[The battle raged within the crumbling throne room, golden light flickering as the Draining Spell sapped the magic from the Isles. Luz, Amity, Willow, Gus, and Hunter fought desperately against Belos, their attacks barely keeping him at bay. But Belos was relentless, his decayed, shifting form surging forward. With unnatural speed, he closed the distance between himself and Hunter, his clawed hand reaching out. Hunter barely had time to react before Belos loomed over him, his grotesque form twitching and pulsing with cursed energy. His voice, though distorted, took on a cruelly familiar softness—a mockery of concern.]

Philip Wittebane: “Hunter, why are you hurting me? I’m only trying to help.”

[His rotting face twisted into something disturbingly close to pity as he reached for the boy, his words a venomous attempt to manipulate him once more. Hunter’s breath hitched, his mind flashing back to years of obedience, to the lies he had once believed. But now—now he knew the truth. Gritting his teeth, he shoved Belos back, gripping his staff tighter. He wasn’t the Golden Guard anymore. He wasn’t Belos’s pawn. He was Hunter, and he would fight for the family he chose.]