Chapter Text
The first thing he can remember is flames.
Unnaturally red flames. A fire that turns green and purple, the hottest parts being pitch black. It licks at his shoes, surrounding him like a cage. Sweat rolls down his face, evaporating as they touch the ground. Somewhere, far past him, wood creaks and groans, planks falling apart and landing in the supernatural fire.
The air is clogged with dark smoke, smoke that blots out the sun and the sky. Despite the smoke that enters his lungs, he doesn’t cough, nor does he choke.
He isn’t worried either, watching the flames whip in the sky, growing in size. He’s barely even bothered by the screams and shouts that surround him, his biggest concern being his horse and raccoons overheating in the fire.
In the distance, shadowed by the smoke and distorted by the heat of the fire, he can see the closest thing he has to family, trying to reach him. Honestly, though, the only reason that he’s calm right now is because of them. If he wasn’t, he’d probably do something like try to talk to the goddamn fire.
“-y! Just- just stay there, okay? We’ll reach you-” One of his brothers shouts, breaking out in a series of coughs. He doubles over, choking on the air. His twin can only fret, a hand clamped over his mouth to prevent smoke from coming into his lungs. Others- people he doesn’t remember that well- red and blue glasses, pink hair, scales and ears- shout and move around, some doubling over as they cough.
He waves his hand, sending a fresh gust of air to them. They need to breathe as well.
This fire isn’t regular. Nor is it regular smoke.
The horse that sits behind him, serving as a backrest, nudges her head at him.
“Dark magic,” She says. “Dark magic, flames of dark magic.”
“...What the fuck is dark magic?” He asks, eyes flitting over the multicolored flames.
“Newly created, evil, magic. It’s destructive, and it’s controlling.”
He hums.
“Don’t ever use it.”
“I will.”
Leaning back on the wood barriers of a small, overgrown farm, Wilbur makes a sour face. “Don’t. You’re going to get sick again.”
Tommy shrugs, cupping a handful of the dirty water. “That is a risk I’m willing to take.”
“Even your horse doesn’t want you to do this,” Wilbur states, waving a hand towards Tommy’s horse.
Tommy hums. As if. Drista’s an iconic horse, and she’d let him do whatever he wants as long as it doesn’t involve her having any consequences. So, he turns to her. “Drista, shall I drink this?”
Drista- Tommy’s horse, although he’s thinking she might be a bit more than that- neighs. “ Do it, ” She says. Only Tommy can comprehend what she’s saying, however, such as how only Tommy can hear what his raccoons, Shroud, Cat, and Mellohi, are saying. Most people would either hear whining or chittering, while Tommy can hear full-fledged conversations. But that’s a universal thing, as anyone who has an animal familiar, or whatever they’re called, can only hear what their animal is saying.
Tommy turns back to Wilbur, a sly grin on his face. “She said to do it. . .”
Wilbur pinches his nose bridge, shaking his head and sighing. Their daily routine includes these types of conversations- Tommy trying to do something fun (or as Wilbur likes to call it, “destructive, idiotic, poor choice, impulsive decision, etc.), and Wilbur having to stop him.
Wilbur stares Tommy in the eyes. “I swear to Prime- Don’t drink the farm water ,” He says, eyes suddenly flashing magenta.
Tommy’s mind and body suddenly froze. His hands move on their own, dropping the water and letting it splash back into the trough.
As he rolls his eyes, Tommy sneers.“ Fuck you, you’re a bitch who likes to have no fun,” He stands up from the muddy farmland. Wilbur rolls his eyes in response, already beginning to walk away.
It’s not even fair: he has Psycho abilities. Lucky bitch.
Everyone has magic, connections to the world around them, or whatever shit Tommy once read in a book somewhere. Either called abilities or elemental abilities, and there are quite a lot of them. Tommy himself has Aero- or, air. Everything comes with its benefits and downsides, such as how Tommy can fly, and never be out of breath, but he can’t ever sit still, and his singular fucking weakness is bitchass fire.
Wilbur himself has Psycho abilities- Wilbur’s specialty is being able to control people with his words. Such as how he ruined all of Tommy’s fun. Making a person’s body obey his command, and can therefore influence people’s motivations as well. But on the opposing side-
Well, Tommy’s not really supposed to talk about that.
Tommy hops on Drista, his raccoon Mellohi also joining him. He rides up to join Wilbur, moving at a slow trot. “Where are we going?” Tommy inquiries.
“Market?” Wilbur suggests, adjusting the iron hoe that was strapped to his back. “Heard from the grapevine that there’s a sale on Sun tea bags and blood apples. And I need supplies to bring home.”
Tommy wrinkled his nose. “You actually like blood apples? Fuckin’ wrong-un, you are.”
Disgusting. Tommy knows that every apple, even fucking toxo apples, is better than the unholy shithole that is blood apples. He had a blood apple once- not even the full apple, just a bite, and he hated it. Too much juice, the flesh a little sour and a little too soft. Had an iron aftertaste as well.
“I like the juice,” Wilbur responds. “Tastes good. Does Drista mind helping me carry some stuff?”
Drista whinnies, but she nods. Tommy and Wilbur soon enter their town’s main street, where many stalls are set up. Wagons pulled by bulls and horses trot up and down the street, people parting like the Red Sea as they pass by. Cages hold unnatural animals from all corners of the world, and some cages hold people.
Tommy adverts his eyes as those people stare at him with an indescribable emptiness.
Wilbur has his hood pulled up, the crimson material shading his face. Tommy pretends he doesn’t see him occasionally swiping a necklace or a fruit from a basket as he weaves through the crowd of people. But soon, Wilbur stops at a stall, takes out a pouch of money, and begins to barter.
From his perch on Drista, Tommy surveys the people, half looking out for Wilbur, the other half looking out of curiosity. Nothing really catches his eye- there are a few shiny riches, but there was no way Wilbur or his budget combined could ever buy a jewel. Some Nether items like blaze powder and glowstone dust were being sold at one stall, while some rare Chorus fruit was being sold at another.
Various animals wandered in the crowd- Tommy saw a fucking elephant at some point, but also some cows, a pig or two, a deer- the list goes on. But at some point, Tommy saw an animal that made his stomach drop.
A blue sheep waddled its way to him, bleating softly.
“Tommy! Hello!”
Squeezing through a gap in the crowd, a hand so pale it’s nearly translucent waves at him. Faded yellow wool sleeves are baggy against thin, bony wrists, and pale blue eyes blink at him. As he shouts, onlookers glance at him with high amounts of annoyance, a few even going to whisper.
Tommy grins, bordering a grimace. “Hey, Ghostbur. . .”
In the background, he can hear Wilbur end his shopping. Soon, Wilbur enters his vision, already tugging up his red hood. But Tommy can immediately tell that he’s a mix of embarrassed and angered.
“ We are going home,” Wilbur spoke, his Psycho elemental abilities kicking in as Ghostbur’s smile wilted a bit as he uncontrollably turned around.
Since Wilbur’s words weren’t aimed at Tommy, he wasn’t affected by it, but he did feel a few thoughts and urges to go back to his own home. But instead, he simply tugged on Drista’s homemade reins and followed Wilbur and Ghostbur.
As the trio passed through the main market, Tommy noticed the odd stares that his brothers were getting. So he stared those asshats back, because as if he’d sit on a literal high horse and let his family get slandered in front of him. Occasionally telling someone to fuck off, or giving people an obscene sign or too behind Wilbur’s back.
Once they were all out of the main streets, Wilbur shook off his hood, combing his hair with his hands. He’s not walking in the laid-back way that he usually is, now stalking forward and marching off into the woods where his house lays.
Ghostbur and Wilbur both live together: both of them are twins, and similarly to Tommy, are quite motherless and fatherless. They are nearly identical to each other, with some minor differences. Wilbur looks more healthy compared to the ghostly pale Ghostbur, with Ghostbur’s looks being the reason for his name. Wilbur has tanner skin and darker hair. He also has poor vision, and can’t see shit from far away. Ghostbur- as noticed before, has pale blue eyes, a contrast to Wilbur’s brown ones. Even though they’re different, they both have Psycho elemental abilities.
On that note, Tommy can feel Ghostbur’s Psycho abilities poke at him: it’s a deep sadness and concern that forces Tommy to glance at him.
Ghostbur’s Psycho abilities were the ability to project his own emotions onto people and to take people’s emotions in. He would call his own…emotion-sucker “Blue”. So if Ghostbur felt like someone was sad, he’d ask them if they wanted some Blue, and boom, no more negative feelings. Tommy, unfortunately, had to use Ghostbur’s abilities, especially when he was younger and saw the enslaved people at the market, or when his raccoons got hurt.
Ghostbur lags behind Wilbur, walking next to Tommy. His blue sheep, Friend, trotted next to him, attached to Ghostbur by a loose leash.
“Why is Wilbur upset with me?” Ghostbur asks softly.
“Shit, man-” Tommy mutters. The truth isn’t what he wants to tell Ghostbur. In reality- Wilbur’s embarrassed by him, borderline annoyed and angered by his existence. A mix of guilt and hate constantly emanates from Wilbur whenever Ghostbur’s in his vicinity. “Well- Will wants you safe, y’know? And the market isn’t the safest place for, like, anyone. So when there’s places you might get fucked up, he gets upset n’ all.”
Ghostbur begins to mumble something Tommy can’t immediately pick up on, so he waves his hand. The wind blows to him, and he can hear Ghostbur mutter, “He’s always upset with me,”
Wilbur takes a sharp right, marching off into the woods. He travels on a path that you wouldn’t see unless someone pointed it out and walked on it. This path soon leads to his house. It's a small cottage, with a basement, located smack-dab in the middle of the woods, completely isolated from the rest of the other houses, far away from the village. Tommy had first seen it looking out the window of his own house. At the right angle, you could see a flash of cobblestone and wood planks against the leafy greens of the wood.
Hopping off Drista and letting her roam free in the nearby field, Tommy flinches slightly as Wilbur nearly blasts his front door down. “Holy shit, he’s got a stick up his ass today, huh,” He mutters. One of his raccoons- a collar with a purple and white striped circle on it proved it was Mellohi- clambers up in his arms, while Cat and Shroud perch on his head and shoulders respectively.
Out of the corner of his eye, Tommy can see Ghostbur fidget with Friend’s leash, the sadness that emanated from him turning into an aura of anxiety. Now Tommy himself was getting nervous, a superficial gut instinct of fear implanted in him.
Sighing, Tommy begins to head into Wilbur and Ghostbur’s shared home. “Come on, big man. Let’s go. At some point, we gotta go inside, so might as well do it now.”
Ghostbur smiles, but his anxious aura refuses to fade. Wordlessly, he ties Friend to a pole outside the door. Ah- Tommy remembers that Wilbur banned Ghostbur’s sheep from coming inside the house after an awful day.
The two of them walk in, and Tommy immediately uses his Aero magic to stop a cup from shattering against the wall. Or worse, shattering against himself.
This is the downside, that Tommy isn’t really supposed to talk about. For every word and effect Wilbur speaks, it’s delivered tenfold onto himself. And Tommy was having a lot of fun (also known as poor decisions) today, meaning Wilbur had at least used his abilities over thirty times this day, each time out of anger, persuasion, or annoyance.
Right now, the inside of their house is a ruined mess. Wilbur has already gone apeshit on their small living room- curtains ripped off the windows, holes punched in the wall, the sofa flipped over. He’s going through the kitchen now, smashing plates and cups, the fridge open and food smashed around it.
Ghostbur creeps forward, his face having a small smile, mixing between pity and kindness. “Do you want some bl-”
“ I don’t want your fucking blue, Ghostbur! ” Wilbur shouts, his voice shaking the house. Both Tommy and Ghostbur flinch slightly, Tommy quickly recovering, however.
Ghostbur’s smile twitches before it drops. “Oh- okay. It’ll be here- if you want it-”
Tommy has to stop another cup again, and he can hear Cat the raccoon hiss something along the lines of, “ This is not a W moment. L, bozo to Wilbur right now.”
“We’re just going to be out then-” He says, pulling away Ghostbur. This is a weekly occurrence, happening at least two to three times. Today must be an especially L day for Wilbur, as he only screams incoherently before tearing a cupboard door off of its hinges.
He steps outside, Ghostbur being tugged along. The door is shut behind him, something like a plate or another poor cup being shattered against it.
“You should’ve just used your blue anyway, Ghostbur,” Tommy states.
Ghostbur starts untying Friend from off their pole.“I don’t like to use it if people don’t know I’m using it.”
Sighing, Tommy shrugs it off. Ghostbur’s better than most people in that sense- Wilbur’s not afraid to use his power whenever, and the same goes for Tommy. But Ghostbur prefers to give people an option, to ask before he uses his powers.
“Well- doesn’t matter then. Let’s go find something for us to do while Wilbur calms the fuck down,” Tommy begins to walk down the path, Drista and his raccoons following him. He can hear Friend bleat occasionally, Ghostbur muttering nonsense to them.
“Tommy,” Ghostbur soon speaks up, when they’re about halfway through the walk. “Can you hear what Friend is saying, or is that something you can’t do?”
“I can only hear what my animals are saying,” He replies.
Maybe Tommy forgot to mention it, but Ghostbur and Wilbur share something similar between them that isolates them. One of the reasons that a lot of people don’t like them. They both lack an animal familiar- and sure, you can argue that Ghostbur has Friend, but that’s because he just saw a blue sheep one day and decided to adopt it.
The two of them spent the next hour or so wandering around town, not aiming to do anything. They end up at the market, walking through aimlessly. Neither of them could afford to get anything, but neither of them wanted to get anything. Window shopping, per se.
“I don’t get why people want to do. . . that ,” Ghostbur whispers, leaning close to Tommy. He’s looking at the caged people in the market, price tags attached to the metal bars.
“Don’t ask me, I don’t fucking know either,” Tommy mutters back, looking away. It’s disturbing, in his opinion. People worse than wrong-uns, so much worse- sure, Tommy knows he’s (CLEARLY) better than everyone else, but he’s not going to do that to other people.
As the two begin to turn away, arms sling around their shoulders, bringing them closer together as someone rests their head on their shoulders.
Ghostbur’s face immediately lights up “Oh! Hello Wilbur! Are you okay now? Do you-”
Wilbur makes a noise, somewhere between a hum, an exhale, and a groan. “I think I’m good, just tired. What’d I do this time?”
Shrugging Wilbur’s arm off of him, Tommy cradles Shroud the raccoon in his arms. “Nothing much, just flipped a few things and broke some cups.”
“ Nothing much? ” Tommy hears Shroud chitter. “ I almost got terracotta in my ear! ”
“Ugh,” Wilbur huffs. “Hoping it isn’t expensive.”
“Hey! Everyone, move it!” Some stranger shouts, pushing people left and right. Wilbur is shoved, causing both Ghostbur and Tommy to stumble. A loose path is made in the middle of the market. Soon, down the main path that connects their village to the rest of the world, people begin to march.
They are dressed in gleaming armor, the color a deep purple that almost looks black. Swords, axes, crossbows, bows, and rods are attached to sheathes and hanging on backs. All of them march in sync, partnered into three columns of 12 or so people. Each group held up a banner of sorts- a black background, interrupted by three stripes of green, red, and blue—a white circle with two dots and a curved, swirling line. Silver sigils decorated the edges and made lines down the black banner. Tommy was able to recognize at least some of the- sigils of power, one of the gods- specifically XD, and a lot of sigils he couldn’t identify.
But soon, more important people showed up.
From where he was in the crowd, Tommy could see a group of people who seemed to be more important than anyone else, but there was something else about them that caught his eye more. “Holy fucking shit, those are huge animals.”
And Tommy isn’t wrong- the first person who trotted down the street had a large reindeer- a reindeer in itself is something Tommy had ever seen, but a reindeer with glowing horns is something else.
Tommy watched with wide eyes as he saw some of the coolest shit ever- and one of the said six important people saw him. A man with green hair, much taller than Tommy could ever be. He held a trident in his hand, and next to him was a dirtied white jackal.
Despite him looking quite intimidating, Tommy matched him back. Tommy squared his shoulders, craned his neck, and put his hands on his hips as Shroud, Mellohi, and Cat slightly hissed at him. He stared right into the man’s eyes, green eyes surrounded by inky blackness. Maybe a mixed creature, of some kind? Tommy knew those kinds of people existed, but he’d never met one.
The man stared back, making eye contact with him for a good half minute. Every so often, a dark smoke puffed out of his knight’s helm, the metal shaped and created in a way to only cover up his mouth. Like a.... mask, or a mouth visor. But either way, Tommy can tell he’s got some sort of Toxo power.
“You can pet her, if you want,” The man said after a solid minute.
Immediately, Tommy dropped his intimidation factor. He, instead, went for petting behind the jackal’s ears, scratching her head and speaking to her happily.
Tommy’s not going to tell you what he said. Bitch. Fuck off.
After getting a good few scratches in, with the jackal licking at his face, the man turned his attention away. A hooded figure in pure white, with gold dripping off them like melted wax, waved an arm, a fucking crocodile swishing around their legs. “Sam! Get a move on, will you?”
The man- Sam, nodded and walked away. He whistled and called a name, with the jackal happily bounding over to him.
Standing up again, Tommy can see that the caravan has stopped at the center of town- a relatively small, cobblestone square made for public events. There’s a man, riding a large, silver snow leopard, a mask with the same pattern on the white circle from the banners covering his face. The man in charge, Tommy thinks. Looks like a bitch.
After a few moments of waiting, the priest- who was the closest thing their village had to whatever the fuck a mayor is- comes out of the village meeting hall.
Tommy can’t exactly hear what he’s saying, but he assumes it’s a brief conversation on what the fuck this weird army is doing in the middle of batshit nowhere. But eventually, the priest backs down. Tommy huffs. He always knew that the priest was too weak. He could say that he’d do much better.
The man with the mask steps up. “Hello, everyone. A pleasure to venture into your lovely little village, on this fine day.”
Prime, Tommy wants to stab himself right now. That man has an unforgettable voice, just not in a very positive way.
“I come here to request one thing-” The man says. Despite having a mask on his face, his voice seems to be unnaturally loud. “I want every Psycho magician in your village to come with me.”
Tommy finds his hands grabbing at Wilbur and Ghostbur’s sleeves. “I think we should fuck off from this right now-” He hisses. Cat and Mellohi snarl in agreement, while Shroud growls something along the lines of, “ Tommy, this isn’t going to end well. Just so you know ttyl”
“I unfortunately agree,” Wilbur muttered, already seeing eyes turn to him and Ghostbur.
Although he has no known face, Tommy can sense the scowl growing in his voice. “I’m not going to wait all day, you know. Psycho elementals, people, hand them over.”
Ghostbur grips Friend’s leash tightly, his already pale knuckles turning bone white. “I’m starting to not like this,” He whispers, nervousness radiating off of him, which honestly isn’t helping Tommy’s nervousness at the moment.
Eyes are now obviously on them, and Tommy feels himself being tugged along as Wilbur tries to back out of anywhere. However, they’ve begun to be surrounded.
The masked man raises his hand, an unnaturally red flame appearing from it. “Last chance. Hand ‘em over.”
“Wilbur, I want to leave ,” Ghostbur whispers, his Psycho abilities being in high gear.
It’s not like Psycho elementals are uncommon because Tommy’s quite sure they aren’t. Sure, they aren’t as common as Pyro, Terra, Hydro, or Aero powers, but they’re still fairly present in the modern-day.
It’s just that Psycho elementals are very uncommon in their village.
The only Psycho elementals are Wilbur and Ghostbur.
“Well-” The masked man says. “You’ve given me no other choice, then. I’ll take your Psycho elementals by force.”
“ Shit - how the fuck did he know?” Tommy hisses, his raccoons clambering down, beginning to growl and hiss as well.
The man’s mask looked at Tommy as if he was looking right at him. His hands lit up with flame, and two of the people beside him- the white hooded man and a man with a bandana riding a giant fire ant also set their hands aflame.
“ Dark magic, ” Tommy heard Drista say, the horse looking at the man as well.
All hell broke loose- at once, nearly every building in the vicinity was caught on fire. The ground leaped up in flame, and Tommy’s mind flashes back to his first memory- irregular fire and smoke, people dying- before everyone begins screaming.
Right in front of Tommy- people’s clothes catch on fire, and before he knows it, the hooded man in white and the reindeer guy run up behind Tommy, weaving through the chaos, and snatch Ghostbur and Wilbur out of Tommy’s hands. Wilbur immediately tries to punch the guy who’s snatched him up and opens his mouth to activate his Psycho magic. But the guy had thought ahead, clamping a hand over Wilbur’s mouth. He takes out an odd-colored potion- a sickly green color, bubbling in its bottle- and shoves it down Wilbur’s throat.
The crocodile that he’s on scuttled away, taking Wilbur with it.
Ghostbur- with Friend now long gone, having run away when their leash was violently tugged- was shaking terribly as he tried to escape. Instead of the same green potion being brought down on him, the potion was a purplish black.
As the reindeer guy- no, not even a guy. A wrong-un, a fucking bitch - Tommy feels himself yell, but he can’t even hear what he’s screaming. He tries to run after them- because, without either of them, what’s he supposed to fucking do?
The smoke grows around Tommy, surrounding him as it once did in his memories.
From across piles of smoking and burning debris, fallen people, and damage, the man with the mask looks at him.
The mask turns to the side, curious.
The man raises a hand, and what can only be described as void spills from it.
The void piles into Tommy’s vision, and with the sounds of his raccoons and Drista snarling, his world turns black.