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Grian moved to the mountain to get away from the world. Away from the memories of blood. From the Red King. From that familiar smile— from Scar.
Despite his misgivings, the wind still comforted him. A mountain was a mountain, and a home was a home. And, the wind— no matter if he was atop a desert or a forest— was the same.
The world was bloodthirsty, but… he was not. The world was bloodthirsty, and he was yellow. He was one death away from that terrible red. From the screaming souls demanding blood.
From Scar’s tear-stricken face. From dull eyes and red sand.
He was one fall away from losing it all— one step too close to the sun and he would fall like Icarus. His wings were not made of wax— they were made up of broken alliances and spilt blood. Familiar tears and anguished screams.
His wings were made from memories.
His wings could not fly.
Grian could not fly.
So, when Joel came to him with an offer of souls,— of bets and of safety— he took it. Joel was not Scar. He did not try to make Grian laugh when he was sad. He did not try to make the mountain a home. He did not ask for Grian to build… anything.
Joel was not Grian’s friend, and— if everything went to plan— he never would be.
They were business partners. Nothing more, nothing less.
Then, morning came. Then, Joel tried to kill him.
Joel was the Boogeyman, and he needed a victim.
(“Go to the Southlands. They’re… easy victims.”
“Even Scar?”
A pause.
“Go for Mumbo or Impulse.”)
And, Joel came back, still cursed. And, Joel came back, with enemies following.
He grabbed Grian’s shoulders and begged him to help— to create a trap that would kill them.
It was easy.
(It wasn’t. Scar was coming, and he could fall in. Scar could die again, and Grian couldn’t—)
It was easy, until he heard yells. Until he heard Scar.
And, suddenly, they were on opposite sides. Suddenly, there was Joel and Scar. Suddenly, it was Joel screaming at him to jump over to his side.
It was too much. Scar didn’t understand what was going on, did he? He didn’t see the anger, the bloodlust in Joel’s eyes. All he saw was frustration.
But, Grian could see it.
So, he took the jump.
“Scar, get away from him,” he murmured. Grian stood between the two of them— between Joel’s bloodlust and Scar’s idiocy. Between an ally and a friend.
Now, he thought. Now, I’ve saved two of his lives.
Maybe, after this whole fiasco was over, Grian would tell Scar that. He would laugh, he was sure. And, for a moment, Grian could pretend they were happy again.
That the desert sun beat down on them, overbearing and dry. That they laughed together during whatever downtime the world offered them. That Dogwarts was after them.
That everything was okay.
Mumbo pushed Scar behind him. Terror filled his dark green eyes. Mumbo was… protecting Scar. Like Grian was.
Impulse stepped to stand beside Mumbo, fully blocking Scar from his view. Jimmy held a sword behind them. And, near the back, Martyn ushered Scar away.
They all were protecting Scar.
That wasn’t right, was it? Last time, everyone wanted him dead and gone. Last time, the only thing keeping Scar alive was Grian.
What changed?
Joel cursed beside him, turning to run deeper into their mountain. Grian stood there, watching with wide green eyes as they led Scar to the bridge.
Slowly,— idiotically— Grian went to follow them. He wasn’t a Boogeyman. They had no reason to doubt him.
Around Grian’s waist, his diamond sword hung. A threat.
“Scar.”
Panicked dark green eyes met his. The group stepped back, as if they could sense the danger. As if they could sense his disbelief— his anger.
“Scar, what are you doing?”
Why are you with them when I’m all alone?
Scar’s eyes flicked to his waist for a split second. Their hands moved in unison. To grab his sword— to grab a lava bucket.
Grian was faster, and yet—
How could he just kill Scar like that?
He couldn’t.
But—
A burning hot— a steaming, melting, reforming around his chest. His heart, beating rapid and desperate.
Lava soaked into his bones. Scar’s terror bled into shock bled into sadness.
Scar didn’t hesitate to kill him.
Wasn’t that cruel? Wasn’t that the worst thing he’d ever heard?
In the end, Grian didn’t have time to scream.
In the end, there was no one who would have helped him.
(Once, Scar would have saved him .)