in life worth living; besides, his obsession with the witch hunts won't persist for everything. On the other hand, he isn't sure where to begin; the hunts are all he's been obsessed with for years ever since he's heard of them, and the truth has figuratively burned away what faith in the cause he might've had.
"But... what can I do now?" he asks with uncertainty, shivering.
"I can't help you there, Philip. You just gotta... see what works. It wasn't easy for me, but I think I can help find other things to look at," the blonde suggests, patting his brother's shoulder once more. "It was hard for me. It might be for you, but at least you won't worry about that. I got the day off tomorrow, so how about we see what piques your interest then, okay?"
Caleb didn't need to propose such things, all the more reason Philip admires him. He doesn't sugarcoat the reality of a situation, but he never lets it dominate the problem, and now he's proving it more than ever. Sure, it'll have to wait for tomorrow, but at least he's assured there's more to life than simply witch hunting, hugging his brother to show he appreciates the help.
"Thanks," he murmurs, yawning.
"Anytime, Pip. Just finish up with some of that report once you got a moment; the sooner you get it done, the less time you need to worry about it," Caleb replies, his tone gentler still.
Philip, for the first time in a while, feels himself grow at ease as he climbs into bed, just relieved there might be more to his life than what he knows now.