Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Groaning from exhaustion and pain, Herobrine stumbled into his wagon and face-planted into the hay. Blindly groping around for his blanket until he could wrap it around himself, the Netherian shivered and curled into a ball while he allowed his body to warm the air around him, glad for the show to finally be over. He hated performing, being forced to play the role of the master of mobs for the audience alongside Null the witch who made Agnes disappear before their eyes and Entity the monstrous assassin who killed Dinnerbone every time after pinning him to the wheel for a supposed knife throwing act, likely Notch's idea of punishment for the young rebellious immortal. It wasn't Dinnerbone's fault, of course; each and every one of them hated the ringleader who forced them through this. There wasn't even a reason for them to do this other than Notch's twisted amusement. Herobrine shuddered as he remembered how the god had watched the audience, grinning as he drank up their praise and adoration. Their… master was an absolute menace. 

The demon was startled by Jeb ramming into his wagon and slamming the door open, breathing hard. 

"What on earth are you doing?!" Herobrine hissed as he surged to his feet, reaching for a weapon he could no longer access and mentally cursing. "You're asking to get punished! Get back to your wagon!" 

"He can't punish us," Jeb breathed through the widest smile Herobrine had seen on his brother in centuries. "He's not here." 

Herobrine froze, processing that. "He's... what?" he asked, not believing the words coming out of Jeb’s mouth. 

"He's gone, Keri, he just left,” Jeb said, barely holding back laughter or sobs―Herobrine couldn’t tell. 

Herobrine surged to his feet. "You're... You're serious? He's gone?!" 

"Yeah! He just told me he'd be gone for a few days and make sure no one escaped," Jeb said, his smile infectious. 

They watched as Null thundered up the steps to Herobrine's wagon and practically tackled the Netherian, the Woodfolk’s eyes bright with excitement and mirth. 

Entity came in behind him. "Did you tell him yet?" he asked excitedly. 

Jeb nodded, and Entity pouted. 

"Darn it, I wanted to see his face," Entity said, but not even that could dull his enthusiasm. "I honestly can't believe it myself. At least one day of absolute freedom. No punishments, no cruelty, no practice.” 

“It sounds like paradise,” Dinnerbone hummed as the youngest immortal joined the group. “Even just a few hours without him sounds like…” 

“Perfection?” Agnes asked behind him with a small smile, leaning against the doorway with a faraway look of contentment in her eyes. “No expectations, no yelling, just perfection.” 

“We could go see the market,” Entity grinned, his red eyes alight as the smallest of the immortals practically vibrated with excitement. “We could go into town. We could eat real, good food that isn’t rotten or old or moldy!” 

“Okay, let’s not go that far,” Jeb chuckled, still high on the euphoria of Notch’s leave himself if the fact he couldn’t stop smiling was any sign. “We don’t know if this is a trick or not.” 

“Who cares if it’s a trick?” Herobrine laughed, clutching at his hair as his chest struggled to rise and fall. Was this what freedom felt like? He couldn’t remember, but it was amazing . “He’s gone. He’s not here right now. For now, even if it is just an hour, we’re free. We’re safe. No more fear, no more terror, no more pain. We’re okay.” 

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Agnes giggled drunkenly, watching over her siblings with a shaky smile of her own. “It’s only for a few days.” 

“Exactly!” Dinnerbone gushed, spinning around and nearly hitting Jeb in the face before he regained his balance by glitching back upside down. “That’s at least two days of not living in fear, not having to always be on edge, not having to worry about angering Ondska! Doesn’t that sound wonderful?!” 

Null clapped his hands to get their attention, and they all turned to the mute immortal to read his hands. 

“We could sleep together,” Null signed shakily as his breath hitched, silver eyes wide as he looked at all of them with a hopeful expression. 

They all froze, processing that. They could do that. Herobrine and Agnes practically let out a sob at the thought alone, decades of isolation getting to them as all of them considered the possibility. They could all sleep together, in one wagon. Screw how cramped that would be, they’d be together. They had all gotten used to only being together during showtimes, which wasn’t much in the scheme of things. All six of them had been so lonely, desperate for each other’s company that they tried to tarry as much as they could when shows ended just to get a single shoulder pat, telling each other that they were still here, they weren’t alone. It had only gotten marginally better when Notch had put a few of them into wagons together, but even then, they knew in their hearts that Agnes and Herobrine weren’t getting a companion anytime soon, each for completely different reasons. The idea that they could all lump into a single wagon, bodies piled on top of each other as they slept in a tight huddle, finally not having to be separated from one another, was so far out there that under normal circumstances wasn’t even worth dreaming about. That concept, that simple idea of comfort and companionship, well… It sounded like the best reward in the world. 

“What if… What if he comes back and finds us like that?” Jeb asked quietly as he wrung his hands together, fighting a losing battle with himself, let alone the others. “What if he gets mad?” 

“Even a few hours of your company would be worth any punishment he gave me afterwards,” Agnes said softly, stepping closer to him. 

“Would we even fit in a single wagon?” Dinnerbone asked in wonder, his eyes wide. 

“We’d make it work,” Entity said immediately, slamming his fist into his other palm with determination as he looked at them all. “I don’t care if Null has to sleep directly on top of me, by the aether we’d make it work.” 

“But… the stakes…” Jeb mumbled, letting Agnes pull him closer to her as he gave up fighting. He had wanted this for so long, to have his siblings close just for a little while… Not even his responsible spirit could argue its way out of doing this. 

“Imagine it, Jeb,” she said softly as she combed through his hair with her fingers. “All of us, on the floor of a wagon, curled close for warmth. We could touch each other, we could be near each other, and he wouldn’t ever have to know. It could be for just a night. Just one night.” 

“I don’t care if he shows up at midnight and throws us all into separate wagons for the next century,” Herobrine said defiantly, trying not to let his voice break at the image her words conjured in his mind―comfort, what a rarity―as he continued speaking. “It’s been 467 years since he’s left us alone, I say we take this gift and use it. I would rather sleep with you all for a few hours only to be punished than to not to avoid the risk only to find that he didn’t show up at all and we were just overly cautious.” 

After that little speech, they all looked at each other and smiled. 

“Which wagon are we going in?” Jeb asked weakly, looking at the others. 

“One of the ones with beds,” Agnes decided with a fond look. “Those three deserve to sleep on one for one night, and I’m sure we could move the ones from the other wagon in so there’s enough space for everyone.” 

They all quickly agreed, hesitantly dispersing for a few minutes to grab everything they needed and bring it to Jeb and Dinnerbone’s wagon. Though the space itself was small, it didn’t take long for the four small cots to be arranged to make a large rectangle of comfort, all of them quickly clambering on to curl around each other. Agnes and Herobrine took up the centre with Jeb and Dinnerbone on their right and Null and Entity on their left. 

The fallen Aetherian hummed as he settled in, feeling his siblings practically laying on top of him and each other. He let his eyes shut, calm and relaxed, not noticing the heat he was beginning to give off. 

“What… what’s that heat?” Dinnerbone mumbled. 

Herobrine immediately opened his eyes, worried he had done something wrong and ready to scramble out of bed if they asked. “S-sorry. I-it’s one of my p-powers. I spent centuries in the Nether,” he explained, practically rambling, “and so the heat and fire became a part of me and the wagons are always so cold so I don’t try to hold it back and―” 

He was silenced by Agnes tiredly putting her finger to his lips. “Shhh…” she said softly, eyes half-closed. “Stop apologising, Keri. I haven’t been this warm in decades.” 

Herobrine blinked. “You… you like it?” he asked in surprise, looking around to the others. 

The others hummed affirmatives as they snuggled a little closer to him. 

“It’s so nice…” Entity murmured. “So warm… So cosy…” 

“I wish we could be like this every night…” Dinnerbone agreed, yawning as he rested his head on Jeb’s chest. 

“So do I,” Jeb said softly, sighing softly in relief as the warmth settled into his bones. 

“Solig is already out,” Entity chuckled tiredly, looking down at the sleeping Null in his arms. “Your warmth does wonders, Keri. I didn’t know you could do this.” 

“It’s… not exactly practical during shows,” Herobrine admitted, settling down again now that he knew he was making them happy. It had been so long since he’d gotten the chance to. “I really only use it in the cold wagon, and even then, I have to make sure not to set my blanket on fire.” 

“Maybe… maybe we can go to the market tomorrow,” Dinnerbone yawned as he wiggled closer to Herorbrine, “get new blankets… Maybe some new clothes that are warmer…” 

“That… sounds good…” Herobrine mumbled as he drifted under, not caring about the cold skin of his siblings touching his own. It was okay. He had enough heat for all of them. 

It was the middle of the night when Herobrine regained consciousness, only to see a whimpering Dinnerbone being comforted by Jeb. Jeb noticed Herobrine’s bleary-eyed stare and softly said, “Go back to sleep, Keri. I have Valp.” 

“What happened, Svärd?” he asked as he sat up and crawled a little closer to them. 

“Nightmare. They’re normal. Ondska has hurt him a lot over the decades for trying to run,” Jeb said softly, running his fingers through Dinnerbone’s hair as the younger immortal whimpered. “Stenvalp never wanted to really escape. He just wanted to find help for the rest of us. He… He never got outside the ring of wagons. Ondska’s always ready for him. You should see the scars…” 

Dinnerbone clutched at Jeb’s chest, curling up close to his sibling. “I just wanted to help…” he said softly, trying to hide his tears. 

“I know, Valp,” Jeb said kindly. “I know.” 

Herobrine looked them over, trying to settle on a course of action before finally smiling softly at Dinnerbone. “You know, there’s only one word to describe you.” 

Dinnerbone looked down, his blue eyes full of shame. “I know… It’s dumb that I keep trying to run… But I can’t just sit here and do nothing―” 

“I wasn’t going to say dumb,” Herobrine said, interrupting him. “In fact, I don’t think anyone even brought up that word. No, I was going to say brave.” 

Dinnerbone looked up in surprise, almost seeing Herobrine in a new light. “You… think I’m brave?” he asked in surprise. 

“Are you kidding?” Herobrine whispered with a look of disbelief, hoping he was selling it correctly. “None of us have the guts to do what you keep doing! I stopped trying after three years!” 

“I stopped trying after a month,” Jeb admitted, catching onto what Herobrine was doing. “The first punishment was enough of a deterrent for me.” 

“Exactly! The rest of us have all given up, but not you, Stenvalp,” Herobrine said, poking Dinnerbone’s chest. “You keep on trying, keep on fighting, keep on inspiring hope. Now, I do think you should lay low for a while and make Ondska think you’ve given up, but only so you can rise up at your full strength and catch him off guard. You’re amazing, Valp. Don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise.” 

Dinnerbone smiled shakily, letting Jeb manoeuvre him to lay in between them before the young immortal fell asleep half laying on both of them, finally feeling soothed enough to rest. 

Jeb smiled tiredly at Herobrine, the exhaustion showing in the lines baked into his countenance. “Thanks. I’ve been trying to get him to stop for years. I hate seeing him hurt, but he is so set on trying to help.” 

“You just have to figure out how to make it sound appealing,” Herobrine said kindly, running a finger down his sleeping younger sibling’s cheek and making Dinnerbone hum happily at the warmth. “Dinnerbone is miserable here. Of course, he’d keep trying to find help and escape. We just have to assure him that we’re waiting for the right time.” 

“I wish there was a right time,” Jeb said quietly. “Tonight might’ve been the best chance we got, but he would’ve just dragged us right back. Why try when you know it won’t be worth it in the long run?” 

“I’m just glad to be here with you guys again. The fact that none of you hates me astounds me,” Herobrine admitted, carefully opening his box of pain just a little bit so it wouldn’t overwhelm him. “I was sure you’d all see me as the monster he made me out to be.” 

“He actually trapped all of us after I called him out on framing you for the destruction of the Aether. I had finally found enough evidence to prove it, and he snapped, showing us his true colours and isolating us from each other for years before I sent that letter to you through that mortal. That’s he came up with the circus and forced us to be his performers. If anyone here deserves hatred, it’s me. I caused this,” Jeb said, sounding forlorn as he messed with Dinnerbone’s hair. 

Herobrine put a hand on Jeb’s shoulder, giving him a soft smile. “I could never hate you, brother. We’re family. We stick together, no matter what.” 

Tears welled up in Jeb’s eyes as he curled up closer to his siblings. “You’re too kind to me after everything we put you through,” he said, his voice breaking. 

“How could I blame any of you for what Ondska did?” Herobrine asked, wiping at his tears with a shaky smile. “I’m just glad to have you back. And, you know, to not have to eat raw pork every day.” 

Jeb chuckled, looking at him in mock disgust. “Did you actually have to eat raw pork?” he rasped as he ran a hand across his eyes. 

“Have you ever tried cooking hoglin? That meat is so heat resistant not even lava could cook it,” Herobrine said with a huff. “I’d gotten so used to the taste of hoglin blood I had forgotten what water tasted like.” 

“Wow… That’s horrible…” Jeb gave a shudder, hugging Dinnerbone just a little tighter. 

Herobrine quickly backtracked, finding Jeb’s hand in the dark and squeezing tightly. “It’s fine. I’m here now, and I don’t have to go back ever if I don’t want to. I’d rather be trapped here with you all than free in the Nether all alone.” 

“Same here,” Jeb mumbled, his eyes slipping closed from exhaustion. 

“You two are loud, you know that?” Entity grumbled. “Shut up and sleep.” 

Herobrine laughed. “Okay, Dolk, I’m sleeping.” 

“You better. Silly goatman…” Entity murmured as he pressed closer to them. 

Herobrine sighed in contentment as he curled up again, relishing the contact he likely wouldn’t have again any time soon. Yeah, he could get used to this every once in a while. It was well worth the shows they had to put on if it meant they could be together for the rest of their immortal lives.

The Netherian immortal woke up slowly, confused as to why he felt so wonderful. He hadn’t been able to get a night’s sleep this good in centuries. He opened his eyes to see Dinnerbone laying on his chest, nuzzling close, and Jeb pressed up behind the young immortal. On his other side, Null and Entity were a tangled mess of limbs pressed up to his back, and Agnes was practically laying on the other five’s legs, having been starved of touch for the last few centuries. Smiling softly, he gently rubbed Agnes’s head, his sister humming happily before he decided to just lay there for a little while longer. His nerves wouldn’t let him go back to sleep―as this safety was something he hadn’t had longer than he cared to remember and, despite how much he had come to crave it, it felt off to the demon―but that was okay. He’d slept long enough. He’d watch over his siblings and make sure Notch didn’t hurt them. 

Jeb stirred first, the eldest immortal bolting up when he realised that something was different as he reached for a sword that wasn’t there, but Herobrine grabbed his shoulder and looked him in the eye. 

“Everything is okay, Svärd,” he assured him, remembering how Jeb used to do the same for him during his own panic attacks. “Calm down.” 

Jeb slumped back onto the bed, covering his face with a hand. “We’re… We’re okay… He didn’t punish us…” he breathed in disbelief, breath hitching as he tried desperately to hold back watery laughter. 

“Nope. He was gone all night,” Herobrine said, squeezing Jeb’s hand and letting him work through his fear. “Nightmare?” 

“Toward the end, yeah,” Jeb admitted, lifting up his hand enough to see Herobrine with one eye. “I was scared we would go back to absolute isolation, like when he first betrayed us. I… I’m not sure if I could handle that again.” 

“I don’t think any of us could do that again,” Agnes yawned, smiling kindly at her elder brother as her legs moved as one. 

Herobrine’s heart ached seeing the muscle memory his sister still retained of the tail that Notch had stripped her of. He still remembered the last time he’d seen her before being banished, the oceanic warrior seated upon her ever-changing watery throne. An unfortunate side effect of her magic was her lack of legs, and so her power made for an effective mode of transportation on the land. Her pearly scales had shone in the lights of the bonfire that made them look almost fiery gold, exposed in that Agnes way that infuriated Notch because she refused to wear dresses and tiaras because they slowed her down when swimming. Her hair was up in her traditional ponytail, the sea green streaks in the blonde tresses spilling over her back safely out of her face. And her eyes… those brilliant teal eyes filled with horror as he tried to explain what had happened. She didn’t believe him. 

None of them believed him. Not until it was far too late.

He shook his head as she continued to speak, paying attention to the conversation.  

“That was the worst torture I’ve ever gone through,” Agnes grumbled before she winced, her disbelieving eyes softening as she looked over at him. “No offence, Keri. I know you’ve gone through worse.” 

Herobrine waved it off, shoving his pain into a box deep in his heart. “That was centuries ago. I… try not to think about it. Besides, I have more important things to think about than the skeletons in my closet.” 

“Having skeletons in your closet sucks,” Entity grumbled as he tried vehemently to not wake up. “Trust me, I know.” 

Herobrine chuckled and poked Entity in the side as he teased, “I bet, but you’ve never had Wither skeletons in your closet.” 

Entity shuddered and looked over his shoulder to glare at Herobrine. “Yep, I’m not going back to bed after that mental picture. Thanks, Keri,” he snarked. 

Herobrine bit back a laugh. “You’re welcome, Dolk,” he replied with a grin. 

The other two tried to hide their laughter as they heard Entity grumble about the stupid Netherian who didn’t understand sarcasm before rolling over, accidentally waking Null. 

Null sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes before looking to his siblings with a tired, “Morning…” on sluggish fingers. 

“Morning, Solros,” Jeb said kindly. “Did you sleep well?” 

Null yawned before signing with a fond look, “Better than usual. Dolk’s time stranded in the mountains with the polar bears made him freezing as a cuddle buddy.”

“I can see you signing,” Entity grumbled as he narrowed his eyes at Null. “If you don’t like sleeping with me, you don’t have to.” 

“Nah, I’m not leaving you alone, brother,” Null signed before rubbing Entity’s back and making him hum in contentment. 

“Is that where he trapped him?” Herobrine asked in surprise. “I had no idea.” 

Null nodded, a noiseless snarl on his tongue. “The ice field was right next to the woods I was trapped in, and we couldn’t pass the barrier to pat each other on the shoulder, let alone get a hug after nightmares. We’d sleep pressed up against the border so we could pretend we weren’t alone.” 

“You were trapped in the woods?” Agnes asked, intrigued as she propped her head up on her hands. “What was that like?” 

“Mostly animals you can’t find anywhere else. My favorite is the Moobloom. I had a bull who I slept with every night. I miss him,” Null signed with a silent sigh, a troubled look on his face. 

“I miss my wolf pack,” Entity agreed, having turned over to look at his brother’s signing, “and Miss Snöfall. She was a nice bear, she let me stay with her and her cubs when I was first banished.”

“The ones we knew are probably all dead,” Null reminded him with a solemn gaze. 

“I know… Believe me, I know…” Entity said softly, pulling the blanket a little tighter around him. 

Agnes smiled sadly with a pat on Null’s shoulder to get his attention. “Tell you what, I’ll let you two come play with some of my animals today. Aether knows you could use it.”

They both perked up at the prospect, smiling at each other. 

“That sounds wonderful,” Entity admitted, his eyes showing gratitude his lips would never impart. 

“Looks like you two have a plan for the day,” Jeb said, amusement hidden on his lips.  

“Should we risk going into the market?” Herobrine asked as he stretched. 

“I wanna go…” Dinnerbone said sleepily as he sat up, eyes still half-closed. “It’s been ages since we had contact with mortals…” 

“You’d have to stay upright the entire time,” Herobrine reminded him worriedly. 

“Oh…” Dinnerbone looked crestfallen. They all knew how hard that was for him to do. 

“We don’t have to go out for a long time,” Jeb said. “Just an hour or so. Find some necessities, and then come h―” The aerial immortal shook his head and looked away before continuing. “Back here. Back… Back here. That… That sound good?” 

“I’ll take him back at the hour mark,” Herobrine said, jerking a thumb in Dinnerbone’s direction and earning a smile from the young immortal. “You and Agnes can stay. We need quite a bit.” 

Agnes and Jeb nodded in agreement. 

“Sounds reasonable,” Agnes replied. 

“If all of that is settled,” Entity began, drawing the others’ attention to him (with the light tap of Null’s wrist), “why don’t we find one more horrible breakfast before we actually have real food to scarf down?” 

They all smiled. That sounded perfect. 

The four immortals who had decided to risk the trip into town leaned around a tree they were all hiding behind, examining the market to make sure that Notch wasn’t perusing the shop. 

“You all know the drill,” Jeb said quietly. “We are simply going to market for supplies.”

“But we already have all our supplies,” Dinnerbone whispered. “Why do we need more when Notch gets all the supplies for the circus?” 

“Because mortals don’t trust people who are there to just enjoy the sights. They could attack us if we don’t say we are looking for something specific, even if that specific thing might be a piece of jewellery. Mortals are very transactional that way,” Jeb explained. 

Herobrine growled. “Humans are dumb.” 

“Agreed,” Agnes grumbled as she watched a charged creeper be traded to a customer. “They’re treating that magnificent beast like a collectible! Why, I oughta―” 

“We have to keep a low profile,” Jeb hissed. “We can’t draw attention to ourselves. We’re just normal people strolling through the market. We find what we need, and we get out.” 

“Do we have to just look?” Dinnerbone asked hopefully. “Can’t we get some small nice things for ourselves?”

“If you think we can hide it in the wagon, by all means,” Jeb replied. “Everyone ready?” 

The other three nodded. 

“Then let’s go,” Jeb said, leading them out onto the road and into town. 

Dinnerbone glitched upward and clutched at Herobrine’s arm nervously, causing the Netherian immortal to pull him closer. 

“Don’t worry,” Herobrine whispered, giving him a soft smile. “I’ll protect you.” 

“You there!” called out a man who looked like a guard, stopping them before they reached the market. “Stop right there.” 

All four tensed at the voice, looking to the mortal with apprehension and fear. Had Notch told the guards to keep them from coming into town? 

“Should we run?” Agnes asked, poised to spring with her hand on her whip. 

“Not yet,” Jeb said quietly, holding a hand behind him to stay her. “Let’s see what he wants.” He raised his voice, fighting to keep it from shaking. “Hello there, stranger! Can we help you?” 

“You’re those circus guys, aren’t you?” the guard asked. 

“Y-yes, we are,” Herobrine said, puffing out his chest in hopes of looking less untrustworthy. “Why do you ask?” 

The guard stared at him in awe. “Are you… friends?” he asked, impressed. 

“We… we are,” Jeb said with a silent gulp, hoping he was giving the right answer. “All are friends, even brothers. Only the ringleader is above us. We are a family.” 

“That’s so cool!” said the guard, removing his helmet to reveal his dark brown skin. “It’s been ages since I’ve heard of the different nations getting along. And you trust them wholeheartedly not to stab you in the back?” 

“I… Of course?” Herobrine half-asked, confused. “Why would they stab me? We’re closer than anything.” 

“And he defends you…” the guard whispered with awe. “What a prospect! And you guys just accepted him despite his skin color?” 

“Of course,” Jeb said. “He is one of the most talented people I’ve ever met. I’m proud to call him my brother.” 

“Man, I wish everyone had that mentality,” the guard said. “We haven’t had Seatouched and Sunborn here in a long time. The other nations… Well, they aren’t fond of the Starkissed, if you know what I mean.” Realising he was holding them up, he beckoned them forward. “Come, come, you didn’t come into Evren to hear me ramble. Let me bring you inside so the townsfolk aren’t wary.” 

The four immortals followed him into the gates, letting Herobrine take the lead while the other three fell behind him. The town was quaint, but it seemed to be a mainly Starkissed settlement as astral imagery adorned the blackstone roads and Netherian warped wood and quartz covered even the poorest of buildings. Great works of craftsmanship held the town apart from the mortal cities of yesteryear in the minds of the gods, their memories tarnished by centuries of isolation and torture. Silver and amber eyes stared at them from dark oaken faces, the people watching them walk toward the gilded fountain in the centre of the square. 

“Why are they all staring at us?” Dinnerbone asked quietly, looking around at the citizens in discomfort. 

“Because only Keri is welcome here,” Jeb murmured, placing a hand on Dinnerbone’s shoulder protectively. 

“Yeah… It’s really surreal,” Herobrine muttered, waving to a small girl who shyly waved back with a smile before running back to her mother to tell her about the circus man who had said hello. “I can’t remember the last time I had this kind of reception.” 

“Well, you’re the circus’ representative of Herobrine, one of our gods. You’re an idol here. Though I am curious… Are you guys actually named after the old gods?” 

“No, thankfully. Naming your kid Dinnerbone or Herobrine or Entity or Null is pretty much asking to get them bullied.” Agnes chuckled weakly, shooting an apologetic glance to her siblings that both returned with a forgiving smile. 

“Yeah, I thought as much. What’s your name?” the guard asked Herobrine. 

“Uh… Um… Hero. My name is… Hero?” Herobrine tried, stumbling over his words and not noticing Jeb facepalm in the background. 

“Amazing… Hey, can I get your autograph?” the guard asked hopefully as they passed by the quartz fountain. 

“Auto… graph?” Herobrine asked, confused, looking to his siblings for help, but they shrugged. They didn’t know what it was either. 

“You guys must not get out much. That’s okay,” the guard said, waving it off. “I just want your signature for my daughter. We went to your show last night, and you, Herobrine, were her absolute favourite.” 

“Because I’m a monster?” Herobrine asked glumly. 

“What? Of course not!” the guard said, sounding mildly offended as he looked back at him. “It’s because you’re like us, dark skin, and yet can do such amazing things! You’re an inspiration! Who told you you were a monster?” 

“Herobrine isn’t exactly the most popular god,” Herobrine said glumly, rubbing the back of his head. “The fallen hero, the nether scourge, devourer of souls, yadda yadda.” 

“And yet your representation makes him seem more like someone misunderstood, someone that no one took the effort to get to know,” the guard chuckled. “I don’t think that you’d want to be someone who kills for fun. Besides, everyone knows that he had our colour of skin. He is an idol for our people! You should hear the legends of the Star-Kissed who decided to explore the Nether searching for him. They told of crude torture devices, little food, and so much worse. The Aether gods were cruel sending our god there. Many Starkissed never forgave Notch for it.” 

“Starkissed?” Jeb asked, confused and finally mustering the courage to ask the meaning. 

“It refers to everyone with our skin tone,” the man explained as he beckoned them to follow him into town. “The fallen god’s eyes were always reminiscent of stars, and thus his people took the nickname Starkissed to honour their god. Herobrine is the one all Starkissed worship. We are not like those hoity-toity Sunborn who think they own the world and everything belongs to them.” He looked back at Jeb uncomfortably. “No offence.” 

“None taken?” Jeb replied, wondering when the mortal world had changed so much. 

“Even we aren’t a huge fan of our Sunborn ringleader,” Agnes snapped, catching on quicker than her elder brother. 

The guard led them into a tavern and up to the counter. “I get the feeling his gig isn’t exactly a great thing.” 

“You have no idea,” Agnes groaned. “He’s horrid.” 

“So why don’t you leave?” he asked curiously. 

“We can’t,” Dinnerbone confessed. “He’d find us and just drag us back. It’s… not worth the effort.” 

“Huh. Well, you are always welcome here at the Blazing Star Tavern,” the guard said kindly. “My wife Phoebe is the innkeeper. Phoebe! These weary travelers need something to eat! They look practically starved!” 

A star-kissed woman with amber eyes exited a door leading to the kitchen and walked up to the counter. “Aren’t you supposed to be on guard duty, Atlas?” she chuckled, kissing his cheek. 

“Met the circus folk on the way into town,” he explained. “The four of them looked so nervous like they’d never walked into a settlement before.” 

“We haven’t had to for centuries,” Herobrine grumbled, receiving an elbow to the ribs from Jeb and a sharp glare from Agnes. 

Having not heard them, Atlas continued, “The four of them are friends! Can you believe it? Two Sunborn willingly hanging out with a Star-Kissed and a Sea-Touched. It’s practically a miracle!” 

“It is a curious thing,” Phoebe agreed. 

“I do get the feeling it comes from how their ringleader treats them,” Atlas said, looking at them pointedly. “All are family under the horrid ringleader that none of you like, huh? That usually translates to, we’re all slaves and we’re not supposed to say. ” 

All four of them tensed, fear beginning to dawn in their eyes. 

“You… You aren’t going to tell him we came to town, are you?” Dinnerbone whimpered, letting Herobrine pull him closer while Agnes subtly reached for her whip. 

“Of course not,” Atlas said, letting them relax again. “We know what it’s like to get relief from a cruel master. He out for the day?” 

“A few days,” Jeb admitted softly, still clinging to those words. A few days. A few days. “I think he’s looking for new talent, but he didn’t say. We’re just glad to have a few days of freedom. It’s been years since he left us alone.” 

“Aw, you poor things,” Phoebe said, her lower lip sticking out as she looked them over. “Don’t worry, we’ll get you the best hospitality Evren can offer. You could stay the night, sleep in an actual bed. Everyone here knows you all sleep in those wagons, and with how he seems to treat you… Hay on wooden floors, I presume? Tattered blankets far past their prime?” 

Herobrine raised his hand sheepishly, confirming her words. “That’s me and the two other fallen god… st-stand-ins. Stand-ins.” He shook his head and continued, gesturing to his siblings. “These three get cots that feel like concrete slabs.” 

Atlas winced with a look of pity. “Yep. Definitely slavery. I bet your ringleader gets all the best stuff.” 

They all nodded. 

“He feeds us rotten food,” Dinnerbone mumbled as he looked down at the floor, causing the two mortals’ eyes to go wide. 

“He… what?” Atlas asked in horror, dropping the cup in his hand and spilling a little water on the table. “How are you all not sick to your stomachs?!”

Jeb shuffled uncomfortably, not used to someone aside from his siblings caring for their well-being. “We’ve… gotten used to it… over the years…” 

“Oh, sweet darlings, we’re making you the best food we can. You’re not having anything reminiscent of what your master feeds you,” Phoebe scowled, rolling up her sleeves as she grabbed her menu to look over, “and you’re getting the best room we have to offer. No excuses. You are to be treated like royalty here.” 

“But…” Jeb said, once again fighting a losing battle with himself and his siblings as they all thought of the amazing food and soft bed. How could any of them say no?

“Where are the other two?” Atlas asked curiously, grabbing a rag to clean up his spill. 

“They wanted to play with the animals today,” Agnes explained with a weak smile, glad that the subject was off their terrible treatment. She didn’t like to remember.  

“Well then, go get your companions,” Phoebe said encouragingly, running a finger down her menu until she found her choice of meal. “They’re getting fed as well. Stars above, no wonder you all look so thin. He’s barely feeding you!” 

Herobrine quickly said, “I’ll go get our sibs,” to the others before making his way out of the Shooting Star tavern, his mind reeling on the way back to camp. These… mortals… They cared… They cared more about them than anyone ever had. And they liked him! They liked him , the scourge of the Nether, the angel of death, the harbinger of destruction. The idea that a group of people believed his side of the story, an entire race even―It was… astounding.

People cared.

People cared. 

He found Entity and Null playing with the ravagers, the beasts surprisingly gentle with the fallen gods as they rubbed at the loose skin riddled with scars. 

“Oh you poor things,” Entity cooed with a softness his sibling had never heard from him. “Don’t worry, today we’re just going to rest and relax, okay? You can get some food. I’m sure you’re all starving.” 

Null tapped his shoulder, drawing his attention to Herobrine’s approach. 

“What’s up?” Entity asked as Null began leading the ravagers back to the grazing pen. “Is something wrong? Are we needed? Was Notch in town?” 

“No, we just… well… you hungry?” Herobrine asked, trying to collect his thoughts again. 

“Oh, are we?! Is it good food?” Entity asked, practically drooling at the thought. 

Herobrine nodded. “Come on, the others are waiting for us.” 

The Netherian explained as well as he could in transit―conversing with the deaf while walking is a challenge, but one that they had all mastered to the best of their abilities over the last 3000 years―what had happened as he led Entity and Null into town to the Shooting Star, surprise and awe flashing across his siblings’ faces. 

“An… actual bed…” Entity whimpered, his eyes falling shut as they walked into town. “Can you imagine how soft that will be underneath our fingers? All six of us bundled up on that cloudy comfort?” 

“I know,” Herobrine agreed, his voice dreamy and soft. “It sounds so perfect, even better than last night… But should we risk it?” 

“You sound like Svärd,” Entity said, waving it off. 

Null gave a sharp clap, getting his siblings’ attention. “Svärd isn’t wrong,” Null pointed out, pointedly ignoring how the townsfolk were whispering around him. Herobrine wasn’t sure he’d noticed, actually… Null had it good like that.

“Look. He said he’d be gone for a few days. It hasn’t even been one yet! Let’s enjoy ourselves! We deserve it!” Entity said, running ahead into the tavern. 

Null and Herobrine exchanged a fond look, both deciding to simply walk after him a little faster. No need to alarm the entire town with their excitement.

Phoebe looked up as the bell above her tavern door rang, hoping to find that the Starkissed―Hero, Altas had called him Hero, she remembered―had returned with his friends. She wasn’t disappointed.

“Hey guys!” a new Starkissed man in a white coat far too warm for this weather called as he entered and lowered his hood, Hero and a second Starkissed draped in flowering vines like a climbing rope following close behind. 

The other three circus folk, who had been chatting with Atlas about the specifics of circus training, turned to smile at their siblings, subtly relaxing now that they were all together again. 

Strange, she thought. Why did they only relax when the others returned? Phoebe hmphed to herself, deciding to keep a closer watch on them. 

“Dolk! Solig! Keri!” their leader, a redheaded Sunborn, said happily, inviting them over. “We were just discussing circus work. Come sit with us!” 

“I thought his name was Hero,” Atlas said, confused as he took a sip from his mug.

They all froze for a moment, floundering like squids out of water before their leader came to the rescue.  

“Actually, it’s Fyrverkeri,” he said sheepishly. “Hero is, as you can imagine, a stage name. We call him Keri for short.” 

“And you all are?” Atlas asked, looking to the others. “I just realised I forgot to ask your names. 

“Stenvalp,” the young brunette said quietly, "but my siblings call me Valp." 

“Pärlsvans or Pärla for short,” the Seatouched replied. 

“Fjädersvärd,” the leader said.

“Everyone calls him Svärd,” Keri said with a grin, messing up Svärd’s hair and making the leader narrow his eyes at him. 

“I’m Isdolk or just Dolk,” the coat-wearing Starkissed said, “and this is Solros. We call him Solig for short.” 

Solros, the one wearing the flowers when he had entered―she had to take a double take as she looked at him again; where had the flowers gone? ―waved before going into a few complicated gestures she didn’t recognise.

Phoebe gave him a weird look. “Are you signing?” she asked in confusion. 

Solros returned a look of his own, mouthing, “Signing?” before turning to his siblings to ask something in that strange hand language she didn’t understand. She signed a few familiar words to herself just to make sure she wasn’t going crazy.

Keri shrugged before looking at Phoebe. “What is signing and how do you spell it in common?” 

“Signing is a hand language that is used by the deaf and the mute. It’s especially common in Starkissed coal and quartz miners because they inhale so much coal dust or ash that it damages their vocal cords,” Phoebe explained, growing concerned about the confusion growing on all their faces. “It’s easier than speaking for them. It’s not uncommon for people in Evren to know Star Sign, but your friend―Solig, was it?―doesn’t use Star Sign. He uses something else. Does he use the Sunborn sign or the Seatouched sign language?” 

Solros looked especially perplexed and looked to Isdolk beside him, who began whispering in another language she didn’t know. 

The mute looked up at Phoebe in extreme confusion when Isdolk finished, gesturing something to her that she didn’t understand. 

Svärd noticed her issue and translated for her. “He said that there was no sign language that he knew of when he was little, so no one understood him until he joined the circus because we all decided to make up a hand language together so he could talk to us. We call it Solig Speak, after his nickname. Is it really called sign language?” he asked curiously, his eyes lighting up with a hunger for knowledge Phoebe hadn’t seen in a man for a great many years. 

“Yes, it is,” she confirmed. “You’ll find that people will find trouble understanding… Solig Speak because you are the only ones who use it.” 

Solros scowled with a few sharp gestures that caused Isdolk to nod next to him. 

“You said it, Solig,” Isdolk grumbled. “It’s not like we talk to anyone else but the boss.” 

“Still, I’d like to learn these other languages,” Svärd said, his voice barely hiding a child-like wonder and excitement. “I like knowing how to communicate with other people.” 

Keri snorted. “Remind me to look for a language book in the market tomorrow. Maybe you can finally get a girl if you know how to talk to her,” he said knowingly, making Svärd flush. 

“Keri I will dunk you in Pärla’s tank,” Svärd hissed, his face red. 

“Don’t dunk him in my tank,” Pärla complained with a fond grin. “It’ll smell like goat for a month.” 

“Hey! I do not smell like goat,” Keri pouted, his amber eyes narrowing at the Seatouched. 

“No, you smell like a Netherian bonfire,” Valp agreed, meekly looking up at Keri with a cheeky grin. 

“See? He knows what I smell like,” Keri said triumphantly. 

“That isn’t a compliment,” Isdolk snarked. 

Keri glared at him before giving a gasp at whatever Solros had signed to him. “I do not smell like burnt zombie. You take that back, Solig.” 

Solros looked rather like a smug cat as he avoided Keri’s swatting with a breathy laugh that sounded like the rustling of grass in the wind. 

“All right, that’s enough fighting,” Atlas laughed, stepping in between the squabbling siblings. “Phoebe, how’s the food coming?” 

“Depends,” Phoebe teased. “Are they hungry?”

All six of them perked up, and Phoebe could practically see them salivating at the thought. What had that man done to them to have such visual reactions to good food?   

“Oh, boy, am I?!” Isdolk said happily, sitting down at the counter with a huge grin on his face. Were those fangs? “What’ve you got?” 

“My famous vegetable stew,” Phoebe laughed, setting down a bowl in front of each of them and waited for them to eat.

They all stared down at their meals, pupils blown wide at the sight of food and stomachs growling audibly, but no one made a move. They simply looked. 

“What’s wrong?” Phoebe asked in concern, wondering if she had done something wrong. “Don’t like vegetables? I can make something else―” 

“N-no, ma’am, that’s not it. We’re just… trying to convince ourselves this isn’t a dream,” Svärd said softly. 

Phoebe noticed that, more often than not, it was Fjädersvärd who spoke for the entire group. So, realising that he was probably the best way to get the rest of them to trust her, she smiled and said, “Oh, is that it? Well, I can help,” before picking up the spoon in his soup and putting it in his open mouth before he could ask his question. 

Svärd immediately shut his mouth around the spoon on instinct, the others all staring at him to see what would happen. Why did they look like they were expecting him to be poisoned? After a moment, he grabbed the spoon and pulled it out of his mouth, savouring the tastes before he swallowed. The performer looked down at the soup in awe, his hands shaking as he went for another bite. “This… This is really good… Guys, you have got to try this.” 

Apparently, that was what they had needed as all of them dug in after that, finishing the bowl in front of them within fifteen minutes. Phoebe’s heart clenched, wondering what their leader had done to them to make them so wary of food. 

“So good…” Isdolk sighed as he scraped the last of the soup off the bottom of the bowl. “It tastes like paradise.” 

Herobrine chuckled. “So much better than rotten beef,” he agreed. 

“I wish we could have this every day,” Valp smiled, though she noticed he was avoiding the beef she had put in to flavour the broth. A vegetarian perhaps? 

She only noticed that Solros had said something because she had looked to all of the bowls―Isdolk avoided the vegetables while Solros did the same as Valp―and saw him gesturing something to Keri, whose eyes widened before he looked up at her hopefully. 

“What did he ask?” Phoebe asked kindly. 

“Could… Could we have more? We have money,” Keri asked hopefully, taking out a bag of emeralds. 

Atlas and Phoebe exchanged a meaningful look. They’d talk about that later. In the meantime, she smiled at them sweetly. 

“If you guys would be willing to help out around the tavern afterwards, you can have as much as you want,” Phoebe assured them, giving them each another helping. 

An hour later, Isdolk was the only one still going, the feral god on his sixth bowl―the others had stopped at four. 

Atlas stared at him in wonder and disgust. “Where are you putting all that?” he asked in awe. 

Isdolk licked the spoon clean before grinning at Atlas, flashing fangs that Phoebe once again swore she could see before they disappeared into normal teeth. “I was… kinda raised by polar bears,” he explained, gently stacking the last bowl on top of the others with gloved hands. “You learn to pack in as much as you’re able. You don’t know when you’ll get your next meal out in the wild.” 

Agnes narrowed her eyes at him. “You aren’t starving yourself again, are you, Dolk?” she asked sternly. 

Isdolk didn’t reply, and she turned her gaze on Solros, who immediately signed an excuse, which Phoebe watched carefully. 

The gestures were simple. What she assumed was a letter transitioning into someone plunging a sword into the ground; wagging a finger; grabbing his wrists and pulling; eating with a fork; pointing at Isdolk; pointing at her; tapping the side of his head; pointing at himself; grabbing his wrists and pulling again; the eating sign again; then finally pointing to Isdolk again. 

Phoebe hummed, trying to translate what he could mean in her mind. Letter-sword no something eat Isdolk, Pärla think Solros something eat Isdolk. What was the wrist grab though? What did that mean? She huffed, annoyed she couldn’t understand what was going on. 

“I don’t want to eat that horrid meat he tries to stuff down our throats,” Isdolk growled, looking away as he scowled at the floor. “It’s rotten and mouldy and barely even food. We could get more nutrients from the bugs that surround the rotten meat than the stuff itself!” 

“I’m not going to disagree with you,” Keri said calmly, “but we do have to actually eat. You can’t just survive off of pure spite.” 

“Watch me,” Isdolk snapped, pouting. 

We do have to actually eat … Phoebe said, rolling the sentence over in her head. Why did he say that like they didn’t have to at some point, or that it was assumed that they didn’t?  

“If you like, we could send some dried meat with you to hide,” Atlas offered kindly. “We have quite a bit of beef jerky in storage.” 

“What’s jerky?” Pärla asked, a little lost. 

Phoebe’s eyebrows shot up. Everything was just adding up into a huge, huge red flag, and she was officially ready to storm up to their boss to give him a piece of her mind. 

“You… When was the last time you had something aside from rotten food?” Atlas asked curiously. 

The six froze again, reminding her like a group of prey animals in a corner as they turned to Jeb who looked as if he wished he could melt into the floor. 

“U-um… A while?” Jeb said sheepishly. “W-why do you ask?” 

Phoebe looked them all over. “Atlas, why don’t you go get the dessert ready? I’ll get these six to help me straighten up the tavern.” 

Atlas nodded and left the room, leaving them in an empty tavern as the rush had ended a while ago and no one drank until the evening anyway. 

Phoebe put up the closed sign before smiling at the six before her. “Tell you what. You guys can each have a slice of my famous triple-cocoa cake if you help me get this spick and span. Got it?” 

All six of them perked up, and it took very little from Phoebe to get them working. Svärd called sweeping; Isdolk wiped down all the surfaces; Pärla had commandeered the sink; Solros helped with organising ingredients for that night’s graveyard shift and seemed extremely interested in what everything was if how he was studying everything in his hands was any indication; Keri started polishing and cleaning every single glass, and the weirdest one was Stenvalp who loudly declared he was going to clean the undersides of all the furniture. 

“Um… I think the underside is fine,” Phoebe chuckled. “If you want to clean the tops though―” 

“You wanted this p-place to be spotless!” Stenvalp protested, though his body language showed his fear of retribution. “I’m gonna m-make sure the furniture is sp-spotless!” 

She shrugged, desperately trying not to set off his fight or flight instinct. The barkeep was sure the circus folk could very easily send her to the Void should they choose to. “Suit yourself.” 

Phoebe headed over to change the specials board, absentmindedly watching the others and mulling over her thoughts. They had been eating rotten food, even starving themselves, and yet they had the strength and vigour of normal people. They carried currency not used for almost two centuries and offered it like using perfectly cut gemstones to pay for things was completely normal. They all seemed afraid whenever their past was brought up, and they stumbled over words that they shouldn’t: stand-in , names, bad treatment, disagreements. They said things that were worrisome like their lack of contact with others, didn’t know common knowledge like foods or sign language, and flinched whenever they thought she and Atlas might be angered. 

And their names… 

Phoebe told the group to continue working as she went upstairs to the office she and her husband shared, heading straight for the bookcase past the old Aetherian relics they had collected to grab the book her husband had bought years ago for her twenty-seventh birthday: A Mortal’s Limited Guide to the Language of the Gods. Thumbing through its pages, she hummed as she looked over the translations of words, hoping this would explain their strange names and accents. 

Keri spoke like someone who had spent too much time around the Piglins, something she didn’t doubt as Stenvalp wasn’t wrong in the fact that the man smelled like the Nether, but everyone else had a foreign accent she couldn’t quite name, almost like the Sunborn, but more potent. They spoke like aristocrats, very careful with their words, but were treated worse than common folk. It was possible that they might have gotten the accent from their Sunborn boss, but then they’d have their normal accents leaking through. No, this was their actual accent, an accent that only this small group of six used. 

Finally she came across a word she recognised. “Svärd,” she read, holding a finger beneath the word as she read the translation in Common. “Sword. Why would someone be named sword?” She quickly flipped through the book to find fjäder. “Feather,” she mumbled.  

Why would someone name their child Feathersword? 

Once more she searched through the pages, finding Sten and Valp to mean Stonepup, another strange name. Pärlsvan meant Pearltail, Isdolk was Icedagger, Solros was Sunflower, and Fyrverkeri meant Firework. 

Putting the book down on the desk and standing back, she paced the study. Icedagger, Feathersword, Stonepup, Pearltail, Sunflower, and Firework. Every single one of them was named in the gods’ language, and their names meant things that… didn’t really work as names. They felt like the names of the Piglins, more celebratory of achievements in nature than that of modern names. There was a chance that Keri had adopted Piglin culture and given his friends new names, but again, why would they have names in Aetherian and not Common then? Did they even know what they meant? 

But they must, she realised. They reflected the gods they portrayed in the circus. Icedagger was the frozen god Entity, Pearltail was the Seatoucheds’ mistress Agnes, Sunflower was the kindly floran god Null, and Firework was her own deity Herobrine. While she wasn’t sure what Stonepup or Feathersword had to do with the two Sunborn deities, that may have been because of her lack of knowledge of their culture. Those she did know lined up perfectly, so they must at least know what the words meant. 

Phoebe was distracted when she nearly walked into an antique vase. She quickly steadied it again, looking it over for cracks, before she froze at the sight of the image on it. 

A red-haired man with brilliant red and gold wings unfolded wearing armour and holding a sword in the exact position that Solros had signed earlier that night. 

Feather-sword.  

Phoebe grabbed the vase and ran out to the balcony, looking down on the man beneath her with the broom he had so tenderly taken from her hands. He was an exact replica of the man on the vase, down to the sword at his hip, though he bore no wings. His armour was lighter and less ceremonial than the painting’s, but the sword was exact down to the white quartz wings used as a guard. Sure, it could have been a well-made fake, but combined with everything else, it just added up. 

Then she remembered what her grandmother had told her. The gods had been forces to reckon with, even their banished king, but one day, they all simply vanished. No one could find any trace of them. It was almost as if they didn’t exist. 

Phoebe practically ran back into the study, reaching for the journal of her great-great-great-grandfather’s missing brother and opening the pages to a familiar, well-read entry. 

Autumn, Third Moon, Seventh Day, 2739 P.A.F. 
 

I saw him again today. I still do not dare say who, not even to the pages of this book, for he told me not to. It is too dangerous. The Master cannot know I have learned of his lies, or we will all be punished. Good thing I live alone in a mountain range far from other people, or I’m sure I would be dead where I stand. 

I brought him cookies and fireworks for our visit today. The latter is a rather new invention that isn’t ever brought with explorers on expeditions into the Nether, so he was delighted when they exploded into beautiful colours, though perhaps I should have told him to not set the entire thing on fire, as it exploded in his face the first time he tried. We both had a good laugh about that. 

Apparently his brother lives nearby my house. I’ve been playing messenger for them with my friend next to the portal on the Nether side and his brother “discreetly” dropping letters from the sky for me to throw to him. It’s actually been a rather enjoyable game, and now they both call me the mailman, though my friend’s brother is far warier than he is. It makes my heart ache to think what they and their siblings have been through. 

On a lighter note, his eldest brother is warming up to me. I’ve started calling him Feather in my head―and when I’m alone, of course―as neither of them particularly like their given names. I don’t think he knows about it, but it makes me smile anyway. I got him to come inside and sit by the fire for an hour after I bribed him with books. I’ll have to stock up on new ones from the village if I want him to stay this friendly. I can tell he doesn’t trust me, and fears that I am faking his brother’s letters, but I know to be patient. My friend told me of the Feather’s skittish nature, and I am not afraid to wait until he is willing to trust me. He seems to like any book I have on the subjects of history, sociology, language, and geology. Much has changed since he was last able to travel the world, and it makes me happy to see him devour this new knowledge with an energy I’ve never seen before. It’s actually rather endearing. I hope he continues to come and read my books. 

Though my friend―I think I’ll call him Firework in my journal, because of what happened today―knows more Boargon and his native tongue than Common, and Feather only knows how to speak basic Common just yet, they tell me what they can of their family, their history, and their culture. It’s absolutely fascinating how differently they lived before being banished, and I still marvel at the stories they tell me of the beginning of times, where dolphins and turtles didn’t swim the seas and axolotls didn’t roam the caves. Neither of them have heard of an Allay before, can you believe it?! It’s still wild to me now, hours later. 

Ah, that would be Feather now, likely asking to be let in. The snow is coming tonight, and he doesn’t have much shelter as the homes he builds seem to keep mysteriously being struck by lightning before great storms so that he… He can stay here. It’s not like my own brother has ever used my guest room before. Much too busy running his tavern in Evren. I hope he’s happy there. I certainly am with my friends. 

Got to go. I’m sure Feather is hungry too. I’ll write again soon. This is still too amazing for me to even begin to write down, but I’ll try. 

Feather and Firework. Fjäder and Fyrverkeri. 

And that was when it all lined up. 

Herobrine disappeared the same time as her great-great-great-granduncle who had been hanging out with people who spoke hardly any Common, including one who had a firework rocket go off in his face and was able to laugh it off right after and another who was wary and very, very fond of knowledge about people and bore the nickname Feather. Svärd led the group despite seeming the most anxious, was known as Feathersword, and introduced the one that had introduced himself as Hero by a different name that meant Firework. Isdolk had spoken to Solros in a foreign tongue that Solros seemed to understand better than Common, despite Common being the language of modern times. Svärd was dodgy about dates, saying a while instead of anything definitive. Keri said they do actually have to eat, as if there were assumptions that they didn’t. Isdolk spoke of following the feast and famine hunting style of the polar bears, something that a mortal could never sustain. Solros had created an entire language that only he and the other circus folk knew fluently including imagery used in old religious art of the deities themselves. None of them knew of things common folk should, and carried a currency not used in centuries that they still believed worked for bartering. They all had powers reminiscent of the old gods that no enchantment could replicate, no matter how much they insisted it was true. 

Not to mention… 

Stenvalp had died on stage. The entire crowd had watched while he had bled to death from a single ice shard dagger while Isdolk looked like he had wanted to rush forward but couldn’t, and he had never gotten back up. Phoebe remembered that Atlas had complained that they hadn’t warned the crowd prior. There were children watching, after all, including her own little Jacira. He even mentioned a ravager scavenging the body after the show and Pärla shooing it away from the corpse, grouching about how they weren’t respecting the body. Stenvalp had most definitely died. 

Which meant… 

She hummed, leaving the study and taking in the two working below her in her line of sight. Svärd gently swept the floor, a content smile on his face while he slightly fluttered his fingers to bring a breeze that gently blew the dirt into the dust pan. She could see his little smile of triumph as he left for the trash can and pretended nothing had happened. Meanwhile, Valp was, indeed, scrubbing the underside of her tables on his head, one hand supporting his body while the other scrubbed under the table, but as she watched, he looked around before letting out a relieved sigh and removing his hand from the floor to scrub with both, not touching the floor at all. 

Well. If Phoebe hadn’t been convinced they were gods before, she was now. 

 Shaking her head, she considered her options. Stenvalp and Solros seemed the least hostile, but also the most likely to try and avoid the question at best and full-on panic at worst, not to mention there was the issue of her not being able to understand him. She wasn’t sure she had the ability nor the patient to try and interpret his Aetherian signs―because that’s what they were, weren’t they?―without one of the others to help her. Svärd, the leader, would say whatever he thought would protect his siblings, whether it was the truth or not. He felt like her Atlas, a comforting force, but Svärd had been pushed past the brink too many times for any mortal to bear. She could only imagine how much stress was on his shoulders. Pärla had a whip at her hip and Phoebe didn’t doubt that if she saw the mortal as a threat she would eliminate her without a second thought, even if every dish came out of the sink cleaner than if it had been new. Isdolk too, the physically bulkiest and strongest―although also shortest―of the group, and though he bore no weapon Phoebe doubted he needed one to do damage as she thought of the corpse from the circus. It was amusing to think he was cast as a knife thrower and not a strong man, but it was clear he was adept at his craft as he juggled knives for her daughter, Jacira. Both seemed to be protectors, while one was more feral and the other was more maternal toward her siblings. She could only wonder what had happened to make them like that. 

That only left… Fyrverkeri. Phoebe shivered as she realized if they really were immortals then this was her god. He was the fallen hero, the banished warrior, the scourge of the nether, the star-kissed king. She had to admit, he fit the stories of the elder star-kissed better than those of the cruel Sunborns. It was… actually relieving. 

Gathering her courage, Phoebe walked up behind Keri who was softly singing to herself in what she had originally thought was gibberish but was probably Aetherian now that she thought about it. 

“Herobrine?” she asked kindly, causing him to flinch and stop singing. She cursed under her breath. “I’m sorry. Fyrverkeri, was it?” 

“Mhm,” he hummed, turning to face her as he put down the glass he had been holding. “Why?” 

“I just…” 

She paused, taking a deep breath and studying the god standing before her. His clothes were ragged and burned around the hem, his hair was a tangled mess of snarls and slight curls pulled back into a short ponytail at the base of his skull, and his skin was riddled with scars she thought would have faded with respawns. His amber eyes almost convinced her not to ask, full of a curiosity that masked the underlying fear and pain that had seemed to stain his face from years of hardships. What spurred her on was the leather choker around his neck, embroidered with runes and covering what looked like burn scars. 

“I was just wondering when the six of you were going to mention you’re the old gods who went missing a long time ago,” she asked before she could chicken out. “The Aetherian immortals.” 

She almost wished she had when his hands burst into flames and his glowing white amber eyes filled with horror. The entire inn went silent, all six of them staring dumbfounded and fearful at her. 

It only took a second for all of them to drop what they were holding and dart for the door.

Chapter Text

“Wait!” the barkeep cried, running after them as they ran out into the street. “Wait, come back!” 

The six gods darted through the crowd, Entity scooping Dinnerbone into his arms when he tripped and fazed back to his normal upside-down state. They didn’t stop or group together until they were out past the town, practically stumbling into each other as they ran for the circus. 

“We should have known. We should have known it wouldn’t be that easy!” Agnes cursed. 

“I tried to warn you,” Jeb sighed, trying to hold back his tears. “I knew this would happen! Fate is against us! It will always be against us!” 

“Why didn’t we just listen to you and stay home?” Dinnerbone asked, trying not to sob. “Now she’ll tell him, and we’ll all be punished and separated for months―” 

“Believe me, I had wanted it to work too,” Jeb said, slowing as they reached their camp. “Come on, he isn’t back yet. Let’s just go hide in my wagon.” 

“That sounds good,” Herobrine agreed. 

“Crud―she’s following us!” Entity whispered, ushering them closer to the wagon.

“What does she want now?!” Dinnerbone asked, hiding in Entity’s arms. 

“Come on, let’s just get to the wagon,” Herobrine said. “Maybe we can lose her in all the equipment.” 

The others nodded, and they quickly split up, ducking and weaving through the disorganised circus yard as Phoebe tried to keep up. 

By the time she had reached the personal wagons, they had already disappeared. 

Unsure of which one they were in, if at all, she started at the last wagon in the train and peered inside, finding clothes similar to the ones Agnes had been wearing folded up in the corner along with a tattered blanket and pillow and few other belongings aside from the occasional seashell or piece of coral. It saddened her heart to see that the gods themselves were being mistreated. 

The next one was even worse. Blood-stained hay covered a wooden floor, a piece of rotting meat in one corner―likely one of the meals Entity had avoided eating―and ratty, torn blankets in a nest in the corner next to a pillow made of vines, which she could only assume was made by Null himself. Those two had seemed especially close. She tried to hold in a sob as she saw the claw marks on the walls, looking weathered and old―what had Notch done to these poor people?!

The middle wagon was slightly charred, leading her to believe that this was Herobrine’s wagon. Once again, a single ragged blanket was pushed into the corner, along with most of the hay covering the ground. This wagon was cleaner than the one that presumably held Entity, but it was just as sparsely furnished, not even a bed. Perhaps to keep up with the monster image his legend bore. She promised herself that once she got the immortals back to the inn and into the softest bed they owned, she’d come back and fix those horrible sleeping conditions. They deserved it. 

She found them huddled in the farthest corner from the door in the fourth wagon, second to the front, atop four cots that looked like they’d be about as comfortable as concrete. The mortal could hear them whispering. 

“What does she want?” 

“Why did she follow us?” 

“Can I kill her?” 

“No, Dolk, you can’t kill her, we don’t kill mortals!” 

“You’re no fun, Svärd.”

“What do you mean, Solig? She can’t be listening! We’re whispering!” 

“Valp, you are the worst whisperer I have ever witnessed.” 

“Hey! You are no better, Keri!” 

“Well, we have to do something, she’s standing outside!”

“Svärd, you’re in charge, what do we do?” 

“I… I don’t know! I didn’t expect her to follow us! How did she even know we’re immortal?!” 

“Wait… Oh, phantom wings, they were at the circus last night! I knew I recognized them! She and her family must have seen Valp’s corpse last night…” 

“You didn’t take care of that?!” 

“I was busy keeping the ravagers from eating it, so no!” 

“Oh great stars, you’ve blown our cover, Pärla! If Ondska finds out… Oh we’ll be deader than a Wither Skeleton in a Piglin base!” 

“Oh, so this is my fault?! She asked you, Keri! She approached you!” 

“Probably because you’re their deity, Keri.” 

“That is so weird to think there are mortals who like me… I think I spooked her when my hands lit on fire. I hope I didn’t burn the glass…” 

“That’s what you’re worried about?! Not the fact that we were found out by mortals?! You know what he’ll do to us!” 

“I don’t want to be isolated again!” 

“Don’t worry, Valp, I won’t let him do that to you. It’s gonna be okay.” 

“Solig is right. Whatever we do, we need to get her out of camp before Ondska comes back. If he finds out… I don’t want to know what the consequences will be.” 

They seemed to have reached an agreement as the sound of footsteps signalled Phoebe to get away from the door before Svärd, no, Jeb opened it. 

“Why did you follow us?” he asked coldly, slipping into the imposing nature of a god by nature, though it did nothing to hide the fear in his eyes. 

“Yeah, Svärd!” Entity cheered quietly, looking up at his older brother with admiration. “Intimidate her!” 

This immediately ruined the effect, as you can imagine, and Jeb gently glared at him. 

It took Entity a moment to get the hint, and he gave him a sheepish smile. “Oh. Sorry, Svärd,” he apologised, ducking his head down as he settled back down next to Null. 

Jeb turned back to Phoebe, obviously still expecting an answer. 

“I…” Phoebe gulped, looking over the gods. She couldn’t imagine the magnificence they were hiding beneath mortal masks. She couldn’t even fathom a reason that they would hide to begin with, let alone let someone abuse… Oh. They weren’t being abused by just anyone, were they? They were being abused by the king of the gods, Notch himself. That was who they referred to as Ondska, wasn’t it? He was hurting them, but… why? 

“If you don’t mind me asking, why do you call Notch Ondska?” she asked softly, looking around at them nervously. 

Jeb looked uncomfortable, wringing his hands and shuffling his feet. “That… is none of your concern. I’ll ask you again, why did you follow us?” he asked, trying to rebuild the intimidation factor. 

“I wanted to make sure you are all okay,” she replied, deciding that honesty was the best policy here. They already didn’t trust her; she didn’t need to give them more reason to think she was trying to trick them.  

“Why do you care if we are in a sound state of body or mind?” Jeb asked, his voice betraying his distrust as his hand gripped the door a little tighter in preparation to close it again. 

Phoebe’s heart raced and words tumbled from her mouth in an attempt to stop him from leaving. “Because even if you are gods―Nether, even if you were simple mortals, no one deserves this fate. Please, please , come back to the inn. We still have that dessert ready for you, and I’ll get the softest bed in the inn ready for all of you, u-unless you want two beds? I will prepare whatever you all want. You all deserve so, so much better than this. Please, I implore you, let us take care of you, even if it is for just a day,” she pleaded, looking over all of them. 

They all stared at her in silence, astounded by her words and yet unsure whether their fear was safe to form into trust just yet.

Phoebe’s hopes rose as she saw Null signing to them. She guessed at the contents, hoping that he was reassuring them that she could be trusted. She wasn’t too far off, as Agnes’s response almost matched her suspicion. 

“Unless he’s there waiting for us and this was all a trap…” Agnes whimpered, holding a trembling Dinnerbone close to her as she tried to hide him under the ratty blanket that clearly wasn’t made for someone his size.  

“He’s not. I swear it. Enti―I mean, Dolk can kill me if I’m lying,” Phoebe said, hoping to assuage their concerns while making a mental note to get extra blankets for their room when they got back. 

Despite the warrior’s enthusiasm to do such an act earlier, Entity flinched at her words and tucked himself closer to Null, pulling his tattered white cloak tighter around his body in an attempt to hide from her assumption, and she knew she needed to be more careful about her words. 

Jeb pursed his lips and looked her over, deciding whether or not to believe her. She counted it as a win when he slowly asked, “How do we know we can trust you? How do we know you’re not going to hurt or blackmail us in any way?” The woman could practically see his stoic spirit starting to give in to the idea of comfort. 

Phoebe sighed and admitted, “You don’t.” They all flinched at that, and Jeb once again looked ready to bolt back into the wagon and slam the door in her face, so she quickly pressed on. “All I have is my word, I’m sorry, but…” Realising she didn’t have a good ending to that sentence, she switched gears and said, “None of you are like the stories of the Sunborn. Entity, while a tad violent, is only doing it to protect you all and has a love for animals that is unparalleled. Not to mention how much you ate was impressive. You should enter the eating competitions in the festivals! You would absolutely win.” 

A slight blush passed over the immortal’s face as he gave her a tiny fanged grin. “Aw shucks… Thanks…” he mumbled, picking at the frayed edges of his precious cloak. 

Realising this was working, Phoebe moved onto the next myth. “Null isn’t a silent stalker, he’s just deaf and mute and even then I’ve seen more personality in him from the hour that we talked than the butcher down the street has shown in the ten years he’s been here, and I couldn’t understand a word that Null was saying!” she continued, smiling at him. “I can only imagine what you have to say to those willing to listen. I hope you would let me learn.” 

Null huffed as he signed, and Jeb whispered, “Obviously that butcher doesn’t know how to have a good time or a decent conversation,” as what Phoebe assumed was a translation, since the dark-skinned god gave his older brother a grateful smile. 

Emboldened by her success, Phoebe looked to the next. “Agnes isn’t a terrifying sea warrior who summons great storms to drown people to add to her undead army, forcing her soldiers onward with a whip that sounds like thunder every time you flick it―” 

“I actually had a trident that allowed me to soar through the air when it rained, but he… broke it… when we confronted him for lying about Keri…” Agnes muttered, looking down at the cot like it was the most disgusting thing in the world with a glare likely reserved for Notch. 

“Right, that’s in the legend too, but you seem more compassionate than cruel, Agnes. Just how you’re shielding Dinnerbone says it all,” she said with a smile as she watched Agnes’s face flush at the compliment. “I know you’re a wonderful sister, and I’m glad you are so willing to care for your family even in such harsh conditions.” 

“I… Thank you. I was just trying to protect them,” Agnes explained, waving it off while she ran her fingers through her hair. 

“And Dinnerbone isn’t some cruel warrior who hangs on Notch’s every whim like a lapdog,” Phoebe gushed with a grin, excited that she was finally getting through to them. “You’re a sweet guy with more energy than I know what to do with! You’re so energetic and full of joy and excitement, you make me want to get excited with you! Oh, I wish you had stayed long enough for my daughter to see you. You would have loved her. She thought it was so cool how you were balancing last night.” 

“But… that’s normal for me…” Dinnerbone said softly, but she could still see the ghost of a smile on his face. “I normally walk upside down. It hurts to be right side up.” 

“So that’s why you wanted to wash the undersides of the tables!” Phoebe realised, facepalming as everything clicked about his behaviour. “You wanted to go back to normal without raising suspicion!” 

He nodded and rubbed his arm. “My body was beginning to hurt… I didn’t know what else to say.” 

She hummed thoughtfully. “Well, you won’t have to hide in the kitchen. It’s just my family there. You can always hide in the back for a while if you need a break.” 

His eyes got to the size of dinner plates at the thought, awed at even the offer. “Really?” 

Phoebe nodded, giving him a smile. “Really really. And don’t think I didn’t notice how the fearsome general Jeb seems to be a simple man hiding behind a shell. I don’t know exactly what’s behind your mask, but I can’t wait to meet that man. This life has done a number on you.” 

Jeb sputtered. “How would you know that?” he asked, deflecting as he shrunk into himself.  

“It’s not hard to see all the pain in your eyes. You just have to know how to see it,” Phoebe said kindly. “You hide because you are afraid of everything, never knowing if anything is safe, but you also do it because if you don’t, who will protect your little siblings from the darkness outside this little wagon after what happened to you all?” 

His eyes widened in astonishment as her gaze moved to the last immortal, her god himself, Herobrine sitting in the corner in anxiety and anticipation waiting to hear what she saw in him. 

“Herobrine,” she said, beginning slowly, “Scourge of the Nether, Father of the Star-Kissed, King of Monsters, Emperor of Magma―” 

“I get it, I’m a freak, you don’t have to drill it in so hard,” Herobrine grumbled, his siblings starting to get on edge once more as he fidgeted in his seat. The self-loathing in his expression made her want to cradle him in her arms until his pain went far, far away. “Get to the point.” 

She smiled softly. “I knew the Sunborn legends were wrong about you, my king,” she said reverently, bowing to him. “It is an honour to meet you, Fyrverkeri.” 

He stared at her in shock, having never received such praise before and he probably hadn’t, she realised. That hurt more than knowing he was trapped here in abuse, because that was something her people could have fixed when he still stood free. “You… what? You’re honoured by me ?! But I’m… me! Humans don’t bow for me, they run away and scream for mercy―” 

“But is that what you want me to do, my king?” she asked knowingly, hoping her intuition was right. 

He fell silent, looking at the ground as he reached for something behind his ears that wasn’t there. It took a few minutes before he replied, “No… Not really… I just want to help but they never let me…” 

Phoebe nodded, studying them all. “You all seemed rather happy cleaning the tavern. Any particular reason?” she wondered aloud. 

“Because… no one ever treats us like people!” Agnes burst out, her face full of urgency and pain as she realised she could finally speak her mind without retribution. “Ondska treats us like animals, and humans treat us like treasures to be put on pedestals. The chance to just… be people, be us… it’s a rare thing for us, you know?” 

“I get it. You all don’t want to be gods, you want to be people, right?” Phoebe said with a thoughtful hum. 

They all nodded in agreement with varying levels of hesitancy. 

“If you like, we can go back to the tavern, finish up what we were doing, and get you some cake as a reward. Then you can all sleep in a nice warm bed. Do you guys just want one?” 

Dinnerbone nodded slowly. “We can’t stand being apart… He separates us to keep us from rebelling,” he said softly. 

Phoebe made a mental note to search up god-killing weapons when she got the chance to revisit her collection of history. “That’s horrible… Well, here, we’re going to get you all situated in a nice bed in a room all to yourselves. No one will disturb you. I do have one question you guys haven’t answered yet.” 

“What is it?” Entity asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. 

“You obviously all have nicknames in Aetherian. What does Ondska mean?” she asked curiously. 

“Evil,” Herobrine deadpanned. “It means evil, which is why we will never ever ever call him that to his face.” 

Phoebe burst out laughing. “Oh my goodness, that is the best thing I’ve ever heard. You guys are a riot!” 

Herobrine smiled. “Yeah, we thought it was fitting too,” he said. 

After she composed herself again, she looked at them all and asked, “So what do you want to do?” 

They all looked at each other before turning to Jeb, silently asking him to make the decision. 

He pursed his lips, but gave a sigh of defeat. “Okay. O-Okay. We… We can try it.” 

The smiles alone made it all worth it to the innkeeper. They deserved a little bit of paradise, even if just for a day.

The walk back to the inn was uneventful, though Phoebe felt as if she were leading ducklings instead of gods. They stuck rather close to her, afraid of everyone and everything. She even had to intervene when someone bumped into Dinnerbone and caused Entity to threaten them in… she had assumed it was Aetherian, but was too afraid to ask when the air around the god had dropped close to thirty degrees. 

The poor man clearly hadn’t meant anything by it as he immediately turned around and apologised, but that had likely been the wrong thing to do as it meant Entity realised what had happened. 

“Oh, excuse me,” said the man, but before Dinnerbone could say anything Entity had stomped up to him. 

“You got a problem with him?” Entity snapped at him, pointing to Dinnerbone who was thoroughly confused. 

“N-no, sir, j-just bumped into him by accident!” the man stammered, fear in his eyes. 

“Dolk, it’s fine,” Dinnerbone agreed quickly, trying to defuse the situation as best he could. “I’m not hurt. He didn’t mean any harm.” 

“No, it’s not! He needs to watch where he’s going!” Entity shot back, his hands subtly frosting over in a way that made Phoebe realise he was really ready to attack this stranger over this. “Maybe I should teach him some manners! Jävla otacksamma, värdelösa, vridna skal!”

It was only when Herobrine put a hand on the frosty god’s shoulder did Entity start to back off. 

“Enough, Dolk. It was an accident. No reason to get defensive,” Hero said quietly, giving him a meaningful look that Phoebe couldn’t read. 

The two engaged in a silent staring contest before Entity looked away, grumbling. “Sorry.” 

“Not to me, to him,” Herobrine corrected, gesturing to the man. 

Entity looked at the man and barked out a quick, “I’m sorry, okay?” before stomping off with a growl, pulling his cloak tighter around himself as he went. 

Phoebe raised her eyebrow at Herobrine and he shrugged, seeming unperturbed as he continued on. This was likely normal, she supposed, so she simply followed after. 

Thankfully after that there were no major incidents of note that she noticed, and they returned to the tavern to find Atlas standing outside in puzzlement. 

“Where did you all go?” he asked in confusion. “Jacira came into the kitchen and told me everyone had disappeared.” 

“I accidentally spooked them,” Phoebe explained quietly, watching her guests quietly. “I’ll explain inside.” 

“Does this have anything to do with Jacira declaring quite bluntly that the dead man from the show was downstairs in the bar?” Atlas asked her as he followed her toward the door. 

Dinnerbone flinched when he heard that, and Herobrine patted him on the shoulder comfortingly as he steered him back into the tavern. 

“Actually, yes, but it’s not something for conversation out here in the street. Come. There is much to discuss,” Phoebe said, leading the way back inside.

Before she could say anything more, however, the six gods had quickly gone back to their former tasks. She could almost feel the tension in the air fade away as they resumed working. They really did seem to enjoy this… 

“So what happened?” Atlas asked her, looking over the room and smiling to see the others back at work. “Why did they leave?”  

“Upstairs,” she said quietly, leaving the gods to their tasks as the mortal led her husband up the stairs to the upper landing. 

“Honey, what’s going on?” Atlas asked again, growing worried. Phoebe looked back to see his creased eyebrows and pursed lips, and she realised she needed to assuage his concerns. 

“Hey, hey, darling, it’s nothing bad,” she promised, taking one hand and squeezing it gently. “I wasn’t hurt. We’re all right. I just scared them, and they ran off, so I brought them back.” 

Atlas gave a sigh of relief, smiling softly. “Ah. So… what spooked them?” he asked curiously. “I was only out for an hour.” 

“Ah… Right… Well…” She bit her lip, looking down over the balcony. “Honestly, I don’t know how well they can hear us up here. We might want to go into my office.” 

Her husband raised an eyebrow, but didn’t question it as she led him into the room she had filled with her collections of history. 

“Why would they be able to hear us? We’re on the second floor,” Atlas reminded her gently. “No one could hear us up here over the noise they’re making.” 

“Well, dear, they’re not just anyone,” she said with a nervous laugh, rearranging her pottery so they could sit down. 

“What do you mean, Phoebe?” Atlas asked, growing concerned again. “Who are they then?” 

“You know how the circus performers are representations of the old gods?” she asked. 

“Um, yes? That’s why it’s called the Eterisk Cirkus, the Aetherian Circus, dearest,” he replied, obviously humouring her. “Why?” 

“Because…” She took a deep breath and looked up at her beloved, hoping desperately that he would believe her. “Because it’s a lie. Those people downstairs aren’t pretending to be gods; they are the gods,” she said firmly. “Notch locked them away centuries ago and has been forcing them to perform in this little circus.” 

Atlas sighed, giving her a piteous look. “Honey… That’s just publicity. They’re not really the gods. Why in the Overworld would Notch do that?” 

Phoebe huffed, glaring at him. “I don’t know why, Atlas, but when I confronted them about it before they ran out in fear and Keri’s hands lit on fire , Atlas. Explain that one,” she posed, her hands on her hips. 

“They likely have magical trinkets that help keep up the image,” Atlas reasoned kindly, taking her hands in his before making her look him in the eyes. “Phoebe, what you’re saying is impossible! The gods haven’t been seen in centuries. I know you’re a curious soul and want to know what’s going on, why they’re so skittish, and what happened to your great-great-great-grandfather’s brother all those centuries ago, but do you really believe those poor sickly people are the gods?” 

“Yes, I do, and I can prove it, Atlas,” she said, grabbing the Jeb pot and putting it on the table. “Look at this, dear. Who does this look like?” 

“Svärd, obviously,” Atlas admitted, “but I don’t see how that is proof. That’s Jeb, who he represents in the circus.” 

“But Atlas, remember his sword? The one he still carries even now? Svärd’s sword is a perfect match to the one here on this ancient pottery,” she pressed. 

“So they did their homework when making props! That doesn’t make him the god himself,” he reasoned. 

“How about Aetherian names?” she pointed out. 

“I’m sure―wait, their names are Aetherian? I thought they sounded weird but I didn’t want to say anything,” Atlas said, leaning forward in curiosity. 

“All of them have Aetherian names, but not only that―they’re objects. They’re not traditional names. They work like Piglin names. Fyverkeri? That’s the Aetherian word for fireworks. Svärd’s full name is Fjädersvärd, which means Feather-sword, just like this piece of pottery suggests,” she gushed, grabbing her dictionary and showing the pages to him. “And the other names are the same!” 

“Sunflower, Ice-dagger, Pearl-tail, Stone-pup…” Atlas hummed, thumbing through the pages, before admitting, “We don’t know how accurate this book is. It could be entirely wrong.” 

“I doubted it too, but then… Atlas… My uncle called his mysterious friends Feather and Firework ,” she whispered, trying to press the point home. “They couldn’t have known that unless they knew him. Feather maybe, but Firework? Who would associate fireworks with the god of a realm that doesn’t use them?” 

Atlas opened his mouth to argue but closed it when he realised he didn’t have a valid counterpoint to that. She was right. Those were oddly specific nicknames for people who didn’t know the extensive history of the gods. Even if they were as heavily into history as Phoebe was, they wouldn’t have her uncle’s journals. They couldn’t have known. 

“It’s even more obvious when you look in his later volumes! He travelled to the sea and met Pearl, the mountains to see Dagger, the cherry blossom forests to see Sunflower, and the deep caverns to see Pup and his friend Skulk. Everything comes together when you look!” she continued, layering evidence onto him until he couldn’t refute it anymore. “Atlas, those are the gods. And they’re being abused.” 

“What do they call their ringleader again?” Atlas asked meekly after a moment. 

“Ondska. They call him Evil, which is why they never call him that to his face,” she replied. “Atlas, the… the king of the gods is using them as entertainment, torturing them when they don’t comply. You should have seen their wagons, barely anything inside―” 

“Is… Is this a bad time?” Jeb asked, standing in the doorway as he nervously rubbed the pommel of his blade. “I-I can come back. I… We were just hoping to ask you about how you knew…” He stopped, looking around the room in surprise before pursing his lips. “Ah. We just happened to be in the tavern of the biggest history buff I’ve ever met. That explains everything.” The god narrowed his eyes at the pot. “Is that my 227th birthday portrait on your desk? How did you manage finding that one? And why would you want to keep it? It’s awful. Terrible quality, pompous pose, and the colours? I don’t know why I agreed to that one being made. Mistakes of a young immortal, I suppose.” 

“It’s history,” Phoebe protested, putting her hands over the pottery like she thought he'd destroy it. 

“It’s trash is what it is,” Jeb huffed. “I was so naive back then. Had just gotten my wings too. I wanted to look important. I don’t know why I even cared. I suppose I was still trying to impress my father… But he never loved us. I was a fool to follow him.” 

Atlas’s expression softened. “You were plenty important, and even if he didn’t love you, you were loved by the people. The god of protection was rather beloved, even by those not of the Sunborn.” 

Jeb laughed bitterly, and Phoebe could have sworn she saw unshed tears in his eyes as he stared at the ground in front of him. “I don’t know why they prayed to us. We couldn’t change their fates, nor bless them with great strength or power. We’re just… people. People who lived a little too long and fell a little too far. We aren’t deities, we’re just powerful men.” 

“I… I never thought about it that way,” Phoebe admitted, “but you’re right. You all don’t act all knowing or all powerful, you just… are people. I’m sorry we ever put you on a pedestal.” 

He waved it off, still avoiding eye contact. The eye contact thing felt significant to Phoebe; a show of submission maybe? It hurt her heart. She hoped she could get him to stop doing that. “It’s fine. We’re used to it. Though it was kind of funny when the language evolved and they continued praying to us even though none of us actually understood them. I feel kind of bad.” 

“What did you want to talk about, Svärd?” Phoebe asked kindly, probing him back onto the original topic. 

“Oh, right. We wanted to know how you figured it out,” he explained, gesturing with his hands as his gaze travelled to the ceiling. “You’re the first person we’ve ever had who figured out our origins, so we were curious and I was elected diplomat.” 

Atlas snickered. “We noticed you seem to be the leader of the band. How often are you elected for these sorts of things?” 

The elder god snorted. “I’m the eldest, so your guess isn’t that far off. Keri and I take care of the others, keeping them safe. We fight to keep everyone safe. Pärla tries to help, but she’s more ready to attack Ondska than actually lay low, so she’s not exactly the responsible adult we’re looking for. Activist for our protection? Absolutely. Actually doing what we need to stay safe? No. We love her anyway.” 

“Is there a reason you don’t use his name?” Phoebe asked, leaning over the desk in intrigue. 

“Because he can tell when we do. I don’t know how he does it, but he’s always been able to. If it’s a mortal, he doesn’t care, but us… He’d check on us because we never use his name for that exact reason. He’d find us here and… Well. It would not be pleasant for us, and you two would likely be killed for your knowledge,” Jeb said with an apologetic expression. 

Atlas’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh. Wow. Okay. Let’s not do that then.” 

Jeb nodded, looking to Phoebe for the first time since he'd walked in the room. “Is the pot how you figured it out?” he asked, eyes full of a hungry glint that she didn’t know how to process, but was all too familiar. 

“Well, no. There was more, Mr. Feather-sword,” she teased, giving him a lighthearted smile. 

The immortal blushed, looking away again. “Keri picked them. I rather like mine in Aetherian better,” he admitted. 

“I kind of figured. They follow the traditional naming conventions of the Piglins, not Overland folk,” she said, beginning to slip into her love of history again. “It’s very object based, almost a descriptor more than a name. I had the feeling that Fyrverkeri likely suggested the names, if not named you all himself.” 

“He… He didn’t give us those names, not exactly, but he did suggest that we use the Aetherian version,” Jeb said slowly, his gaze calculating, and that was when Phoebe realised what he was doing. This man was a collector of knowledge. It was his currency. He used it like a bargaining chip, and he was cheating her out of valuable info. She smirked. Two could play that game. 

“Oh? Well who came up with the nicknames then?” Phoebe asked, her tone smooth as she probed him carefully. 

He shrugged, shoulders tensing ever so subtly. “It doesn’t matter. They’re long gone. You wouldn’t know them,” he said, closing up just the slightest bit. 

“Maybe not, but I can guess. I’m sure the man in the mountains who called you Feather and let you read in front of his fire would be honoured to know that you still use the nickname,” she crooned, smiling up at him smugly. 

Jeb’s jaw dropped in surprise and a little bit of fear, slightly shrinking in on himself as he stared at her. “You… How do you know about him? No one knew about him! He lived alone and didn’t talk to anyone but his brother and the village nearby! No one… No one even noticed he was gone.” His tone was shaky, and he looked ready to repeat his earlier escape if she wasn’t careful with what she did. Seemed this was a touchy subject.

Tread lightly, she told herself. He doesn't trust you yet. 

“It’s okay, Svärd," she said, her movements careful as she reached for the journal on the desk. “I don’t work for Ondska. He doesn’t know you’re here. I didn’t learn any of this from him. I’m your friend’s niece, give or take a few generations. I have his journals. Would you like to see them?” 

She offered the book, and he gingerly took it like it was a baby creeper that could explode at any moment before opening the pages with a care one would show a precious artefact, which she supposed it just might be. He turned to the pre-bookmarked passage, running his fingers over the ink with a shaky smile. 

“I… I remember that night,” he whispered fondly. “I nearly froze to death on his doorstep. I was hiding under his overhang, hoping he wouldn’t notice me, when the wind threw me into the wall particularly hard and I fell. He heard the sound, and he rushed out. I was cursing the wind, telling the wind off for getting his attention, but the sensation when he carefully picked me up like I was made of glass… I hadn’t touched anyone in two thousand years. I didn’t dare tell him to put me down, not when the sensation on my wings and skin were heavenly. 

“My tail wrapped around his waist for security, and he laughed, asking if I was okay. I looked away, and not knowing much Common, didn’t say anything, but he just gave me a smile and brought me inside, putting me on his couch and wrapping me up in blankets before he put more wood on the fire. He made some warm rabbit stew for the two of us, and while I was eating, he read to me. Keri must have told him about my love of books because he read to me the entire time until I fell asleep in the warmth and safety of his home. 

“When I woke up, he made me promise to come to him whenever the storms got this bad. If not for his sake, then for Keri’s sake. I knew he would tell Keri if I didn’t so I reluctantly agreed. Eventually, I just lived in his guest room because your grandfather never came to visit. It was… It was a good set-up for a long while, almost a decade, until… 

“Ondska found out that he was helping us. He… I don’t know whether our friend died on the spot or whether the place he sent him to immediately killed him, but we never saw him again.” 

Jeb took a deep breath, carefully placing the bookmark back in and gently closing the book. “Please, Phoebe… Don’t tell Keri. He still blames himself for our friend’s death, to the point that Ondska still can bring him almost to tears by just gloating about it. He is still healing. I don’t…” He trailed off, looking down at the cover of a book full of fond memories. 

“You don’t want to hurt him again by digging up the past,” Phoebe finished. 

He nodded, his expression soft and wary, but no longer closed off. “I’m glad to meet you. You act a lot like your uncle, you know. It just… It was only 346 years ago, see, and we’re still recovering.” 

Phoebe nodded. “I get it. I won’t tell a soul. Thank you for telling me his fate. No one knew. It’s been an unsolved family mystery.” 

Jeb snorted in a bitter amusement. “Kind of hard to solve a mystery when the missing person in question goes through a portal to who knows where,” he pointed out, his tone shaking slightly as he tried to hide behind a joke. 

“That would explain why no one found him,” Atlas admitted. 

“Well, let’s go get all of you with sweets in your belly so that you can enjoy a nice warm bed again,” Phoebe said, standing up and heading for the door. 

“Can I destroy the pot?” Jeb asked hopefully. 

Phoebe laughed. “No. It’s too funny to me now. Sorry, bud.” 

Jeb huffed, but she could see the smile he hid. 

It quickly disappeared when they walked onto the landing to see Herobrine on Entity’s shoulder trying to get Dinnerbone off the chandelier. 

Jeb stared at them. “Five minutes,” was all he had to say. 

“Jacira spooked Valp while he was upside down,” Herobrine explained while still reaching for the youngest immortal. “He panicked and ended up in the chandelier, but forgot he doesn’t have wings anymore and can’t get down.” 

“I… I’m not going to ask,” Atlas decided, heading for the stairs. 

“How…?” Phoebe asked, looking at Jeb in complete befuddlement. 

The eldest shook his head, a silent don’t ask in his gaze as he stepped forward to weave the wind into a net to catch his youngest sibling. “Come on, Valp. I’ll get you down,” he coaxed, a soft smile on his face. 

Dinnerbone looked at him gratefully before hopping into the wind and allowing himself to be put back on the floor. “Thanks, Svärd,” he said with a smile. 

“You’re welcome,” Jeb replied, jumping over the balcony and floating down. “Please don’t get stuck again.” 

“So you’re… all… gods?” Atlas asked, staring at Jeb before looking to the other immortals. “For real? You’re the actual Aetherian Gods who have been missing for centuries?” 

They all shuffled uncomfortably, looking ready to bolt again.

“Yeah… Yeah we are…” Agnes admitted, rubbing the back of her head.

“Gods… is a strong assumption. We’re simply people that Ondska made immortal so he’d never lose his toys,” Null signed, though Jeb translated for him as Atlas gave him a look. 

“So… Ondska made you all gods then,” he continued, not seeing the social cues from all six immortals screaming change the subject . 

“Yes,” Jeb confirmed as he grabbed the broom and went back to his work, staring very pointedly at the floor once more. “Ondska has the ability to immortalise mortals and give them powers like ours. We don’t understand why or how, but he was the first and made all of us.”

“Are all of you related?” Atlas asked curiously, noting the different skin tones between them all. 

Entity barked a laugh. “Not in the slightest. It’s just that when you hang around people for thousands of years, they become closer to you than your real family.” 

The guard hesitated before softly asking, “If you were all made gods by Ondska, and you all adopted each other as family, does that make him your father?” 

All six Aetherians tensed and considered that. 

“I… I guess it does,” Herobrine admitted, wiping down the counter. “But if he is… He’s a terrible father.” 

“What does he do to all of you?” Phoebe asked, trying to steer away from that uncomfortable train of thought while finding arguably a worse and more important topic. 

“Well… Ondska is the father of storms,” Dinnerbone began as he sat down at the counter, his voice wavering, “and this comes out in his anger. Svärd has wind powers that are similar, yes, but… Ondska is best known for his lightning. He would pound the clouds from above with his mighty hammer to create thunder, and as it swung, electricity raced up the hilt from his fingers to its golden head and bam! Lightning appeared. These days though…” 

The youngest immortal shuddered and leaned into Entity as the other wrapped an arm around him and spoke. 

“These days it is rarely the clouds that he strikes,” Entity said, scowling as he dug his fingernails into the table. Were they any sharper, and there would have been permanent clawmarks.  

Phoebe held a hand to her lips, stepping behind the counter as she read between the lines. “That… That’s awful,” she whispered. 

“We’re used to it,” Herobrine said simply as he cleaned the glass in his hands, not even glancing up at her.

Atlas gave her a look of awe, to which she responded with confusion. 

“Look at the tavern,” he muttered, gesturing to the room in front of them. 

Raising an eyebrow, she surveyed the building before letting out a gasp. She had never seen the tavern so spotless, not even when they had bought it! 

“You… You six have earned your dessert,” she sputtered, looking at them all. “Where did you learn to clean like this?” 

Entity looked amused, folding his arms on the counter and resting his head on them. “You think we’ve never had to clean before? Before we were slaves, we were gods, yes, but even gods have to clean up their rooms occasionally.” 

“Ondska has a whole thing about cleanliness,” Agnes groaned as she dried off her hands with the last dish washed, turning to Phoebe with a hand on her hip. “Don’t even get me started on how much he hates dirt and sea water. You’d think he’d never been in the Overworld before.” 

“Do you think we could stay for the evening rush?” Dinnerbone asked softly, looking up at her with puppy dog eyes. Suddenly it occurred to Phoebe that this may be one of the reasons his name meant Stone- pup . ”It’s been so long since we’ve interacted with people… We’d be very grateful.” 

“Maybe tomorrow, after you all have had some real R&R,” Atlas promised, patting him on the head and getting a smile from the kid. “You all look dead on your feet. Let’s get you fed and in the morning, we can go out to the market. Do you have money?” 

“Yeah, we do, but only because Ondska almost got in trouble when someone asked him how much we were paid and he said he didn’t pay us,” Herobrine replied, waving his hand in the air. “A bunch of people tried to break us out that night, but none of us would leave.” 

“Why not?” Phoebe asked as she headed for the kitchen. 

Jeb chuckled bitterly, looking very angrily at the floor. “Leave? And go where? You can’t run from the king of the gods. It doesn’t matter where you hide; he’ll find you. He dragged Keri from the Nether, he’d follow us to the End, and we can’t stay in the Void. The only place where we’re even marginally safe is that little circus, because there at least we don’t have to hide.” 

“Why run when there’s no point in running?” Atlas murmured, sitting down at the counter. 

“Exactly,” Agnes agreed as she sat down beside him. “Svärd, put the broom down, it’s spotless.” 

“Sorry,” Jeb said with a wince as he put away the broom and joined them. 

“Why are you all out here in town if you can’t leave?” Atlas asked, narrowing his eyes at them. “Isn’t he looking for you?” 

“He left us alone,” Dinnerbone said, a shaky spark of excitement returning to his voice as his hands shook. “He’s only done that a few other times! He said he wouldn’t be back for a few days, so we’re completely safe! We just.. have to be back when he returns.” 

“Do you know why he left?” Phoebe asked as she returned with a covered tray, happy to see all of the immortals sitting at the counter chatting. 

Herobrine shrugged. “Said he was looking for talent. He’ll probably come back with some new mob.” 

“Maybe an axolotl!” Dinnerbone said in excitement. 

“A what?” Herobrine asked, staring at him like he’d grown a Wither Skull. 

“Oh yeah! You don’t know most of the new mobs!” Dinnerbone realised, smacking his own forehead. “Do you… Do you know what the Ender Dragon looks like?” 

The Netherian immortal gave him a look, raising an eyebrow at the youngest immortal. “No, I don’t. I can’t think of anyone who would, except maybe Ondska.” 

“Right… Uh… What Overworld mobs do you know anyway?” 

“Does it live on a farm?” Herobrine asked him in a deadpan. 

“Uh… No. It doesn’t,” Dinnerbone said sheepishly. 

“Then no, I don’t know it,” he answered, taking a sip of the milk Phoebe put in front of him. 

“You really don’t know any mobs outside of farm animals?” Agnes asked incredulously, leaning forward in her seat so she could see him better.  

“Know them well? No. Know of them? Depends. I know the stories you all tell me, but I have yet to truly understand what a… panda or a turtle is,” he said, one hand beginning to gesticulate while he talked, the other tapping on the counter in a hurried rhythm, “let alone a guardian or a husk.” 

“Bro, you don’t know what a panda is?” Entity asked in shock. “You are missing out.” 

“We need to get Keri a teddy bear,” Null teased, grinning at his brother. 

“I don’t even know what you’re signing,” Herobrine informed him, sloppily repeating, “Teddy bear,” back to him in Solig Speak before returning to tapping the counter. 

Null snickered silently. “I know.” 

“Stop teasing Keri, it’s not his fault,” Jeb scolded, acting as the responsible adult. “You know he doesn’t like being made fun of.” 

“All right, you rascals, it’s cake time,” Phoebe said, interrupting the argument and handing out plates of dessert. 

All of them looked at the delicate sweet, their mouths watering at the sight of chocolate. Entity made the first move, carefully breaking off a chunk before Phoebe could give him a fork and putting it in his mouth. 

The change in demeanour was extraordinary. Entity’s eyes lit up with surprise as he chewed before he stared down at the cake hungrily. It was only a few seconds before another piece was out of his hands and in his mouth, the immortal humming in delight. “Guys,” he mumbled through a mouthful of pastry, “it’s even better than we remember. You have to try it.” 

The others gratefully accepted the utensil Phoebe offered and slowly ate their own piece, savouring the flavour. She nearly laughed at Jeb but held in her amusement as he leaned back and let the chocolate dissolve on his tongue before taking another bite, not willing to waste a single second of the aetherly sensation. 

It was Herobrine who caught her attention next, as he spoke up and said, “Guys, if you drink milk after a bite, it makes the chocolate explode on your tongue! It just.. doesn’t last as long in your mouth.” 

Agnes’s eyes widened in awe as she followed his advice. “Oh my stars you’re right! That’s so good!” 

“Can we clean the tavern again?” Dinnerbone asked hopefully, once again pulling the puppy dog eyes he was so famous for. “And get more cake?” 

“You want to?” Phoebe asked, looking around at them all. 

Null quickly nodded while Entity licked his plate clean. 

“Yes, please…” Jeb agreed as he sighed happily and put his fork down. 

“First, let’s get you all in a nice soft bed,” Phoebe said, beginning to herd the content immortals up the stairs. “You look totally exhausted.” 

Slowly the six circus performers walked up the stairs, allowing Phoebe to push them up to the second floor and into one of the bedrooms. She lit the candle and let them file in. 

“Here, this is our best room,” she said, noticing the tired looks on their faces as they stared at the mattress longingly. “You can sleep here and no one will disturb you. Do you need anything else?” 

Herobrine shook his head, gesturing at her to leave without looking back. “We’re… We’re okay. We’ll… let you know if you need anything.” 

“All right,” Phoebe said, trying to hide her smile as she stepped out of the room. “I’ll see you all tomorrow morning.” 

The door closed, and all of them studied the bed, almost afraid of it attacking them for some reason. 

Entity, as usual, was the first to break the spell. “Come on, guys, we’re gods! Why… Why is getting on a bed so hard?” he asked, his voice beginning to waver toward the end as he scratched at the backs of his arms and hands. 

“How do we know this isn’t… a trap… or a dream?” Jeb asked weakly, rubbing the jewel in the pommel of his sword anxiously. “How do we know that when we get in, it won’t bind us there? Or that we’ll immediately wake up, alone in our wagons again?” 

“I don’t know how to break this to you, but I don’t think that’s how dreams work,” Herobrine said in an attempt to make a joke, though even his voice shook slightly as he tapped his toes in an instinctive rhythm. “I don’t think even immortals can share dreams.” 

“I really hope this isn’t a dream,” Dinnerbone whispered, reaching out for the bed hesitantly though he didn’t dare move closer. “It’s felt so good, to be… be…” 

“Cared for, like real human beings,” Agnes agreed, her shoulders slumping in exhaustion. “They don’t… treat us any differently. They don’t treat us like beings to be worshipped or despised, just…” 

“People,” Null agreed, staring at the bed as he bit his lip. “We… We should probably get on… We’re wasting twilight.”

“Yeah… Probably…” Jeb agreed, but none of them moved, all of them still processing the fact that this was most likely real. 

Surprisingly, Herobrine stepped forward to lead the charge, gently placing a hand on the bed before Jeb could protest, which earned the knightly immortal a look from the Netherian. 

“Jeb, it’s a mattress. It’s not going to come alive and eat me,” Herobrine reminded him flatly before he pressed down on the material and his face changed to surprise and awe. “Oh wow… that feels… amazing…” 

Dinnerbone carefully walked up next to it before glitching upward and following his brother’s example, his body shaking slightly as he put varying amounts of pressure on the fabric. “It’s.. so… soft…” he whimpered, his voice trembling with his form. 

Entity snuck up behind Herobrine and shoved him onto the bed, smiling as his elder brother floundered before melting into the mattress. 

“You… You jerk… I… oh that feels so good…” Herobrine moaned as he let the bed cradle his every ache and pain. It was almost like laying on a cloud, the stuffing holding him up and letting his body relax into the soft comfort. All the constant pangs of agony he had grown used to living with were lessened as the mattress carefully supported his abused body. Scars seemed to fade away, taking their hurts and awful memories with them as he simply let himself lay there in ethereal bliss. 

But it wasn’t quite perfect… 

“Guys… You need to feel this…” Herobrine rasped, reluctantly sitting up to grab Dinnerbone’s hand to pull him onto the bed. 

Dinnerbone thrashed as he fell before his body sank into the bed. All he could do then was choke back a sob. “I… Keri, it…” he whimpered, looking up at him with too full eyes, drowning in emotions he hadn’t felt in so long as he tucked his arms close to his body and his hands over his heart. 

Herobrine nodded, pulling Dinnerbone close. “I know, Valp. I know,” he whispered, gently brushing his fingers through the younger’s hair in an attempt to comfort him. 

The others couldn’t help but join them after that, Null and Entity warily climbing on before practically ragdolling onto the quilt while Agnes carefully sitting down on one side before lowering herself down and letting the comfort consume her every waking thought. All of them looked up at Jeb in varying degrees of consciousness, the eldest’s eyes full of fear and distrust. His hands were shaking as they were held tightly on his sword's hilt with a thumb rubbing the pommel, slightly curling in on himself as if being smaller would help reduce his terror. 

Herobrine gave him a small smile and carefully climbed off the bed before standing before his elder brother, stretching out his hand in silent invitation. 

“I… I can’t…” Jeb breathed, his expression full of an ancient fear and looking so, so very tired. “What if… He could have… I don’t… Ondska, he…” 

“I know,” was Herobrine’s simple reply, smiling at his sibling. “I know.” 

“I… I have to protect us, I have to k-keep us.. s-safe…” Jeb continued, his breath starting to hitch as he went on, hugging himself as he stared at the ground. “What if… If he finds us, l-like this, all… h-happy and s-safe and l-lo―you kn-know what he’ll do to us! I… I can’t… I c-can’t bear seeing you all like that again! The screams… The isolation… The hundreds of injuries that I can’t do anything to prevent…” He looked up at his younger brother, eyes brimming with tears as he started to break as he squeezed the hilt of his blade instead of his brother's hand. “I’m supposed to be the g-god of protection, damn it! I’m supp-posed to k-keep you all safe and happy… I… I can’t d-do it again, Keri. I can’t…” 

“I know, Svärd,” Herobrine whispered, gently taking Jeb into his arms and pressing his body against his taller sibling’s. Feeling how tense the other was, letting his heat surround Jeb’s aching soul and smiling into his chest as he felt him begin to relax, fingers finally slipping on the worn enchanted leather. “But bror, my sweet bror, you don’t have to carry this alone. We’re all right here, ready to help you. You may have been heralded as the god of protection, but even you need to rest sometimes. Please, come sit down, be with us, and just forget about Ondska for a little while. Is that okay?” 

Jeb hesitantly returned the embrace, burying his face in Herobrine’s hair as he gave a subtle nod. “O… Okay…” he agreed, not resisting as the other gently grabbed his hand and led him to the bed, gently removing the scabbard always at his waist. The second he and Herobrine were back on it the tears started falling, but if Hero noticed the wetness in his hair as he pulled his brother close, he didn’t mention it. 

Slowly, they all rearranged themselves so Herobrine was smack-dab in the middle of the bed, Jeb pressed to one side and Dinnerbone on his other—Herobrine could tell they both needed the extra warmth and comfort—Agnes and Null on the edges of the bed while Entity curled up at the base like a dog with the extra blanket and a pillow he got from Phoebe when he asked at Null's insistence, no, you can't sleep without those, Entity, all of them settling in before melting at the sensation of heat that Herobrine started giving off. The others offered to squeeze Entity up next to them, but he explained that Hero’s heat was a little much two nights in a row. 

“I’m ice, remember?” he said gently. “I’ll be happier down here.” 

The others accepted this fact and quickly started dozing off. In the end, only Dinnerbone, Herobrine, and Jeb were still awake, the middle sibling comforting the other two. 

“I don’t wanna go back…” Dinnerbone whispered between silent tears, fingers clenching the sheets in his fists as if it was the only thing keeping him from being carried away. “I don’t wanna leave… It’s so good… Please, I’ll d-do anything…”

“Shh… Don’t worry, bror,” Herobrine said, gently scratching behind Dinnerbone’s ears just like how he knew the other liked. “Don’t think about that. That’s a worry for tomorrow. Today, you are safe, and you are warm, and you are loved.” 

Dinnerbone nodded into Herobrine’s side, comforted by the weight of Null at his back and smiling at Jeb who was tucked up firmly against Herobrine’s shoulder, trembling slightly as he accepted much needed support. 

“R-right…” Jeb agreed, his voice shaking with emotions too heavy for a single man, even an immortal one. “Tomorrow… Or overmorrow… Just… n-not today…” 

Herobrine nodded, glad they got the picture, and waited for their eyelids to fall peacefully closed before allowing himself to relish in the sweet wonder of the bed and finally rest. 

None of them woke up with the sun, and for once, none of them felt that they needed to. 

They were simply at peace.