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Ghostbur never thought he would know what’s it like to die.
He remembered Wilbur’s death, of course. It was something he could never, ever forget. The twist of both fear and joy upon seeing Phil again for the first time in years, the euphoria of pressing that god-forsaken button, the relief of finally being killed and put to rest. It was a happy memory—a complicated one, but happy overall.
But he never felt the pain of the sword stabbing through his chest and out his back. He never felt the air ever so slowly drain from his lungs as his vision grew spotty. He never felt the way his body collapsed on the floor and bled out until it was nothing but a shell, an empty husk that used to be alive.
Now he understood.
Already weakened by the poison he had to take to get into the prison, it only took one hit to kill him. One hard punch to his temple, and Ghostbur had found himself falling. As soon as Dream’s fist connected, he knew he was dying. He knew it from the tip of his curly desaturated hair down his blue-stained shoes.
His last moments felt too short and yet so incredibly long at the same time. He had time to think about Friend, who was still stuck in the Nether, and hoped that perhaps Tommy might retrieve him and bring him out when this was done. He didn’t want Friend to be stuck in the Nether forever.
He also thought about Fundy, left without a father once again. Maybe Eret would finally get around to adopting him soon. Fundy needed a dad. And what of Phil, missing the only thing left of his son?
He watched Tommy’s horrified, grief-stricken face as he fell to the ground, and his last thought wasn’t about Friend, or Fundy, or even Phil.
His last thought was that he wished he had some of his blue on him. It looked like Tommy needed some right now.
His head hit the obsidian floor with a crack, and then he was on a train.
It was dark. Strips of harsh red lights lined the roof, which did little to illuminate the rows of seats that stretched ahead and behind him. One bright white light shone down at the front of the car.
Ghostbur sat in his seat and stared at the red lights. His head throbbed from the hit that killed him. An empty void gaped in his chest from the last breath that had left his lungs just moments ago.
On shaky legs, he pushed himself to his feet. The train jostled him back and forth as he made his way to the front. Maybe he could see who was conducting the train and ask them to turn around and bring him back to Tommy and Friend. He needed to see them again, at least one last time.
He reached the white light and poked his head into the conductor’s compartment. “Excuse me?”
The conductor turned around. A white mask smiled back at him.
And Ghostbur knew there was no chance of him going back.
That isn’t to say he didn’t try. He screamed, he cried, he begged for Dream to stop the train and let him off. He cried as his tears burned his skin. He cried for Tommy, for Friend, for Phil, for Tubbo, for anyone to come get him off this train and back home. He didn’t want to know where he’d end up.
He hardly noticed when the train slowed to a stop. Dream stood and walked to the doors, half startling Ghostbur out of his misery. Sniffling, Ghostbur scrambled after Dream, both curious and terrified of what might be on the other side of those doors.
They opened up to a concrete train platform. Red lights glared down from the ceiling, washing everything in a crimson hue. Cracked screens hung from the walls, each one displaying times for different trains, but glitches flashed across the screens, making everything unreadable. A speaker for a PA system stuck out from the wall. Gentle static filled the platform for a moment before tapering off.
And sitting on the concrete with a game of cards set out in front of him was a man. Most of his form was hidden beneath a tattered brown trench coat and a pair of ratty black wings, very similar to Phil’s. He gazed up at Ghostbur and Dream, eyes wide in awe behind wire-rimmed glasses.
Only when the man smiled and scrambled to his feet did Ghostbur realize that he looked just like himself.
Wilbur Soot grabbed Ghostbur’s shoulder and shoved him onto the train platform, leaping onto the train with an ecstatic laugh. Ghostbur toppled to the ground. There was no air to get knocked out of his lungs when he fell, but he wished there had been.
He watched the doors slide shut. He couldn’t see through the windows, but he could hear the laughter of Wilbur’s manic euphoria as the train gradually pulled away from the station. It sped down the tube and disappeared into darkness.
And Ghostbur was left alone for the first time ever.