Chapter Text
Only a handful of people had ever seen the void. Fewer had touched it. Ranboo couldn’t remember which category he fell into; he couldn’t remember much, actually. Craning back his subconscious, he could feel swirling vortexes, with stars speckled across them as freckles, mysterious planets as eyes and the edges of the infinite universe creasing into a crooked smile.
With a neverending lilac field holding him, he felt at peace, at home and utterly fulfilled.
Then he felt a sharp kick to his ribs.
“I dunno about him, he looks pretty dodgy. What’s the deal with his hair?” the voice filtered in, breaking through eternal silence.
“Don’t kick him! His hair is the least of our concerns here,” came another voice; it sounded more considerate, in stark contrast to the other individual, who sounded rather peeved. The person’s focus seemed to waver, coming closer to Ranboo, “Can you hear me, big man?”
Delicate birdsong and wistfully rustling leaves began to break through to Ranboo, piercing his slumber and rousing him. His eyes began to flutter open, though he didn’t recall telling them to do that. Soft light invaded his mind, followed by a blanket of greenery spanning over him. He tried to adjust, but his senses were ablaze, caught between vivid colours and plaintive sounds.
He groaned, the noise sounding estranged and unfamiliar.
“Oh, good, you’re awake. I was worried you were dead or something,” the calmer voice said. Ranboo turned towards it and noticed that it was attached to a young man with short, russet hair. He then noticed the small, pale growths protruding from his head. They parted through his hair, standing out starkly. Ranboo thought they looked like horns of some sort, though they were covered in velvety looking fuzz.
He didn’t have much longer to think, though, before the individual addressed him once more; “You’re not hurt, are you?”
Ranboo shook his head. He didn’t feel hurt. The boy nodded attentively at that. Ranboo braced his hands on the ground beneath him and pulled himself up into a sitting position. He noted the way the earth compressed under his hands, forming gently around his touch.
“Do you have a name?” asked the dark-haired boy. Ranboo felt like he was fracturing under his gaze, so he shifted his attention to the boy’s companion. He stood tall, with unkempt golden curls, looking away with disinterest.
“Uh,” he struggled to find his voice. From the back of his mind, a single word pushed through breaking past the vague ache in his temples. It pushed its way to the front, and then out of his mouth in a breath, “Ranboo.”
“Ranboo? Okay, cool, you can speak. My name’s Tubbo-”
The taller boy cut in, glowering at Ranboo with narrowed turquoise eyes, “What kind of a name is Ranboo supposed to be?”
“And that’s Tommy.” Tubbo finished, chuckling nervously. “He’s a little… Tommy-ish.”
“What?” he squawked incredulously, “It’s a stupid name.”
“It’s… my name,” Ranboo muttered, almost to himself. “I didn’t choose it. I don’t think…”
Had he chosen it? That wasn’t something he could remember. He tried to recall information. A morsel of knowledge pertaining to his past, or a familiar face, or a childhood spent by the sea. Nothing came of it.
Looking down, even his clothes seemed unfamiliar.
He could see that he was wearing a long black coat, with fitted sleeves that ended at his wrists in cuffs, ornate purple and gold embroidery climbing up them like ivy.
He tried to remember where it came from.
Nothing.
His legs were folded beneath him, with trousers the colour of charcoal fitted around them. Nothing. His shiny boots toed with pale metal. Nothing.
There was a violet belt surrounding his waist. Nothing.
He lifted his hands to touch his face, noticing a long tuft of black hair in his peripheral vision. Nothing.
He then noticed the long tuft of white hair from his other eye. Strange, but still… nothing.
“Ranboo? You look a little pale. Are you sure you’re alright?” Tubbo asked.
Nothing.
“Yes… actually, maybe not… I-I don’t know? I can’t… I can’t remember anything.”
The admission weighed heavily in his mind. He couldn’t remember anything. His head was a void, and that prospect sent icy fear spiralling through his lungs. That cold dread dripped up his throat at a sickeningly slow pace, threatening to bring his unsteady breaths to a deathly halt.
It was Tommy who responded this time, breaking through the frost; “Nothing? Nothing at all?”
Tommy’s eyes had narrowed and his jaw was set. After deciding that he wasn’t gearing up to punch him, he realised that he was lost in thought.
All Ranboo could think was that nothing was a very heavy word for such a weightless concept.
“I just… don’t know…” Ranboo trailed off, eyes downcast in thought, as one, rather vexing, word forced itself to ring through his skull.
“No family?” Tommy asked. His voice was softer at that, though Ranboo didn’t know why.
“No… I don’t think so. I-I would remember something like that… right?”
Nobody answered that.
Instead, Tubbo crouched down to Ranboo’s level. He placed a gloved hand on his shoulder and squeezed tightly. Trying to focus on something other than his panic, Ranboo looked at Tubbo's tunic; forestry green with buttons at the neck fastened unevenly.
“We’ll take you somewhere safe. Won’t we, Tommy?”
“Woah, woah, woah, wait just a minute. How do we know he’s telling the truth? He could be the enemy , Tubbo! The enemy !” Tommy protested loudly, face twisting.
Tubbo rolled his eyes, “Look at him. We can’t just leave him here. What would Phil say?”
Tommy paced forward and began waving his hands emphatically, “He would simply say ‘Oh Tommy, you’ve defended the guild, you’re a hero Tommy, a hero’ , and then he would give me a lot of gold!”
“I’m not the enemy. I… don’t even know what ‘the enemy’ is.”
“Which is exactly what the enemy would say!” The blonde whipped back. Ranboo couldn’t argue that point. Thankfully, Tubbo stepped in to calm the waters.
“Tommy, don’t be an idiot. C’mon Ranboo, time to stand up.”
Tubbo grabbed onto Ranboo’s arm and tried to hoist him up. Ranboo didn’t protest, shakily standing. He stumbled like a fawn, but Tubbo managed to keep him up. Suddenly towering over Tubbo, he realised just how tall he was after standing up for the first time.
Was it the first time? Surely not. Surely he had stood up on his own two legs before. Of course he had, what was he thinking?
He shook the thoughts out of himself, and, after taking a moment to solidify his balance, he swung his head around slowly. They were in a forest, surrounded by skinny silver birch trees. The trees stood elegant and tall, and Ranboo felt as though they were telling him to keep his head up.
So, he did. He stood up straight and he looked around the area.
Beneath him, a thick blanket of moss wound its way across the earth, leaping over broken tree stumps and fallen trees. Brown mushrooms would occasionally break through that blanket, as would spatterings of purple flowers and the occasional armoury of grass.
It was peaceful and serene in its own right. Rough around the edges, yet beautiful all the same.
“If you like the trees so much, we can just leave you here,” Tommy cut in impatiently, his back already turned, ready to go.
Ranboo’s attention snapped back to him; “Sorry…”
Tubbo, with an anchoring hand still resting on Ranboo’s shoulder, sighed. “Don’t mind him. He’s probably just hungry. You ready to go?”
Without responding, Tommy just walked forward, clearly uneager to wait for the two of them. Distantly, Ranboo could hear grumbling, though the words were unclear. He nodded in response to Tubbo, and the two set about following Tommy - albeit, at a slower pace.
They didn’t say much as they walked through the forest. The silence was pleasant, though, so Ranboo didn’t mind too much - extra time to get his bearings was a stroke of luck, after all. Marching on ahead was Tommy, his red mantle dipping out of view whenever he wound over a corner, but it would always fade back in, golden hair sticking out starkly.
When the trees began to thin out and the moss trail gave way, they came to a dirt road. Ranboo tried to spy the end of it, but the road spanned for what seemed to be miles, never-ending.
It was Tubbo who broke the silence, “This is the highway. We don’t have far to go yet.”
“Ah, okay,” Ranboo said. “Where are we… like, going though? I don’t think you mentioned.”
The three made their way down the highway, Tubbo and Ranboo walking side by side in the middle of the road, with Tommy a few metres ahead.
The other boy’s eyes widened with what seemed to be surprise. “Oh, we’re going to the guild. That’s where me and Tommy live. There are a bunch of other people there, you’ll be okay.”
A ‘bunch of people’ didn’t sound all that comforting, but Tubbo conveyed the information with a sincerity that put Ranboo at ease. There seemed to be an easy-going quality surrounding Tubbo, which Ranboo appreciated at that moment; he appreciated it more than he could put into words. The empty spaces in his memory had uncertainty setting into his bones, but he was thankful to have been found. Being alone would have been truly terrifying.
“Thank you, by the way. For… not abandoning me,” Ranboo said, though the simple words didn’t seem to do his gratitude justice.
Tubbo just grinned and looked up at Ranboo, “No problem. I wouldn’t just leave someone alone in the wilderness.”
“That’s… good to know, I think,” Ranboo thought aloud. “I… I don’t really understand what’s going on though. My head… it feels like it’s full of clouds .”
Falling to deliberation, Tubbo went quiet, and Ranboo wasn’t sure if the conversation was over. He was relieved when he heard the boy begin talking again, slicing through the seeping awkwardness of the walk. Tommy was still marching ahead, red clothes making the sloping line of his shoulders an easy target to follow.
“Not remembering something isn’t so bad, y’know. I have lots of memories that I don’t want. You have a clean slate. Maybe it’s a blessing,” Tubbo said thoughtfully.
Despite desperately wanting Tubbo to be wrong, Ranboo let himself humour the idea. Even through the confusion and the fog, maybe there was a silver lining. Maybe there was a life at the end of the tunnel.
“That’s an interesting way to look at it, I guess. Thanks for that. That’s…” He paused, “reassuring.”
After the exchange, the two returned to silence. Ranboo didn’t mind, though. There was hope at the end of the road and steady footsteps by his side - that was enough for him.
When a large wooden building came into view amid the rising dusk, Ranboo stopped dead in his tracks. The structure looked rickety in some places, but the uneven brick roof gave off a homely charm, and the sheer height of it was almost intimidating. After a long and relatively uneventful walk, the sudden appearance of the guild was jarring, but in a welcome way.
“Hurry up, my feet are killing me…” grumbled Tommy, who had one hand on the large brass door handle, and the other hand stifling a yawn.
Ranboo took a slow step forward, but his eyes remained fixated on the asymmetrical wood planks and cosy looking window shutters. There were sprigs of greenery peeking through some parts of the building, looking down on the trio with curiosity.
Tubbo grabbed Ranboo’s cuff and tugged him forward, “C’mon!” And with that, Ranboo was dragged through the double doors, and into a new world entirely.
The doors crashed shut unceremoniously after Tommy swung them open, causing dust to fall from the ceiling. The blonde just shrugged his shoulders and continued walking.
Firelight flickered as he walked past, casting dancing shadows across the walls, and threatening to burn the building to an ashen cloud with one wrong move. The possibility struck Ranboo with worry, but he was too busy taking in the new environment to care that much.
Based on the exterior, they were on the first floor, with other floors layered above them. On the first floor, there were round tables with mismatched chairs huddled around them. There were a few other people in the room, Ranboo noticed, though most of them were minding their own business.
Near the back of the room, in a dimly lit corner, two people were playing cards. One wore a well-loved beige coat, ink stains blotting the corners of the pockets, with a cap covered in embroidered patches. The other was angular, with a shaved head and a simple shirt and trousers. They were both engrossed in their exchange of red cards, eyes narrowed and focused on their hands.
Tubbo noticed Ranboo watching them and gently elbowed him, “Let’s not disturb them. We should go see Phil. He’s probably downstairs somewhere.”
In the corner of the room were two sets of rickety stairs; one went up, one went down. It seemed they were headed below, with Tommy thundering down the unstable looking steps. Tubbo didn’t seem to mind, or care, about their stability, he just bounded after Tommy with an excited grin. Sparing one last glance back to the two men playing cards, Ranboo followed Tommy and Tubbo down, wincing at the ear-piercing creaks.
The stairs led to a series of confusing corridors, dimly lit by torches, with narrow twists and turns. If he had been alone, Ranboo knew he would have been completely lost. Part of him wondered if the layout was to fend off attackers, or ‘the enemy’, as Tommy had put it.
After navigating past short doors and exposed pipes, the three came to a halt. In front of them was a door, but it was easily distinguishable from the rest. It was slightly wider and had been painted a welcoming shade of green. Along the exterior were swirls of joyous yellow, and at the centre of the door was an eye-catching red heart shape, though the edges were slanted rather than rounded. The paint was chipping in places, but it was more of a spectacle than the rest of the corridor had been.
Without warning, Tubbo balled his hand up into a fist and hammered at the door. The thudding sound reverberated through the space they had just traversed, sending flecks of dust spiralling around them. Ranboo shielded his eyes and covered his mouth. When his eyes opened once more, the colourful door had opened, revealing a peculiar individual.
The first thing Ranboo noticed was the wings. They were relaxed behind the man but still stuck out brilliantly. At first, Ranboo thought they were as black as the night sky, but he then noticed the slight brown tint at the end of the wing, as though the earth was waning into the void.
The second thing Ranboo noticed was his eyes. On the surface, they were green and vibrant. But they seemed to tell a complex story; one of wisdom, and weariness, and wandering. There was clear age setting in at the corner of his eyes, but the man seemed ageless and had youthful energy regardless.
All of the other details began to blend in, at that point. He was wearing long green robes, with a darker overcoat. Blonde stubble climbed up his jawline, meeting chin-length golden hair, which was topped off with a striped green hat.
When he spoke, his accent was similar to Tommy and Tubbo’s, though his voice had a discernible sense of kindness to it, “Everything alright? Did you deliver the letter?”
Tommy responded quickly, and that was when Ranboo could tell that the two were close. “Yeah, yeah, we delivered your dumb letter. We found some guy in the woods on the way back, though. I think he looks suspicious, but Tubbo wanted to bring him back.”
“He doesn’t remember anything. Can we keep him, Phil?” Tubbo added, pointing at Ranboo.
Phil, Ranboo assumed this was Phil, looked at Ranboo finally. Phil stood a lot shorter than Ranboo, but his scrutiny was still intimidating.
“Hey mate,” said Phil, “what’s your name?”
“Ranboo.”
“That’s an interesting name. Where are you from?”
“I… don’t know.”
“How did you end up in the woods?”
“I just woke up there. The first thing I saw was Tubbo, and the first thing I felt was… I think it was Tommy kicking me?”
Phil glared at Tommy, and Tommy just shrugged, dragging a sigh from the older man.
“Tommy, why don’t you and Tubbo go have dinner. I want to chat to Ranboo for a bit,” Phil decided, and Ranboo had a sinking feeling that he had done something wrong.
“Alright then, Tubbo, let’s go,” proclaimed Tommy, who had already turned on his heel, clearly over the situation.
Tubbo waved goodbye to Ranboo with a well-meaning smile and followed Tommy back down the corridor. Their newfound absence echoed through the halls, leaving Ranboo to avoid Phil’s gaze and the questions swimming within it.
Phil stepped back into his study, noticing Ranboo’s hesitance, “I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to talk for a bit.” The boy nodded in response and stepped into the room, the door closing behind him.
The winged man walked over to a large desk at the centre of the room. It was covered in small shining trinkets and pure white quills, tarnished only by the ink at their nibs. As Ranboo stepped into the space he began to notice how cluttered it was in general. Large portraits were covering the walls, some standing on easels, or simply set on the floor. Save for the dozens of paintings, the desk and the grand chair behind it, there didn’t seem to be many purposes to the room.
With a creak of old overused oak, Phil fell back into his chair. His expression was completely neutral, Ranboo thought - hard to read. “Do you want to take a seat? It’s quite a hike from the forest, you must be feeling pretty tired. There’s a spare chair in the corner.” He pointed to a smaller chair lurking in the shadows, torchlight reflecting from a golden ring with an insignia Ranboo couldn’t place.
Stooping slightly, Ranboo moved to retrieve the chair without speaking. Behind the chair he came face to face with himself; or rather, a murky looking mirror. Apparently, his eyes were two different colours. One was a harsh red, and the other a curious green. His hair was similarly two-toned - half white, half black. A picture-perfect divide down the centre of his head.
But the conflicting colours splattered across his face weren’t what stood out to him. It was pasty skin and ears that jutted forward ever so slightly. It was arching cheekbones and a round chin at the root of his head. It was sweeping shoulders and a svelte frame. It was foreign and distant; like a youth imitating a spectre, or a hunter wearing the flesh of a fallen stag. Unnatural, unfamiliar, yet intriguing.
As Ranboo reflected upon his appearance, Phil kept an eye on him but didn’t say anything. After a few moments had passed, Ranboo managed to tear his multi-coloured gaze away from the mirror, picking up the chair and taking it back to the desk. As he sat down, his thoughts were far from the crowded little study.
One question played itself on loop, running rampant through his mind:
Who am I?
And yet, no answers dared to come forward.
It was Phil’s voice that cut through his messy thoughts. “Tubbo said you don’t remember anything,” he began. “I don’t doubt that. I can see it in your face. You have no idea who you are. That’s a look I’ve seen a lot over the years, but never quite to this extent.”
The man stopped talking once more, without warning. If Ranboo had his way, he would never have to speak another word again. He could find a nice corner of the world to hide away in, and he could live out the rest of his life in silence uninterrupted. But Phil was looking at him expectantly and with limitless patience, willing him to speak.
And so, Ranboo made a silent vow to speak. “I… I don’t mean to cause any trouble. But my head feels so empty, and I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I know I must have a life somewhere, but…”
“You don’t know where?” Phil finished.
“That’s become a theme, I’ve noticed,” Ranboo muttered to himself, despondent. Phil chuckled at that, stretching out his arms against the desk.
“Well, it’s not the end of the world. You’ve lost your memories. Either they come back, or they don’t. Stressing out about it won’t do you any good. It isn’t good to worry about things outside your control.”
“Easy for you to say, you know who you are. You know what you’re going to do tomorrow, and what you did yesterday. I don’t even have that,” Ranboo snapped. “Sorry.”
“You’re fine, mate. I’m sure we can make room for you here since you don’t have anywhere to go. The guild is always open to new members. You can stay as long as need be,” the man responded with an almost ethereal calmness.
“You guys keep saying ‘guild’, but… I don’t really understand what that means. I know we’re in the guild, but I don’t know what that means, exactly.”
A wide smile spread across Phil’s face. It seemed to hold a degree of nostalgia, if not pride. “You’re right, we’re in the guild right now. I built this place from the ground up. Even the underground portion, though it does border into a natural ravine. A guild is like a family. At least, for us it is. Tommy and Tubbo are both members of the guild, though you probably already figured that out.”
Ranboo nodded, “Yeah, I guessed as much.”
“The guild has a lot more members, but Tommy and Tubbo have a special place here. Some people come and go as they please, but those two have been around for years. We raised them here. As a guild, we serve the people. For a price, of course.”
As he spoke, Phil stayed completely focused on the conversation. If Ranboo wasn’t so interested in what he was saying, he might have been intimidated by the viridian eyes that seemed to see through him.
Phil continued, “We take on all sorts of jobs, from all sorts of people. Our services are usually pretty mundane. Last week, Tubbo had to gather a sack full of wolfberries and deliver them, for example. But for more experienced members, we have some slightly more interesting missions. My right-hand man Techno is currently dismantling a bandit outpost, for example.”
“So… what would I be doing, then? As a member of the guild. I’m not sure how helpful I could be,” Ranboo interjected. By the sounds of it, the guild did some rather serious work. He didn’t know what his own strengths were, but for all he knew, he could be dead weight to them. And then what? Would he be kicked out of the guild? Left alone and useless?
Phil, clearly sensing Ranboo’s alarm, answered swiftly. “Whatever you can do. You don’t have to be experienced to join this guild. You just need to have a good heart.”
Looking down at his knees, Ranboo kept his voice low as he asked, “What if I don’t have a good heart?”
The old chair creaked once more, this time because Phil had risen from it. He cast quite the imposing figure, with his face slightly illuminated by wavering torchlight, and his grandiose wings radiating an expansive silhouette behind him. Ranboo could only look up at him, his skin prickling as he tried not to squirm.
“Ranboo, I’ve met a lot of people in my lifetime,” his voice was unwavering, cutting through the room and commanding the very air between them, “I know a good heart when I see one. I believe you are a good person. Your past is irrelevant. All that matters is what you do going forward.”
After squeezing his eyes shut and thinking for a beat, Ranboo looked up to Phil with a newfound resolve.
“How do I join?”
Phil just smiled and nodded to himself, “You just have to sign a few papers, and you’re on your way. The Heartstrom guild would be lucky to have you.”
‘A few papers’ turned into more than a few papers, which then led to discussions about living arrangements and then to the best times to get breakfast. Apparently, if Ranboo woke up half an hour early, he would beat the majority of the guild to the food hall, giving him control over the freshly baked goods.
After spending two hours with Phil, Ranboo had been sent out with a hand-drawn map of the guild and a pat on the back. He closed the colourful study door behind him and tried to unfurl the slightly crumpled piece of paper. Phil had taken one of his quills and had drawn the area from memory alone. Ranboo took a step while studying the map, trying to get his bearings.
“There you are! You got Philza’d on your first day… now that’s tragic,” came a voice. Ranboo whipped around, startled, only to come face to face with Tubbo.
“How long have you been there?” Ranboo asked, lowering the map.
The brunet stepped around him, apprehending his arm and striding forward. “About an hour. I went to get dinner with Tommy, and then I came back to get you. I figured you’d still need a guide.”
“Oh, okay then, thanks. I’m sure I’ll get my bearings though… eventually.”
“I overheard that you joined the guild officially. You’ve got all the time in the world to figure this place out, then,” Tubbo responded as he practically dragged Ranboo down the tunnel system. “Let’s go to the food hall. There’s not much left since it’s quite late, but there should still be something for you. Tommy went to bed after dinner. The guild’s pretty empty right now, actually. There have been a lot more missions lately. Everyone who’s home is exhausted.”
As they walked back through the tunnels, words excitedly poured from Tubbo, echoing around them. Tubbo loosened his grip on Ranboo as they walked up the stairs, entering the food hall. As Ranboo emerged from the stairwell, he was immediately greeted by a small commotion.
“Give me back my shoes!”
Laughter echoed through the hall, bouncing around the near-empty room.
“Wilbur?” Tubbo called out into the unilluminated room. “Are you bullying Jack?”
Ranboo looked around and recognised the two men from before. The bald man had his head in his hands and a noticeable lack of footwear. The other man, the one wearing the cap, was dangling a pair of shoes in one hand, cards haphazardly scattered on the round table in front of him.
The two boys approached the table and the man with the cap turned to them, grinning. “Jack keeps on challenging me. He just doesn’t know when to quit.”
“You don’t even need my shoes! Come on, give them back, it isn’t funny,” Jack yelled.
Tubbo snickered at the display, “It’s pretty funny.”
“It is not!” he insisted, snapping his head towards Ranboo. “Don’t just stand there! Defend me!”
Ranboo looked between the two, perplexed by the situation. Wilbur had a small pile of items on his side of the table; a matchbox, a bronze ring and a small marble statue, among other things.
“You must be the new kid,” the tattered cap turned to point at Ranboo as Wilbur addressed him, “Tommy mentioned you.”
Unable to meet his eyes, Ranboo responded; “Yeah, I just signed a bunch of papers. I suppose I’ll be living here for a while.”
Wilbur stood, just a few inches shorter, and extended a hand to Ranboo, “Nice to meet you. I’m Wilbur Soot,” though he had guessed as much, Ranboo still shook his hand, surprised by his tight grip. “This is Jack Manifold. He just lost six games in a row.”
“What sort of an introduction is that supposed to be?” squawked Jack, who also rose to his feet. He was significantly shorter than both Wilbur and Ranboo, but taller than Tubbo. He stepped forward to greet him, noticing the hole in his socks. Ranboo elected to ignore it, though, for the sake of Jack’s dignity. “My name’s Jack Manifold, and I’m not a loser, I am, in fact, an enjoyer of winning. ”
They shook hands, “I’m Ranboo. Just Ranboo, actually.”
“‘Ranboo’?” asked Wilbur. “That’s not a name you hear every day.”
Tubbo pulled up two chairs from nearby tables, setting them in front of Jack and Wilbur’s card game. “Tommy said it was stupid sounding,” he added.
“He did say that, didn’t he…” Ranboo said, taking a seat.
“I wouldn’t worry about what Tommy says, he can be… a rather strong personality. He speaks his mind a lot. We’ve been working on it,” Wilbur responded, passing Jack his shoes wordlessly. Jack muttered a ‘thanks’ and slipped them back on.
Wandering behind a long table and into a room, Tubbo came back with a bowl of broth and a spoon, which he passed to Ranboo. “It’s a bit cold, but you’ll have to live with it. The furnaces are all off for the night, and I don’t want to burn the place down.”
Ranboo took the broth without complaint. He didn’t realise how hungry he was until he took the first spoonful.
“So, Tommy said you have some sort of memory issue,” Jack said. “Is that true, or was he just havering?”
“That’s right. I don’t remember anything from before today. It’s… I’ve had to talk about it a lot today, though. It hurts my head just to think about it.” That was a conversation Ranboo had partaken in too many times already, though he knew it would plague his days for a long while.
Wilbur nodded as he packed the scattered cards away. “You don’t have to talk about it. There are plenty of people here who keep to themselves. Your past isn’t something you owe to others.”
Ranboo just hummed and took another few spoonfuls of broth.
“Well, I’m off to bed, gents,” announced Jack, breaking the silence that had fallen. “Wilbur, give me back my belongings, or this shall be taken to the law.”
With a grin, Wilbur pushed the small pile of items over to Jack. Ranboo watched Jack press his things into his deep pockets and then watched him disappear into the labyrinth that was the guild.
“Night, Jack!” called Tubbo. Once Jack had departed, Tubbo turned to Ranboo. “Did Phil tell you where you’d be sleeping?”
“He just marked a few empty rooms and told me to pick one. I’m not too sure which to go with, though.”
The map, which had been set down next to the broth, was quickly whisked away in Tubbo’s hand. His brown eyes scanned the paper, and before long he slapped it down on the desk again. “There’s one across the hall from my room! You can stay in there.”
And just like that, it had been decided.
“You two seem like a good fit. It’s no wonder Tommy seemed so tetchy.” Wilbur commented, folding the box of cards into his ink-stained coat pocket.
“Tommy’ll come around. He’s not a big fan of change, y’know?”
“I know that all too well,” Wilbur replied to Tubbo with a knowing smile.
Ranboo felt out of the loop with the two of them. With everyone, actually. There seemed to be carefully crafted dynamics between everyone; intricate webs of friendship and pain, woven together to create a great tapestry of life. And Ranboo stood in the middle of it, a loose string, connected only by chance.
His dismay must have been palpable, as Wilbur’s smile faltered, and his small hickory eyes turned almost mournful.
“Since you’re new, Ranboo, maybe I should tell you a story. I’ve told countless tales to Tubbo and Tommy, so it’s only fair,” he spoke with care and with an arcane inflection, a voice that promised wonder and terror, all at once.
“A story?” Ranboo questioned. He wanted to ask more, but he was cut off by an excited Tubbo.
“Wilbur stories are the best stories! He’s been all over the world, so he knows all sorts.”
From beneath the round table, Wilbur produced a guitar. It had swirls of paint scrawling up the body, giving it a similar appearance to Phil’s door. Sublime blues harmonised with devout whites and clashed with sly black. The bright guitar settled on Wilbur’s knee, resting against his coat, which looked dreadfully dull in comparison. His long fingers splayed chewed fingernails over the strings, evoking a few testing strums of music.
“Tell Ranboo about ‘The Everlasting Pirate’! That’s my favourite Wilbur story. It’s about an immortal pirate who sails the seas for eternity, searching for adventure!” Wilbur shook his head in reply to Tubbo’s request.
“You just told him half the story, Tubbo.” He let out a laugh, the space around his eyes creasing. “I’m going to tell the story of the seven crystals. It’s a rite of passage for new guild members.”
“That’s a good one too. Not as fun as the pirate one, but it works.” Tubbo swung his legs back and forth in anticipation, the chair a little bit too tall for him. Ranboo placed his finished broth to the side, curiosity piqued.
Wilbur played a short melody on the guitar, fingers spidering across the strings. “Alright, here we go, then.”
Ranboo held a breath waiting for him to begin. The storyteller’s eyes were dipped in shadow as he looked down at the guitar, shaded by his red cap. “Before the universe we know, there was nothing. Until one day, there was something. A being of immense power; The Creator. The Creator floated across the universe for an incomprehensible amount of time. Until one day, he flexed his great power, sending a ripple across the empty canvas of the universe.”
“And that’s when the world was made,” interrupted Tubbo with a toothy smile.
Wilbur looked up at the boy, his guitar coming to an abrupt stop. After an apologetic chuckle, Wilbur continued, picking the melody up where he left off. “And that’s when the world was made,” he repeated.
“The Creator formed oceans, which met the skies, which he painted with clouds. The oceans welcomed land and the land welcomed trees. The trees looked onto mountain ranges and the mountains looked over the world with pride.
“But, even after all of his work, The Creator still felt unfulfilled. He was alone in a world he couldn’t share with others. In a universe by himself.” Wilbur’s tune grew more sombre as he paused. The visual of a lone person faring through plentiful fields played heavily in Ranboo’s mind.
“So… what did he do?” Ranboo found himself asking.
The song grew in optimism as Wilbur continued, “He saw what he was missing, and set about fixing it. For years The Creator, a formless force of nature, worked to build life itself. And one day, he succeeded. A single bird; plumage the colour of midnight, knowing eyes and a long onyx maw, from which the first sounds tumbled out.”
“And that bird was a crow,” chimed Tubbo, earning another teasing lour from Wilbur.
“Tubbo, if you want to finish the story, I’m not going to stop you.”
“No, no… I can be quiet.” Ranboo smiled at the exchange, silently thankful that Wilbur would continue the story.
“The Creator, inspired by what he had made, made more. More crows filled the sky, and soon, other birds would join them in their flight. Fish filled the oceans, beasts prowled the forests, and insects lived between them. Centuries passed and the world was full. But,” Wilbur said, “not full enough.
“The Creator set about creating his magnum opus. Humanity. Humans walked on two legs and had the mind of the creator instilled upon them. They had morals, and culture, and wisdom. From humans rose civilisation, paving the way for governments and buildings that could touch the very clouds The Creator had painted. Human-kind wasn’t The Creator’s final endeavour, though. The final creature he created was the voxmalis.”
Tubbo interjected once more turning to Ranboo directly, “That’s what I am! Phil too. Look, I have these.” His curls were parted by dirt-filled fingernails, giving Ranboo a clear view of the white mounds on his head. While looking at the peculiar protrusions, Ranboo noticed that his ears were different too; where Wilbur had round fleshy ears, Tubbo’s were long, brown and covered in short russet hairs. “My antlers,” Tubbo clarified.
As confusion spiralled through Ranboo, Wilbur interjected. “The voxmalis are a people very similar to humans. They just have a few extra features, typically taking the form of animals. The genetics of it is rather interesting, nobody really knows how the genes get passed down. It seems sporadic, but nobody can be sure.”
“That does sound interesting,” Ranboo admitted. “The antlers suit you, Tubbo.”
Tubbo smiled once more, “Of course they do! They’re a part of me.” Wilbur continued with his story.
“After the voxmalis came to be, The Creator stopped for a minute and looked out at the world he had made. It was his masterpiece. A masterpiece he could only observe. And so, he finally made a decision; he took on a physical form and walked among his creations. Along the way, he met a myriad of interesting people, human and voxmalis alike. Skilled soldiers, creatures of chaos, those who lived in the light, and those who skulked in the shadows… he walked among his creations, his people, until his power grew too heavy.
“The power of The Creator was too much for one man to carry. And so, he split it into seven pieces. Seven crystals, each containing an aspect of his power. These crystals took on different colours and could grant fearsome power. The Creator entrusted his crystals to his closest friends. Six people held crystals, which granted them immortality for as long as they held the crystal. The Creator kept the green crystal, the most powerful and potentially destructive of all hidden away, for he knew its power was too great for a mortal.”
Neither of the listeners dared to interrupt, as the music was growing more intricate and conflicted throughout the story. Wilbur looked up for the first time in minutes. “They say The Creator still walks among us, keeping the green crystal close to his chest. One day, he may find a mortal to entrust it to, and his immortal soul will finally be at peace.”
The guitar eased its melody, building to silence.
Ranboo released a breath and Wilbur loosened his grip on his instrument, letting it rest against the table.
“What happened to the people with the crystals?” Ranboo asked.
Wilbur shrugged his shoulders, removing his cap, and ruffling his dark ringlets of hair.
“They went their separate ways. Some are still alive to this day, basking in their immortality,” he responded, putting the cap back on.
“It doesn’t matter though, it’s not like it really happened,” Tubbo said. “It’s just a story.
With a small and secretive smile, Wilbur leaned back in his chair. “And that’s just what you believe.”
“And what do you believe?” Ranboo asked Wilbur.
He didn’t answer. He just chuckled and looked at the wall.
It became apparent that Wilbur wasn’t going to answer.
Tubbo broke the low hanging silence. “Come on, Ranboo. I think we should turn in for the night. Your room will probably be pretty empty, but the bed should be ready anyways.”
“Alright. Sounds good,” he responded, still watching Wilbur.
“Will? Are you going to bed too?” Tubbo asked, finally drawing the man’s gaze back to the pair.
“No. I think I’ll stay up for a while. Techno should be coming home soon, I need to catch up with him.”
With a nod, Tubbo began to usher Ranboo away, clearing the empty bowl from the table and pressing the forgotten map into his hand.
Once they were ready, the two descended the rickety wooden staircase once more. Ranboo cast a final gaze back to Wilbur; his profile was loosely illuminated by candlelight, casting a lone figure in an otherwise empty and darkroom. He must have been fiddling with his guitar again, because Ranboo could hear bursts of music echoing down the stairs, guiding them into the depths of the guild.
This time, Tubbo led Ranboo down several sets of stairs, until they found themselves on another floor entirely. Taking long, soundless strides, Tubbo finally stopped in front of a door at the end of the tunnel.
“Here we are. I’m shattered…” Tubbo with a yawn. He continued after rubbing his eyes, “I’m just across the hall if you need anything. Goodnight, Ranboo.”
After making sure he knew where the other boy’s room was, he nodded and set his hand on the door handle. “Alright, goodnight, Tubbo.”
He wanted to thank him again, but before he could get the words out, Tubbo had retreated into his own room.
Once he opened the door and entered his room, Ranboo collapsed onto the bed, barely registering any of the room’s contents. He didn’t even notice the window next to his bed, and the expansive ravine beyond it.
Ranboo fell into a dreamless sleep, in an unfamiliar place, filled with unfamiliar people.
And he was okay with that.
He was okay.