Chapter Text
It was at this point that Scar was starting to question the lead he got from Bdubs.
The man had gone on and on about how there was some crazy cool temple hidden in the depths of the forest. He also mentioned that anyone who went there never returned but the way Bdubs was so adamant about the realness of its incredible architecture convinced Scar that he needed to see it for himself.
At the time it seemed like the perfect idea, go and find this incredible ancient building, get inspired for his next build, and leave happy after a productive weekend. But now that Scar is most of the way through his fourth day searching, he's not as eager to sleep on the ground again.
Scar was starting to struggle more when the path he was trying to wiggle his way through started to get more and more overgrown and became more of a tangled thorny mess than a path. Scar was admittedly a little lost, he misplaced his map a while back and has been more or less winging it since but it was nothing that would worry the self-proclaimed expert adventurer.
Bdubs had said it was around here somewhere but Scar was really close to calling it quits on the fantastical non-existent temple. Honestly, it's a mess out here! he can't even see where his next step was!
Scar was thrown from his thoughts when there was suddenly air beneath his foot instead of solid ground and was sent rolling down a short ledge, his cane had done nothing to help warn him of the lack of floor. The short but hard fall knocked the breath out of him as he looked at the open sky on his back.
But wait that couldn’t be right? What happened to the dense forest he just came from?
As Scar got his cane back and started recovering his breath, He looked around and saw where he just fell from there was the faint remains of a few steps that hadn’t been used in some time.
Why on earth are there stairs in the middle of a forest?
Scar turned slowly away from the stairs and clarity came when the grand temple he set out for came into view, it was reclaimed by the nature and had a layer of gnarly thorn brush keeping anyone from getting past the entrance.
But even in its ruined state, it was a work of art, from the distance Scar was at he could tell this was exactly what he needed, a few days, a week maybe, completely alone with the new ideas formulating in his mind, Scar needed to see more and he knew he couldn’t appreciate the interstices of its structure properly from where he was.
Scar needed a closer look.
As Scar moved forward he took in some of his surroundings and noticed that other than the decrepit temple there was not much else in the sunken clearing, still, he slowed to a stop to appreciate the way the sun lit up the area beautifully and how it looked straight out of a painting.
He was appreciating the peaceful scene laid out in front of him when Scar suddenly got an uneasy feeling stirring in his gut, the sense of unseen eyes on him, he was filled with an overwhelming sense of dread, and the hairs raised on the back of his neck. Scar was about to start looking for a reason for the unsettling atmosphere when just as quickly as it had appeared it was gone.
There was something in the back of his mind screaming at him that this was a bad idea and reminders of Bdub’s stories about disappearing travelers came to mind, but he has been out here for three and half days looking for this place, there was no way he was giving up just because of some irrational feeling.
Besides
He no longer owns a map
Scar stayed reasoning with himself while he started poking around the outside of the temple looking for a way in but the overgrowth of thorns and vines blocked any possible entrances so he checked out the rest of the small clearing instead, finding a stream running just around the back and a perfect camp spot.
The sun started showing signs of setting, washing the clearing in a nice gold light right as Scar had begun putting up a makeshift camp near the stream.
It was dark and starry by the time Scar got done with the little campfire, it was more for warmth rather than light, the full moon had risen and spread some of its light on the area, Scar was laid back on the ground watching the stars and bright full moon when the familiar feeling of being watched started creeping up his spine again.
Sitting up cautiously Scar scanned the tree line, while trying to keep some composure, he called out into the night air
“Hello?” Scar decidedly ignored the slight crack in his voice when he spoke.
“This was ridiculous. I’m a good three days from the nearest town there’s not going to be anyone all the way out her-” Scar's thought was cut off when he made eye contact with something in the tree line.
It looked almost human.
almost
Even when it had human in its eyes and everything in Scar logically told him it was indeed human there was a large part of Scar screaming at him to run.
The eyes looking back at Scar burned right through him, discomfort itched incessantly under his skin.
Still, there was a small part of him in awe, despite being half hidden behind a tree it was clear the figure had elegance and grace woven into its very atmosphere, The figure had short blond hair and its eyes glowed a piercing purple. A sort of anger was evident in its otherwise expressionless face. Scar wasn’t paying too much attention to its appearance but he would dare say the figure had an element of beauty to it.
But that was a very very small part of his thought process. It was completely drowned out by the mass amount of alarm bells ringing and the devastating chill keeping him from moving.
Scar blinked once
And then again
He was trying to decide if he had fallen asleep at some point and that this was some kind of weird dream when just like that gone was the figure and the feeling of dread, all that was left was a burnt-out fire and a thoroughly shaken Scar.
Thousands of years ago Grian had people worshipping the very thought of him. They had kissed the ground he walked on and looked to him for strength. The people had loved him so deeply, called to him with their troubles and Grian had come to love them as much, giving them his protection from the corrupted Watchers that had terrorized humanity for eons.
He would never forget the way they looked at him when they found out what he actually was.
A filthy watcher.
They spat the word out like it was something bitter, their cold glares were burned into his mind, forever etched into his being. How quickly their devotion had turned on him.
It infuriated Grian how ignorant mortals could be.
But that was such a long time ago, nowadays he wanders the tarnished remains of the beautifully built temple they had made for him all those years ago.
There was something about simply observing the world that brought Grian peace, even after all this time he still hasn’t gotten over the beauty of the ever-changing earth.
Grian had long since cut ties with humanity. They were cold, selfish, and could not see outside themselves.
He had made it impossible for mortals to get through to the temple, an ever-shifting forest so it could never be mapped. Tangles of overgrowth and thorns keep anything from entering his sanctuary.
Even if some mortal managed to get in Grian was no stranger to dealing with trespassers.
There was one flaw in his brilliant plan, at least once a year Grian’s garden thinned and he needed to go through and reweave it into the mess only he could manage.
Grian was nearing the end of this annual tradition when the sound of struggle drew his attention away. He was annoyed at the interruption but went to investigate just in case, it sounded like something was hurt.
Well, he was right, about a good 20 feet from where Grian was working was a young deer who had gotten his antlers tangled in some of Grian’s thorn bushes. The poor thing was flailing wildly and every move got it a little more stuck, the muscles in the small beast were starting to strain at the awkward angle its head was resting.
Grian, despite being a literal god, was still kind to the wildlife and with little struggle broke apart the strong vines holding the deer down and stepped back to let it gallop back into the wood. Grian was not as annoyed with the interruption as he was before, he was the one who put the tangling brush there to begin with so it was only right for him to help.
As he made his way back to finish retouching the wall of thorns, he noticed that something had pushed its way through a particularly thin spot. Normally he would brush it off as wildlife, he was in the woods after all.
However, the thing that caught his attention was the small scrap of torn brown fabric left snagged on one of the thorns.
A mortal.
Grian snapped his head up, the wings on his back raising as he burst upwards into the sky. He scanned the ground to see where this traitorous creature was hiding. He opened the eyes he had set in the clearing hoping that it would come back empty.
It was not empty.
He saw the mortal he was looking for standing before his temple and watched the mortal immediately tense upon being seen by the god.
Grian closed the watcher's eyes he had been looking through and decided it was more important to continue on the annual regrowth. He would have to deal with the mortal later right now he had to make sure that no other intruders made their way in.
By the time Grian had finished, he needed to rest and was about to return to his place of worship when he saw what the mortal had done. A fire was burning in his meadow. A fire was feeding off the land he worked so hard to protect.
Without even realizing it Grians aggression triggered some watcher elements in him, he stared unwaveringly into the eyes of the foolish mortal who dared burn on his land.
The edges of his vision started to go a faint shade of violet and the fire went out in an instant with a quiet hiss.
The mortal just blinked dumbly at him and the god had the suppress a grimace of disgust.
Grian used his wings to burst seamlessly into the air, gliding from high up and diving into the grand skylight in his temple, catching himself elegantly before hitting the floor.
Grian crossed to sit beneath a worn statue meant to represent himself, the stone figure was life a good few feet taller than himself and had at one point shown him with a peaceful expression, a slight smile, and his arms outstretched and welcoming, beckoning anyone to join him.
Now the statue's head had long since been smashed off and laid around the room in chunks, Grian never bothered to clean it up.
It was funny to him the way the mortals once view him as benevolent and kind, and just how quickly their views changed when they saw the violet glow under his feathers. The echoes of screaming and crying as they fled from his side, the accusations against their protector, their god. His own people calling him a traitor, a killer, a monster.
Grian leaned back on the statue, a small part of him was curious about what had become of humanity in his absence. Maybe this mortal could catch him up before he was dealt with.