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Lops sits on the edge of his rough cobblestone tower, gazing into the night. Below him his farms sway in the gentle breeze, torches flickering on their signposts, moonlight silently illuminating the details of the village in the middle distance. Everything is… still.
From up here it could be beautiful, but tonight the stars only serve to mock his loneliness.
Wasn’t this what he wanted? To be free? To feel the night’s air on his face after a day well spent?
He tries to shake the thoughts from his head, but they only continue calling, switching their topic to incise ever-deeper. You left them all behind. Are they all okay? How many more are in danger? Are they in danger, or was it just me? How can I reach them?
Is it my fault?
Lowering his head, gently resting it in his hands, the thoughts threaten to burrow out of his skull and haunt him like the ghosts of the damned.
He needs to sleep. But he can’t bring himself to stand up, his feet dangling into the nothingness of the night.
Eventually he dozes off, hands intertwined in a silent mockery of a prayer, and when he does, he dreams of death games.
The next day, there’s a hole in the world.
Well, really it’s just a chunk glitch, like the old days. Blank nothingness stretches out, cutting a perfectly square hole through the world, exposing lava and water along the sides.
I haven’t seen one of these in years, Lops thinks to himself, curiously peering over the edge. Might as well look for diamonds along the outside.
Maybe if he had been more wary, he would’ve looked more carefully.
Maybe he would’ve checked that it was actually a chunk glitch.
Maybe he wouldn’t have fallen in.
Or was he pushed?
When Lops wakes up in a new world feeling slightly less tangible than usual, his heartrate starts to climb, panic creeping into the edges of his thoughts.
Another dream? I- I can't-
Then the feeling subsides, everything coming into focus all at once. He's in a savannah, surrounded by people all chattering about something or other in bright tones that he swears have an undertone of fear.
Strong déjà vu hits Lops like a wave, memories crashing over him and threatening to drown him - waking up around a bedrock circle, grass soft under his feet, chatting with the strangers as if this was normal, lifeforce being ripped away as he was left with three lives-
No. No, he needs to stop thinking. Stop remembering. The games are over. This is… well, he doesn't know where he is, but it has to be better than the games.
Speaking of déjà vu, some of the people around him seem… familiar. More than familiar. He recognises two of them, and neither are people that he ever wanted to see again.
Di stands a little ways away, still waking up from however it got to this world. Unwanted memories try to force their way to the front of Lops' brain - sight filled with the red sand of the boogey curse, hands scorched by a bucket of lava, tripping over damp soil as he bled his second life out and arrows pierced his armour - but desperately he pushes them down, fighting the rising panic. Not the time.
The panic wins when he looks slightly to the side and gets a glimpse of Dwynwen's face.
This person isn't exactly the same, he realises: Dwynwen was very clearly of phantom ancestry, while this person seems more like an elf. But the face is uncannily similar, and the memories threaten to overtake all reasoning-
Going out with a bang, huh?
To be fair, Lops, you resisted it a lot longer than most.
Everything will be okay. I promise.
Head filled with white void, Lops turns on his heel and runs.
There's nothing for him here. There's nothing for him with the others in this world.
There's nothing.