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The fear that the Watchers would find him followed him constantly. It seeped into every aspect of Grian's life on Hermitcraft, from his builds to his interactions with his server mates. It taunted him, preying on him in the dead of night. He had lost count of how many nights he had spent lying awake in the empty vastness of his tower base, staring up at the ceiling as the paranoia cursed him with sleeplessness.
Xisuma found him on one of those nights, after a particularly bad week. Phantoms were circling the top of the tower, their screeches reminding him of his cowardice. The admin had come to check on him, concerning obvious even behind the helmet he always wore. Grian had tried to avoid talking about it but it was too much. He fell apart under Xisuma's gentle gaze, letting himself shatter as he admitted to his past and the fear that followed him still.
“It’s ok, Grian. I promise that no harm will come to you while you are a member of my server.” The sincere reassurance did little to soothe the fear.
“I- I know. I know that. And despite that, despite the fact I trust you on that I’m still scared. I’m scared X. I don’t know how to stop it.” His voice shook, breathless from the built-up anxiety being released.
Xisuma thought for a minute, resting a firm but gentle grip on Grian’s arm, grounding him as he caught his breath.
“Why don’t we test it then? Do something the Watchers wouldn’t allow, and then you can see for yourself that they won’t come.”
“I- Are you sure?”
“I’m sure. It doesn’t have to be something big, just something that you know they dislike.”
“I used to steal from other people's chests at the Watcher towers. They didn’t like that and put obsidian over my own chests, before we had enchants.”
“Well, that might be a good place to start. I know Mumbo probably wouldn’t mind you borrowing something from him.”
“I guess.” Grian was doubtful.
“Wouldn’t hurt to try, y'know?”
“Sure. I’ll try it.”
“I’ll be on the lookout for any activity on the server. Now, you need to sleep. It’s been nearly a week Grian, I’ve seen the statistics.”
Grian managed a weak laugh.
“Ok Ex-eye-sooma-void. I’ll try and sleep.”
“Good!” Xisuma said, a veiled layer of proudness filtering through his voice. He left the build, leaving behind a promise of safety even if Grian tested the limits of what he once knew.
---
It built slowly from there. Grian took something from Mumbo’s chests, just some coal, nothing the mustached man would notice. When there was no obsidian on his chests the next day he let out a breath he didn’t realise he was holding. Maybe they really couldn’t reach him there.
Slowly, slowly, he tested the limits more. He took from others, played pranks, and started a war, and as each day passed without retribution from the Watchers he grew more confident.
There was only one test left. He sat in the corner of the Hippie Camp, tucked away by his RV staring at the blank piece of paper. The pencil felt foreign in his hand as he slowly moved it to touch the paper. He tried to not think, dispelling all thoughts from his mind as the pencil moved, creating a familiar shape.
He closed his eyes, unwilling to face what he had just done. The calm air of the camp floated around him, the scent of flowers mixing with the smoke still wafting from the unlit campfire. His eyes opened slowly, revealing the four lines on the paper. The broken portal. The symbol the Watchers cherished with their being. It felt like blasphemy drawing it himself, like he was going to be struck down for his hubris any second now. He held his breath, waiting for what seemed inevitable.
The world stood still, frozen around him for what seemed like an eternity. It was only broken by footsteps, by Impulse entering the camp with new materials. Grian exhaled, relief filling his mind as he sighed, greeting Impulse with a weak smile. He felt drained, the simple act of drawing the simple symbol exhausting him of all the energy he had before. But he smiled, because he’d done it. He was safe, he was certain of it. If the Watchers hadn’t come for him for this they must not be able to reach him at all.
He slept soundly that night, the small drawing resting on the floor beside him.
The papers piled up, as he drew it again and again, confirming to himself what he knew was true. They couldn’t hurt him now.
Xisuma looked proud when he showed him. Grian felt free, like he could finally breathe without a weight on his chest. He went back to his new life filled with restless energy, as if he had to make up for the months he spent carrying around his past like a backpack.
He burnt the papers one day in the Hippie Camp. He tossed them into the campfire, watched them shrivel and burn, and although they didn’t know what it was for Ren and Impulse joined him in his joyful celebration.
The first time he drew it on his hand it was an accident. He had been sitting in his starter base in season 7, trying to sketch out what his base would look like when he set the pen on his skin. It was cold, and as it glided across his skin he felt empowered. What was once a symbol of his past, a symbol of fear was now a sign of confidence, of the future he dared reach for and claim for his own.
It reminded him of what he risked to get here, of the safety he had found. It was a memento of the family he had left behind and of the past that he had run from. It was all that and more and he left it there, black ink stark against his skin.
It was a comfort, a reminder that Xisuma had his back, that he was safe and protected, and that the undying loyalty he’d give any of the hermits they’d give him back.
His confidence didn’t stop the bad days. The days where he saw purple hiding in every corner, when whispers followed him as the cold of the End settled in his bones. Those days were rare, but he felt like he was falling each time they came, shaking hands gripping a pen as the broken portal covered his arms, the cold glide of ink against his skin reminding him that they couldn’t reach him.
He could never bring himself to wash the symbols off. But he hated the looks of sorrow that Mumbo, that Iskall and Scar and Xisuma and all of the Hermits would give him when they saw the dark ink covering his hands. Sometimes one of them would stumble upon him in a fit of anxiety, and they would sit him down, and let him use their skin as a canvas, wearing the symbol as a badge of honour, a sign that they acknowledged and accepted Grian fully, problems and all.
That gave him the courage to keep smiling, to keep moving even when the shadows taunted him, when the lure of the end portal threatened to overwhelm him. The knowledge that his friends, his family would stand alongside him as he weathered this storm and the knowledge that he would do the same for them.
Then Pearl joined.
---
It had been nearly 3 years since he had been taken, since he had last seen the one he called his sister. And now she was here, back with him. That first night in the starting village he had held her tight, and not let go. There was no symbol on his hands, it had been wiped in the jump, and between the flurry of the first day and the rush of his reunion with Pearl he had not found time to redraw it.
But that thought was secondary to the pure joy that overwhelmed him. His sister, his moon, was home! He knew what he had to do. It was inevitable that he would have to go to the end, such is the way of Hermitcraft, but he knew that it would scare Pearl. After all, the last time he went to fight the dragon he had been taken.
So he went to the end. And it was only once he was victorious, sat with the egg outside the portal that he finally drew the symbol once more. It sat in its normal place, beneath his thumb, and he let out a sigh once it was drawn. He made the journey home in comfortable silence, his prize hidden away in his inventory, excited to prove to Pearl how far he had come.
She ran up to him as he stepped back into the burgeoning village they had set up base in.
“Grian!” She was breathless, a hint of panic evident in her eyes.
“I’m back, and! I got the egg! I’m not going anywhere, I swear.” He smiled brightly, holding up the egg for her to see.
She relaxed, before jolting straight again.
"Hey, Grian? Why do you have th-that symbol on your hand?"
She was staring at the symbol on his hand and he cursed silently. Of course, she wouldn’t know what it meant now. To her, it was probably still a sign of fear and sorrow.
"They can't reach us here Pearl. This proves it!"
"A-are you sure?"
Grian’s heart sank, Pearl sounded so scared and he rushed to comfort her.
"Of course! Xisuma's defenses are impenetrable!" He boasted, letting confidence seep through his voice.
"If you say so." She still didn't sound sure.
Grian paused, thinking about how he could best soothe her worries.
"Do you want to test it yourself? We can get Xisuma to keep an eye out for anything."
"I- sure. I suppose I should trust Xisuma."
Pearl seemed taken aback, although it was clear that she was miles ahead of where Grian was when he joined the server.
"It took me ages to be able to do this, you don't need to rush if you're not ready."
"No. No, it's fine, I'm just..." She stuttered.
"Nervous, right?"
"Yeah..."
Grian leveled her with a sincere smile, taking hold of her hands.
"I won't let them take me again, no one on this server will let them take either of us. We're safe Pearl, and I want to prove it to you."
She inhaled, then exhaled, steeling her nerves.
"Ok. Prove it then. Please."
"As you wish." He swept himself into a playful bow, making her laugh.
That night the two sat in Pearl's newly built base, pens in hand, blank pages scattered in front of the siblings. Silence enveloped the room as shapes began to form, the two building a hope for the future from the shattered fear of their past.
The glide of ink on skin was familiar, routine, a comfort when the world became too much. The two shared that, taking care of each other, the broken portal from their past paving the way to the future they sought.