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“Avians are baby Elytrans” is a truth with modification.
Another torch was placed, flame taken from the one already burning in Tommy’s hand.
The light spread further down the broken corridor, illuminating the moss and cracks decorating what would once have been pristine. The stone caves had shifted from being naturally created into something clearly built by hand. Small twisting paths they had to mine through where the old walls had collapsed.
Phil had his bow out and with a quick narrowed glance into the dim light from the edge of the torches’ reach, released a sparkling arrow towards where the shuffling beyond, and the moment after a zombie was pushed back from the punch in the bow’s enchantment. Its last gurgling moans of its undead existence disappearing from within the darkness.
Tommy wished he had packed his own weapons, but apparently this trip “wasn’t going to be something dangerous, it’s going to be great!” and Tommy was convinced to never trust his dad in any future trips that they were going to take to an undisclosed location.
He had been expecting something like fishing, knowing Phil’s obsession with it. Even sneaking a fishing rod along with the rest of his food. Just in case his dad was going to be boring and stereotypical and take him out on a fishing trip and he could take the fishing rod out and pretend like he hadn’t looked forward to it.
It was just something calming about it, something safe. Probably why Phil seemed to like it so much, had to be some learned behaviour.
Mining deep down into the dark in some fuck-off far-off place hadn’t exactly been Tommy’s idea of a good bonding session, and he voiced his thoughts as Phil placed yet another torch on the wall.
“You could have gotten Techno to do this, you know right?”
“’Course I could.” Phil ruffled Tommy’s hair, his hands smelling of ash. “Don’t want to hang out with your old man?”
“I could give a hundred numbers list long of better places than being here, where I can’t even stretch my wings.” As if to prove his point, Tommy flared out with his wings and then immediately glared at the grin Phil gave him when his wings didn’t even reach halfway across the room.
“Then you’re going to love this.” Phil promised with a glint in his eyes as he turned around another corner, towards a room where there already were light running out from. The sound of lava was bubbling in that room, and the warmth chased away any straggling undead wandering the halls.
As they stepped into the room, Tommy stomped down on the silverfish that started to wriggle out from the cracks. Angry at their rest being interrupted. Or happy that there was finally good food. Look, Tommy wasn’t fluent in silver-fish-wriggling.
His dad continued forward, walked up the stairs towards what looked like an altar positiones in a strange frame around the pool of lava. Green runes lit the entire thing, and reflected in Phil’s black clothing.
“Holy shit.”
“Cool right?” Phil kneeled on the top of the stairs and started to place down what looked like strangely polished Ender Pearls into the round indents around the raised platform. For every pearl placed, the green light spread just a bit more and Tommy hurried up to see what was happening.
For some reason, it felt like the pearls were glaring at him, judging, and it almost made him want to tell them fuck off, as much as objects could fuck off.
Before he placed the last one Phil winked, raising a taloned finger to hold over his mouth. “Promise you won’t tell Ranboo about this?”
“Why would he care? He got all he needs. Prick can’t go two steps without finding diamonds.” That he shared with Tommy, seeing how the avian’s eye sparkled whenever the shiny shattered stones were proudly presented. Bitch.
“Well. You know how he got about the nether-roof.” Phil said, amused. Which, sure, Tommy remembered hearing about that. He still wasn’t going to blame himself if he let this slip just a little, for just the right prize.
“It’s just like a nether portal, just not to the nether.” Phil continued, as he placed the last one in.
With that act, the lava started to rise, twisting like it was alive and trying to escape from the sides of the altar. It was quickly blackening, but instead of gaining that purple tint of obsidian, or turning to the best material in the entire world, the lava gave a shuddering last attempt before it rose and stretched like a film in-between the frame of pearls. Bright sparkling lights like stars filled among the complete blackness, and it was like looking at a liquid made from the night sky itself.
It was beautiful.
And terrifying.
“Do you need me to hold your hand?” Phil grinned and Tommy grimaced.
“Not a child,” He scoffed, pushing away the hand that Phil had reached out for him. Holding his breath.
He jumped.
There was nothing but darkness.
It was like floating and drowning at the same time. Cold nothingness around him, like a void that simultaneously tried to squash him and pretend that it didn’t exist at all.
Blackness spread out all around him, no difference if he squeezed his eyes together or kept them open.
He was alone. But also, not. There was something there.
“Phil?” Tommy called out into the darkness. His voice strangely muffled, too light.
“Dad?”
He couldn’t move, as static noise grew to a screeching in his ears, and then like a bubble that popped, there was light. The bright sun above him. A body holding him close.
There was too much noise around him. People and hybrids of all kinds moving around them as they walked, his dad bouncing him along on his hip. Tommy’s hands were too small when he looked at them clutched into his dad’s grey jacket, frowning when he couldn’t quite place why they felt so small.
“Look Tommy, there’s mommy.”
Distracted from his thoughts, Tommy perked up, swivelling his head almost to the point where he got himself dizzy before he saw her. His mom, golden hair and blue-tinted wings were waving at them at a stand, a stocky, pink-haired bunny-hybrid manning the small store that were filled with fruit and vegetables, even seeds, that made his mouth water.
“There are my darlings.” His mom reached out to ruffle his hair and Tommy would have preened at the attention, if not the impassionate stare from the stand-owner made embarrassment flare up.
“Cute kid.” The words didn’t sound genuine, the man didn’t even smile as he took another second to pack up his mother’s purchases. The bunny-hybrid gave the bag to them, and Tommy immediately started to dig through to find some snacks, his father taking one out before he could get his dirty fingers all over the produce.
Money exchanged hands, and as they were sharing their goodbyes the man paused, nodded towards Tommy.
“Y’know. Usually not the one to tell strangers what to do, but you should probably take the kid home. Been talk of an Elytran around these parts.”
His dad’s grip tightened around him, and Tommy’s hard-earned apple fell to the ground as the grip jolted him. It rolled, and dirt covered the wet bite that Tommy had managed to take. Not that it mattered, it was just extra spice even if his parents never agreed on that. Point was, that his dad was taking a step away and not even his mother was bending down to get his apple back to him.
Tommy pouted, and gave his dad a light punch, small bubbling annoyance taking shape in his furrowed eyebrows as his dad didn’t even acknowledge him.
“Thank you. For the warning.” His dad nodded; his jaw clenched and still looking at the bunny hybrid, who gave a small jerk of his head back, his ears and the hair in messy bun bounced funnily along with the movement, before he tended to his wares once again.
From over his dad’s shoulder, Tommy saw him follow them with his eyes as his parents walked away with hurried steps. He waved at him, but didn’t see if he returned the gesture as the crowd around the marketplace shielded him from view. His parents exchanged hurried whispers that he couldn’t make out.
That night, his dad squeezed into the nest with him, close enough to almost be suffocating. Tommy wasn’t about to complain, snuggling closer to his dad, head lying on his chest and hearing the fluttering of his heart. It sounded quick, like his dad had been running, and Tommy’s eyes slipped closed.
It was cold. The window in the nesting-room was closed, but strong winds from somewhere else in their home was curling into the room twisting the curtains and the loose textile in the nest around.
It was always windy, their home built on the top of a high cliff watching over the blue ocean below. On calmer days, his mom would take him gliding down the edge, holding his hand and teaching him all the nooks and crannies to rest on when burst of winds came by. His dad waiting on the top, holding a fishing line that never failed to catch Tommy to help him up, his small limbs not enough to get the grips his mother could as they climbed up the cliff only to jump off it once again the moment they got up, laughing, and screeching all the way down.
His mother was yelling now. Loud. She didn’t sound happy. She sounded the way she did when Tommy had decided to play knight with the knives in the kitchen.
His dad was picking him up and moving, stumbling on the pillows that had fallen out from the nest towards the closet that was on the other side of the room. When Tommy yelped, his dad covered his mouth and Tommy started to struggle against the grip, confused and scared, one of his wings painfully trapped in his dad’s careless grip.
Tommy remembered this.
His dad in front of the closet-door kneeling, only holding the door open just a sliver. His dad had always been so tall, even now he was shielding Tommy from most of the light.
Except. Phil was shorter than him. But in a child’s view everyone looked tall, right?
“Toms, you’re going to have to be real quiet, okay? Don’t come out until I come get you, okay, it’s going to be alright, okay little champ?” Rambling, his breath did that weird shaky thing that Tommy copied. Things weren’t fine. Tommy could hear his mother’s voice, loud enough to crack glass even through walls.
“Stay the fuck away!” His mom’s voice, loud and grating. “I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill you!”
“Mate. Don’t be difficult now.” An unfamiliar voice laughed. “You can always have another, right?”
“Fuck off!”
His dad rose, turning around towards the noise beyond the door, dark brown wings flaring wide open behind him.
No. That can’t be right?
His dad had black wings. It must have been a trick of the light. Tommy’s memory being wrong.
His dad sent him one last glance back, his eyes strangely glistering in the flickering light from the lanterns, and Tommy reached out towards him only to have to snatch his hand back as his dad slammed the door closed. Clutching his hand back against his chest Tommy’s fear slowly morphed into anger.
He was Tommy Danger Kraken Innit, and his mother had always told him to take no shit, do harm if necessary.
(“It’s, do no harm, darling please don’t tell him to pick fights.”)
He was no coward.
Using his body as leverage, Tommy pushed the heavy closet door open again, saved from smashing his face in the floor by a spare pillow. He held his breath, listening to the noise of arguing, his father’s voice joining along.
Careful, far more than he ever had been, moving along the floorboards and fluttering his wings to try and make himself slightly lighter so they wouldn’t creek, Tommy slipped out of the room and peeked into the room the noises was coming from.
In in the open window a lone shape lounged against the side, one leg under the other on the windowsill. His form largely hidden behind Tommy’s parents. Tommy's own wings fluffed up at the sight of them, both their pair of wings risen and spreading out. Hackles raised.
“I’m being generous here. Think of your future children.”
With a screech, his mother ran towards forward. A knife glinted in her hand as the man only laughed and toppled backwards out of the window before she could even reach him.
“Hetta-!” His dad yelled, going forward to drag her back from the window, when it looked like she was just about to jump out after him, straight down the cliffside. Her hair, thick and blond, was thrown around her head by the wind as she scanned the darkness outside, knife still raised.
Tommy opened his mouth, to call out, to join his mother in chasing away the intruder.
He took one step into the room.
The next moment his mother was thrown, her body knocked back to the other side of the room and slamming into the wall, sliding down it without even a single sound. A wet gurgling breath all she could manage, her hand still desperately clutching the knife with shaking fingers as she slumped to the side, her head lolling. Finding him standing by the threshold.
His mom was looking up at him, opening and closing her mouth like a fish left on land. Her hand reaching out, twitching.
She shouldn’t be doing that.
She should be getting up. She should be stopping the blood.
Tommy couldn’t breathe, his head screaming and nerves aflame, freezing him on the spot.
Tommy’s dad was on the floor next to her, screaming, pushing down on the wound in her chest to try and stop the blood flow, his back momentarily turned away from the window.
There was nothing but a single quiet thump, blue eyes shining from the darkly dressed shape in flowy clothes that had reappeared in the window, an arrow already nocked. The glowing of an enchanted bow colouring the room in flickering flaming purple.
Tommy ran.
He couldn’t quite close the closet door behind him, scuffling back as far as he could against the corner and wrapping his wings around him. Pressing his hands over his ears to not hear his own shallow breaths.
Like a twisting song, sounds of steps slipped through his fingers. Coming closer.
“Tommy?” His dad called, but it didn’t sound right. There was a coo, but instead of answering a flinch tore through his body. The coo was grating, distorted by small clicking sounds. Even when his dad had been sick, he hadn’t sounded like that. “Toms, darling. You can come out now.”
His small talons was digging into his skin, grasping his own hair and unable to close his eyes as the steps had stopped, and black talons curled around the wood of the door ajar.
“There you are.” The man sighed, a grin spreading over his face as he looked down on him. “There you are, finally.”
Black talons reached for him, and Tommy scrambled back from them, trying to burrow down into the assortment of clothes and shoes that had been misplaced on the floor of the closet. The hand gripped around his ankle, and Tommy cried out in fear, grabbing onto whatever he could find. The red scarf that was dragged along with him out into the light not helping his fighting the least. The moment the dragging stopped, and the man’s other hand reached for him Tommy twisted around and sunk his teeth as hard as he could into the offending digits.
His teeth weren’t made for tearing through flesh, and the man’s fingers felt more like metal. It hurt, but Tommy wasn’t about to let go that easily. Not that he had a choice, as two fingers pressed hard against the joints of his jaw, and the voice that was his dad’s but was not crooned at him.
“Little spitfire like your mother, aren’t you?”
A hand brushed by his wings, and they curled closed, squeezed tight to try and escape from the unwanted touch. A mockery of comfort. He was hugged to the side, cradled in one arm as the man rose up. They were moving and as the noise from the stormy ocean, the wind bursting into the room, and Tommy got another burst of panic, kicking his feet to try and dislodge himself as the man walked him towards the open window.
A strange scent like fire and iron rose from the from the man as he stopped, kneeling down and there was a squelching noise, the hand not keeping Tommy cradled against his body pulling twice and jerking.
As he stood up, there was two bloodied arrows clutched in his talons, disappearing into a quiver hanging from his back.
From the corner of his eye, Tommy’s mind couldn’t quite comprehend what he was seeing. Two bodies toppled on top of each other on the floor. Red draining into the floor below them in a pool. His fingers curled into the scarf still in in his grasp.
It felt like his mind had turned into molten metal, eating away at his thoughts.
Unable to move as the man dipped out to sit on the windowsill, legs hanging on the outside and he shifted his grip on Tommy to hold him with both hands, a rattle sounding from his throat that had Tommy’s hair stand on edge, his wings fluttering anxiously.
Then, the man leaned forward, and let gravity take them both.
Tommy screamed as the man dropped out into the night, involuntarily digging his smaller talons into the dark clothes. The red scarf fell from his hands, disappearing into the darkness in barely a second. His wings trying to break free from the iron grip of the arms around him, instinctively trying to slow their plunge.
They fell, the cliffside he had so gently drifted down before now rushing past. They were going to crash into the ocean and Tommy tried to catch his breath to hold it, just as he had been taught, but he couldn’t stop hiccupping. Right when splashes of seawater joined the salty tears and snot rushing down his face, the angle suddenly shifted, and they were gaining altitude with a speed that sent everything in his stomach rolling.
Tommy was still sobbing when the man landed, his whole body shaking. He couldn’t move his body, it was frozen like steel had wrapped around his every limb, even if he desperately wanted to push away from the man. His heart was bouncing around in his chest like it was desperate butterfly trying to find a way out.
They were on the ground, he could run back, go back home. If only he could get away from the grip caging him in.
He wanted his mom. He wanted his dad.
Tommy wanted to go home.
“That's good?” A bunny-hybrid, smaller than the man holding him, was waiting for them. Petting a horse and alternating between letting the horse eat the carrots in his hand and taking a bite himself. Through Tommy’s blurry sight, he looked familiar. The voice even more-so.
“He’s perfect. Thanks mate,” The man spoke, and Tommy shied away from the kiss left on his head. A single hard laugh had Tommy’s waterworks start again. “You’d think they were literally chickens, the way they've all been hiding.”
“Just couldn’t stand your brooding anymore.”
“Shut.” The man snapped, but as he looked back down on Tommy the sharp look melted. “Thank you, genuinely.”
“Well. That’s too heartfelt for me. Cringe.” With a smooth motion, the bunny hybrid leaped up on his horse. “Race you back home?”
“You're just saying that 'cus you’ll probably win.”
“Obviously, I don’t have a baby weighing me down, shit strategy Philza.”
With an answering laugh, the man spread his wings, large and black and blotting out the last sight that Tommy had of his nest as they took flight. The winds took them further and further away from home, the ground rushing by beneath them. The ocean disappearing behind the cliff.
In the night, the ocean had looked like nothing more than a gaping void.
Tommy stared out into nothing.
There was nothing.
“Tommy?”
Phil was on his knees before him, a hand steady on his shoulder as Tommy was leaning his forehead against chilling cold sand. Rock? The ground below him looked like nothing he had seen before, porous like hard cheese.
Everything was so cold. But there was no wind.
Why did he think there would be wind?
Tears dripped down his eyes, falling into his hairline from the position he was in.
Why was he crying?
Phil’s hand was rubbing along his back, slow and grounding. “Toms, I’m sorry, didn’t know you’d react so badly to the portal.”
Tommy exhaled, his breath shaking hard, and finally lifted his head.
A great void stretched out before him. They were sitting on the ground just near the edge of a platform that seemed to float, somehow anchored, in the middle of nothing.
It was silent.
The lack of noise was in such a way that Tommy would almost have expected something more. It was silent, so why did Tommy expect a hum. Why was his whole body shaking?
The only pieces of life were the Endermen walking around, endlessly, and aimlessly from side to side of the platform. Caring not for the two intruders into their world. Large flower-like structures stretching up on the sides, but even those felt frozen, as close to stone as the distant obsidian structures towering towards the middle of the island.
It all felt artificial.
As if the void itself was sucking every little bit of existence from the surviving surroundings.
Tommy had always loved to practice flying, throwing himself off any high point he could just to keep himself in the air for a moment more. This didn’t feel like freedom. This felt like a box closing in. The great nothingness no different from a weight pushing all around him. Tommy had heard about black holes; with gravity one couldn’t avoid if you got to close.
This felt like a sea of it.
No cliff to climb up from.
No one to pull you up.
Nothing. End of the line.
The End.
“You wanted to stretch you wings right?” Phil gestured out; his wings flared out to match his apparent excitement at the idea of jumping down into certain doom. “I think you’re finally ready to learn to fly.”
“I don’t…” Tommy swallowed, battled down the part of his pride that didn’t want to admit that he desperately did not want to get off the island. Hell. He was considering starting to claw at the ground to dig himself a hole to hide himself in. Hide from the void.
He gave Phil a forced smile. “I can’t fly, you know this.”
“It’s just some void-surfing.” His worries were shaken away. “Been wanting to share this with you forever. Nothing in the overworld that can compare.”
Phil reached over to him and brushed a stray piece of his hair behind his ears. Tommy was hyper focused on where he brushed by the crescent-shaped scars hidden under his hair.
All he could see looking down, was the black ocean.
Phil holding him as they dove down.
Right after he had killed his parents.
The hand on the side of his face froze, and Phil’s eyes widened.
He didn’t mean for it to slip out.
“Oh, oh no, baby.” Phil's hand reached up to cup his other cheek, cradling his face with both hands. “You’re still mine, they were just temporary---”
He looked heartbroken.
With a burst of energy, Tommy slapped Phil’s hands away and scrambled backwards, almost sending himself down the edge of the other side, rolling to the side in a flinch to prevent himself from falling and trying to get his knees underneath him to get up.
There had to be a way out.
He kept expecting his dad, Phil, to grab at him as he started to run towards the centre of the island. At least then, he could try and use the Endermen as some sort of shield. Hoping Phil would accidently piss them off.
Looking back, Phil was nowhere to be seen and his worst fears were confirmed, searching the excuse of a sky for any hint of him. As fast as he was on the ground, he could never beat the speed of him flying.
Glowing lilac light met him, an arrow aimed his way and Phil let it fly without even a single sliver of hesitation.
Before Tommy could even try to hold onto something the arrow snatched the side of his shirt, expertly avoiding both skin and his wings, and the enchantment grabbed a hold of him. Pushing him back, lifting him from the feet.
Off the edge.
He was falling, too far away to reach the edge as it passed over him.
Slow.
So slow.
Wings useless for anything else than prolonging.
Fumbling fingers grabbed at his inventory, as Tommy reached for the fishing rod he had stored there.
With a last frantic act, Tommy threw out a fishing line towards one of those strange flowery trees that grew all over the floating islands. Through the void he couldn’t see if it hit something, and for a horrifying, stomach-dropping moment he thought he missed as he continued his barely controlled descent.
The next his arm jumped as the line finally went taut. Tommy’s wings desperately fluttering, trying to do the impossible and lift him away from the void below. His arms were shaking, as much as he wanted to, he couldn’t make them pull his weight up. He couldn’t climb up. Not without a cliff to grab onto.
The line shook. Looking up, he couldn’t see Phil’s face. Obscured by his own shadow as he blocked the slight light from the obsidian towers.
“Phil, please” Tommy begged, watching the man who raised him cock his head and a sympathetic frown framed his expression as the light hit it. “Please.”
Phil looked down at him, himself using the line as a place of rest with one hand clutched around the string while the strong beats of his wings kept him upright. Hovering in mid-void. His expression softened in a moment.
“It’s okay, Toms.” He was tapping the line with one sharp talon, and Tommy felt cold sweat drip down his face. “I’ll hold your hand on the way down. You don’t need to be so scared, little bird.”
The line snapped in Phil’s hands, and for a moment Tommy forced his wings to beat as if he were a hummingbird, the limbs not keeping up and stumbling, beats getting unmatched between the sides, and he started to drift down.
“Don’t worry. I’m here. Dad’s here.” Phil crooned, his voice distorting, sounding fuller in the space. Belonging.
Talons wrapped around his wrist.
They drifted down. Still so slow.
The void was patient. Inevitable.
There was a stinging feeling starting at his feet, rising over his legs, like he was slowly sinking into acid. As if he was being digested by the void itself. He pulled at Phil’s arm, bending his legs to get away from the feeling, and the bastard simply drifted further down. Gliding over the void with confidence and contentment.
His eyes were fond, dilated in a way Tommy hadn’t seen since he was a small fledgling. Since shortly after the bastard kidnapped him.
With a last burst Tommy reached to try and tear Phil’s throat open.
His hand was caught right as it reached his skin, just slightly piercing, and with an indulgent huff, Phil peeled away the fingers that was still grasping at him.
“No.” Tommy gasped as Phil let him go. “Dad!”
When the stinging cold reached his wings, the pain got excruciating.
The darkness ate him whole.
Tommy woke up.
For a moment he was still. His body felt like it was in a grave, like rigor mortis had already occurred, even if his beating heart tried to refute that fact.
The world was coloured strangely. Colours slightly faded but contrasting lights stronger. The Endermen he could see from beyond a shimmering glass wall curled around him were standing out even against the darkness behind them, like they were brighter, a sparkle of stars in their skin.
He tried to sit up, unsuccessful. It was like his back was glued to the soft pile he was lying on.
Wait.
It took him a moment since the colours were off.
This was his nest.
Things weren’t lying in the correct order, but it was close to it. Arranged in a mocking attempt at comfort. Tommy reached out towards one of the pillows, intent at throwing it away and mess up the facsimile of home and safety he was lying in. The hand that reached out wasn’t his. It couldn’t be. His fingers had always been long, but it was like someone had cut them halfway and replaced them with far heavier pitch-black talons, like thin knives had been melted into his skin. Reaching up to his face to look at them closer he misjudged the distance as well as his current strength to keep his hand lifted, and the talons cut into the skin of his face. Some seemed to be stopped, not even registering as hitting his body, but rather how a hit against armour felt.
Hard scales littered the side of his cheeks, where normally small feathers would be.
No. no. no.
Slowly, Tommy shifted. His head turning to the side.
His wings were black. Shimmering dark. There were the slight lines where his feathers once had been, like they had been melted together and changed into their new material. Tommy wanted them off. Wanted to cut them away. His wings were gone. These weren’t his. They couldn’t be.
His throat gave a croaking, rattling excuse of a chirp, as he let his talons flop down on the wings and started to scratch at them. Not even making a dent.
Why the hell were the elytra so heavy. Why. Why. Why. They were supposed to let him fly, help him, let him get away. Not keep him pinned like a bug.
As he gave another pathetic warble, the sound choked in him as it was answered with a broken coo.
Phil had landed outside of the glass cage that he was in, bags slung over his shoulder and his hair in a ponytail at his back. The way Tommy had seen him so many times when he was building something. The pub, their home, the countless projects that Tommy had been dragged to see.
“Look at you.” Phil had apparently lost every single sense of empathy, as he looked adoringly at Tommy not even being able to sit up.
He couldn’t wrestle the strength to yell at him. Didn’t know if it would be in anger or fear, or simple crushing betrayal.
“Don’t be scared. This is all normal. You just used up a lot of energy, you will need some time for rest and recovery.” Tommy was very intently not agreeing with that, but his voice was locked into his throat. For a moment he was back, trying to hide in the softness in the closet. It didn’t help that Phil was placing a hand on the glass, shimmering with unbreaking enchantment. “You’re going to be my fledgling again, just like when you were small.”
Unable to get his voice to do anything else than hateful, stuttering, and scared rattling and clicks, Tommy did what was easiest and turned his hand to use his new digits to show Phil what he thought of that.
“Little shit.” Phil grinned, wide and sharp. As if he was proud. Tommy wanted to smash his face in. “I think we both know that I can’t let you go back for a while. You’ve always been so brave, so headstrong. When you feel comfortable to let go of the idea of escape or misplaced revenge, you can come back with me to the overworld. Until then---”
He was reaching into the bag and pulling out a shulkerbox. Lifting it up and letting it spin open, the smell of dirt and flowers was overwhelming against the absence of scent in the area.
“I’ve wanted a bit of a new project anyway.”