Chapter Text
Parrot didn't know why he went to Wemmbu’s treehouse, of all places. At some point, he was just wandering aimlessly, and his feet had simply carried him there.
Every other refuge he thought of was either under the king’s control — now Saparata— or would take too long to reach... without flying. Pearl cannons weren't an option, as every single one he knew of was either near Redstone Town (which answered to the crown) or The Amplified (too far away). Obviously, he didn't have the materials to build one from scratch either. The only things left in his inventory were a few of his bundles with assorted items, his bow, arrows, and a little bit of food.
Wemmbu’s house was the closest place he knew. It wasn't exactly safe; he knew Wemmbu hadn't been back there in weeks, but he wasn't gonna push his luck. He didn't want to run into his former ally after the numerous deaths in Capital City and Highwater. Not to mention the members of Cindercrest — he had no idea when they would start hunting him down, but with how close the house was from the outskirts of the kingdom, it felt like only a matter of time before they payed him a visitt.
He just needed a place to hide for a while and clean his wounds.
For safety, he used his last obsidian to block the door. It wasn't the best defense system and certainly wouldn't stop anyone if they were really trying to break in, but it was something.
His body practically dragged itself into the room with the torturous slowness of someone carrying tons on their back. His legs, trembling and exhausted, could only support him until he reached the center of the room before giving out entirely, sending him collapsing to his knees.
Everything was silent. The only sounds were the low hum of an ender chest, the distant rush of the river outside, and the erratic pounding of his own heart in his ears.
Every single inch of his body ached. He needed to do something; potions, golden apples, anything to make his body feel less like a living wound. More than anything, his chest was what hurt the most. The cuts had stopped bleeding, but they didn't hurt a fraction less than they did when they were made. Every single letter throbbed agonizingly. The fabric of his tunic and torn shirt clung to the dried blood, and it felt as though a new cut ripped open every time the clothing pulled away from his flesh with a sharp tug. His wrists were sore, and all of his limbs felt like lead because he hadn't stopped moving for perhaps the last three whole days.
Despite knowing he needed to get up, his fingers barely responded when he tried to move. He didn't push it; he just closed his eyes and let his head hang forward.
He just wanted to lie down and sleep. Just for a few minutes. With all that accumulated exhaustion, he figured he could forget the pain if he just lay down.
He just needed a little bit of time, and then he would go after Reina — Saps had made sure to leave them far apart, heading in opposite directions so they wouldn't be able to regroup. He knew she'd been stripped of her items as well, and the chances of her being killed by old players under Saparata's command were high.
Afterwards, he would try finding Flame. Maybe he could help him, if he wasn't also being hunted down by Cindercrest members for treason.
Maybe Spoke, Mapicc, and Jumper? He didn't know where they were, but they shouldn't be too far from the Spawn area, he assumed.
With a good PvPer like Flame and a few more numbers on his side, maybe he could come up with a plan good enough to rescue Theo. He didn't want to fight, he just needed Theo back and—
'Why? You don't need him.'
Parrot flinched as he heard the voice coming from his left. His body instantly went cold. He turned his head slowly in that direction, staring at a familiar figure standing across the room: his posture straight, arms crossed as he stared down at him. The quartz details of his dark netherite armor seemed to gleam in the dim light of the house, and every now and then, faint purplish ripples ran across the plates, hinting the enchantments. His expression was carefully blank.
"Wifies...", Parrot said in a breathy whisper, his wide eyes fixed on his former best friend.
'He couldn't even protect you,' Wifies continued, a bitter edge darkening his brown eyes. There was a distinctly accusatory tone in his voice, and Parrot knew exactly what he was aluding to. The mental image of towering obsidian walls and a circle of biomes surrounding him made his stomach churn.
Parrot didn't know where this sudden urge to defend Theo and himself came from; but he knew he had to push back, he needed to prove Wifies was wrong.
"He— He doesn't need to protect me. I can—"
'You can take care of yourself?' Wifies cut him off, drawing out the words slowly and coldly as if he wanted Parrot to hear the sheer absurdity of that phrase coming from someone else's mouth. 'Parrot, look at yourself.'
Parrot shrank back at the comment. His mouth closed into a thin line, and he simply couldn't hold Wifies' gaze. He wasn't right — Wifies couldn't be right. No matter how terrible things were now, it wasn't worse than—
'Is that what you left Paragon for?'
His entire body tensed up; the hairs on his arms stood on end at the sound of that name. He balled his hands into fists, digging his nails into his own palms.
'This would never have happened if you had stayed with me.'
Parrot snapped his head back toward him. Despite the hatred boiling in in his pupils, Wifies didn't even blink or seem bothered by it. Parrot's ears began to ring, and the physical pain was no longer enough to keep him from standing up, even if it took every single ounce of strength to heave his fragile body off the floor.
He couldn't be serious...
Wifies had no fucking right to say that to him—
He stopped three feet away from Wifies.
"I left Paragon," Parrot began slowly, every word laced with venom, "because it was a goddamn prison."
Something in Wifies' expression shifted subtly — just a slight twitch of his eyebrows, the way his eyes narrowed minimally, and his jaw clenched almost imperceptibly.
'It didn't have to be one,' he said softly. For an instant, he looked almost regretful, but it was still the Director. Still the person who had manipulated him, killed his friends, blackmailed him, and kept him locked away in a cell.
Parrot gritted his teeth, a smile of pure disbelief crept onto his face at the absurdity of those words.
"You're insane..." It was all he managed to say before his throat tightened. He felt that if he said a single word more, he would start crying again.
He wrapped his arms around himself, pulling his wings closer to his body in an attempt at self-soothing. He tried to ignore the phantom emptiness in his chest where the yin-yang necklace should be — it was the first time he had taken it off and stored it in his enderchest, afraid of losing it in the war.
Wifies took a step forward, calm and calculated, as if he didn't want Parrot to notice his approach. As if by magic, the Director's heavy armor vanished. Now, it was just his old gray hoodie with the yin-yang symbol printed on the chest, his black fingerless gloves, and the purple bandana tied around his messy brown hair. His rigid expression faltered, revealing genuine hurt as he looked at Parrot’s shattered figure.
It was just Wifies.
A heavy silence stretched across the room as Wifies seemed to weighed his next words carefully.
'Was I really worse than what you're going through right now?' he asked.
He reached out, slowly, and brushed his hand against Parrot's wings. The former king swore he could feel an icy shiver run up where his fingers passed. With a start, Parrot jerked his wings back, flinching away from him as if he had been burned by the touch, and repositioned himself to keep Wifies fully in his line of sight.
'I would have never done this to you,' he continued. 'I would've never let that happen to you. You know that."
"BUT YOU STILL HURT ME!" Parrot screamed, and his wings flared out to their full span behind him, forming an imposing wall of green, blue, red, and orange feathers.
Wifies instantly fell silent and took a hesitant step back, giving him space. Parrot hated that. He hated how he still kept the same habits of the old Wifies, how he would back away the moment he saw his tears, knowing how wildly his wings would move when he was like this, only coming closer once Parrot signaled that he could.
God— he was crying again. He needed to stop; his breathing was picking up, and the sharp movement made his chest burn. He drew in a slow breath, trying to steady himself before continuing, allowing his wings to settle behind his back once more.
“You still hurt me, Wifies,” Parrot repeated, more firmly, though his voice broke as it caught in his throat, as if thorny vines were tightening around it. He didn’t even attempt to wipe away the tears streaming down his face.
Wifies opened his mouth for a second but closed it right after. He seemed conflicted about what he should say.
The silence that followed felt like it lasted an eternity.
'I know,' was what he settled for. Just those two words, whispered and hurt. Parrot didn't need that resentful look; he didn't want to feel sorry for him. He didn't deserve it.
"And you wanna know why what you did is worse than anything Saparata could ever do to me?" Parrot pressed on, unyielding. Wifies visibly flinched. "Because you were my best friend."
'I...' he began, but there was nothing to say for himself.
"You were my best friend, Wifies. The only real friend I had back then, and you still did all those things to me."
Stop, stop, stop... He was too tired to argue with Wifies. Too tired to keep crying and trying to stabilize his breathing when every movement turned into a stab of pain. But deep down, he didn't know why he felt this visceral need to spew it all out. Wifies was right there — he hadn't even stopped to process for a single second how impossible and absurd that was —, so he needed to rub in his face just how badly hurt he was and how much it was his fault. That he was broken like this.
"I asked you multiple times— to just leave Paragon behind and start fresh with me. Maybe I would've even started to like you again with time— but you refused."
"By the last week of Paragon, we didn't even like each other anymore," he poured out, and it hurt deeply to have to admit that out loud. "I was almost convinced that there wasn't a single shred of the old Wifies left in you. And you had given up on trying to convince me to stay... We were only making each other suffer."
'It wasn't supposed to be like that,' Wifies cut him off, hurt, his voice bordering on desperation, as if he desperately wanted to prove to Parrot that he believed what he was saying was true. 'All I ever tried to do was protect you, Parrot.'
"You wanna talk about protection? You wanna know why Theo doesn't need to protect me?" Parrot shot back. "It's because he believes in me. He trusts me to do things on my own, he knows I can."
And that was the absolute truth. If Parrot said he could handle bandits, assassins, or anyone else trying to harm him, Theo simply believed him. He would step back and let Parrot handle things his own way. He only intervened when Parrot's totem popped or when he heard his name called out for help. He trusted his ability to do things alone.
"You never believed in me," Parrot added. His chest tightened as he verbalized that, because he wasn't talking about the Wifies from Paragon — the Director — he was talking about the Wifies from the beginning, the Wifies who truly was his friend.
He wiped the tears from his face aggressively. He was sick of being vulnerable in front of Wifies.
"So if you only showed up to say 'I told you so', you can just leave," he concluded, before turning his back and walking back towards the center of the room. "I'm done listening to you."
He had already wasted too much time; he still had things to do. He walked over to the enderchest resting against the wall, knelt down, and began rummaging through the space for anything useful — whether to ease the physical pain or to properly defend himself.
To his surprise, Wifies remained silent from the moment Parrot turned his back on him. He could still feel his gaze tracking his steps as he moved from one side of the hall to the other towards the chests, but Wifies didn't move or make even the slightest noise.
Wemmbu had a chaotic mess in his chests; he kept things that no one would think to put together if they had an ounce of organization. However, Parrot wouldn't complain about the variety, no matter how random the items were.
He managed to gather a flint and steel and two swords: an unenchanted diamond one and an iron one that, ridiculously, had Sharpness IV and Unbreaking II. He took both, just in case. There were a few potions carelessly arranged on shelves, likely what spare ones from his PVP kits. He collected bottles of swiftness, regeneration, healing, and strength.
He knew something as precious as an elytra wouldn't just be lying around in some random chest, but he felt a sharp pang of disappointment upon realizing that was exactly what he had been hoping to find. He didn't find one.
With the little he managed to gather, he organized everything on the oak table in the center, taking stock of his inventory.
His first move was to drink the regeneration potion. It tasted awful—extremely bitter—and the effect wasn’t as immediate as Parrot would have liked. His muscles merely felt a bit less heavy, allowing him to keep himself upright, and the burning in his chest stopped radiating with such intensity to his arms and collarbone, though it still hurt immensely. The mangled tissue would need much more than an ingestible potion, but that small relief was enough to make him let out a long, drawn-out sigh.
For a few seconds, he remained with his head down, his body leaning forward with both hands resting on the edge of the table, feeling the effects of the potion work. With his eyes closed, he focused only on the sounds around him, on the soft crackle of the torches scattered through the house.
Then—
'I’m sorry.'
Wifies' voice made Parrot's spine stiffen. For a moment, he thought he had misheard him, but his old best friend’s tone echoed clearly in his ears.
Slowly, Parrot turned to face him.
"What...?"
'I'm sorry,' Wifies repeated. 'I'm sorry I hurt you.'
He lowered his gaze and wrapped his arms tightly around himself, as if the room had suddenly became cold around him — another one of his old habits. And for a fleeting second, something sharp twisted in Parrot’s chest — a pang of familiar compassion seeing Wifies look so small over in the corner.
'I’m sorry this happened to you,' he continued, quieter now. 'I’m sorry you lost your kingdom… and I’m sorry about your wings. I know how much they mean to you.'
“Don’t.” Parrot’s voice cracked before he could stop it. “I don’t want to hear it.”
His breath hitched. He shook his head once, as if that alone could push everything away.
“Just… just leave me alone.”
'Can you listen for a second? Please?' Wifies pleaded softly. 'I mean it. I’m really sorry. When I talked about Par— when I said you should’ve stayed… I wasn’t trying to say everything that happened is your fault.'
His voice faltered for a brief second, but he pushed through it.
'It’s not your fault.'
“I know it’s not my fault, Wifies," Parrot said flatly, like he was stating the obvious for the hundredth time.
'Then why do you keep blaming yourself for everything?' his voice grew sharp turn before he forced it back down into something more calm. 'You’re always thinking there’s something you could’ve done—something you could’ve changed, someone you could’ve saved, a way you could’ve prevented it. And sometimes… there’s just nothing you can do, Parrot.'
“Wow. Really inspiring, bro.” Parrot rolled his eyes, forcing a bite of sarcasm into his tone. He definitely didn't need Wifies’ pessimism right now.
Wifies went quiet. He seemed to realize his words hadn’t landed the way he intended, because the silence stretched longer than before, more uncertain.
'Look…' he said at last, more softly. 'I don’t expect you to forgive me. I don’t want you to, after everything I did to you," he paused, swallowing. 'I just… wanted you to know that I’m sorry.'
Parrot didn't look at him. His eyes were locked onto the bow resting in front of him, in the different colored tipped arrows — anything but Wifies.
He didn’t answer. And he could feel it—Wifies’ expression shifting into something hurt in the corner. He knew it without looking.
As much as a part of him had longed to hear that apology, he couldn't forgive him. Not now. He had far more urgent priorities. With such a vast army, Saparata could kill Arachn1d at any moment, and he would be the next target. He needed to think, he needed to be strategic and smarter than him.
The effect of the regeneration potion finally faded, and he mentally thanked that it had been an extended-duration version. Even so, it hadn't been enough. He could still feel the cuts stinging, pulsing against his chest as if they were mocking him.
All this effort, just for you to die anyway.
He was in a better position than me, had all those advantages, and still lost.
Just something for him to remember me by until I meet him again.
This won't even hurt.
The back of his teeth ached from how tightly he clenched them. The sensible part of his brain commanded him to let it go; his flight feathers would grow back in a year, and the cuts would close—
But the name won't disappear, the intrusive thought sliced through his train of thought like a razor.
He locked his gaze onto the splash potion of healing. Even if he used it, Saparata’s signature would never leave his skin. Not with regeneration, nor with the passage of years. That thought stirred a sickening urge in him to tear his own chest open.
That was when his eyes landed on the iron sword, lingering on it just long enough for an idea to take shape in his mind.
Perhaps it was the burning hatred he harbored for Saparata, perhaps the humiliation of carrying an eternal reminder of everything he had lost in such a short span of time, or perhaps the heat of a looming fever he had chosen to ignore, but his mind was too clouded to weigh how terrible that decision was the instant he wrapped his fingers around the hilt of the sword.
He lifted it, staring at the metal for a second. The letters carved into his torso throbbed, as if defying him, saying he wouldn't have the nerve to do it.
Parrot walked over to the furnace near the stairs and lit it with a few wood logs he found piled up next to it. The fire flared up immediately with dry crackles, warming the area as the furnace began to work. Without letting himself think twice, he thrust the iron sword directly into the blazing coals. The flames reflected in his eyes as they engulfed the blade.
'Parrot,' Wifies called out from the other side of the room, his voice cautious. 'What are you doing?'
“I’m taking this off me,” he said firmly. “I want it gone.”
He unbuttoned his tunic — the navy blue fabric was caked with blood and starting to stick to the white shirt underneath. He carefully peeled the shirt fabric away from the wounds before tearing it open with a violent yank, leaving the mangled area fully exposed. Neither garment was salvageable at this point, and he was certain that if he felt the clothes tug at that raw flesh one more time, he would lose his sanity completely.
'Right...' Wifies murmured, his expression twisting into a frown of disapproval. 'So what? You're just gonna burn it off your skin?'
The blade was already transitioning from gold to a bright orange, its tip glowing an incandescent crimson inside the furnace.
'What is that going to do?' he insisted, slipping into that controlled tone he used when he tried to talk Parrot down from doing something reckless. 'You're still gonna have a mark on your chest that's gonna be there because of Saparata.'
"I don't care," Parrot cut him off, dry and unyielding.
He grabbed the sword by the handle and pulled it out of the furnace. The heated metal seemed to emit an almost distorted shimmer in the gloom of the room. He brought it back to the table, resting it over the bucket of lava he managed to get from his enderchest to keep it from damaging the other resources around it.
'Parrot, you can just hide it,' Wifies tried to argue, grasping for alternatives. 'No one will know.'
He inhaled deeply, holding the air in his lungs for a few moments before releasing it slowly through his mouth, trying to force his nerves to steady.
"Okay..." he whispered to himself. He was determined. He could do this.
He unbuckled his belt and put it in between his teeth, biting down hard, not caring about the bitter taste of leather or the scalding heat already rising up the sword's blade, radiating through the hilt straight into the palm of his hand. He just needed to rip that name from his body.
'Parrot, you're only going to hurt yourself,' Wifies said. He didn't try to approach him. 'Please, drop that.'
Parrot didn't even look in his direction. His eyes were fixed on the orange-glowing iron and the way the air around it rippled in distorted waves of heat. Sweat poured down his forehead, driven far more by the nervousness than the temperature of the room.
He took several deep breaths, his shoulders rising and falling in violent spasms. His hands shook so much around the hilt that the metal vibrated, the red reflection gleaming in his pupils. He drew in a breath one last time through clenched teeth, closed his eyes tightly, and brought the incandescent blade straight against his chest.
The metal sizzled as it made contact with the exposed, sweaty skin. And it hurt. It was an explosion of blinding white pain that instantly obliterated his nervous system. Parrot felt as though his entire torso had been thrown alive into fire.
He kept the blade pressed there for as long as he could possibly endure, dragging it with desperation to ensure the heat would melt away and completely cover every carved line of the name. His teeth bit down against the leather so hard he swore they would shatter, his jaw throbbing under the pressure, but the agony in his chest swallowed every other sensation. It felt as if his skin were being ripped from his body by meat hooks.
The sword finally slipped from his fingers when the limit of human endurance buckled, clattering on the floor as it slid away. The belt slipped from his trembling mouth and he screamed — a torn, high-pitched, inhuman sound. His legs gave out completely and he collapsed to his knees, his convulsive sobbing blending into the shrieks he no longer had any capacity to contain.
'Parrot, the potion,' Wifies reminded him.
Despite the agonizing pain radiating through all his limbs from the burn, Parrot forced himself to move. He extended his left hand toward the table, his clumsy fingers fumbling blindly for the potion. The bottle almost slipped from his shaking hand, but he managed to grip the glass containing the glowing pink liquid. Moving his arm caused the destroyed flesh of his chest to pull violently, ripping a choked cry from him. In an urgent movement, he bit into the cork, yanked it out, and spat it aside.
His vision was completely blurred, and the nauseating smell of burned flesh invaded his nostrils, making his stomach churn violently. Without looking at the damage, he closed his eyes with a sob and poured the liquid straight over the raw wound.
He had never felt anything like it in his entire life. In all his previous battles, adrenaline had always acted as a shield against blows, but that self-inflicted pain was pure torture. Parrot shrieked again, a sound so desperate that he couldn't care less who might hear him.
The pink liquid cascading down the burn felt like thousands of microscopic, serrated blades that were tearing through the tissue instead of repairing it. His body convulsed in a violent spasm with the pain and he fell backward onto the floor.
He could feel the flesh bubbling, the fibers stitching and stretching themselves by force at a sickening speed; every pink drop sliding over them felt like it was slicing the tissue before being absorbed by the skin.
Tears streamed relentlessly down his face while his feet kicked uselessly against the wooden floor, in a primitive reflex to try and flee from the pain. Without realizing or even feeling it, he bit down into the soft flesh between his thumb and index finger, so hard that the warm, metallic taste of blood soon began to mix with his saliva.
And then, the burning suddenly subsided.
As if a switch had been flipped, the overwhelming pain stopped, replaced by a phantom ache where he thought he could still feel the burning metal. The crying ceased along with all his energy. His feet stopped moving. For a few seconds, only his frantic breathing remained— fainter now, but still labored, coming out in weak puffs through his half-open mouth.
'Parrot,' Wifies called, his voice heavy with concern.
Parrot gathered the remnant of his strength to roll onto his side, turning to face him. His breathing had grown heavy and slow. His eyelids were half-opened, his vision out of focus as he stared blankly into nothing.
Wifies approached, kneeling down in front of him. Parrot couldn't make out his features; his vision was blurred by tears that slowly welling up, and his friend’s voice sounded distant, muffled.
'Parrot, c'mon, you can't fall asleep. It's not safe here,' Wifies said. Parrot thought he saw a hand move in his direction, but it was just a confusing blur of gray and skin tone. 'Parrot, keep your eyes open. You have to get up. Saparata is still looking for you, you can't stay here.'
The darkness swallowed the rest of the shapes around him. Parrot could no longer see anything, his exhausted mind not even processing the fact that he had closed his eyes.
'Parrot, get up,' he heard again, but the sound was distorted, barely sounding like Wifies' voice. More like an echo of several muffled voices, though he still knew it was him. 'You have to get up.'
Huh, that was weird.
Somehow, the darkness molded itself and he could still see Wifies, but his friend was no longer talking. He was silent, look at something. His purple bandana moved gently back and forth, matching the constant movement of the swing he was sitting on. His feet floated suspended over the grass. Both were staring into the terrifying immensity of the Void, where purple flashes occasionally shot up to illuminate the entire civilization behind them.
'Parrot,' the voice said sharply, demanding, though it wasn’t that Wifies speaking.
'Say something.'
'Anything... Please.'
'Please, Parrot. Open your eyes.'
'You have to—'
And everything went dark and quiet.
.
.
.
.
.
"Wifies?" Parrot called out quietly, not turning to face him. He let the swing slow down until it came to a gentle stop besides Wifies.
"Mhm?" Wifies hummed.
Silence settled between them. For a moment, he thought he could hear the echos of his people's laughter somewhere far behind him.
"I don't forgive you."
There was no bitterness or resentment in Parrot's voice, he was simply stating it.
Wifies turned his face towards him. His face was calm, but not devoid of emotion. He didn't argue or interrupt, just listened to what he had to say.
"I don't," Parrot repeated, his eyes were fixed on the endless void stretching before them. His fingers curled around the ropes of the swing. "And I don't know if I ever will, but..."
He paused, swallowing around the tightness in his throat.
"I appreciate the company."
For a moment, Wifies said nothing.
Then the corners of his lips lifted into a soft smile. He turned his gaze back to the Void.
"Yeah..." he said. "Anytime, dude."
.
.
.
.
.
The moment Parrot woke up, he heard voices.
At first, he thought he was still dreaming. He didn't recognize them, he only knew that there was more than one person speaking, the words impossible to make out.
Then, they gained familiarity. Not enough to identify who they belonged to, but somehow he knew he recognized them. It was the calm manner and choice of complicated words that one of them used, and the mocking, shrill way the other responded, even while trying to keep his voice down.
Parrot realized he could feel his body, the burning in his chest slowly bringing him back to reality. He was still lying on the floor; his muscles and bones ached in protest against the hardness of the wooden planks. The tips of his fingers twitched slightly, testing if they would respond. The smell of wood, wet earth, and a sweet mixture of potions invaded his nostrils. Through his closed eyelids, he noticed that the room was much brighter than torchlight could provide—it was daytime, then.
He heard footsteps somewhere in front of him. The voices grew more whispered now as they approached.
"Is that all his blood?" the more distant voice asked.
"What the hell happened to him...?"
Who was that...? He knew that person.
The wood creaked as someone knelt down beside him. Fingers brushed underneath his bangs, and a cold palm rested on his forehead for a few seconds. He shivered at the contact. He was so cold...
"I think he's sick," Wemmbu said. His hand remained there, and Parrot was certain his body was trembling at the touch. God, why was it so cold?
...Wemmbu?
His heart sank.
Suddenly, everything hit him at once. He was awake, defenseless, with Wemmbu by his side and who knew how many other members of Cindercrest nearby.
He bolted upright, causing the hand on his forehead to recoil at the sudden movement. His vision spun and blurred from the rapid motion. He barely managed to sit up properly before firm hands closed around his wrists, stopping him from pulling away and pressing right against the purple bruises beneath his sleeves. Hard.
Pain exploded through his arms.
No. No, no, no...
Why was he so weak? He couldn't break free; he wouldn't be able to reach the diamond sword on the table. He was without armor, without his bow and arrows, and his entire body seemed to be failing him.
Had Saparata already found him? Was the entire Cindercrest army outside waiting for him? Or was it just Wemmbu, sent to kill him?
He couldn't die here.
He had to help his friends, he had to protect the new players.
Desperation took over when he realized he couldn't escape that grip. He squeezed his eyes shut, and tears immediately began to stream down his face again.
He didn't want to die here.
Not like this, not without fighting back.
Please.
"WIFIES!" Parrot screamed for help.
The hands around his wrists let go instantly at the scream. Parrot seized that millisecond to scramble backwards, dragging himself with his hands, his feet kicking the floor until his back hit the wall behind him.
His vision finally stabilized, focusing on the image of Wemmbu and Eggchan, who were staring at him with worried expressions.
"Woah, hey," Wemmbu had both hands raised in the air, showing he wasn't holding any weapons.
He wasn't wearing his usual clothes; he wore the same long, black robes Parrot had seen when he destroyed Capital City, but without the detailed web-like veil covering the right side of his face. Instead, he wore his tiara back over his purple hair.
"It's just me and Egg," Wemmbu said, his eyes trying to decipher Parrot's panicked expression.
Eggchan gave an uncertain nod, his white ear-wings twitching slightly. "Yo."
Wemmbu took a step forward, and Parrot flinched almost instinctively, as if expecting a blow. Noticing the reaction, Wemmbu froze instantly.
A tired sigh escaped his lips.
"What are you doing here?" Wemmbu asked. He didn't speak in a threatening way, just as if Parrot were the last person he expected to find there.
"I just needed..." Parrot began quietly, but didn't finish. He wasn't going to admit to Wemmbu that he was in a deplorable physical state.
He quickly wiped his tears away with the back of his hand.
"I-I shouldn't have come here, I'm sorry. Can you just let me go...? Please. Just this once, and you'll never see me again, I promise."
Wemmbu narrowed his eyes, his lips forming a thin line at that behavior.
A second of tense silence passed; Wemmbu remained motionless, just watching him, while Parrot stayed curled against the wall, not daring to move.
His eyes darted between Wemmbu and the diamond sword on the table, calculating the distance, looking for an opening to make a break for it—no, one wrong move and...
He couldn't do it.
He couldn't bring himself to move.
When Wemmbu finally spoke, Parrot jumped.
"Why are you talking like that?" he asked. It was strange to hear his voice sound so gentle.
"Why are you talking like that?" Parrot stood up, leaning his back and right hand against the wall to keep himself steady. "If this is just a plan to make me trust you and go back to Saparata, you can cut it out. You can just kill me without lying to me, bro."
"Dude, I don't...—" Wemmbu looked almost outraged by the accusation. Without realizing it, he took a step forward, but the genuine fear in Parrot's eyes made him stop again. His shoulders slumped. "I don't want to kill you."
Parrot didn't believe that for a second. Why didn't he just step up and strike him with his mace? Parrot didn't know, but he wasn't going to complain. If Wemmbu was willing to pretend they were on good terms, Parrot would play that game to his advantage.
"Let me go then," Parrot said cautiously, his eyes fixed on Wemmbu as if he might vanish if he blinked. "Step away from the door."
"Fine, then," he replied exasperatedly, with that slight tone of mocking irritation in his voice. "Go ahead, buddy."
He took a dramatic step to the side and made a cordial, exaggerated gesture with his hands, gesturing for him to pass.
"Can you even make it through the door without passing out?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "Because you look like you're about to."
Parrot clenched his jaw. He didn't try to run to the table to grab a weapon, nor did he try to walk past Wemmbu. He knew he couldn't reach the table before being subdued if Wemmbu wanted to do it, and he wasn't going to risk turning his back on the enemy. And trying to go through the door meant breaking the distance between them, and at that moment, distance was the only safety he had.
"Should we just, like, step outside and go fishing in the back for you to get out or...?" Egg offered. He hadn't moved from where he stood behind Wemmbu. Despite his calm voice, his white ear-wings moved in obvious discomfort.
"Fine. Whatever," Wemmbu let out a breath in defeat. "Since you're so scared I'll attack you, I'll leave— my house, by the way. And you can run if you want to, I don't really care. Here."
Wemmbu raised his hand and opened the translucent panel of his inventory, searching for something.
The movement made Parrot's blood run cold.
For a split second, Wemmbu disappeared. In his place, he saw white hair, a smile that never reached the eyes, a hand sliding through inventory slots until fingers closed around the hilt of a dagger.
Hold still, Parrot.
His entire body stiffened. His breath hitched, and he felt the bruises on his wrists throbbing as if hands were still holding him in place.
Thud.
The heavy sound against the floor snapped him out of the memory. Parrot blinked, disoriented.
It wasn't a dagger.
In front of Wemmbu, a mace had been placed on the floor, handle up. Its owner stepped back a few paces.
"Horace once told me you were actually good with these, so..." he gestured to the mace. "You can have it."
Was this a trap? If it was, why would he back away instead of trying to hand the mace directly to him? After all, Wemmbu was faster than him; he could catch him anyway if he wanted to.
But why would he be giving him something as valuable as a mace? Even before ClownPierce destroyed all the Trial Chambers, they were already rare. Or was this his way of showing he wasn't going to attack him, giving up his primary weapon?
"You still have another one," Parrot said with a neutral expression, letting Wemmbu know he wouldn't fall for it.
"I still have two others. That one's new," he pointed at the weapon. "But I'm not giving you my maces, screw you. That's just for you to protect yourself, since you don't seem to have much right now."
"And whose fault is that?" Parrot shot back, glaring at him.
"I don't know, Cindercrest's?" The worst part was that Wemmbu sounded genuinely confused. It couldn't be. No one could be that dense and oblivious to the destruction he had caused himself.
"Look, to show you I'm a good chungis, I'll give you this too," he looked stupidly proud of himself as he pulled out an enchanted golden apple. "You won't be able to catch these, so, here."
He walked over to the oak table between them and placed the enchanted apple, a splash potion of healing, and an invisibility potion on it. Then, he stepped back to give Parrot space.
"You can take them."
Parrot looked at the table— where all his belongings were piled up— and back at Wemmbu. His defensive stance faded, though he didn't relax; he just seemed tired of maintaining it. His eyes were shining as if he were silently pleading.
"Can I...?" his voice came out low, hesitant, almost childlike in its fragility.
The idea of him asking Wemmbu for permission felt entirely wrong. Something in Wemmbu's expression shifted at Parrot's tone, subtle enough to go unnoticed if you weren't paying close attention.
Wemmbu didn't comment on it.
"Yeah," he said, and only then did Parrot move.
He pulled away from the wall and approached the table slowly. His wings practically dragged on the floor behind him, and he kept darting quick glances between the items and Wemmbu, making sure he wouldn't move from his spot.
Parrot looked so small. Wemmbu noticed how he couldn't even maintain the upright posture he always flaunted, always judging himself better than everyone else. All his movements seemed too slow, stripped of the confidence he normally exuded. Even when his trembling fingers closed around the healing potion and he downed it in a single gulp, his hands wouldn't stop shaking.
His hair was a complete mess; the black, white, and blue strands tangled together in disarray. Almost nothing remained of his shirt's original white; it had been stained nearly completely red, and his blue tunic was streaked with dark patches where blood had seeped into the fabric.
"Is that all your blood?" Wemmbu asked. He didn't miss the way Parrot startled, whether from the question or from forgetting he was still there. Parrot set the enchanted apple down on the table after taking only a single bite before answering.
"Yeah..." he said softly.
Something inside Wemmbu twisted at the confirmation, but nothing changed on his face.
"...Can I see?"
Parrot lowered his gaze and gave a slight nod. There was something unsettling and wrong about watching him responding without saying a word.
Wemmbu approached slowly, as if not wanting to startle him despite having received permission. He slowly extended his hand and pushed the torn tunic aside with the tips of his fingers, a delicate movement to ensure he wouldn't touch the wound beneath.
The burn was ugly and massive across his chest. The scorched flesh had healed just enough to no longer be a raw, open wound, but it was far from recovered. The edges were red and swollen, and part of the last "S" of the carved name was still visible where the heat of the blade hadn't reached properly.
Wemmbu's eyes narrowed.
"Saparata did this to you?" he asked, his low voice sounding strangely intimidating. Parrot flinched at the tone.
"No, I..." He hesitated, swallowing hard before whispering, "I did it."
Wemmbu suddenly snapped his head up to look him in the eyes. "What?"
Parrot kept his eyes fixed on the floor; he didn't want to see the judgment or pity on his face.
Wemmbu was still holding the fabric of his clothes, leaving the injured skin exposed, and Parrot suddenly felt vulnerable, as if he were standing under a spotlight.
"He, uhm..." This is so humiliating. "He carved his name into my chest, so... I tried burning it off," he spoke as apathetically and disconnectedly as possible, as if he were just telling some random story instead of something that had happened to him.
Wemmbu didn't reply, but from the corner of his eye, Parrot could see that his expression had gone completely blank.
"Egg," he called his friend, signaling for him to come closer. "Can you take care of this?"
"I gotchu," the angel hybrid replied straightforwardly.
In no time, he instructed Parrot to sit in a chair, pulling first-aid items and potions directly from his inventory and organizing them on the table.
Parrot had to remove his tunic and shirt so Egg could assess the full extent of the wound and begin binding it, but he hated the fact that Wemmbu remained standing so close. Even though he couldn't see his face, Parrot could still see his crossed arms in his line of sight and the way his tail swished from side to side. He knew he was staring at the amount of blood staining his skin.
It felt almost claustrophobic having Eggchan and Wemmbu so close to him. Without realizing it, Parrot's breathing began to pick up, growing short and erratic, as if the air had become too heavy to reach his lungs.
The world around him seemed to sway.
For a second—just one—the shapes shattered before his eyes.
Eggchan's formal clothes dissolved into a different image: dark, imposing netherite armor, gray wings unfurling imposingly.
Wemmbu's purple hair blanked out, replaced by a cascade of snow-white hair.
ShoeBilly and Saparata...
The air caught in Parrot's throat.
He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, trying to force the images away, but they wouldn't yield. They remained there, the two suffocating presences still surrounding him.
He couldn't breathe.
His head was spinning.
"Yo, back up, gang," Eggchan's voice cut through the fog of thoughts and snapped him out of his trance like the click of fingers.
Parrot blinked, pulled back to the present. The world returned to the shape it was supposed to have.
"You're disrupting my work," he said to Wemmbu.
"I don't even know what that means," Wemmbu replied.
"It means you're in the way!" Egg clarified, yelling at him but somehow still speaking quietly in a way only he could manage.
"HOW AM I IN THE WAY— Ay, whatever, bro," he didn't try to argue. "I'll go grab our things and a change of clean clothes for Parrot. Do not leave the house, you two."
He marched toward the upstairs steps. As he passed the mace on the floor, his hand briefly closed around the handle without him even breaking his stride, and the weapon vanished into thin air into his inventory.
His footsteps echoed until they disappeared up the wooden stairs.
Parrot looked up at Eggchan in mute gratitude. He didn't know if he had noticed his panic attack or if he just wanted space, but the slight smile he received in return and the hybrid's understanding look confirmed that he noticed.
Egg wasn't a doctor, but he likely had plenty of practice on someone as violent and reckless as Wemmbu. He was extremely careful; he already had an exact sequence of potions and the right order to use them. His bandages were firm and applied with precision, every wrap around Parrot's chest and over his shoulder felt like it had been practiced a hundred times.
At some point while Egg was wrapping his chest, Parrot glanced over at the corner where Wifies had been the day before.
Or at least... where he believed he had seen him.
Now that the fever had broken, he realized how absurd it was for him to think he was actually talking to him.
Still, his chest tightened as he stared at the empty space where his friend was standing as he apologized to him the night before.
Eggchan's hands hesitated for a moment in the middle of a wrap. He looked up at Parrot, discreetly following the direction of his gaze. His face remained turned towards that spot for a few seconds.
Then he went back to work.
He didn't ask questions.
When the wounds were finally cleaned and protected by the bandages, Wemmbu had already returned to the room. He watched them from a distance, leaning one shoulder against the wall.
He had handed Parrot a clean white shirt—likely belonging to Eggchan, judging by the way the fabric draped past his waist, making him look even smaller. But he didn't care.
Once the buttons near his chest were closed, he finally felt minimally decent again.
"So..." Wemmbu broke the silence. "What actually happened after Capital City?"
"What do you think happened? Saps won," Parrot replied with more bitterness than he intended. "How could you not know? You were working for him."
"Okay, I wasn't working for him, I was working with him," Wemmbu defended himself with a dismissive scoff.
Parrot expected him to begin a speech about how he served no one, about how his ego was too big for that. But instead, he fell silent. His tail stopped swishing, and his eyes fixed on the floor in a distant, melancholy gaze.
"I didn't have a choice," he concluded softly. "They had Egg."
"Saparata?"
"No. Arachn1d," he clarified. "Apparently, Saparata just wanted my orbital, but Arachn1d wanted me to fight for them. He kept repeating, 'win this, win that; if you don't win, I'll kill Eggchan. If you win, I free him.' But he never planned on letting Egg go."
...
Oh.
That was why.
That was why Wemmbu had never appeared by their side before Highwater. That was why, when they finally met, they were on opposite sides of the battlefield.
Not because he had abandoned them.
Not because he had chosen the enemy's side.
Because he was trying to keep Eggchan alive.
Parrot's stomach turned.
How many times had he relived that fight, convinced that Wemmbu had simply... betrayed them?
How many times had he hated him for it?
"Why didn't you tell me anything?" Parrot asked, his voice cracking before rising in pitch. "I could have helped you rescue Egg."
"They were always watching me, I couldn't talk to you," Wemmbu explained. "And even if I did, there was nothing you could have done to help me."
And sometimes… there’s just nothing you can do, Parrot.
"You weren't even supposed to make it out of Highwater City alive," Wemmbu added. "They ordered me to kill you, and I had to pretend I missed all my shots so you could escape. I didn't even know if they were going to kill Egg for that."
Parrot didn't clearly remember how Wemmbu was fighting in Highwater City. In the desperation of seeing dozens of players dying from the initial orbital cannon blasts, his mind had been focused on finding where Reina and Theo were and trying to escort everyone out safely. But he remembered the exact moment his totem popped and he knew Wemmbu was flying right above him. Theo had run desperately to try and pull him out of the line of fire, but he wouldn't make it in time. Yet, Parrot was never hit by the final blow of the mace. In the single second he looked back, Wemmbu had landed behind him; his mace wasn't even raised, and he made no move to attack.
"So that's why you showed up in Highwater City after disappearing for so long..."
Even understanding the reason, the weight of the deaths of those dozens of players grew no less sickening every time he faced Wemmbu. Even if he was under blackmail, he had still killed those people.
Parrot knew he should direct all his hatred towards Arachn1d and Saparata, but all that came to mind were the orbital cannons, a purple blur cutting through the sky, and a stream of dead players' names scrolling up his chat logs.
"I'm sorry, Parrot, but your kingdom and a bunch of people I don't even know aren't more important than Egg, "Wemmbu said, making no effort to sugarcoat his words.
That hurt more than Parrot expected.
He figured Wemmbu wouldn't feel remorse for killing them—he only cared about the people close to him, always distancing himself from players he didn't know because he knew the violent nature of the server—but hearing it come out of his mouth was something he wasn’t prepared for.
They truly were opposites, huh? Parrot would let himself die to save those he loved, while Wemmbu would kill everyone to save them.
Still, there was a melancholy, regretful glint in his eyes when Parrot looked away upon hearing that.
"But... if it means anything," Wemmbu continued, "I didn't know he would do that to you. I thought he was just going to exile you, imprison you, or something."
It didn't matter; his pity towards him changed nothing. It didn't erase what had happened at Highwater, and it wouldn't bring anyone back.
Parrot closed his eyes for a second.
He couldn't let himself dwell on that, he could process how he felt about Wemmbu later. He had more urgent matters at the moment.
"It doesn't really matter now," Parrot responded, piecing things together in his head as the information clicked. "Saps took Theo. He said he would help Cindercrest kill Arachn1d in exchange for my escape. But I think Saps is going to kill him as soon as he gets what he wants."
Wemmbu pulled away from the wall. Parrot noticed he was following the logic perfectly, since he shared the same desperation of having someone important held hostage not too long ago.
"As much as I still hate the fact that you killed my people, I, uhm... I need your help," Parrot spat the words out, deciding he would deal with his wounded pride later. "If you're here, I can only assume... Saps already killed Arachn1d?"
"No," Wemmbu replied. "I killed him before I got Egg back."
Oh. That made sense. Obviously, he would kill the person who kidnapped his best friend at the very first opportunity. Parrot wasn't surprised.
"Then we definitely don't have much time," Parrot grabbed the diamond sword from the table, along with his bow and arrows, storing everything in his inventory. "It's only a matter of time before Saparata hears about Arachn1d, so we have to go. We need to go get Flame as well."
"So, we're gonna go in, guns blazing, get Theo and get out?" Wemmbu scoffed, summarizing the idea simplistically to point out the lack of a solid strategy.
"Why? You can't handle a fight when you're outnumbered?" Parrot provoked.
Wemmbu let out a scoffed. "Uh, duh. Saparata only won because I was on his team," he said, making his mace materialize in his hand as if he were just waiting for the right opportunity to show it off. "Flame and I have already killed an army of thousands of players before, three times. We can do it again."
Parrot had to admit: the plan wasn't remotely elaborate or coordinated, but it didn't matter. Theo could be killed at any moment. He would have to try anything, no matter how weak and desperate the attempt seemed.
Wemmbu handed Parrot a full set of netherite armor— he kept several spare pieces in shulker boxes, likely trophies from his past battles— and a netherite sword to replace the unenchanted diamond one. He also insisted on handing over his third mace, just as a precaution.
Eggchan busied himself collecting the remaining belongings still in the house and storing them in his Ender chest; apparently, they were moving out for good after this, as Wemmbu decreed the place was no longer safe.
With everything ready and both of them properly equipped, they finally stepped out of the treehouse. Wemmbu went ahead to ensure there was no ambush waiting for them outside. It was still bright out.
"D'alright," Wemmbu's wings unfurled into their classic purple and black form as soon as he equipped his elytra. "We can move, you two."
Eggchan was surprisingly relaxed for someone who had been a hostage until a few hours ago. He walked out of the house with calm steps, his eyes focused on his notebook as he wrote something down. He didn't even look to the sides or at Wemmbu before stopping next to him.
Parrot, on the other hand, wouldn't stop scanning the surroundings, confident he saw someone's silhouette in every shadow and the reflection of a red and black shield in every glint of light.
He would never admit it aloud, but he felt slightly safer being near Wemmbu. He trusted that he would be fast enough to defend him if anyone attacked him by surprise, and he probably would be.
"Do you have a spare elytra?" Parrot finally asked.
"No, Egg doesn't need one," Wemmbu answered, stretching his arms. Egg shifted slightly to the side without taking his eye off his notebook as his friend's elbow passed too close to his white hair. "We'll leave him with Jaden to make sure he's safe, and then we can fly off to get Flame."
Parrot's lips tightened into a thin line. He hated having to say it; it felt like the situation would only become real if he verbalized it.
"The elytra is for me," he clarified. He hated this.
The revelation made Wemmbu stop stretching and snap his gaze towards him. Even Eggchan lowered his notebook to stare at the bird hybrid's wings.
"What happened to your wings?" Eggchan asked out of pure curiosity.
Parrot felt Wemmbu's purple eyes analyzing his wings, looking for any visible injury, a broken bone, or any trauma that would justify the inability to fly. He didn't know if he had noticed the absence of his primary feathers, or if he even remembered that Parrot had already explained the concept of flight feathers to him in the past. But when Parrot didn't look at them and maintained his silence, Wemmbu didn't push for an answer.
"We'll walk then, that's fine," Wemmbu said casually. It was the first time Parrot felt genuinely grateful for his friend's indifferent tone, which avoided dragging out the subject or drawing more attention to his vulnerability. "Let's go, Egg."
The path wasn't traveled in an uncomfortable silence; Egg and Wemmbu spent most of the time talking and bickering with one another. Parrot tried to use the stream of information to better understand what had happened to Eggchan, Wemmbu, and the Cave Kingdom, but his exhausted mind simply couldn't concentrate.
All that mattered was whether he would manage to save Theo in time. No matter what Wifies had said before; there was someone he could save, there was something he could do.
And he was immensely grateful not to be alone this time.